Black Rose

by Bone, K. L.

  Garreth drew another deep breath. The sound of metal striking stone filled the room as Garreth flicked his wrist, testing his grip on the whip. A long moment of silence filled the room before Garreth said, “Forgive me.”

  Moments later the first stroke of the triple pronged whip buried itself into the flesh of her back.

  Chapter XXXII

  The water continued to cascade over her body as she forced herself from those dark memories long ago. “Dammit, Brendan!” She slammed her hand against the tiled wall.

  When she had formed the foundation of the Rose, Brendan, along with nearly a hundred other men, had taken the oath by her side. He had been young and untested—not unlike Nolan was now. Mara initially had little time for the youth. In fact, she would have dismissed him outright had Phillip not decided to take Brendan under his wing, training him in both the ways of the sword and the ancient traditions which, even all those centuries ago, had already begun to fade from the courts.

  It was nearly fifteen years after his arrival, at the end of a particularly nasty run-in with several members of the Muir Court, that Mara finally agreed to grant him a position of rank among the guard. With valor unwatched by all but few, he rose swiftly through the ranks to achieve the title of a Sub-Captain. When Philip finally died nearly two-hundred years after his arrival, Brendan had seemed the natural choice for Mara’s second-in-command.

  Though she never expressed much affection, Mara had come to care deeply for the man who had fought so bravely by her side. With great courage and unquestioned loyalty, Brendan had somewhat managed to cling to a sense of hope for the world which Mara had lost long ago. The realization that he would never again stand by her side was almost unbearable.

  Mara turned the temperature of the water even higher. Hissing against the heat, she put all of her concentration into forcing herself to remain standing in the spray of the near-boiling water. She pulled at her hair, nails digging into her scalp, as though trying to scrape away the memories along with Brendan’s blood.

  It was not until the last hint of warmth had vanished from the water surrounding her that Mara finally turned the golden knobs and removed herself from the shower. She glanced into the mirror studying her beet-red skin, long matted hair and hollow eyes. She then wrapped the towel around her body before reaching mechanically for the small black brush lying on the vanity. She combed through her hair methodically, starting at the end of each group of collected strands and working towards her scalp before moving on to the next piece.

  When her hair finally lay in straight, smooth strands, she walked to the closet, where she pulled out a thin, satin nightgown with thin straps. She pulled a matching robe of satin around her shoulders, but did not fasten the black buttons, instead opting to leave the robe open as she turned to walk back into the large bedroom. Standing in the doorway, was Edward.

  Showered and dressed, Edward leaned back against the side of the closed stone door. His borrowed shirt was loose along his arms, the top buttons open revealing the contrast of his pale skin against the dark material of the shirt. His hair hung straight, still damp from the shower.

  Mara drew a deep breath and gathered her emotions as tightly as she could. She forced her features into a cold, blank expression before slowly moving to take a seat on the edge of the large bed. She then adjusted her robes, fidgeting until the material finally lay comfortably around her slender form, blending with the dark covers beneath her.

  Only then did she raise her gaze to meet the dark eyes awaiting her. She did not know what to expect when she finally met his gaze—anger, arrogance, pity. Instead, she saw none of these things. In their place was a mixture of love and tenderness so raw, so real that it shattered every defense she had worked so carefully to put in place. A look that she had been certain, she would never see again.

  He spoke her name, the sound carrying across the room like the breath of a gentle caress, and Mara began to cry, sobs tumbling from her pale lips. Her long fingers dug into the black cloth of the cover lying beneath her, and her thin frame shook visibly from the force of her tears.

  Edward crossed the room in three quick strides “Mara,” Edward said gently, kneeling before her shivering form. He reached forward, gently running his hand down her left arm. When he reached her hand, Mara slowly uncurled her fingers from the cloth and slid them through Edward’s.

  “I can’t,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “I am so tired.”

  Edward leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her chest. She raised her right hand and laced her fingers into his hair. “Mara, I…” She felt him draw a deep breath and try again. “Mara,” his said, his words a whisper.

