Chapter Ten

Kira no longer traveled with him.

The early morning sun rose overhead. The day promised to be sunny and cheerful, with birds flying overhead, singing and twirling their own private joys. It was wrong that not every living thing joined him in his mourning. Why should they sing, when Kira was even now traveling the opposite path?

Was this what a man felt when he lost a limb? When he kept looking to see it, a twitching and tight and pinched appendage, only to discover a blank spot where something so necessary once lay?

Dark thoughts swept through him even as the sun rose higher and the animals began the preparations for their day. Only if a random peasant burst into song could the day become any more nauseatingly cheerful.

When Matthias’s castle loomed before him, he was surprised. He hadn’t realized he had traveled that far. It was though it appeared without warning. Well, not without warning, just without his attention.

Kira would be ashamed of him.

A sob tore at his throat. He held it back, only for another to chase it, and then another, and then another. They poured forth, deep, choking sounds that tore away and were carried on the wind.

The birds no longer sang when Seth finished, but he wouldn’t have minded their song now. The tears were cleansing, freeing. He had a dozen-plus years of keeping his secret and dreading the loss of Kira. They were over, and though the wound was raw and deep and would never heal, not truly, he kept his word. Today, Rosamund would be free, and the nightmares that he would fail her would stop.

No one stopped him as he entered the palace. His feet carried him down a long-forgotten corridor and toward a double door that still made him uneasy. A shove, darkness, and there she was.

She was older now, a young woman with still-delicate features and too-pale skin. “Seth?”

He breathed deep. He was here, and she was here. This was going to work. “Hello, Rosamund.”

Her smile was tremulous, unsure. She took a half-step toward him before she stopped. “Did my father send you?”

“No, I came on my own. I know how we can break the curse.” Her eyes grew brighter, hope building upon each word. Yes, this was the right thing. No matter the consequences, he was glad to be here for her. “I’ve come to set you free.”

She broke out into a teary smile, a choked little laugh her answer. She took two quick steps toward him and wrapped him in her arms. “I knew you would. I knew you’d save me.”

“I promised, didn’t I? I said I would marry you and no other.”

She hung on for a moment longer before she let go. “I know you did. I was afraid and silly, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“To go where?”

“To get married.”

Rosamund giggled as Seth led her away. Only instinct guided his steps, instinct that was proven right when moments later they found themselves in the dark room. This time, Seth pushed open the doors and they walked outside, into the light.

Rosamund faltered. Seth turned to see her staring in open-mouthed wonder through the windows at the wooded grove beyond the castle. “They’re so beautiful,” she said, her voice low, reverent. “And the colors. No painting was ever that vibrant.”

“Let’s go now.” Seth reached out to grab her hand, but at the first brush of skin on skin he faltered. Her hand was too small, too cold. Her fingers didn’t thread with his; they were awkward in his grip. Without meaning to, he pulled his hand away.

There was hurt in her eyes as she stared at him, the first crack in the happiness that she expressed since he arrived. In an effort to smooth the hurt away, he motioned with a flick of his fingers. “We need to get married and have our first kiss. That will break the curse. I know where to go, and it’ll be done by the end of the day.”

But Rosamund didn’t follow. She stayed where she was, her eyebrows pulled tight together. “Did you come here alone?”

“What?” The question was unexpected, as was her expression. She was about to be saved, and all her face showed was resigned sadness.

“Did someone help you come here?”

“Yes. My friend Kira came with me. She was my guard throughout the trip.”

Rosamund’s expression got darker. “Where is she now?”

“She stayed in town.”

“Why would she stay in town? Why wouldn’t she protect you until the last minute? Between town and here would still be dangerous. So why didn’t she come with you?” She stared at him, twisting her hands in front of her. He could see the pulse beat in her throat and her bottom lip trembling.

Something was very wrong, and he didn’t know what it was, let alone how to correct it, but he forged ahead. “She thought it was best that we were alone right now. This is a delicate time.”

“Delicate? Delicate for who ? Her, of course. And I guess you as well. He told me it would be that way.”

She was agitated now, her pulse hammering in visible staccato. “Rosamund, he who? Please, I don’t understand.”

“I tried telling myself it was my imagination, but I always knew he was real. He couldn’t reach me, but he could talk to me, and he told me all about you and her. He told me you would never keep your promise.”

