As I chomp down, I think over all Roselyn said—Prince Chavez’s visit, how in a week’s time, she’ll be in Elna, unless we stop this wedding. But how? It seems hopeless.
I slip my hand into my trousers pocket and pull out the piece of parchment still there. Written in ink are the words I spoke to Roselyn. The promise I gave her.
I will love you until the last rose turns red. For should that happen, somehow our love isn’t true. But while its petals are pure as snow, my desires shall only be for you.
A feeling of peace washes over me. My eyelids begin to close, and the weight I feel pressing down on my shoulders seems to disappear for a moment. With clarity, I reopen my eyes, and that sense of tranquility vanishes.
“This is a spell,” I whisper, running my thumb over the words.
“Pardon me, Your Highness?” Quin clears his throat.
I look up, realizing he is leaning closer to hear me better. “I’m sorry, Quin. I was speaking to myself.”
“Of course.” He begins to turn away, but promptly looks back at me. “Excuse me, sir. I am sorry for speaking out of turn, but did you say it was a spell? And might I ask what it is that you believe to be a spell? You seem quite perplexed, Your Highness. Perhaps speaking to someone else will offer you some insight.” He takes a seat across from me at the table and eagerly awaits my response.
I open my mouth to speak, but there is a knock at the door. Without a word, Quin stands and opens it. I take the moment to eat another bite of food.
“Has the prince awakened?” Edda—Mother’s former maid, and now great friend to the family— asks so loudly, her voice could be heard by anyone in the kingdom. I assume she intended it to be that way in case I wasn’t yet awake.
“He is, ma’am.” Quin steps aside, allowing Edda entrance.
She approaches the table, a grin on her face as she sits across from me. “Well, how did it go?” she asks, far too excited for news of last night’s outing.
Quin stands beside Edda, now looking unsure whether or not we will continue the conversation we hadn’t started yet.
“Sit. You might as well hear the events of last night as well, which are directly attached to that of the spell I mentioned before we were interrupted.” I turn from Quin and look to Edda knowingly.
She shrugs, not giving a care that she barged in and interrupted. But she leans forward, eager to hear what I have to say. I laugh and begin explaining the previous evening’s happenings. The wizard, the fairies, the roses, Roselyn, Prince Chavez, and the looming wedding.
All down to the paper I am still holding. “Based on the feeling I got when reading these words only moments ago, I believe this is a spell, a kind of enchantment.”
Edda takes the parchment from my grasp and examines it closer. “What was the wizard’s name?” She looks at me, panic in her voice, worry in her eyes.
“He did not tell me.” I raise an eyebrow. “Why do you ask? What does it matter?”
She sits back, placing the paper on the table before her—still keeping her hand on it—and looks directly at me. “It is very rare for someone outside of royalty to be given magic. Wizards, witches, warlocks, sorcerers, and sorceresses—there are very few of them in the world. It is not likely there is one I do not know, but the seal left on this paper is one I don’t recognize.” She purses her lips.
“So what does that mean?” I lean forward, looking at the note through the spaces between her fingers.
“It means that I do not know if he is friend or foe. You are correct in believing this is an enchantment. Saying these words to the one you love binds you to them. If the rose you gave Princess Roselyn turns red, you two will never be together. You will never have a chance at being with her because this magic will hold you to it.” The worry turns to sadness in her eyes. She frowns and lets go of the paper.
“But it says that if the rose turns red, it means our love isn’t true. Our love is real. That I know with all my heart,” I argue, my voice rising.
“I do not disagree, Your Highness. You best hope that the magic over you and your princess finds your feelings genuine and worthy. It doesn’t matter now what is truth. If the person who gave you this enchantment wishes for you and Roselyn to remain apart forever, they now have the power to make it happen.” Edda sits a little taller, straightening and clasping her hands before her. She looks at me in a motherly fashion, feeling for my situation.
I look to Quin, noticing how silent he has been through the conversation. He bites at his thumbnail, eyeing the paper.
