Page 28 of Rose's Untamed Bear

“I’m sorry I kept you here so long,” Rose whispered, her hand brushing mine.

I shook my head. My throat tightened at her selflessness. If only she knew. I would have stayed an eternity in that cave if it meant giving her even a moment’s peace after the gift she had given me.

I kissed her hair and shook my head. “Don’t ever apologize for giving me time with you. If I could have stayed in that cave forever, I would have.”

The words hung between us, warm and heavy, until the crackle of the fire reminded me of reality. We were running out of wood, out of excuses to linger. The journey could wait no longer.

At dawn, we packed what little we had—blankets, dried meat, the torch stubs—and left the vault behind. The crystal pulsed steadily in my satchel, warm against my side like a heartbeat. Each step took us closer to my father’s castle, closer to the moment I’d dreamed of for years: breaking the curse that bound him and my household in stone.

Rose walked beside me, her bow slung over her shoulder, her cheeks pink from the chill and from something quieter, thoughts she hadn’t yet spoken. I knew her well enough by now to wait.

Finally, her voice came, hesitant. “Tell me about him. Your father. Your family. Your house.”

My chest tightened. “My father, Roderick,” I said softly. “King of the North Marches. He was stern, but fair. Our hall was full of voices, always—soldiers, servants, kin. There was always laughter at the long tables, and the fires burned high. My mother would scold him for pacing during feasts because he could never sit still.” A smile pulled at me unbidden. “It was a home filled with life.”

"What happened to her? Your mother?"

"She died when I was ten. I wish I could remember more of her," I said mournfully. And I did. The few images and memories I had of her, I held on to like—pardon the pun—a troll to his treasure. "She was very sweet, always laughing. I remember most how much she loved me and my father."

"I'm sorry." Tears welled in her eyes, and I kissed her forehead.

"It's been a long time."

Her gaze stayed on the path, thoughtful, and after a while, she stated. “And you are a prince.”

I chuckled. “If that still means anything after all these years, yes.”

She was quiet for a long moment. Then, in a small voice, “Won’t he, your father… won’t he be put off? By me? I’m no princess, Derrick. I’m just a lowly girl from a cottage in the woods.”

I stopped, turning to her, catching her hand before she could tuck it away. “Rose.” I waited until her wide eyes lifted to mine. “You are braver than any soldier who stood in my father’s hall. Kinder than half the courtiers who ever bowed to him. Fiercer than any hunter I’ve fought beside. You are mine. And if my father cannot see your worth, then he does not deserve the man you’ve made me.”

Her lips parted, and a soft, disbelieving smile broke through her doubt.

The path stretched ahead, long and shadowed, but with her hand in mine, it felt lighter. The castle waited two days away.

The path wound through thickets and over ridges, spring struggling to loosen winter’s grip. Barley any snow clung any longer in the shaded hollows, and green shoots were already pushing through the frost. Rose paused once to pluck a sprig of wild violet and tucked it into her braid, laughing when I stared too long.

Two days, I had told her. Two days, and I would stand before my father’s castle again. Two days, and I would press the crystal to his stone chest and pray to every god I remembered that he would breathe once more.

We walked until the sun sank low, then made camp beneath the shelter of a pine grove. She spread the blankets with practiced ease, and I started the fire. When the flames caught, painting her face in amber light, she curled against me, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“What if they don’t like me?” she murmured into my shirt.

I tipped her chin up. “They will love you because I love you. And if they dare otherwise, they will answer to me.”

She tried to argue, tried to shrink herself into the quiet girl she thought she had to be, but I silenced her with a kiss. Not fierce, not hungry, but steady. Unyielding.

By the second morning, the air shifted. The road widened, flattened, stones long since laid by men’s hands and now half-swallowed by moss. Birds fell silent as though the land itself remembered the curse that had fallen here.

And then—there it was.

The castle.

Its towers rose gray against the pale sky, their banners long rotted, the gates frozen open. Ivy strangled the walls, but the bones of it remained proud, defiant even in ruin. I stopped on the ridge, Rose’s hand in mine, my throat too tight for words.

Her eyes were wide, a mixture of awe and unease. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

It was. Even half-asleep, even cursed, it was still home.