Page 6 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

“There is nothing to know,” hissed Raphael in reply. “We will not fulfill the terms of an agreement with a barbarian. An agreement made under heavy duress, might I add.”

“Was I supposed to let him kill you?” whispered Marcel. “Would Amelie have preferred that, do you think?”

Raphael groaned in frustration and Amelie heard him pace the kitchen. Eventually, he spoke. “We can’t turn her over to a beast. I don’t care that he asked for the hand in marriage of our eldest sister—I won’t do it. She is not a thing to barter.”

“Nor is your life!”

“Shhh.”

The men went quiet and Amelie held her breath, sinking farther into the shadows. She’d been right about her brothers hiding something. They met with trouble during their travels, and somehow she was involved. A beast threatened to kill Raphael and to save him, apparently Marcel had promised Amelie’s hand in marriage.

That didn’t make sense, though. Beasts didn’t marry. Perhaps she’d misheard, or they’d given this moniker to a human.

She shuddered to imagine what kind of man would embody such a name. Was he to be her husband? Was this a bad dream?

The hushed conversation in the kitchen resumed. It was quieter, as if the men had huddled close together. Amelie strained to hear, leaning against the door frame just out of sight.

“You heard what he said,” murmured Marcel. “He will hunt us down if we don’t fulfill the terms of the agreement. Do you think he will not? He’s of noble birth and owns the Castle Grange. His wealth knows no bounds, and nor would his reach.” He paused. “Do you really believe he means her harm? He gave us the horses, and the shell and rose, did he not? I can not think he’d demand her presence just to slay her.”

“Death is not the only grim fate that might await her at Castle Grange, Marcel,” said Raphael in a warning tone. “Nor the worst.”

Marcel heaved a weary sigh. “I know that. And I know it’s my fault. I’m the one who stumbled into that castle after too much drink at the village tavern. You hastened after me, like any good brother.”

“We are both responsible for this predicament. I scarcely behaved better than you, so I’ll not hear your lamentations. But I’ll not sell our sister to a brute, either.”

“He could kill us all,” replied Marcel. “Amelie, Colette, you, me. He gave us one solitary week. We can not delay a decision, whatever it may be.”

Raphael clicked his tongue. “The beast said it must be her choice. She must go willingly. But she won’t, because we aren’t going to tell her.”

“Is that fair? To let Amelie and Colette remain ignorant of the situation? Of the danger we are all now in?”

When Raphael next spoke, he sounded exhausted. “Marcel, brother, I am not arguing against our sisters’ safety. I simply can’t bring this foul proposal to her. I can’t do it. It is our job to find a way out of this. May Amelie and Colette never know of the danger.”

“There is only one option, then,” said Marcel. “We arm ourselves and return to the castle. We slay the brute where he stands.”

“I fear you are right. The risk is great, because of the castle’s enchantments. I’ve never seen anything like it. The villagers said he never leaves his estate, so we wouldn’t get to face him on fairer footing. It is a risk we must?—”

At that moment, Amelie had moved too close to the door frame, dislodging a broom from against the wall. She caught it with a deft hand before it hit the ground, but the sound was enough that her brothers stopped speaking instantly. Grimacing, she hastily replaced the broom and tiptoed back to her chambers.

Her head had barely hit the pillow, covers thrown over herself, when her bedroom door creaked open. Amelie concentrated on keeping her breathing slow and natural, her eyes gently shut. She was unsure whether it was Raphael or Marcel at the door, because they didn’t say anything. After several moments, her heart thudding against her nightdress, the door closed and she was alone again.

For the rest of the night, she couldn’t sleep. Seldom did she sleep well, for she was prone to overthinking. To pass those restless twilight hours, she ordinarily read by the light of her candle.

Tonight though, she stared at the ceiling, her mind reeling with all she’d overheard. A beast had demanded her hand in marriage. Yet, he’d also ensured she was armed with a magical Sirenstone sword, and that if she were to go, it would be of her own volition. What kind of beast was he?

He must’ve been truly fearsome, by the way Raphael and Marcel spoke of him. Raphael was one of the finest swordsmen in the land, hand-picked for the royal guard, and Marcel was stronger than any man she knew. They would not have been exaggerating when they called him a brute.

The metallic rose gleamed on her bedside table. She touched one of the thorns, the metal cool under her fingertips. Had this incredible curio really come from a beast who threatened her family?

He had given Colette a gift, too. One of protection. Therefore, surely he did not mean to slay her sister?

Amelie frowned at the shadowy ceiling. She wondered about this individual, who issued threats while bestowing protections. What could drive a person to behave with such contradiction?

From her bed, Amelie gazed at her bookcase, delineated in the darkness by the silvery moonlight. She thought of the adventures she loved reading and daydreaming about. She thought of her brave brothers and sweet sister. As protective as her brothers were, Amelie felt a sense of responsibility for her siblings’ safety, too. Particularly when she was the only one with the power to resolve this dilemma without bloodshed.

She pondered everything, and as the sky outside lightened to lilac and the birds started their first cheerful songs, Amelie made a decision. One that made her heart race and her palms perspire . . . and a small pocket of excitement blossom in her chest.

That very morning, Amelie began preparing for her trek to Castle Grange.

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