I turn back to Edda. “Is there any way to undo this?” I rub the back of my neck before sliding my hands beneath the table and clenching my fists, trying my hardest to hold my emotions in check.
“I don’t know, Osric. I am sorry. If Queen Jossa hired that wizard to do this in order to keep you two apart, there is nothing that can be done—to my knowledge. But then again, I don’t have magic. Perhaps you need to speak with someone who does.” She nods, as if unsure what else to do or say.
I rest my elbows on the table and put my face in my hands. In hopes of fixing all our issues, everything keeping us apart, I may have just secured them into place. “How can I have been so stupid as to fall into this trap? I sensed he was using magic on me, and yet I stayed anyway. I accepted the flowers. I gave them to Roselyn, and now I may never be with her again.” I mumble into my palms, not really meaning to speak out loud, but needing to think through everything.
“Sir, perhaps the best option now is to find the wizard. Ask him, demand answers from him. He would not have done this without reason. He has something to gain from all this,” Quin finally says.
“He told me he wanted a favor, that one day he would come to me, and I would answer his plight because of what he did for me.” I look up at Edda, running my fingers through my hair. “Why would he say that if he were working for someone who wishes to keep me and Rose apart?”
Edda pats my shoulder. “He could have lied. Or perhaps he is genuinely trying to help. There is no way of knowing unless you speak with him. Quin is right—you need to speak with him in order to find out his real motives.”
I nod once toward Edda and turn to Quin. “I will need you to prepare my horse. It looks like I will be returning to Tivor this night after all.”
The sun shines brightly, causing perspiration to build upon my forehead as Madrid and I walk the streets of Tivor on our way to the seamstress. Mother told me that Nadi would come to me, but I was adamant about going to her. If I was going to suffer the task of standing for hours while clothes were made for me, I would spare the poor woman the trouble of bringing her tools to me. Not that I told my mother this. I assured her I could use the fresh air and a good stroll.
Nadi lives and works in a cottage barely large enough to fit her whole family. How she works in there is beyond me. As I recall, the last time I visited her, she had a flourishing shop in the market, so to learn that I would be seeing her in her home was quite a shock. As I look at the shambles of her roof and the state of her gardens—filled with weeds and brambles—I affirm to myself that this woman will be well paid for her work today.
Two young children—one boy no older than eight or nine, and a girl, only five or six years of age— run about in the woods just behind the cottage. Their laughs warm my heart, but the dirt caked on their skin, the clothes falling off their slim bodies, break it.
Madrid knocks on the cracked, warped door. The seamstress, a plump but jolly woman—despite her hardships—greets us with a flourish to welcome us to her home.
“Your Highness, please come in.” She points to a chair that appears to be her finest piece of furniture, which also breaks my heart because it looks like it will fall apart if I stare at it too hard, let alone sit on it.
I don’t sit. Instead, I glance around. Her oldest daughter, Ellie, kneels beside the fire, tending to whatever is boiling in the pot above it.
“What happened to your shop?” I glance around again before turning to look
at Nadi. Her cheeks redden, her fingers clasped around her box of sewing equipment, fidgeting. She looks so worn, despite her smiles.
She cannot look me in the eye as she speaks. “We had to sell it.” Her voice comes out as hardly more than a whisper. I approach her, grasping her shoulders.
“Why? Are you not the finest seamstress in this entire kingdom?”
She glances up at me, barely making eye contact. “I would like to think so, Your Highness. But times are hard. Harold, my husband, has fallen ill. While he cannot work, I must work twice as much.” She looks to Madrid—who is now sitting in the worn chair—back to me, and then down at the floor. “But never mind that, Your Highness. I should not burden you with my concerns. Would you like some tea? Ellie is boiling the water.” She nods toward Ellie, smiling as best she can.
“Th—that would be lovely, thank you.” I fumble over my words, just wanting to weep for this woman and all she is going through.
