Rose Bound Magic

by Caitlin Crowe

  She sat down in their favorite chair, almost positive she could still smell the piney scent that always clung to Alder’s clothing. Sipping her tea, Bell looked around, surveying the piles of books stacked around her. Reading had always been a safe haven for her, but no matter what book she had picked up, she could only read a few lines before she lost focus. All of the books towering around her had been ones she discarded.

  They really needed to be put away; otherwise, it wouldn’t be long before she tripped on them. Bell froze her teacup halfway to her lips. The thought that had been working its way up through the grief and anger in her mind finally took form – there was something very very wrong. Everything should have righted itself by the time Bell woke this morning.

  Thinking back, Bell saw what she had missed due to her haze of heartbreak. The Palace hadn’t been righting itself each morning, with the first incident being the blood all over Alder’s room. She had never considered why it had never been cleaned, even though stains on furniture were always gone by the next morning.

  Setting her cup on the side table, Bell sat perfectly still, processing what this information meant. Whatever Sidero had done, it hadn’t worked completely.

  It was clear now that the Palace wasn't ornery as Bell had assumed – the threads of magic that tied everything together were loosening and breaking away. Would the Palace fall apart around her? Would the bubble in which she was encapsulated pop? She hadn’t been here long enough to be poisoned by magic like Alder – if the bubble popped, would it kill her, or would she be kept half alive?

  Ice swept through her veins; it was one thing to know objectively you would be killed, it was another to face that the inevitable was coming much sooner than expected. Bell turned towards the window and frowned, wracking her brain. There didn’t seem to be a solution, at least not one she could come up with on her own. She didn’t know enough about Fae magic and the rules that governed – no human did.

  Instead of making her feel worse, recognizing that there was nothing she could do relieved some of the pressure on her chest. Picking up her tea, she took a sip, resolving to continue as she was, keeping a close eye on how things changed. Perhaps a way out would reveal itself as time passed. If it didn’t, maybe she’d be lucky enough that when the inevitable end came, it did so without warning, and she never knew she’d died.

  Taking her tray back to the kitchen, she set it next to the sink. Bell decided she would clean it when she got back if it still needed to be. There was one place she hadn’t visited that she thought might be helpful given the present revelation.

  Belladonna paused on the step to look out across the lawns. The rose maze had never been visible from the Palace before, and it didn’t seem to be at the moment. At least that hadn’t changed yet. Bell headed out, walking in no specific direction, knowing she would stumble across the hedge maze when the Palace was ready.

  As she walked, Bell kept an eye out for anything different – any blade of grass out of place or weed poking up. The area closest to the Palace was still impeccable, but the farther she walked, the cracks in the façade began to appear. The first thing Bell noted was that the grass had seemed to grow. The small easily missed detail proved that whatever was happening inside had started inching out over the grounds as well.

  Appearing before her, the walls of the maze looked more intimidating than before. Stepping into the cool shadows cast by the plants, she started walking until she reached the center. She looked around, noticing that grass had grown out from between stones since her last visit. Turning her attention to the rose bush, she saw only a craggily crisscross of branches, bare of any leaves or new growth. Where the single flower had sat only a withered base resided. The entire bush looked like it had started to die; it’s outer branches dry and brittle.

  Disappointment tasted bitter on the back of her tongue. She hadn’t really expected there to be anyone here, but a small part of her had still hoped Sidero might be waiting for her, perched on the bench. Walking over to it, she sat, staring without seeing at the bush. Only when the setting sun had cast the maze in darkness did she rouse herself and head inside.

  Bell spent every day walking around the house and grounds, looking for signs as to how far things had progressed, finishing each tour with a trip to the maze where she sat on the stone bench and alternated between trying to think of a way out and trying not to think at all.

  Looking around the maze during one of these sessions, clarity struck with the force of a lightning strike. All this time, she had thought that the magic was fading, but she saw that it was time that had begun to break through and return to where it had so long been denied. Whatever magic had been keeping it out had started to weaken, each day allowing more and more time in to reclaim the area.

  The mystery of what was happening filled Belladonna with purpose, allowing her to focus on something other than the carved out feeling of her chest. She walked about with a little notebook, logging anything that had been touched by time after it’s long absence. Suddenly weeds started cropping up on the grounds, and furniture began to look sun-bleached in the rooms with the most enormous windows. Each day new imperfections were found. Against her will, Bell found the entire situation fascinating. Terrifying, yes, but still fascinating.

  Hours were spent in the library pouring over every volume, looking for any mention of Fae and magic. Bell had a distinct memory of reading some book about Fae out loud to Alder, but she couldn’t find it now that she needed it. She wrote done every story she could remember that had even once mentioned the Fae. Many stories had Fae characters, but often nothing useful was said about them.

  Solo and joint rambles across the grounds had been a source of joy for Bell throughout her time here. No matter how long she walked, the edge of the grounds never came closer, even when the Palace had disappeared.

