I stiffen, not expecting it, and now unable to move my arms. “Father,” I begin. He cuts me off before I can adequately protest.
“Yes, yes. Please have a seat.” He drags a chair to me. “What did I do to deserve such lovely company?”
While I sit, he drags another one across from mine for himself. I look around and notice that Madrid did not follow me inside.
“Are you aware of the people and the state they are in? Nadi, the woman who has been making my gowns since I can remember, had to close her shop because she couldn’t afford it. Her husband lies dying, so ill he can’t work. All the while, the seamstress has to provide for her family alone, working from her home. More than one business has closed down. The market is in tatters and ruin. What is going on that could cause such harm in our kingdom right beneath us, and here we sit in our castle, doing nothing about it?” I did not mean to blurt it all out at once, but what I saw earlier today haunts me.
“Roselyn, what are you talking about?” Father reaches, taking my hand in his, scooting to the edge of his seat as he looks at me intently, genuinely shocked by what I am saying.
“Father, the people are suffering. We must do something to help them.” I swallow hard, unsure what else to say.
“I admit I have not visited the market or town square of late. With preparations for the wedding, and looking over contracts and peace treaties for kingdoms you aren’t about to marry into, my time has been overspent. But surely someone would have come forth before now if things were actually as bad as you say they are, would they not?” He raises his eyebrows, widening his eyes.
“Perhaps they fear coming forward and asking for help. Nadi did not want me to call upon the royal physician to help her husband. Why would that be, if not that she feared something or someone? There is more going on than we could know. I am begging you to look into this. Help the people, for without them, there will be no kingdom to rule.” I stand, clenching my hands around the skirts of my dress as I walk toward the door.
“Rose?” Father’s voice is quiet, almost so I do not hear him.
I turn back to see what he wants.
“I will see what I can do.” He offers a small smile, one that does not reach his eyes.
“Thank you,” I mouth, unable to give voice to the words. With that, I turn on my heel and leave.
As soon as I am in the corridor, Madrid falls into step with me.
“Milady?” she asks.
“He has promised to look in to the matter,” is all I reply.
Quin gives me a knowing look, having just delivered the news. Mother and Father have requested that I join my brothers in the family’s private dining hall this evening for supper. They wish to spend the night as a family rather than as rulers of the kingdom.
It puts a delay in my travel plans, but I can’t deny their request. Already, I spend hardly any time with them, always sneaking off to see Roselyn. Edda usually covers for me, but we’re both sure at this point that everyone is well aware of my whereabouts.
Still, it is best for them never to know for sure. They don’t have to lie for me if they actually don’t know. It’s protection for Roselyn, and for me.
I nod at Quin, letting him know I’ll eat with my family. He offers a sympathetic smile before leaving me to finish packing my bag. I stuff in a fresh pair of trousers and shut the bag tight, feeling confident that I didn’t forget anything.
I usually only spend one evening at a time in Tivor, but with the wedding and Queen Jossa’s even more odd behavior, not to mention the wizard and the roses, I feel it best that I go prepared for worstcase scenarios.
I leave my bag on the table and make my way to the king’s dining hall, a room adjoined to his quarters. The corridors are empty, which seems odd. Usually, the castle is buzzing with servants and visitors and the usual castle dwellers. It’s unsettling to find everything so quiet and lonely.
It’s nice to see two familiar faces as I approach the dining room. “Evening, Gareth.” I nod to the first guard. “Evening, Darian.” I nod to the second.
“Evening, Your Highness.” They both bow in reply, then pull the doors open for me.
I enter the room to find everyone already waiting for me, Mother and Father sitting side by side at the head of the table, Alaric and his fiancée, Princess Pierrette of Garverdale, to the king’s right, Ulric on the left. This leaves my seat beside Mother empty, as is tradition. The eldest sits beside the king, the second eldest sits beside the queen, the third eldest sitting beside the second.
I greet everyone before taking my seat beside Ulric. He nods my way, a knowing glint in his eye. “How’s the flower you seek?” he whispers as he asks with a wink.
