by Ward, Tracey
He turned to look back at me, his face surprised. His eyes quickly scanned the open courtyard where we both now stood, just outside the gardens. It was empty except for us.
“Anna,” he said in a hushed tone. “Your father—“
“Hang my father!” I cried breathlessly.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was the sunrise I’d been waiting for. I stopped several steps from him, clutching the bundle to my chest. My fingers toyed with the sheer material of the shawl.
“How did you find it? I thought it was lost forever?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t easy. It still smells of the sea. I’m sorry for that. I couldn’t clean it enough to get the scent out.”
“How did you get it back?” I pressed. “Did you go into the water?”
After my recent experiences with the water surrounding our island, I had a healthier fear of the Saints than I had ever experience before. He may as well have said he walked through the gates of Hell and demanded it back from the Devil himself.
“I did.”
“Why on earth would you do that? You could have been killed.”
“Not likely, milady,” he said with a chuckle.
I scowled at him. “Don’t call me that.”
“Still railing against the aristocracy? You can’t fight it for much longer. Not if you’re going to be Queen.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I have my sources.”
“Really?” I asked, my voice gaining a bite. “Don’t tell me, I’ll guess. A little bird told you?”
“I never listen to birds,” he said seriously, his eyes darkening. “You shouldn’t either.”
I snorted. “No birds, no fish. Who will I have left to speak to?”
He didn’t respond.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Should I?”
“It’s customary, yes.”
He shook his head, looking away. “Maybe to your people.”
“What does that mean?”
When he looked at me his eyes were smoldering. “Do you want to marry him?”
“It’s not a finality yet,” I replied automatically. “No dates have been set.”
“I didn’t ask when you were to be sold off, I asked whether or not you want to do it.”
“Sold off?! What am I? Cattle?”
“To your father yes.”
“How dare you?!”
“Do you want to marry him, Anna?” he nearly shouted at me, taking a step closer.
“No!” I exclaimed.
I’d never said it out loud before. I realized then that it was because no one had ever asked me. The realization horrified me.
“Then don’t,” he replied quietly, his tone softening.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh alright. Thanks ever so much, Ro. My problems are solved.”
“They could be. It’s that easy.”
“Nothing is that easy,” I said bitterly. “It never has been, it never will be.”
“It was easy when we were children.”
I sucked in a breath then let it out forcefully, suddenly feeling like I would cry.
“We aren’t children anymore.”
He looked me up and down, taking in every aspect of me. I felt somehow scandalous with the way he did it, with the brazenness of it. It felt like when Frederick had done it only worse, far worse, because this time I loved it.
“You’re still a very pretty piglet,” he replied, his voice low.
I shook my head at him, trying to hide my amusement. I failed.
“You’ve become incorrigible. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“And yet I’m not,” he told me with a careless grin. He gestured to the bundle I still clutched in my hands. “You didn’t open it. Don’t you want to know what’s in it?”
“I know what’s in it. It’s what’s always in parcels from you.”
“Really? So what’s in there?”
“Heaven.”
He laughed deeply. I drank the sound in, noting how familiar it was but at the same time how different now that he was a man. The boyish timber had been replaced by a rumble that reverberated through my chest. It left me tingling.
“I’ll tell my mother you said so,” he told me. “It will make her day.”
“How is she? Is she well?”
“She is.” He looked down briefly, showing a rare moment of uncertainty. “She would love to see you, Anna. They both would. You’re welcome in their home anytime.”
“Still? Even after all these years?”
“Always.”
“I’d love that,” I whispered
“Tonight?”
“No,” I said swiftly, taking a step back, shaking my head. “Not yet.”
I didn’t know if I could handle the warmth and love of his parent’s home just yet. Not so soon after losing my mother and the only home I’d ever truly known. But then again I needed answers. Answers to questions no one in the castle would ever give me. But the Tem Aedha, they were a clever people. They knew things no one else knew, things I knew I couldn’t understand. And I knew that Roarke’s mother most of all held keys to secrets that did not even possess locks.
Something wicked had ripped its claws through Frederick. Something evil had frothed in the sea beneath my feet. And my mother. What had really happened to my mother? Was she at peace? Was she safe? Had The Saints taken her as they wanted to take me? What did that even mean?
These thoughts made me sick to my stomach.
“Anna, I’m sorry,” Roarke said quickly, reaching out a hand as though to touch me, then thinking better of it. “You’re still in mourning, it was stupid to ask.”
“Tomorrow,” I said, ignoring his apology. “If it would be alright, I would love to visit with your family tomorrow evening.”
He nodded, eyeing me carefully, put on guard by my sudden change of tone. “It’s perfect. My parents will be thrilled.”
“Should I bring anything with me?”
“A smile if you have it,” he told me with a grin. “And we’ll see what we can do about finding you one if you don’t.”
