She opened the door and stepped into her husband’s room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness without a candle, and she could make out his bed—a large four-poster bed that matched her own—on the far side of the room, where Alexander was tossing and turning.
If only she had grabbed the candlestick.
But if she turned back now, she wouldn’t have the courage to continue. So she pressed forward, making her way to the edge of his bed. He stopped thrashing, and she almost turned and left, but then he growled, “You may have cast a curse of silence upon me, but I will not let you destroy my life or hurt my wife.”
She froze, her hand poised to reach out and touch his arm. What? A silencing curse? Did those exist?
Her mind flashed back to Guinevere’s mention of a magical fire. Perhaps magic still existed—perhaps making it illegal hadn't driven it out of Galamere entirely—and perhaps her husband might actually be cursed.
“No,” Alexander shouted, thrashing wildly again, and Beatrice lunged forward, grabbing his arm. He stilled at her touch, and she was able to bring it down across his chest, but when she let go, he started thrashing again.
Beatrice sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his arm and holding it gently.
“Alexander,” she said softly. “I—”
He didn’t wake, but his features eased, and her heart broke for the young man who had lost everything all those years ago.
“Can you hear me?” she asked quietly. “I don’t know if you’re simply having a nightmare, or if you are, in fact, under a curse, but I’m here, and whatever it is, you are not alone. You will never have to be alone again.”
He seemed to slip into a deeper slumber at her words. Could he hear her, or was he truly asleep? Beatrice was not sure, but when she let go of his arm and stood, he began to tremble.
If he was indeed cursed, it was possible this was a magical nightmare that he couldn’t be woken from.
“Alexander,” she said, her voice louder. When that did nothing, she grasped his shoulder and shook it firmly. “Wake up, Alexander.”
Still nothing.
She didn’t know anything about magic, but there was an entire library of books downstairs—something in there had to have something to do with magic.
She would start looking first thing in the morning.
But what to do now?
She let go, and the trembling started again.
She couldn’t leave him like this.
Beatrice sighed and considered the large space of bed beside him. It would be quite improper for her to sleep here.
Except that they were, in fact, married, so it wouldn’t be.
And she was tired, her eyes burning after staying up late reading.
And if her presence meant he could sleep in peace, she would be hesitant to leave him, especially when she had just told him that he would never have to be alone again.
But what would he do if he woke up and found her in his bed?
The edge of the bed was uncomfortable to perch on, so Beatrice made up her mind and crossed over to the other side of the bed, sitting next to him and propping a pillow up behind her. She wouldn’t lie down, but she would sit with him for a little longer and see if the nightmare passed. Then she would go back to her room. Surely she could stay awake long enough to do that.
Chapter twelve
Alexander
Sunlight began to driftthrough the curtains and Alexander's eyes opened, squinting as he looked out the window.
Something told him it was going to snow later, but the sky was currently blue, so maybe he was wrong. Even if he usually wasn't.
He began to stir, and something fell off his arm. He glanced over, expecting to see Rose perched next to him, but his eyes widened when he saw his wife sitting in his bed.
