Page 15 of Blood & Roses

“It wasn’t a curse,” Sera said, moving to rest on the arm of the couch between the princes and frowning at Tristan’s sleeping face. “It was an illusion.”

“An illusion?” I asked, as Mora settled herself onto the arm of my chair. We really needed a bigger cottage.

“I was able to look through his memories,” Mora said in her quiet, contemplative way. “He definitely didn’t murder the king, and the last thing hedoesremember before getting trapped was looking into a mirror, his stepmother next to him.”

“A mirror?” I asked, looking at Rowan. He shook his head, unfamiliar with whatever mirror Tristan had seen.

“After that it’s all snow and panic and trees and running,” Mora said gently. “And a flash of Rowan and the other guards after him. There’s one of you too, Izzy, when he thought you were a threat.”

“When you saved me,” I said, frowning at Rowan. He looked back at me evenly, and something plummeted in my chest, like a weight was being dropped at the intensity of his gaze. I looked away, clearing my throat. “So how did you figure out it was an illusion?”

“When Mora couldn’t do anything, we had Lena try to look into his dreams,” Sera explained, still looking intently at the prince. “When she saw nothing, I had a poke around. The threads of the illusion are well-hidden, but they’re in his mind if you know where to look. I was simply able to unweave them.”

“He snapped back into his elven form after whatever she did,” Rowan concluded, giving Sera a grateful nod. “I thank you for it, Miss Nightshade.”

“It was nothing really,” she replied with an irreverent shrug. “I’m more curious about how such a mental illusion could be woven. It could be very handy in our line of work.”

“Sera!” gasped Mora in outrage. “After seeing something like this, you would never!”

Sera shrugged noncommittally, looking thoughtful, and I groaned. “No mental illusions, Sera. No more crime, remember?”

“Of course not, dear eldest sister,” Sera said somberly, hopping down from the arm of the couch and planting a kiss on my cheek. She did the same for Lena, a ritual she only partook in when she had mischief in mind. “Only to help people.” She winked as she skipped from the room, Mora trailing her with a fretful frown.

“He’s sleeping soundly now,” Lena said, standing and gathering my tea cup and plate. “I’ll make sure his dreams are soothing. There’s nothing more to be done tonight?”

“No,” I agreed, stifling a yawn. “But I’m not tired. I’ll sit with him.”

Lena gave me an exasperated look and looked at Rowan, who rolled his eyes impressively.

“What are you—” I yelped as Rowan scooped me up, and moved to the stairs.

“Stop being a martyr,” he intoned, frowning down at me as he carried me back to my room. “I’ll sit with my brother. You need rest.”

“I can rest downstairs,” I argued, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He tightened his arms enough to make me squeal a protest, and he chuckled. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Help what?” I demanded, trying to scowl and failing miserably as another yawn cracked my jaw.

Rowan laughed outright, kicking the door of my room open where I assumed he would drop me unceremoniously into my bed.

He didn’t.

He was gentle as he settled me on the pillows, pulling a blanket up over me and holding it and my shoulders firmly in place as I tried to sit up.

“Isolde,” he scolded, as I wriggled. “Izzy, stop.”

The nickname made me pause, and Rowan sighed heavily as he met my eyes, his hands still pinning me firmly to the bed.

“Help what?” I repeated, meaning it to come out as a command. The words came out as a whisper instead.

“Caring for everyone before yourself,” he replied, his green eyes still holding mine.

My eyes were amethyst, like all my sisters, and I wondered for a second if he liked them as much as I liked his forest greens.

“There’s no one else,” I said, my voice feeling oddly choked. The exhaustion and weight of everything I’d learned tonight must be getting to me. I usually didn’t get emotional over nonsense.

Rowan frowned. “What do you mean?”