  She tightened her grip on Edward’s black hair and gave it a hard jerk, forcing him to stare up into her violet eyes. Her tears ceased as she gazed down at the man kneeling before her. Then slowly, deliberately, Mara leaned down, closing the distance between them. She pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back, softly moving under her caress. She stared down at him with an intense expression then suddenly moved her hands to the collar of his shirt and ripped it open, exposing the smooth perfection of his skin, almost completely healed from the shallow cuts from Viktor’s blade.

  She ran her hands slowly across his chest, as though verifying by touch what she could not trust through vision, then moved back further onto the bed. He followed her movements, rising from his knees as she guided his upper body towards her. Pulling him forward on the bed, Mara leaned back into the soft black blankets. Edward lay beside her, and she placed her head upon his chest, his arms moving to close gently around her.

  “What do you need, Mara? Tell me what you need.”

  Several moments of silence followed, then in a hushed whisper, “To drown them out,” came the answer. “To have one, single moment where I don’t remember…anything.”

  He slid her from his chest, moving back enough to see the silver in her violet eyes. Then he kissed her. “mea rosa immnortalis.” His voice was deep, his eyes intense in their captivating gaze. “I will drown out the dreams.”

  “Memories,” she answered. “Never dreams.”

  He stopped her words with another kiss, this time more passionately with a sense of desperation which drove all other thoughts from her mind. For one moment, she melted into that kiss, then pulled back. “No,” she said, disentangling their bodies as she moved toward the edge of the bed.

  “What is it?”

  “This is wrong. You don’t want this. You don’t want…me.”

  “That is a lie. I have always wanted you, Mara.”

  “My sword. My blood. My life. But not me; never me.”

  “Mara,” he interrupted. “Do you believe I don’t love you?”

  Her body jerked at the question. “Of course you don’t. How could you possibly love me, when you have spent the past eight-hundred years hating me? Me, the one responsible for the death of the one you truly loved.”

  Edward moved his hand to the side of Mara’s face, forcing her to hold his gaze. He stared as though attempting to force his way past her violet eyes and into her soul. A look of pain crossed his face that caused Mara’s breath to catch in her throat, her heart pounding so fiercely she thought it might burst. His fingers climbed higher to dig into her long black hair. “te amo, rosa, mea rosa immortalis. I have always,” the words were tight, slow and strained, “always loved you. And tonight, I am going to chase away your pain.”

  He paused, allowing his words to firmly settle over the woman seated before him. “All these years and I have never once done what is right for you. I would tell you that I am sorry for what happened, but it would not be enough. It will never be enough. So please, Mara, mea rosa, mi amor. Let me give you what you ask. A single moment’s peace.”

  She stared at him in heartbreaking disbelief. Tears burned the corner of her eyes, but did not fall. “All I want is to forget. To not remember. To not… Edward, what the Queen did to you. I couldn’t watch. And I couldn’t not watch. And
I can’t forget. Ignosce mihi, mi amor. I am so sorry. I am…”

  “Oh, Mara.” Edward shook his head slowly. “You didn’t do that, Mara. It was our fault; Liza’s and mine. Not yours.”

  She moved her hand to his chest and slowly traced her fingers down his skin. “But I watched, Edward. I watched her split your skin. I watched her paint the ground with your blood. I listened to your screams. I watched her destroy everything I had ever believed in and did nothing. Nothing!”

  “Stop it, Mara.” His voice was raw, but firm. “It was not your fault, do you hear me?” His tone became more intense. “It was not your fault.” He leaned down and again kissed her, driving her body back towards the bed. He pushed her down, pressing her deep into the blankets. Every protest, every thought, vanished under the weight of Edward’s body pressing against her own.

  Chapter XXXIII

  Mara awoke still wrapped securely in the circle of Edward’s arms. Her head against his chest, Mara pressed her check closer to his skin. His heart beat strong and steady. She closed her eyes, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing, allowing it to soothe the turmoil in her mind.

