Loving a Prince Charming - By Danielle Monsch Page 0,24

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 visibly 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