Rose and Thorn: Possession of The King (Book 1) (A Collection of Roses)

by EMILIA RAY ROSE

  My footman! Ressa thought.

  Ressa sent one of her maids to get Odis. She decided to write a note that he would, in turn, hand over to Ezra.

  This way, she thought, he’ll know; my conscience will be clear and all will be well.

  Ressa thanked her maids for their hard work and sent them away. As soon as the last of them shut the door behind them, she rushed to her writing desk and grabbed a quill. She scribbled so fast on the light brown paper on her desk that her words were barely legible. However, she was sure Ezra could pick the words out. Done with writing, she folded the paper quickly, but neatly, and sealed it with red wax carrying the symbol of a rose. Then she signed her last name below the seal.

  She stood in the mirror, admiring the choice of her wedding dress—a red gown that exposed her shoulders. It was a dress that symbolized her family, the Rose family.

  Ressa was still looking in the mirror when the knock on her door came. She rushed towards it. Odis stood there with a bouquet in his hands when she opened the door.

  “Ah, red roses!” Ressa exclaimed joyfully.

  “A hearty congratulations to you, my lady,” Odis said. “I thought you might like these.”

  “Of course I like them,” Ressa said, receiving the bouquet.

  She walked towards her writing table, and Odis followed. She put the roses down on the table then issued Odis the note.

  “You have to makes sure this finds its way to Ezra,” she told him.

  Odis’ lips were pinched.

  Ressa took off the bejeweled bracelet the maids had fixed on her wrist and place it in Odis’ palm.

  “For your troubles, my dear friend; after all, you did go to the trouble of risking your life behind Ida's back. If she had found out you would have been dead for sure,” Ressa said to him with a meek smile.

  Odis looked at the bracelet with sadness in his eyes.

  “You’ve always been good to me, my wife and daughter, my lady,” he said. “To the good of all of us here in the castle. It is a shame you won’t be our queen. As I said before, you would have made a great one, my lady.”

  Odis's words misted Ressa’s heart with sadness. She gave him a quick hug then walked him to the door.

  “Hurry now,” she told him. “This letter is greatly urgent, and he must get it before the wedding.”

  With sad eyes, Odis took one more look at Ressa before walking out the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Can you take me to go see the royal hall, please?” Ressa asked Iris. “I just want to take a look at the wedding preparations before the ceremony.”

  “Yes, my lady. Absolutely,” Iris replied.

  Going to see the wedding preparations was a good ruse for Ressa’s escape. She planned to scale the garden walls when she saw a window of opportunity, but honestly, deep in her heart, she wanted to take one last look at the life she would soon leave behind.

  The hall was buzzing with preparations. Servants moved about prepping plate after plate of fresh fruit and cheese. They filled large goblet towers of wine. They moved around furiously making sure that everything was in order.

  Ressa moved about pretending to love the flowers and sparkly candles and adore the food while her eyes roamed about looking for an opportune moment to make her escape. As she surveyed the room she was wrapped in a swathe of sadness. The splendor and wealth before her were testaments to a life she could have had. But she had to leave it. One part of her missed it already, the other was conscious that she only had a few moments to accomplish her goal.

  Standing in the middle of the hall Ressa remembered her dance with Ezra and the lulling music of the orchestra. She wished she could bring the moment back. She imagined herself in his arms once again, moving to the tune of sweet music, with the king happily cheering them on in approval. The scene was so vivid that Ressa began to dance in tune with her imagination. Soon she began to twirl, unaware that Wort Folly stood behind her watching.

  The sound of Alabaster’s low growl forced her to stumble, and Ressa's once closed eyes shot open in panic.

  “My lady,” Wort said, “Alabaster and I did not mean to startle you. We couldn't help but stare. After all, you move so gracefully.”

  “I was—”

  “Please, you do not need to explain yourself to us. We know that you are looking forward to tonight's proceedings. May I say you look lovely tonight, my lady, such elegance and grace, but it seems you are missing a key piece of jewelry.”