  She was unsure how long she laid there in the warmth of his embrace. How many nights had she dreamed of this, only to find herself alone with the first glimmer of the sun’s rays? Edward seemed peaceful in his dreams. It was with the greatest of difficulty that she finally managed to pull away, moving slowly so not to wake him. As she moved to the side of the bed, Mara turned back to stare down at the man lying beside her. His pale chest seemed almost ghostly against the black sheets. His long dark hair covered the right side of the pillow which cradled his head.

  She continued to stare down at his peaceful form for several minutes. Then, she rose from the bed and stepped quietly to the closet where she slipped into a clean gown of black satin with a matching robe. Draped in these fresh clothes, Mara walked past the still sleeping Edward and stepped quickly into the stone corridor beyond. Insulated by a thick, black rug, her steps were nearly silent as she turned right and walked down the full length of the large hallway. She eventually reached a side stairwell which she slowly began to ascend.

  There were twelve flights of stairs between the Captain and the uppermost tower of the ancient castle. When she finally reached the top, it was to find herself in a small room with a single window. It was to this small opening she walked, where the first glimmer of sunlight had begun to seep into the room. Under the window was a golden chest upon which lay one of the last existing enchantments the world would ever know. Covered in a layer of dust so thick that it was almost white, the chest stood in the same location where it had been sealed nearly six hundred years before. She knelt down before the large chest and blew softly across the front. Dust scattered through the air, revealing the ancient warning: “hic iacet sanguis rosarum.” Here lie the blood of roses.

  Beneath the inscription was an impression in the shape of a rose. Mara ran a finger slowly over the indented words, inscribed all those years ago for the specific purpose of preventing anyone from ever again withdrawing its sacred contents. Carefully, Mara raised her hands to her throat and unclasped the silver chain from around her neck. In the center of the chain lay a single white diamond which had been carved into the same rose-like shape which stood embedded into the side of the golden chest. She removed the rose from the chain and held it gently in her hand. She closed her eyes as she traced the familiar lines of the hollowed diamond.

  She could still picture the joyous expression which had graced Liza’s face the night her mother had given her the pendant, hanging on the end of a thin, golden chain. Liza had been five, or perhaps six at the time of receipt; it had been her first truly royal gift. A necklace which had once been worn by the Queen’s mother—a grandmother shared by both Liza and Mara. Twenty years later, the same pendant would be seen as the only identifiable element upon Liza’s otherwise mutilated body. Found three days after the Queen had tortured Edward, a night which would become known from that moment on as the night of ‘forbidden love.’

  “Here lie the blood of roses.” She again traced her finger over the memorized inscription. She had fallen asleep in Edward’s arms that night. Broken and emotionally exhausted from being forced to endure in silence as Edward’s torture had been draw out to the Queen’s pleasure. Mara should have been watching over the Princess that night, but instead found herself unable to force herself from Edward’s side.

  It had been late in the night when the large stone doors to Edward’s chambers had flown open, jarring her from a deep and dreamless sleep. “Mara!” Phillip’s voice caused her to rise from the circle of Edward’s arms. “Mara,” he repeated. “I need you to come with me—right now.”

  “Why?” she inquired.

  “What is going on?” Edward asked from beside her, though he was still too injured to do little more than raise himself into a higher position upon the pillows behind him. Mara stood from the bed, hastened by something in Phillip’s voice which she could not quite place. Without answering Edward’s question, Phillip left the room, motioning for Mara to follow him.

  “I’ll find out what is going on,” she informed her Captain.

  “Mara,” Edward called, causing her to pause and meet his eyes.

  She forced a smile. “I just need to see what is happening.”

  He looked at her with an expression between confusion and apprehension. “Just be careful.”