Nadi sets her box on the table and begins working. “Please raise your arms,” she says and starts taking my measurements.
“Nadi, please. It is my concern. You should not be living like this. Have you not requested to speak with the king about your condition? You are the royal seamstress. He should offer all the help the kingdom has to give.” I cannot stand here and have this woman make me gowns of the richest quality when she cannot even feed her family.
“We will make do, Your Highness. I assure you.” I hear the tremble in her voice.
Unable to hold still any longer, I drop my arms and turn to face her. “Listen to me. I will take care of this. Do not worry about making my clothes today. You have other matters to attend to. Has your husband seen the physician?”
“No. We can’t afford it.” She bites her bottom lip, tears welling in her eyes.
“Put away your tools.” I turn to Madrid, who sits with a smile playing on her lips. She is used to my antics, helping those I find who need it even when I am supposed to be doing something else entirely. “Madrid, please return to the castle and fetch the royal physician at once.”
She nods and leaves without another word. I look back at the seamstress. “Now, let us see what we can do for your husband. Where is he?” She doesn’t reply, but turns and walks down the narrow hall.
She opens the door to her left and steps aside, allowing me to pass her. She enters the room behind me, and the tears she so carefully held back spring forth.
Her husband fidgets in his sleep, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. He does not look well at all. “What happened?” I can’t look away from him, terrified that whatever is killing him is too far along to be stopped.
She can’t speak. I don’t blame her. She lifts the blanket covering the man’s leg. A cut almost the entire length of his shin has been infected. Bile builds up in my throat. Nadi puts the blanket back over the top of the injury.
“The physician will require hot water. I suggest you get more boiling over the fire.” She nods and goes back into the hallway. I follow after her, grabbing her forearm. “We’re going to save him. You have my word.”
I pace in the kitchen, Madrid sits at the table, and Nadi waits at the door to their bedroom as the physician finishes bandaging the man’s leg.
When he enters the room, a grim look is on his face, but he is not nearly as hopeless as he appeared when he first arrived.
“Will he be all right?” I whisper, not wanting the seamstress to hear.
“I will return tomorrow to check on him. I removed the infection, but it is too early to tell if the disease spread farther into his body. Tomorrow should prove whether or not he will live. But for now, he sleeps peacefully.” The man nods before exiting.
“Thank you, Your Highness. For your kindness, I will do whatever you need of me.” She curtsies low before me.
“You will be paid handsomely for all the dresses you make. Tomorrow, the physician will return to check on your husband. Do not be surprised if helping hands arrive to fix your roof and door.”
More tears fall onto the woman’s cheeks. “Thank you!”
“Madrid and I will return upon the news of your husband’s full recovery. And then, you shall make my dresses.” I don’t give the woman a chance to thank me again. Madrid follows after me as I leave the cottage.
Once we are a distance from the seamstress’s house, Madrid walks beside me rather than behind me. “That was kind of you, milady.” She smiles again.
“I cannot deny it—I acted with something to gain as well.” I look ahead, mulling over everything. Madrid looks at me expectantly. I look away before answering her. “It delays the wedding, even if only by a few hours.” My cheeks warm.
“You should not be ashamed of that—you do not love Prince Chavez. It isn’t right for anyone to force you into marrying him. And you and I both know how strongly about it he feels. Perhaps the best course of action, milady, would be to speak with him about the matter and see if he has some answers.”
I grasp my maid's hand and look her in the eye. “Thank you. I hadn’t even thought to speak with Chavez. I suppose I believed him to be under my mother’s influence, but I can’t know until I talk to him.” I only hope I’ll have the courage to ask him such questions, should I find a moment alone with him.
If Queen Jossa found out I was trying to get him to help break the betrothal, I can only imagine the rage both kingdoms would face. No one wishes to go up against her.