I wanted to smile for him then, but I couldn’t. Instead I nodded, hugged my gift to my chest again and waved goodbye.
***
“And where have you been, young lady?”
“Consorting with the Devil,” I deadpanned.
“What an atrocious thing to say,” Governor exclaimed, putting her hand over her overly exposed bosom. “With the way you’re acting lately I have half a mind to believe it’s true. It’s a mausoleum in this room. We should have someone open the curtains.”
“Yes, lets,” I said eagerly, reaching for the heavy fabric and hauling it back with a grunt. “Some sunlight will do us both good, I think.”
“You should have called one of the servants to do that,” Governor said, heavily taking a seat in a worn velvet chair. “What if someone had walked in and seen that?”
“Seen what?” I asked, taking a seat across from her, gesturing flippantly to the curtains. “Me opening curtains? I can’t imagine the gossip you’d have on your hands. What a nightmare.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” Governor said sourly, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think it suits me fine. I think it suits me up and down and inside out.”
“What’s happened? Who is it?” she demanded suddenly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do, you know very well what I mean.” she insisted, sitting forward to glare at me. “Something has changed today.”
“Don’t be silly. Nothing has changed. Everything is as it was yesterday. The sky is blue, the sea is black and my mother is still lost to me.”
“Is that her shawl?” Governor asked suspiciously, eyeing the bundle I had left unopened on my vanity.
“Yes. It is.”
“I thought you lost it to the wind.”
“I did.
It was recovered for me.”
“How?” she asked, her voice becoming tight. She kept her gaze locked on the black cloth as though afraid to turn her back on it. “Where was it recovered from?”
I watched her closely.
“From the sea.”
She paled visibly. “Are you sure? You’re certain it went into the sea?”
“Yes. It still smells of salt water.” I cocked her head at her. “Why does that bother you? I think it’s a miracle.”
“It is,” Governor said, standing abruptly. “It is nothing short of miraculous. If you’ll excuse me, child, I need rest.”
“Are you alright?” I asked, standing to take her arm to steady her.
Governor waved me away as she began to back out of the room. “No, I’m alright. I – I simply need a moment of rest. The sun, it’s too bright for me. I’ve developed a headache. Good evening, miss.” She hurried for the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. She didn’t turn to look at me, a terrible breach of etiquette that surprised me more than anything. “Who retrieved it?
“Why does it matter?” I asked, pulling Roarke’s name deep inside of myself, hiding it carefully.
“I suppose it doesn’t,” she said, her voice trembling.
Chapter Thirteen
I felt him before I saw him. A presence, a warmth up ahead as I walked in the dark abandoned gardens. Like an invisible light leading me home. Most of the area was overrun this time of year, left to the mercy of the cold winter months that shriveled every leaf. Froze every blossom. All except for the walls of the maze. The leaves were sparse but even the dark black branches beneath them were still perfectly shaped. I hadn’t been here in ages, not since I was thirteen years old and several inches shorter, but the walls still felt as tall as they ever had. Towering and imposing.
Roarke stood at the entrance of the maze, flanked on each side by the hedges with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his lips.
“You didn’t have to escort me.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to.”
“You shrug a lot.”
“I what?”
“You shrug a lot,” I repeated, casting him a small smile. “You always have. It’s not a judgment, only an observation. It’s nice. It makes me feel like I still know you somehow.”
“You snort.”
“What? I do not!”
“Yes, you do,” he chuckled. “A lot.”
“Lies. If I did snort my father would have brought an end to it a long, long time ago. You’re poking fun at me now when I was being sweet and sentimental.”
“Is your father still deep in mourning?”
I snorted derisively. My hand shot up to cover my mouth as I stared at him, wide eyed. He was grinning.
“You did that on purpose!” I cried, swatting at his arm.
He laughed, leading me by the elbow into the dark maze. “You’re right, it is nice to feel like I still know you.”
“You’ll always know me, Ro. Better than anyone.”
“I like to think so.”
“It’s very unlady-like, isn’t it?”
“What? Snorting?” When I nodded he said, “Who cares? It’s honest. I like it. Don’t ever stop doing it.”
“Only if you never stop shrugging.”
“Anything for you, Anna.”
We walked in silence, our feet making the familiar crunching sound on the white stones. We were nowhere near the orchard yet. I could still smell the sea.
“You said you’re a fisherman,” I commented, thinking of The Shallows.
“I did, yes.”
“And you found my shawl in the sea.”
He only nodded, understanding where I was headed.
“You fish The Shallows, don’t you?”
“Someone has to.”
“It doesn’t have to be you.”
“Who should it be, then?”
I glanced at him, roaming my eyes over his features, his shoulders, his being.
“Anyone but you,” I whispered.
“Are you asking me to stop?” he asked, his voice low.
“No.” I had no right, even if I wanted to.
“Good. Because if you asked me to I would. I’d do anything for you.”