  Wort's eyes darted up towards Ressa's head. “No crown? Well, perhaps the lady has acquired all the jewels she needs.”

  The blood rushed out of Ressa's face. Does he know? She shivered as tingles spread up and down her spine at the tone of Wort's voice.

  “I must go,” she managed to utter. She whipped her body around towards the exit, but before she could take one step back, Cavel took her hand and pulled her toward him; she stumbled. Cavel was quick enough, however, to stop her from falling.

  “You’re a beautiful dancer, you know,” he said, “but not even your dancing can rival how beautiful you look in this dress.”

  “I will leave the happy couple to their dance,” Wort said, disappearing with Alabaster around the corner.

  “Forget those two, let's dance,” Cavel said, pulling Ressa in closer to his chest.

  “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding,” Ressa said.

  “Well,” Cavel said with a broad smile, “I make my own luck.”

  Holding Ressa nice and tight, he led her into a waltz.

  Realizing her chance at a quick and easy escape had been foiled Ressa kept dancing. She averted her eyes from Cavel's gaze in an attempt to hide her contempt for him. She was involved at the moment as a fiancée should be, but she wished in her heart that she had a dagger that she could plunge into his heart giving her the freedom she so desired. The freedom to scale the garden wall and make it in time to save her father.

  A few of the wedding guests who’d come early gathered around them and the members of the orchestra began to play. As the pace of the music increased, so did the cheers in the room. As Cavel reveled in his guests’ cheers, Ressa's heart cried inside. What she wouldn't have given for a distraction of any kind to free her. And then, suddenly, as if the world heard her heart’s silent calls, the cheers from the crowd were drowned out by the sounds of screaming.

  As the guests turned in the direction of the sound, Ida ran into the hall crying hysterically. She rushed straight towards Ressa and fell into her arms.

  “It’s the king,” she cried. “He’s dead.”

  Ressa's eyes widened. “What have you done?” she said to Cavel who stood slack-jawed at her words.

  Some of the guests gasped, others screamed. The color drained from Cavel’s face as he turned towards Ida and screamed, “You liar!”

  “Liar?” Ressa asked as Ida fell to the ground overwhelmed by her tears.

  Ezra entered the hall with Wesley by his side.

  “Ida?” Ezra asked, rushing towards her, lifting the poor old woman off the ground. She was trembling. He gazed deeply into her eyes, calming Ida's soul.

  “I know you’re upset,” Ezra told her, “but you’ve got to tell us what is going on.”

  Ida took a few breaths to regain her composure.

  “Tell us what you saw, old woman!” Cavel yelled, arousing a flinch from among the guests.

  “My prince, please,” Ezra said, trying to calm things.

  Ressa rushed to Ida's side to stand between her and Cavel; she knelt down beside Ezra and grabbed Ida's hand. “Do not be afraid, dear friend. Ezra is here to help.”

  Her words brought a small smile to Ezra's face. He grabbed Ida's hands and said, “You have the floor. Now please tell us all what you saw.”

  “The king is dead, my lord.”

  A hush fell over the hall. It was as if someone invisible had iced everyone, silencing all chatter.

  Ezra rose to his feet looking confused. “What did you
say?”

  “The king called on me to help him get ready for the wedding festivity,” Ida began. “He asked me to bring his royal dress robes. I left for his dressing room to fetch them. I had been gone for only a few moments or so and when…”

  The room swam before Ezra and he shut his eyes for a moment. This is not real. This cannot be real. But when he opened his eyes, he saw the woman still standing there, trembling. Her eyes glistened with bright unshed tears and her voice quavered as she spoke.

  “When I came back,” she continued, “I found the king lying on the bed with a pillow over his face.”

  Ressa held her palm over her mouth and shivered.

  “No. You are mistaken, Ida. My fa…” Ezra’s voice faltered. “The king can't be dead.”

  Ida grabbed Ezra's hands and hung her head. “I'm sorry, son.”