  Now, the horizon seemed to move closer to the Palace every day, shortening the grounds by leaps and bounds. Watching it march ever closer, a plan to approach the invisible barrier started taking form. Belladonna wished she had asked Alder at some point whether he had ever made it to the edge. With all the time he had spent here, she was sure at some point he must have tried.

  Nightmares began to overtake her dreams; no longer did she dream of her family and wake up in tears, instead she dreamed of an unseen enemy chasing her. The faster she ran, the faster her pursuer followed until she was falling into an abyss of pure darkness, at which point she always woke up screaming. Every time she was wrenched into consciousness, she was reminded of Alder and the night terrors that had plagued him every night for eons.

  Bell hadn’t thought to ask Sidero to take Alder’s nightmares away, but perhaps she would have known to do so when Bell had asked for a good, happy life. She hoped so.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was nothing fresh in the kitchen to eat anymore. Everything Bell hadn’t managed to ingest yet had either rotted or molded beyond consumption. She stared glumly at the green, hairy end of bread sitting before her on the counter. The pantry still contained enough food for several weeks, but they were the types of food that kept for months, if not years.

  Glancing out the window, she gasped. The horizon was no longer indistinct in the distance, there was a definite end to the lawn. Bell turned and hurried to the enormous front doors in the grand entrance, pushing them open with much effort and squeaking of hinges.

  Following the driveway, Bell realized the edge was not as close as she had thought. The sun was low in the sky when she finally saw it. She had never been able to imagine what the end of her prison would look like. There was nothing grand or majestic about the edge – it was rather a disappointment, in her opinion. The driveway and grounds were enclosed by what appeared to be a standard fence line and a closed gate. Looking at it, one would never guess that it contained an immortal Fae prison.

  Now that she was here, Bell didn’t know exactly what she meant to do. Her planning had only brought her to the edge and no farther. Looking throug
h the wrought iron gate into the trees on the other side that thickened the farther back they went, Bell grimaced. It quickly became a dark forest. She hadn’t grabbed any food, and although she knew the uses of plants and herbs, she had never spent any significant time in a forest. There had been no reason to learn survival techniques – first because she had had servants do everything for her and then because she had only had to do household chores at Flor Cottage. The closeness of the town meant that she hadn’t had to depend on her own skills.

  Hesitantly she inched closer to the fence. She couldn’t leave now, not with her lack of supplies, but it would be helpful to know if it was possible to leave.

  A buzzing started filling her ears, louder with each step she took forward. Bell continued until she was within arm’s reach of the gate. The buzzing was so loud that she could feel it vibrating within her chest, trying to rearrange all her internal organs into other positions. It wasn’t painful, but it was definitely an unpleasant sensation.

  Bell had come this far, and she couldn’t give up, even filled with dread as she was now. The horizon had appeared, and she had found the edge of her imprisonment.

  As if she was detached from her own arm, Bell watched her hand reach out, pushing its way through the invisible strings. She barely registered the cold bars of iron before there was a tremendous cracking boom that hurled her back twenty feet. Landing hard on the back of her head Bell’s world went black.

  Bell didn’t open her eyes – the pain in her head a warning she couldn’t ignore. Her other senses were nonresponsive, her brain unable to process anything besides the throbbing in her skull. Laying perfectly still, she slit her eyes open.

  The evening stars shined above her, pinpricks of light reaching out from the inky sky. Even that dim light made her stomach roll, and she slammed her eyelids shut, trying to control the nausea she now felt.

  Bell didn’t know how long she laid there before the cold encouraged her to move. Without opening her eyes yet, she sat up gingerly. Her vision blurred for the briefest of moments when she opened her eyes before it cleared, showing the darkened lawns. Thinking was almost too painful, but several images appeared, reminding her of how she had gotten here.

  The moon was full enough for her to see the blisters that covered her right arm. It looked like she had dipped it in boiling water up to her elbow. Surprisingly it didn’t hurt, but Bell was positive it would be painful later.

  Hesitantly she reached up to her head, brushing the spot on the back that ached. Her body revolted from the pain, and she bent to the side, vomiting up what little bile resided in her stomach. Once her stomach had emptied itself, she sat back up, inspecting the hand she had used to explore. Sticky blood covered it from her brief touch.

  Steeling herself, she tried to stand up but fell back, unable to push herself to her knees. After several attempts, she stayed down gasping. Her eyes closed involuntarily, losing consciousness from the pain and effort.

  The next time she opened her eyes, she was face down in the grass, and light was filtering through the blades. Before moving, she gingerly reached to the back of her head. This time her gentle touch did not cause vomit to rise up her esophagus, even though it did cause rolling pain through the interior of her skull. More aware now, she searched for wetness but found only dried blood clotting her hair.

  Thirst itched her mouth and throat. Bell didn’t know how long she had been unconscious, but at least one night had passed, and a new day started.

