Page 80 of The Curse and the Silver Rose

The remainder of Amelie’s evening passed in a daze. The party ended in the early hours of the morning, and only because Laughlin’s cousins had given the violinist too much mead. The boy had fallen asleep under the sycamore, his sister watching over him while eating white chocolate gateau. Without music, the festivities quickly drew to a natural close.

Laughlin whisked Colette off to his suite at the inn. They would travel to the seaside for their honeymoon in the morning. Alongside her brothers, Amelie cleared away champagne flutes and blew out lanterns.

It was only when she returned to her chambers that she had a chance to properly consider the implications of her realization. She slipped out of her dress, put on her nightgown, and sat on her bed. What on earth was she going to do?

The Dark One would kill both her and Davron if she returned to Castle Grange, or if Davron left it. Levissina’s power was far greater than any Amelie could wield.

Besides, she did not know if Davron would even want her to return. Any affection he had for her seemed to have evaporated after the raider attack. It was like he’d locked his heart to her. If he had truly wanted her, he would have at least tried to find a way to defeat the Dark One.

Wishing to be close to him in some way, she pulled the book of folktales into bed with her and opened it to the story about the little girl who lived underground. By the light of the almost full moon, she read the story repeatedly, trying to perceive whatever clue Davron’s mother believed might lie within the pages.

The girl was saved by her friends. But Davron did not have any friends, nor did Levissina. The girl hid from the daylight. But Davron and Levissina went outdoors all the time. It was sunlight in a jar that convinced her to return to the surface. How on earth would that apply to either of them? Amelie could hardly believe that waving a candle in anyone’s face would undo the magic of a powerful sorceress.

The harder she thought about it, the less sure she became of anything. Davron was probably right in that his mother’s scrawled words meant very little, if anything at all. Amelie clung to the meaning of the note because she had nothing else. She had no solution to the Dark One, or the curse, or to Davron’s steadfast rejection of her.

Closing the book and finally setting it aside, she attempted to slow her thoughts enough so that she might sleep. But it was no use. Her mind and heart raced, unable to see through the maze, but unwilling to give up hope.

Outside her window, the moon set on a lilac horizon. Soon, the sun would rise and Amelie would have a long day cleaning up after last night’s festivities. She needed to get some sleep.

Praying it would help, she opened the clamshell, nestling into her blankets under the shimmering light of the Heartstone. Gradually, her muscles relaxed and her thoughts slowed to a blissful calm. She allowed herself to be drawn into the dream world, leaving the waking world behind.

A nightmarish vision awaited her, Amelie’s dream-self immediately trying to back away in fear. Before her, a dense black cloud emitted a deathly shriek. The cloud expanded until it threatened to consume her. She was rooted to the spot, unable to move.

Then, in the center of the cloud, a hole appeared. Beams of pink light shone through the hole. At first, they were weak and only a few existed.

But they continued to grow in strength and number until Amelie was bathed in rosy light, like when the firelights exploded in the sky. The dense blackness screamed and howled.

Behind the pink light, a red-haired woman appeared. Levissina. The gap in the black cloud steadily expanded, stopping when it was large enough for her to step through. She held a glass jar in front of her chest and she smiled expectantly at Amelie.

Inside the jar was the Heartstone—the source of the pink light—pushing the darkness farther and farther away. Levissina closed her eyes in bliss, and the pink light became so bright that Amelie was blinded.

She awoke, gasping for breath, sitting up. The clamshell was still open, pouring its sweet light onto her. Amelie’s mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what lay right before her.

She stared at the stone in wonder. Did the Heartstone belong to . . . Levissina? Was it part of her? Her heart, her love? Was that what she traded for the power to curse Davron’s family, leaving behind only her dark, teeming hatred on the mortal plane?

If this was the case, the folktale must’ve helped Queen Petra understand what had happened to her old friend. She traveled to the Beyond to retrieve Levissina’s heart.

Every time Amelie slept with the clamshell open, she dreamed of Levissina, she now realized. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of deriving comfort from the essence of the very person who had tried to kill her and Davron and had slaughtered his family. The person responsible for the curse.

But did this idea mean anything? Collecting the Heartstone from the Beyond had not broken the curse, as the queen hoped. What could Amelie do with it?

She clicked the shell closed, feeling ghoulish and strange. If she was right, this was a piece of someone’s spirit. Had Davron known what it was when he gave it to her? Surely not. No one would ever connect the divine sweetness of the stone with the demonic creature that Levissina became.

Amelie considered the dreams she’d had while sleeping with the stone. Perhaps the Heartstone had been trying to communicate with her. Dream-Levissina seemed to want her to know the stone’s true provenance.

Why? To what end? And why wait until now, when she was leagues away and had finally realized she loved Davron?

What if more clues lay in the castle? Davron would not necessarily know what to look for, if he even was looking at all. He seemed to have given up hope altogether. If there was a chance she could break the curse, or at least keep the Dark One at bay, she had to try.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Amelie?”

“Come in,” she called out.

Raphael opened the door and stepped inside. He must’ve slept far better than Amelie, because his face was clean-shaven and he’d dressed. He clenched his jaw, over and over again.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, getting out of bed. “Is it Colette?”

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