The rest of us made sounds and expressions of agreement.
“Fine, you seem to know our story,” Lance said to me as he waved the pitcher of wine over to him. “What do you propose?”
Wine poured into Lance's glass as I pondered the problem.
“The curse can only be broken if you get a woman to fall in love with all three of you, correct?” I asked.
“And we must also fall in love so deeply with her, that pride is no longer important to us,” Lance added. “We must love you enough to share you with each other. That is the true obstacle.”
“None of us share well,” Audric agreed. “Lance especially is a possessive bastard.”
Lance growled at Audric.
“So, you think you'll have no problem making me love you, then?” I lifted a brow at them.
“That's not what they meant,” Blaise said as the other two stammered. “They just mean that we can be stubborn men, and pride is something that was hammered into us since our birth. We couldn't share a toy when we were children; sharing a woman we love will be torturous.”
“And so that is an important lesson for you to learn,” I concluded. “That love isn't about possession. That the very term 'sharing' does not apply to it because none of you will ever own me–I'm not a toy to be argued over.Loveis what we'll share together, if we're lucky, and that emotion has no limits or conditions to it. Not if you feel it purely.”
“And how do you know so much about love?” Lance huffed.
“I've seen it with my parents.” I shrugged. “My father would have done anything for my mother, especially to make her happy. Even though a polyamorous relationship goes against what our society accepts, I believe that he would have had one with her, if it was what she wanted.”
“You can't know that for certain,” Audric said.
“Not for certain,” I agreed. “But when my mother died, my father nearly followed her into the grave. The only thing that stopped him from dying with her was his love for his children. That kind of love doesn't care if it's shared by two, three, or even four people. It simply exists.”
“Here! Here!” Blaise slapped the table. “You've convinced me, Sylvie. Now, you only need to convince my heart.”
“And ours,” Lance said gravely. “The rose is down to four petals.”
“The rose really exists?” I asked in surprise. “I thought that might have been literary enhancement.”
“No, it's true,” Lance confirmed. “We originally thought we'd have mere days when the witch first threw it at our feet. But the rose proved to be as magical as the curse it housed. It has slowly died, and our hopes along with it.”
“But now we have a new hope, brother,” Blaise said merrily. “I believe that Sylvaine is the woman we're meant to love. With her, we're going to break our curse.”
“One afternoon spent strolling through the garden and reading books with her, and you think you can love her?” Lance scowled. “Maybe you have your own magic, Sylvaine.”
“It's not magic, it's plain old compatibility,” I said. “I like Blaise, and he likes me. Simple. Now, we need to see if the two of you can establish the same rapport with me. In short, gentlemen, we need a plan.”
“A plan to fall in love?” Audric laughed.
“Yes, precisely!” Blaise declared. “We need a plan. Sylvie knows about us, so subterfuge won't work with her. It's all out on the table.” Blaise waved his hand at the feast before us. “Why can't love be worked toward?”
“Because it's an unpredictable emotion,” Lance growled.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “But that doesn't mean it can't be fostered. Lovers have been wooing since time began. Love has always been planned, sometimes in the most intricate fashions. Think of how a man composes a speech when he asks to court a woman, or how he carefully researches what she enjoys and then plans outings to please her.”
“I like you already, sweetheart,” Audric purred. “I'm all in. But I'll come up with my own plans for you, if you don't mind.”
“I as well,” Lance said.
“As you should.” I nodded as the procedure began to form in my head. “You will each be free to woo me as you will, but our plan shall still be put into play. And it shall be very simple. One day for each of you, and then we'll start the process again, until we either love each other–”
“Or hate each other,” Lance finished with a smirk. “Then we'll know that we're doomed.”
“And Lance the Lout returns.” Audric made a face.
