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“Does she always treat everyone like misbehaving children? Youarean adult,” Protego asked.
“Yes. As you said before, she thinks she is doing what’s best for us.” Primrose tried to wink, but both eyes closed instead.
“Can you not wink?”
“What? I just did,” she protested.
“No, you definitely did not.” He chuckled.
Primrose’s cheeks turned a vibrant pink as she headed towards the door. Protego reached out and lightly grabbed her left hand.
“Hey, wait. Walk with me.”
“Sure, we have to discuss tomorrow anyway.” Primrose looked down at their touching hands. Her cheeks flushed hot once more as she slowly moved her fingers out of his reach.
“What’s tomorrow?”
“We’re going to meet with my masters to go over the plan for eradicating these monsters. There’s a spell we need to find and a rose. We’ll need all hands on deck.”
“A rose?” Protego questioned. “I thought you were the only rose around here.”
“The Rose of Sanitus. I don’t know a lot about it, but it should break the one I performed in combination with a specific spell, ending this curse.”
“Interesting. I know many things about the human realm, but that is not one of them. I hope it works.” Protego smiled.
“If Master Zuberi says it will work, it will work,” Primrose replied confidently.
They continued passing through the castle’s halls until they were back in their separate rooms.
“I’m going to change clothes; I suggest you do as well. There’s a tunic that should be well suited for your figure,” Primrose said. “I’ll return after I change as well.”
“Change for what? That dress suits you well.” Protego amorously looked at her.
“Thank you, but it won’t do well on a horse.”
Protego stared at her, mortified, before smoothing out his expression to a neutral one. His deep red eyes gleamed as he looked at her.
“Horse?” His eyebrows furrowed.
“Have you never ridden a horse before?”
“I have, but it’s probably been a hundred or so years.”
“One hundred years?!” Primrose yelled out before Protego cupped his hand over her mouth.
“Must you be so loud? Yes, it’s been about a hundred years,” he said in a hushed voice, slowly removing his hand.
Eyes wide, Primrose asked, “How oldareyou?”
“Do we really have to have this conversation right now, in the hallway? Where any servant could hear?”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Primrose whispered and then giggled. “Oh, The Committee! You’re an old man.”
“Do Ilooklike an old man?”
“Looks can be deceiving.” She continued giggling.
“Goodbye,” he said, crossing the threshold to the room adjacent to hers.