But some things are too important to let go. Like Osric. I can’t lose him. Not now, not ever. Not in any way. Jossa won’t win. Whatever reason she has for trying to force us apart, it isn’t good enough. True love is something people search for all their lives. Sometimes they find it—often, they don’t. But when you find the one you’re meant to be with, it is a beauty that cannot be broken or torn apart.
My cheeks redden further with thoughts of being in Osric’s arms again. I know he won’t visit tonight. He likely had to return to Wentsden and won’t be traveling back right away. He has other things to attend to, just as I do. But I look forward to the nights he does visit like I look forward to taking my next breath.
“Milady, where are we going?” Madrid interrupts my thoughts. I look up and that realize my feet have brought me to the market, though my mind was elsewhere. But I know why we are here. I find the seamstress’s former building.
It appears the person who purchased it has not yet transformed it into anything. Wood covers the windows like they aren’t meaning to, either. I reach between the slats, and with all my might, I pull the wood from the frame.
Slivers puncture my skin, but I don’t care. Nadi will own this place again. The kingdom needs her, just as they need farmers and shoemakers and blacksmiths. She does not deserve the lack of pity my father and mother have shown her. It feels as though my blood is boiling, on fire as rage courses through me. How is it possible that Nadi has been treated so poorly?
I circle around, watching faces go by, people wandering about while they go through their daily routines.
Few stop and look at me. Some just glance my way before continuing. Madrid stays still, looking at the ground.
“What has happened to this kingdom, Madrid?” Nadi’s place of business isn’t the only one boarded up. I throw the wood on the ground and grab more.
“I do not know, milady. But I think we have seen enough for today.” She grabs my arm. “Roselyn, we cannot help everyone at once. Let it go. Speak to your father and find out what is going on. Right now, I feel we should move along before word gets back to the queen.”
I look at her, the worry showing on her face. I glance around and realize there are two guards nearby, one of whom is now glancing at us.
“You’re right.” I look at the wood lying at my feet. “She can’t know. I can only imagine the suffering these people will go through if she sees the damage I have caused, the scene I’ve made in front of the people.”
I grab Madrid’s hand and make a dash through the crowd. The guards are close behind. I
can hear the clanking of their armor with every step. I hope they’ll keep their mouths shut about my stop between the seamstress’s and the castle, but threatening them, commanding their silence, is something Jossa would do. And while she may be my mother, I never want to stoop to her level of control. Sometimes I honestly wonder if she is my mother at all. As for my father, I cannot base my judgment on much.
Rarely do I see him. Rarely is he in a state of mind where my words could get through to him.
It causes me to worry. Could Jossa be in such a hurry for control that she would hurt her husband? Perhaps poison him to a mindless state? No. I can’t think like that. My mother wishes for power, but she would never harm anyone for it.
If that were the case, she wouldn’t feel the need to send me off to another kingdom to live out my days with a man I don’t love. But if that’s the only reason she is forcing me to marry Chavez, it doesn’t make sense, because she would get the same result if I were to marry Osric.
Something isn’t right—that much I know, and I am determined to figure it out. The kingdom is falling apart, and the woman demanding control isn’t doing anything to save it. Why?
My head hurts, trying to think this through. I pinch the bridge of my nose as I walk, hoping the throbbing in my skull will go away.
“Milady, I believe you’ve been in the sun too long. Perhaps you should lie down.” I nod and follow her to my quarters. There, I fall into bed, pull the covers over myself, and fall into a fitful sleep.
It feels as if a vise is squeezing my skull. Even the faintest of sounds causes the throbbing to intensify to an almost unbearable degree. But I continue forward, Madrid right behind me, as I march toward Father’s study.
I ignore the guards standing on either side of the doors and burst through them, pushing them open more with magic than my two arms. A few papers dislodge from the desk, fluttering to the floor. A part of me feels sorry for making a mess, but it is not my primary concern at the moment.
“Roselyn, I did not expect this visit.” Father jumps up from his chair and walks around the desk, embracing me.
The Enchanted Rose Page 4