Free The Silver Rose by Susan Carroll

the fire, someone stole the book.”
    “You mean that terrible
Book
is still out there for someone to make use of, to decipher all those hideous spells?”
    Simon nodded grimly.
    “Oh, that’s marvelous.” Miri threw up her hands and paced past the stalls in her agitation, ignoring Willow’s playful attempt to nip at her. “Well done, Simon. You persecute my innocent family to the ends of the earth while you let one of the greatest evils of all time slip through your fingers. So that is why you tore this island apart. You thought one of us still had that
Book.
”
    Simon followed her out of the stall and locked his arms across his chest. “Perhaps one of you still does.”
    “You mean Renard, I suppose. I can tell you with certainty that he doesn’t.”
    “You never believed he had it the first time,” Simon replied coolly, but when Miri halted and glared at him, he flung up one hand. “Truce. I didn’t come here to rake up the past or quarrel with you.”
    “Then I wish you would come to the point and tell me exactly why you are here.”
    “I am beginning to wonder that myself.” He grimaced, but as his gaze rested on her, something softened in his face. “Perhaps it is partly because when I heard you had returned to Faire Isle, I—I just wanted to see you again, to know how you were faring.”
    “Now you’ve seen me and I’m just fine,” Miri snapped. “So what’s the other part of your reason?”
    He moved toward Elle, burying his fingers in the horse’s mane. At last he said as though the words were wrung from him. “I—I need your help.”
    Miri stared at him, too stunned to say anything for a moment. She finally gave a mirthless laugh. “You are completely unbelievable, Simon Aristide. Twice in the past I trusted you, even mistook you for a friend. But all you were doing was using me to destroy my sister’s husband. Is that what you are after again? I couldn’t help you with that even if you tortured me. Since I returned to Faire Isle, I—I have lost track of Ariane and Renard. I have no idea where they are or Gabrielle and Remy either.”
    Miri bumped up her chin defiantly, daring him to call her a liar. Simon likely knew she wasn’t telling the truth, but he chose not to challenge her.
    “I am not after Renard,” he said. “I once believed the comte the most wicked being I had ever encountered, but I’ve learned better. Until recently, I had no idea what real evil could be. I have struck up against an enemy too powerful, too clever in the dark ways for one man to defeat.”
    “So why come to me? Why not go to your patron the king? You and he once made a pact, didn’t you, to rid France of all sorcery?”
    “The king unfortunately lost interest in our campaign and moved on to other pursuits. He has proved a weak and volatile man who has mismanaged France so badly he can barely hold his throne safe from the rising power of his nobles.”
    “Well . . . well, what about your fellow witch-hunters?”
    “I have not employed mercenaries for a long time, not since the raid on Faire Isle. My men slipped completely out of my control, looting and burning. I suffered from delusions of grandeur in those days, imagining that I could command the obedience of such battle-hardened men when I was little more than a stripling myself.” Simon’s lip curled in an expression of self-derision. “What an arrogant young ass I was, so infernally sure of myself.”
    Miri eyed him doubtfully. Yes, he certainly had been arrogant, obstinate, and inflexible. She would have thought him incapable of ever admitting he could be wrong about anything.
    “And just what are you now, Simon?” she asked.
    Simon raked his hand back through his damp hair and gave a ragged laugh. “Now I am sure of nothing. All I am is very tired . . . and alone.”
    He scarcely needed to tell her that. She could see that soul-deep weariness in his gaze, feel the pull of his loneliness like a dark tide threatening to draw her in.