Free Loving a Prince Charming by Danielle Monsch Page A

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 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