“And that someone wanted the troll to remove Jeffrey and Charles from our traveling party. The troll went for Jeffrey first.”
She squeezed his hand. “Yes, and then you.”
“But only because I retaliated. It attacked me in self-defense.”
Her mind was working as she tried to make sense of all he said. “And then came after Charles.”
He nodded.
“Which means whoever sent the troll wants to make sure only the two of us make it to the dragon’s cave.”
It was something he, too, had thought of. “I believe so.”
“And the old woman in the cabin…she made sure to give you the map to the cave, to entice you to go after it,” she added. She pressed her free hand to her lips. Her hand was shaking. “And that night, I had the overwhelming urge to go after the dragon and its treasure as well.”
“I believe there are magical forces at work here,” he said. “Magical forces pushing us together and toward the dragon and its treasure.”
“But why?” she whispered and then her eyes widened as the realization smacked into her with the force of a battering ram. “Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday.”
He had no response other than a nod. He remembered all too well the curse that was placed upon her as a baby. That before the sun set on her eighteenth birthday, she would prick her finger.
“What do we do?” she asked. “Do we keep going?”
“I think we have to,” he said. “If only to release us from whatever spell is driving us.”
Silence stretched between them. After a long moment, she said, “Well, then,” her words slow and quiet, “let us hope we find no roses.”
Chapter 23
Sleepdidnotcomeeasily for Rosamund. She lay curled on her side in the bedroll, staring at the fire as the flames flickered and died down into nothing but hot embers. She was still staring at it, not having slept a wink, when the darkened sky began to lighten with the coming dawn.
Soon, the men would rise, and they would pack up the camp and be on their way. Possibly to her doom.
Today was her birthday. She didn’t feel as though she had aged another year.
As she lay there, listening to the world come alive around her, she thought of her mother and how she must be feeling this morning. Likely missing her and wondering when or if she’d return home. She envisioned her mother pacing the length of her chamber. Would she have tried to occupy her mind by convening her sewing circle? Or would she have banished them from her chamber to be alone with her grief and her agony?
Then Rosamund thought of her father who had removed every rose from the castle grounds in an act of love and protection. How he had made sure she never ventured out without an escort of castle guards. She wondered what he was doing now. If he was spewing his wrath to all those who were supposed to guard the castle. She could almost hear his voice now, chastising them for allowing her to slip out and disappear. Though he was generally a calm man, when he was upset or angry, his wrath knew no bounds and all those in his path were victim to it.
What a horrible daughter she was by sneaking off into the night.
“Rose?”
Her whispered name startled her. She sat up quickly to see Phillip in the bedroll next to her, his eyes nothing but dark orbs in the half light. He put a finger to his lips. She nodded as she tried to slow her rapidly beating heart. Then he waved her to follow him.
Crouched low, he walked to the horses. His steps were virtually silent as he made his way, leaving behind his bedroll. She quickly reached for her boots but decided not to put them on yet. Clutching them, she crawled out of the bedroll and stood. With a quick glance around the small camp, she saw Charles and Jeffrey were still sleeping.
Ahead of her, Phillip gave a frantic wave for her to hurry.
In her stocking feet, she hurried to the horses doing her best to be as silent as he was. When she was close enough, he took her hand and pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to whisper in her ear.
“I have one horse saddled,” he said. “We’ll leave together on that.”
“Leave?” She blinked up at him, her eyes wide.
The way he held her to him made her heart do a strange little dance. There was a swooping in the pit of her stomach and, for a moment, she thought she saw starlight in his eyes. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips and back again. The way he looked at her sent a shuddering thrill through her. She thought he might kiss her.
A desperate need for him to kiss her swept through her.