Page 74 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

“Nor me,” replied Amelie, staring wretchedly at her sister. “If I think about him all alone in that castle, I feel like my chest will crack wide open. I feel like everything inside me will pour out and I’ll never be able to put it back inside. The feeling is awfully huge—so huge it scares me—and yet now I can not imagine living without it. I don’t want to live without it. It’s tearing me apart. I’m miserable.”

Colette bit her bottom lip, as if to stop herself from smiling. “That sounds like a very serious condition indeed.”

Amelie gave herself a little shake and sat up straighter. “Listen to me, harping on and on. Enough of my lamentations. I want to talk about your wedding. When will I get to meet Laughlin? You will wear mother’s dress, won’t you?”

The sisters passed the rest of the afternoon with excited chatter and planning. Amelie sat Colette at the dressing table and tried out different hairstyles. Around dusk, Raphael and Marcel awoke, hungry for dinner.

The four spent the evening downstairs together, sitting around the dining room table, drinking and laughing and eating a simple dinner of quiche and roasted vegetables. As tired as Amelie was, she was determined to appreciate every moment with her siblings, acutely aware of their finite time together. She wanted as many good memories as possible stored up for when they departed.

Only when Amelie struggled to keep her eyes open did Colette order her to bed. Amelie dragged herself up the stairs, so sleepy she could barely think, and crawled into bed without changing into her nightgown.

The window was open to the warm night. She gazed at the inky sky, the stars sparkling like diamonds thrown onto black velvet. The light evening breeze tickled her face.

A vivid blue star shot through the sky, brighter than all the rest. Did she dare make a wish? The last time she had, with Colette in the dandelion patch, her life was promptly turned upside down.

Amelie’s eyes drifted closed. With her last waking thought, she made a far humbler wish than she had before. She wished only for the safety of those she loved.

CHAPTER 31

Davron’s mind traveled to curious places in the days leading up to his death.

He thought about Amelie on a near-constant basis—what she might be doing, thinking, seeing, feeling at any given moment. Whether she was awake or asleep, alone or with people. Did she think about him at all?

The rumination on Amelie was not the curious part. He could no sooner stop that than he could stop the blood pumping through his veins. The blood ceasing to pump through his veins was the only thing that would stop it.

The curious part was the abstract nature of his other thoughts. No panic or sense of urgency plagued him, as he might have expected in the face of certain imminent death. He felt little need to accomplish last-minute feats, lest he leave his life un-lived. He had left his life un-lived, for the most part. That was a given.

Instead, he wondered inconsequential things, like how many more times his heart would beat, exactly. How many more times would he blink? Hear a birdsong? Wake up? Once? Twice? Never?

Now that he knew his life was ending, and soon, these details seemed to matter somehow. His world had contracted to minuscule proportions. In a world that small, every heartbeat counted.

The night Amelie left, Davron paced the castle hallways, the candle wicks igniting in his wake. He did not wish for sleep, because every time he closed his eyes, he saw the monstrous vision of the raider strangling Amelie. In those horrible moments, he thought she had died.

Even when he discovered she was still alive, the pain and rage and regret he felt were irreversible. Less toward the raider and more toward himself, for putting her in such a position. His selfishness was supreme and unforgivable.

But now, he had a brief opportunity to ensure her life was back on course—away from him, away from the curse. She would get all the chances and future opportunities he had almost stolen from her.

In his head, he mapped out her life. She would have a secure home base, her family, and more coin than she could spend in her very long and happy lifetime. She would travel far and wide.

Eventually, she would find love. A man worthy of her. The thought was an axe in Davron’s heart, but he wished it all the same, because she deserved to be cherished.

He wondered if, when he died, his love for her would live on. Would she feel it, embracing her from the Beyond? Or would it vanish into the aether like smoke?

A grey dawn arrived, which turned into a flat, colorless morning. Unshaven and without sleep, Davron went to the drawbridge to greet the esquire he had summoned. He scanned the skies as the man approached on horseback.

“There are no birds, Claude,” said Davron to the esquire.

“No birds, My Lord?” he replied, looking around uncertainly.

“The trees are quiet. Still.”

“Er, yes. Quite right.”

Claude dismounted his horse. He withdrew a stack of parchment from a saddlebag, then presented himself to Davron with a quick bow. He was a thin, reedy man with long ginger hair and a trimmed beard.

Davron tore his attention from the tree line and looked down. “Thank you for coming. Follow me inside. Let’s get this over with.”

He led Claude to a drawing room, where they sat at the table. The esquire laid out the parchment—official documents written in neat cursive and stamped at the bottom.

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