  Ezra wrenched his hands away from hers and stumbled back dumbstruck.

  Ressa wanted so badly to rush over to him and embrace him but thought better of it.

  Just then the three guards that had once been placed at both ends of the king's wing came rushing into the great hall. Every head turned towards them. Their grim faces told everyone that what they dreaded was true. In each one of their hands was a black feather, the symbol of a fallen member of the Markenian kingdom.

  “No,” Cavel said and rose to his feet as the men faltered into the room.

  The first walked over to him and bowed before placing the first feather in his palm. The second moved towards Ezra who refused the feather by pushing the guard's hand away. The last man went straight to Ressa. “My lady” the guard said, hanging his head in an unspoken apology.

  She reluctantly opened her palm and watched as the guard placed the feather in it. It was as if a dam had broken in her heart and the tears fell fast and heavy down her cheeks.

  At the sight of her tears the small crowd that had gathered in the great hall began to sob along with her.

  “No. I will prove you all wrong,” Ezra said. “Come now! All of you,” he shouted to his men. Cavel followed, along with Wesley, who threw his arms around Ida and escorted her to the king's chambers.

  “Have the king’s guards remained at their posts?” Ezra asked as he rushed towards the king’s wing of the castle.

  “Yes”, she replied, following closely behind. “I don’t understand how someone could have gotten in and out of the king’s chambers without any of them knowing.”

  “I need to see him. At once,” Cavel said, pushing past them all to take the lead.

  As they left, Ressa dropped to her knees. She was heartbroken and terrified. Cavel, that monster, has had his father killed and on his wedding day. I knew of his plans to murder but I would have never guessed it would be his father. I could have stopped him, she thought as her heavy tears dripped down her face onto her wedding gown.

  She’d been very certain that Ezra was the target. He was in line to the throne after all and a threat to Cavel’s quest for power.

  Then it hit her. Ezra was no threat if he didn’t know he was next in line to the throne. Ressa thought about the king’s decree as a possible motive for his murder. Only a handful knew about it—the king himself, Cavel, the mistresses who were there that night, and me.

  Ressa ran the scene of her first night in the castle through her mind —when she’d masqueraded as one of Cavel’s mistresses—over and over again, straining to catch even the slightest of details.

  The guards, Ressa thought.

  She recalled that all the women in the room that night were apprehended by guards.

  Would they help Cavel overthrow his father? she asked herself. None of her conjectures made sense to her.

  Suddenly, she was struck by one of the details in the scene of that night. The guard she had bitten with the scar across his hand. She remembered the same scar holding the mangled, bloodied carcasses of the cashmere rabbits in the garden. Wort Folly, the guard that had restrained her, had the same scar. She remembered. He had wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she struggled against his grip. He’d been there when the king gave the decree as well as the rest of the guards. But only he had something to lose by the king’s decree. If Ezra got to be king, a prospect that garnered reality with each day, Wort’s hunting and freedom to kill as much as he wanted stood to be tempered. Ezra was too compassionate for Wort. He'd never let Wort kill the way he did with Cavel. Besides, Wort favored Cavel’s disgusting ways. And he wasn’t going to give that up. Not for someone like Ezra.

  Then a thought hit her like a piece of rock from an unknown assailant.

  Wort must have been the one posted outside the king’s door, she thought.

  Ressa got to her feet and took off running down the hall, knocking into a few wedding guests. She rushed towards the king’s chambers but was stopped by the guards stationed at the door.

  “Sorry, my lady,” one of the guards said. “We can’t let you through.”

  Ressa stood behind the blockade formed by the guards and watched the proceedings from afar. She espied the limp body of King Willum Alvert lying on his bed with a silk pillow beside his head. She did her best to avert her eyes from the sight of the king’s corpse. His pale-skinned lifeless body was surrounded by Cavel, Ezra, and a handful of guards and at the edge of his bed stood the culprit himself.