“None of your concern, brother.” I glare, though I can’t say I’m actually angry. I just wish it were a better-kept secret—not because I don’t want the whole world to know how I feel, but because it’s dangerous for others to be aware of our secret meetings and midnight kisses.
“Osric.” Mother beams. “Your father and I are so glad you are joining us this evening.” “Indeed, we are!” Father smiles, the joy reaching his eyes.
“As am I. It has been too long since we’ve dined as such, rather than with the whole kingdom.” “Indeed, brother. Though it seems you were hardly at those meals either,” Alaric mocks.
“It’s true. You’ve missed so much in the past few weeks,” Ulric begins.
“Try the last three years,” Alaric mutters, though in such a small room, everyone at the table hears him.
“You have missed quite a bit, Osric. Have you heard that Lady Tal is in town? She’s asked about you quite a bit.” Pierrette joins in on the taunting.
“Oh, yes, Lady Tal! She’s spoken with you as well, Pierrette?” Mother laughs, beyond giddy.
Seeing her so happy about it breaks my heart. I do not love Lady Tal. I’ve hardly spoken to the woman the few times I have met her. Once was at the grand ball celebrating the anniversary of the end of Mendina, the princess witch. I wished more than anything that I could be there with Rose, and instead, I danced with Lady Tal.
She is an excellent young woman, no doubt, but not for me. I frown just thinking of her, of the ball, of all the moments missed with Roselyn because for whatever reason, her family does not wish to see us together.
“What’s the matter, son?” Father asks. I’m sure our expressions—lips turned down, crinkled foreheads, pinched eyebrows—match perfectly.
“It’s nothing.” I attempt a smile, knowing very well it hardly registered. I look at my parents, to my brothers, gauging their reactions.
“Osric, it’s just that you are of age, and we want you to be happy. When the time comes that you should take over as king, we want to know that you’re married for love and nothing less. And of course, we don’t want to pressure you. I understand your situation far more than many others would,” the queen states kindly, and I think back on the stories they have told us. How she was not raised here, did not grow up with the customs she has taught us. I think of how she looks at my father when she speaks of love. I can see it in her eyes . . . she married for love. She wouldn’t marry for anything less.
“My point is, we want you to be happy, but don’t force it. Just be open to the idea of falling in love. Even if it isn’t for many years to come, know that it is important. And you shouldn’t deny the possibilities that could happen if you’re closed off to the idea of falling in love with someone else.” She nods, but I’m still not sure I understand what she is saying.
“Mother, Father, I . . .” I look at my hands, at my food steaming in front of me, to the ceiling, and back to them. “I’m already in love.”
“Son . . .” There is pain in my father’s eyes as he looks at me. “You know we tried to bargain for Roselyn. To break her betrothal to Prince Chavez. There is nothing we can do.”
I nod, knowing there is nothing else to say. I look down at the food sitting before me. Roasted duck, cheese, fruit, and bread. Father takes a bite. Once he
has finished, the rest of us begin. We eat in silence, all glancing at each other, but never voicing our feelings or opinions.
Immediately after I’ve eaten the last bite, I excuse myself and return to my quarters. I grab my bag and head for the door, ready to leave as soon as I get on a horse.
A knock on my door startles me. I drop the bag on my bed and open the door only a sliver. The queen stands there, looking at me with her large peridot eyes. I open the door a little farther. “Mother?” “May I come in?” she asks softly, even though she could demand entrance.
I look at my bed and then to her. I take a step back and open the door all the way. “Of course.” I attempt to block her view of my things, not wanting her to see that I have packed.
“You are going to see Roselyn, yes?” She eyes me before walking right past me. She has a full view of my whole room, but doesn’t bother glancing at the bed, keeping her eyes on the floor.
“I knew her father before you were born,” she begins. I can tell she wishes to say more, but perhaps struggles with where to start “We weren’t friends. I’m the reason his twin brother was killed.” Tears pool in her eyes.
“And yet he helped me anyway.” Now she looks me in the eye. I gulp, not sure how to respond. “He didn’t have to. Maybe he shouldn’t have, considering he was broken. He didn’t just lose a brother.
He lost his twin brother.” She looks away again.
I rest my hand on her shoulder. “Mother, why do you tell me this?”