Everything was splintering around him. In desperation, he tried his trump card. “What’s wrong? You’re safe now.”

“No, I’m not.” She smiled, the trembling lip worsening. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”

She ran back into the castle.

“Rosamund!”

She tore through doors and down hallways until she reached a long, winding flight of stairs. She was quicker than he thought, keeping a good pace in front of him as she ascended the stairway. A dozen steps ahead of him, she crashed against a thick black door that led to the tower room.

And she screamed.

Terror pounded through Seth as he finished those last few steps and entered the room, only to stop dead. A spindle sat in the middle of the room, gleaming dark wood with a bright gold needle sparking in the sunlight streaming from the lone window high above.

Her mouth was twisted into a silent horror. Tears purified and lightened the color of her eyes, a catacomb gray that followed the droplet of blood as it marked its winding path down her finger.

His fingers wrapped around hers, the stain of her blood now marring him, but against the tan of his skin already her own was growing paler, the beginnings of the curse visible.

Her eyes met his, and in his mind she was that pretty little eleven-year-old again, a sweet spirit he’d wanted more than anything to love and care for, and he did. He did love her.

But he’d failed her. He’d promised her and he’d failed her. All the love within him he felt for her, he could never quite turn it how he’d wanted. He could never turn it from the love for a beloved sister to the love a man felt for his woman. He could never turn it because his desire, his love, his devotion had always belonged to a flame-haired woman who fit him, always at his side and always in the center of his soul.

His love belonged with Kira. His promise to Rosamund had been broken before it had ever been made, because he already had a true love.

The white flash of realization had not yet faded from his vision when he yelled out, “Reina! Reina! ”

“No need to shout, love. I was hanging around on stand-by.”

Since she appeared out of nowhere, there was no doubt this woman was a fairy godmother, but this was not the Reina he remembered from that long ago meeting. Her skin was much darker and her hair close-cropped to her head. “Who are you?”

“I’m Laura. Reina got married and switched divisions, so I have taken over all her open cases. Let me tell you, yours was one of the more awesome ones. All the FGs are really excited to see how this turns out. Now, how can I help you?”

She spoke so quickly he almost got lost in the flow of words, but what was relevant penetrated. She was a fairy godmother, and she was here to help him. “I want to cast my wish, the one Reina promised me. I wish to be the one affected by the spell.”

Rosamund’s gasp was loud in his ear, but his focus was on Laura. The fairy godmother’s features became a study of puzzlement, her lips and brows moving in odd ways as she thought on his words. “Clarifying here—you’re saying you don’t want Rosamund to fall asleep. Instead, you want to go into Eternal Slumber?”

He nodded. “Exactly. I know you can’t change the spell and I don’t want a single condition of the spell changed. What I want is to be the one it affects.”

Laura held up a forefinger. “One moment, please. I have to double-check on something.” Laura pulled out a wand from the side of her skirt and tapped it against her forehead, her eyes closing in concentration.

Rosamund pulled at his hand. “Don’t do this. I never wanted you to do this, not for me.”

Seth removed his hand from her grip and stroked her cheek. She was as smooth as porcelain, but he preferred the rough vibrancy that marked Kira. “Promise me that you’ll go on that picnic. Better yet, jump in that lake. Make sure you start at the shallow end.”

“I’ve finished conversing with my supervisor.” Laura’s voice broke through and both Seth and Rosamund turned toward the dark-skinned fairy godmother. “Seems the switch is a go. Say goodnight, Prince Charming.”

Lethargy infused his limbs and his vision blurred. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them again he was on the bed, his legs too long for the mattress.

Rosamund was crying. He tried to lift his arm to wipe away her tears, but no hand reached her face. His limbs wouldn’t obey the commands of his brain. “You shouldn’t have done this,” she kept saying. “Why did you do this?”

“Don’t cry.” That was his voice? It was so small, so far away. How could he lead his kingdom with a voice as unimpressive as that? Focus. Focus on Rosamund. “It will be all right. I have a true love and she’s going to be here soon. And if a dragon is dumb enough to stand in her way? She’ll hand him his ass.”

Not to mention his ass was in trouble. Kira was going to be so upset with him over this. But… His eyes slid shut, impossible to keep open anymore.

But first I’m going to get another kiss.