DeVante's Curse (5 page)

The door opened at his touch.

Felix was on the floor, bloodless,
breathless. Crumpled like trash that had been kicked aside.

DeVante did not spare a glance for Katarina,
but crouched near Felix. Touched his face, stroked his hair. Gently
straightened his limbs.

He would not drag Felix anywhere. No matter
how weak he was, he would never be too weak to carry his only
friend.

DeVante held Felix in his arms and stared
into the cold burn pit. There had been no one to work the
bellows.

But the sun was warm. And the first frost had
yet to come, despite the chill of the night.

He carried Felix into the garden. Walked the
twisted and winding paths to a small clearing. He set Felix gently
down, and returned to the castle for a blanket and a shovel.

"No worries, Felix." DeVante said out loud.
"This is the least of what I have had to do. This is, perhaps, the
best of it."

He wrapped Felix in the blanket they had
shared for that one beautiful day. His eyes were wet, and his tears
blinded him sometimes, but it did not matter, because all he had to
do was dig.

When the work was done, he dove into the
clear, cold pool.

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