  Mara gave a slight bow before turning to chase after Phillip, who had paused outside the doors, but again began to walk forward at a brisk pace as Mara emerged from the Captain’s room. “Follow me,” were the only words he offered as he led Mara down a series of long hallways before they finally found themselves standing inside the specific corridor leading to the private chambers of Princes Liza. Standing in the hallways all but blocking their path, was Garreth.

  “Mara, I am so sorry,” Garreth stammered upon seeing their approach. The words tumbled from his lips in a manner that drew Mara’s full attention. Garreth’s eyes were wide with panic, his words spoken too quickly. His blond hair was disheveled upon his glistening brow.

  “Garreth, what is it?”

  Philip moved to stand beside Garreth before turning back to face her. Mara looked from one man to the other, then finally asked, “What the hell is going on?”

  “Mara, I…I don’t know what…I don’t know how…” Here Garreth paused and it was Phillip who continued. “Mara,” he said, “my Lady, it’s—it’s not good.”

  “What happened?” she asked again, suddenly afraid of the answers that might await her.

  Phillip knelt before her. “My Princess.” He addressed her by the rarely used title. “I regret to inform you that her Royal Highness, your cousin, Princess Liza of the Ciar Court, was murdered tonight. Along with eight members of the royal guard who were charged with her protection over the past three days.”

  Mara’s eyes flew to those of her cousin’s in a mixture of shock and horror. One glance was all she needed to know that the nightmare that had begun all those years ago when Edward had been sent away was not over, but instead—only beginning.

  Mara walked down the hall toward Liza’s suite. The bodies of the men who had spent their lives protecting the royal family laid sprawled upon the ground in large pools of noble blood. As she passed her fallen friends and comrades, the numbness began to spread. Fredrick and Lars lay strewn together as they had once stood in life. Cousins, they had joined the guard nearly four-hundred years prior with a sense of loyalty that was beyond compare. A few feet from them laid Karrie, one of Mara’s closest friends and a long-time sparring partner. Her heart lurched in her throat as her body moved forward as though of its own accord.

  When she reached the silver door which guarded the entrance to the private chambers of the Princess, she found the large door splattered with blood. Mara forced herself to draw a deep breath and then regretted it, fighting not to gag as she was assaulted by the smell of death. It was overwhe
lming and she found herself frozen before the chamber’s entrance as she struggled to gain control of her composure. She drew several shorter breaths and again attempted to cross the threshold when Garreth grabbed her arm.

  He jerked her back, roughly pressing her back against the cold stone wall of the corridor’s outer chambers. “No,” he stated flatly. “No.”

  Mara looked at him unsure how to respond. She felt cold, as though a thick layer of ice had formed around her, both protecting her from the emotions which threatened to tear her apart, and preventing her thoughts from penetrating its icy grip. She attempted to speak, but no sound escaped her lips. She had to force herself to draw another deep breath before saying, “Garreth.”

  “No,” he said again. “You do not need to see this, Mara. She was my sis…” His voice cracked on the word, but he forced himself to continue. “My sister and she is dead. That makes you the closet thing I have left and I am telling you, Mara—you are not going in that room.”

  “Garreth,” Phillip’s voice cut into the conversation. “Let go of the Sub-Captain.”

  “She does not need to see this.”

  “That decision is up to her.”

  “No, it is not.”

  “You were Liza’s brother,” Phillip interjected. “But Mara was the Captain of her Guard.”

  Garreth turned to face Phillip, anger blazing in his eyes. “After what she went through with Edward, she is in no condition to…”

  As they argued, the chill surrounding Mara began to seep into her veins. Her voice sounded hollow as she spoke, her words silencing the men standing before her. “If I cannot walk through those doors then I never deserved to be…” A shiver danced upon her spine. “I will regret it forever.”

  “Please, Mara,” Garreth pleaded.

  “I have to,” she answered. “Please, Garreth. Let me go.” The moment stretched into a battle of silent wills before Garreth finally released his grip on Mara’s arm and took several steps to her right. He met her violet eyes as he stated, “Be strong, Mara. You have to be strong.”