  Somehow, she needed to walk back to the Palace before anything worse happened. Alder had told her that no one could die within the grounds, but magic and time had changed everything since then. The edge had appeared, and the threads of magic were unraveling faster than she had anticipated. If her wounds hadn’t healed while she was unconscious, she doubted they would magically fix themselves at all, which put her at risk the longer she was outside.

  Bell pushed herself up, waiting for the sudden onslaught of dizziness to pass before attempting to move. She took a tentative step forward and then another, forcing herself to move despite the pain. Time was befuddled on her walk back, and she didn’t know how long it took her to get back to the Palace – she lost count of how many times she collapsed due to overexertion.

  After finding the driveway, Bell decided to walk beside it instead of on it in the hope that if she fell, she would land on the softer grass. Often she found herself waking with the gravel sticking her in the face. Each time she rose and continued onward, the Palace slowly growing larger with each passing step. Once she had dragged herself into the kitchen, she went to the sink, pumping water straight into her hands and gulping it down greedily. Her stomach full of the cold liquid she sat in a chair, trying to collect herself for what she knew needed to be done.

  Her arm was worse than she had thought and inspecting it now she wasn’t surprised she hadn’t been able to feel the pain from the burn. Hopefully, the sensation would return, but with the agony in her head at the moment, she was relieved she didn’t have to contend with her arm as well.

  The wound on her head was her primary concern. In her tentative exploration earlier, she hadn’t felt any exposed bone, but she couldn’t be sure until all the matted blood tangling her hair was washed away. The thought made her stomach rollover. It was highly likely that if she touched her head too hard, she might faint, making the process even longer and more dangerous alone.

  She eyed the sink critically, considering it. It was much taller than a standard sink, probably because it was for Alder’s use. Yes, if she filled it with clean water, it would be deep enough for her to dunk her head. Even if she fainted, her head would be pulled out of the water when she fell, stopping her from drowning. As long as she put a chair right behind her, she thought she would be marginally slowed as she fell. She couldn’t stop herself from losing consciousness, so her ultimate goal was not hitting her head again. Or drowning.

  Collecting her strength, she went to the sink. She filled it with water and soap before grabbing clean linen towels from a kitchen drawer. Deciding it was best to start with her arm, she gritted her teeth and submerged it. After soaking and wrapping it, Bell was relieved to feel twinges of pain as she tied the ends. Maybe some feeling would return soon.

  Refilling the sink, Bell stood before it, bracing herself. More towels and a chair were positioned, but the impending torture scared her the way nothing had yet. Only the fear of dying because she hadn’t been brave enough to do what was needed spurred her forward.

  Taking one last shaky breath, she dunked her head under the water’s soapy surface, making sure the back of her head was under. Reflexively she opened her mouth to scream, resulting in a gulp of soapy water.

  Rising, Bell leaned over the floor and vomited all the water she had just drunk before turning back to the sink and starting the process all over again. After several cycles of this, she slumped in the chair, sopping wet but relieved. It was a small victory she hadn’t fainted again. It seemed a sign that she’d ultimately be okay. Grabbing a towel, she patted the back of her head – each touch felt like a blow and made her head swim.

  She stumbled out of the room and collapsed on the first soft surface she found. Whether she was lost to sleep or unconsciousness, she didn’t know.

  It became glaringly apparent that time was making up for being denied access to the Palace for so long.

  Each day and the subsequent night were shorter than the previous. Bell thought at first that her head was playing tricks on her, what with the wound. It didn’t take long to recognize that the days indeed were shorter, even if the clocks seemed to indicate otherwise. Even with the head wound, she still knew night simply didn’t descend after one had breakfast.

  The nonstop speedup of time caused Bell to anxiously glance out whatever window she passed, unsure what was what happening outside. She was disgruntled to find that her wounds weren’t healing any faster just because the days themselves were speeding up. The burns had started hurting, and combined with th
e ache in her head Bell was constantly dizzy with pain.

  Once she felt like she could make the distance in one trip, Bell headed out to the maze. It had always seemed to be the epicenter of all magic. It was closer than it had ever been before. She could see it indistinctly from the back door of the kitchen. Bell was thankful it was near as she still wasn’t in any condition to wander around the grounds for any length of time. Dizziness still overtook her if she walked for too long, and her bandaged arm had decided to start throbbing with her every heartbeat.

  Bell was still quite some distance away when she realized something was terribly wrong. The once green hedges were reduced to lifeless branches. Approaching the entrance, Bell hesitated. The tangled branches still created an impenetrable wall, but now it sent a chill down her spine. If Death had a garden, it would look like this.

  Taking a bracing breath, Belladonna entered, her sense of dread expanding with every step. Even without the leaves, it still took her several wrong turns and backtracks before she found the center. Cautiously, Bell surveyed the clearing, her anxiety mounting into an indistinct fear.

  There didn’t appear to be anyone, and the lack of all vegetation made it virtually impossible for anything to hide. Still, the hairs on the back of her neck were warning her of something.