  Wort moved closer to the king’s body with Alabaster by his side. Lifting his left foot, so his hand could reach his boots, he brought out a dagger, pried through the king’s closed fist, and brought out a piece of cloth from the king’s stiff hand.

  “Looks like part of a torn dress,” he said, displaying the piece of cloth to Cavel and Ezra.

  Both Ezra’s and Ressa’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the gold fabric that resembled part of her skirt from the dress she wore for the engagement ball.

  Ressa's eyes widened. My gown. That weasle Folly stole a piece of my dress the night we officially met. She realized that she wasn’t the only one with the plan to steal something that night. Wort must have dexterously hacked the piece off when she’d fallen into his arms.

  Wort lowered the piece of cloth to Alabaster, who sniffed at it and was primed for the hunt for its owner. Sure enough, he turned towards the door eyeing Ressa. His two heads began to growl and howl at the sight of her. Wort restrained him. Ezra stood silent and stunned. Wort smirked. Then Cavel met Ressa’s eyes from across the barrier of guards and he smiled in a maleficent manner.

  Ezra spotted Ressa behind the barrier of guards.

  Cavel’s eyes held a glimmer of joy whereas Ezra’s were filled with fear and shock at the fact that Ressa was now the prime suspect in the king’s death.

  Ressa turned and ran towards the royal hall. She fled through the hallway in careless abandon, knocking over anyone in her path. As she ran she felt as though she merged with t

  he wind as it brushed past her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ressa’s feet pounded on the floor as she ran.

  The entire royal army was after her, including her Golden Boy. Their yelling filled her ears pushing her to go faster. She would have if she could have, but already her legs ached and she was panting hard through her mouth.

  The men coming after her were faster and trained for this. She had taken them by surprise and that surprise had given her a head start, but they were catching up now. She would not be able to get away from them.

  She was gripped by panic. Somehow she could not decide where she was heading. The doorways looked the same. She could only just run and run and keep running.

  “Get that murderer!” somebody yelled.

  “Cut her off!” another commanded. It was Wort Folly.

  Already one of the guards was closing in to the right. Ressa took a chance and crashed through one of the doorways. She slammed the door shut immediately behind her. It caught the guard full-on in the face as he tried to follow.

  Hope surged through Ressa. Perhaps she was going to get away after all.

  Her hope was sn
uffed out moments later when a hand gripped her. She yelled and jumped, startled.

  “Shhh…” Raven pulled her swiftly towards another corridor. “Follow me,” she said. She dragged her towards a life-sized painting of late Queen Alaura.

  Suddenly the painting moved. Behind it was Raven's father Odis. “Quickly now,” he said, pulling Ressa in.

  “Safe travels,” Raven said to Ressa as she pushed the painting, closing the hidden doorway behind it.

  At that same moment, the outer door flew open again and the guards poured in. Ressa stood with Odis in the dark and listened hard as their footsteps pounded down the corridor.

  Quietly Odis tugged at her and pointed at a drape behind them. She turned and he pushed her slightly. She carefully pushed the drape aside and saw that there was a door behind it. She pushed it open and entered the dark room it offered. Odis went in after her and shut the door behind them, taking care to put the drape back in place first.

  They stood there in silence listening to the commotion outside the room. The guards questioned Raven, but she gave no proper reply. Confused, the guards couldn’t decide where she had gone. For a moment they searched the room and found nothing. The drapes in the room were many and most of them hung over nothing. So there was no need to check behind them for doors.

  “She must have gone down the corridor,” someone said.

  They walked off that way.

  “Odis,” Ressa said.

  Straight away his hand found her mouth and clamped hard over it, silencing her immediately. She understood her mistake then. The statement might have been a ruse to get her to come out of her hiding place. They had to be patient.

  A moment later, Odis removed his hand from her mouth. The two stood in the dark and waited. After a while, when they heard nothing more, Odis lit a small oil lamp.

  Ressa saw then that it was not a room but a corridor. The corridor was clean and well-kept with a few small side tables, armed velvet chairs, and a few paintings of the royal family in random places.