I grinned sadly at him. “You said that before.”
“I’m saying it again because it’s true.”
“Oh, Ro,” I moaned, looking away.
“What?”
I shook my head, unable to look at him. He was too much. Too beautiful, too familiar, too comforting.
“I don’t know,” I lied quietly.
“How did you manage to get away tonight?” he asked, mercifully changing the subject.
“I walked out the front door.”
“It was that easy? How long has it been that way?”
“Since my mother passed. The reins will tighten again, don’t be fooled. For now I’m getting a free pass every once in awhile to disappear, just so long as the King, Frederick and anyone else of importance doesn’t have to see me crying.”
“Your father included?”
“My father especially.”
“We should make the most of it while we can.”
I grinned as I wove my arm through his, brazenly tugging his body closer to mine. He smiled down at me.
“I was thinking exactly the same thing.”
When we reached the orchard, I sighed heavily. I could feel Roarke chuckle beside me as he led me past the place where we used to play. The small corner of grass now hidden in shadow and darkness that used to house the light and heat of the entire sky. It looked different in the dark. Not ugly by any means, but haunting. Or maybe just haunted. Haunted by two little ghosts with loud laughs and eager eyes.
He led me deeper into the orchard than I’d ever gone. Farther than our games of hide and seek had ever dared to take us. We walked until the trees were so thick they nearly blotted out the moonlit sky. The branches mixed and mingled above us to create an intricate canopy that kept us hidden from the world. I felt the weight of absolutely everything lifting from my shoulders. I felt free, light. Dizzy in the sudden joy of such a surreal weightlessness.
“Are you alright?” Ro asked quietly, his eyes on me.
I grinned up at him. “I feel wonderful.”
He smiled slightly, squeezed my hand on his arm and led me deeper into the trees.
Eventually it ceased to be an orchard. The trees were taller, thicker, the leaves on them different in shape and fragrance. We were entering into a forest. One I suddenly realized I knew. I had seen it only once but I dreamed of it almost every night. Impossible as it was, as much as logic and geography said it could not be true, we were approaching his home.
When we arrived in his village it was such a sense of déjà vu and homecoming that I very nearly screamed in happiness. I was transported back to the night I turned thirteen, the night when another Tem Aedha man waltzed me, an obvious stranger, into town and no on minded one bit. They were far more open than we were, that was for sure. As we walked, I noticed that Roarke received much of the same treatment that his father had that night years ago; people stopping to tell him good evening and asking questions or giving him information on different things. The only difference was that he introduced me to no one.
When we were alone again and his home was in sight I shook my head silently.
“What?” he asked.
“Fishermen and farmers my eye.”
I could feel him laughing beside me as he opened the door.
“Mum!” he called out, ushering me in with a hand on the small of my back.
When he closed the door, he quickly reached out to take my cloak from me. I was dressed all wrong for this place, but any simple dresses were long lost to me. I felt like an ornate piece of porcelain plopped down in the center of a barn. Simply put, I felt ridiculous and nonfunctional.
“Mum!” he called again. “I have a present for you.”
“Ro, stop shouting. I’m not deaf. I— Oh.�
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She appeared from the back of the house. Her mouth was opened in a surprised O and I wondered, with her gift, how often that happened. She hesitated only a moment before closing the distance between us and wrapping her arms firmly around me.
“Oh, dear one, I have missed you,” she whispered.
I wept.
I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to but I didn’t stop myself once it started. I clung to her, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her shoulder. I cried into her hair, smelling sugar and vanilla on her skin. It soaked into my senses and I let it take me away, this magic of hers.
“Bronwyn, what’s happened?” Kian called from somewhere else in the house. I heard his footsteps approach and then, “Is that Anna?”
“Yes,” Roarke replied, his voice rough.
“But that means she’s…”
“Early. Yes.”
“Roarke, what have you done?”
“I’ve brought her home.”
“You’ve done more than that and you know it.” Kian’s voice was becoming taught. “What were you thinking?”
There was a long silence. I realized I’d stopped crying, that I was breathing slowly in time with Bronwyn, both of us listening.
“I was thinking that I missed her.”
Bronwyn sighed heavily. I gently pulled myself away from her arms and stood back to face them all. I knew I looked a wreck with wet cheeks and red eyes, but I felt strong being here. It felt right.
“I have about a million questions to ask you. All of you. And I want answers to every last one of them, if you don’t mind.”
***
We sat at the round dining table, all of us facing each other, but all eyes were on me. Waiting.
“What happened to my mother?”
My voice cracked on the question. The answer scared me but I had to know. This question had to come first.
Bronwyn glanced at Kian, looking a bit confused. “She died.”
“I know that, but how? How did she die?”
“I don’t know what her illness was.”
I shook my head, getting frustrated. “You don’t understand. Did they take her? The Saints. Did they kill her? Where is she?”