Her eyes meet mine, and there I see guilt. “Because I wonder if it isn’t part of the reason why they refuse to break Roselyn’s betrothal to Prince Chavez. If King Inginio hates me, he would never allow our families to become one. And if that’s the case, I am sorry.” She bites her lower lip.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders, engulfing them. I never noticed how small she was. How weak she could be. I’ve always known my mother to be strong, heroic, and courageous. All the stories of how she defeated Mendina speak of her with love. But seeing her now, ridden with guilt that she might not deserve, crushes me. “It isn’t your fault. If he is angry, it is his problem. He should not cast blame when it hurts his daughter. You are not the reason Roselyn and I can’t be together.”
I say the words, questioning if they are true. But all it takes to ease my mind is thinking of Queen Jossa. She is the reason Rose and I can’t be happy. She is the one who demanded I leave. That Rose and I not be together. For whatever reason, it is Jossa who is to blame.
“Thank you, my son.” She stands on her toes, kissing my cheek.
“You are welcome, Mother.”
“Osric.” She whispers my name, stepping back so she can look me in the eye. “Do you love her?”
“Yes.” I choke over the word, wondering what can possibly be done to fix the mess I’m in. She leans closer, grasping my hand.
She nods toward the sword hanging from my hip. “Then fight for her.”
I nod, a sense of peace washing over me, knowing I have Mother’s approval. I kiss her cheek. “Thank you.” With that, I grab my bag and leave, heading straight for the stables.
A shiver runs up my spine as I step out into the cold air. I look up and notice the looming clouds, an oncoming storm. There’s a spark in the air, like the feeling one gets when using magic. The smell of rain mixed with that makes it seem all the more dangerous.
“Sir,” Quin starts.
I turn to find him leaning over, catching his breath. He must’ve run to find me from the farthest end of the castle, with the way he is inhaling.
“Yes, Quin?” I ask, getting anxious.
“Sir,” he repeats, now looking at me. “I don’t think you should ride out into this storm. Something is off about it. From the highest tower, it is evident.”
I look toward the sky again. It does feel off, but I can’t allow the weather to detain me. “I’m sorry, Quin. I must go. Roselyn needs to know the truth immediately. And right now, there is no time to waste.”
Black clouds that look like death itself roll forward, casting shadows across the entire kingdom, reaching farther than I can see. As the storm approaches, I notice it is not black, but shimmery blue, like that of butterfly wings or dragon scales. Sparks of cerulean break up the darkness overhead and make my heart beat against my rib cage as I look on, knowing this is no ordinary storm.
The sound of cracking pulls my attention away from the window and to my left. Just as I look, the vase holding the white rose shatters. I jump, clutching at my chest as it feels like my heart will beat right out of it. I watch as the flower falls, spiraling to the floor as the tips of its petals turn a nasty black before curling, crumbling. The black turns to red. Just the tips, but it is enough to cause my heart to fall.
I look back out the window. Thunder shakes me to my core. Violet lightning strikes the ground not too far from the village. I lean against the wall, fearing for the town and all those in it.
What is going on? What could bring on such a terrible storm, unlike any Avonathia has ever experienced? I watch as the people in the village begin to scramble, taking cover from the elements. The rain hasn’t begun, but I can smell it.
I know I should close the shades over my window and avoid the storm as much as possible. When something so unnatural comes about, one should not watch it, but run from it.
“Milady, please.” Madrid’s voice, filled with panic, startles me. I didn’t hear her enter my room. But there she stands, her hand out for me, waiting to run with me for the safety of the inner rooms in the castle.
“Wait, please, Madrid.” I turn back to the window again. “This is no regular storm. This is something else entirely, and I must know what it is. What it means.” I’m torn, wanting desperately to take cover, to find safety, to go with Madrid. But another part of me is stuck where I stand, unable to tear my attention away from the storm.
“Princess Roselyn,” Madrid speaks again. I turn to look at her, still not wanting to do anything but watch the storm. “If you do not come with me now, I will fetch the guards. I am sorry, but I have to protect you. I have to think of your safety first and your feelings later, milady. Now please, come with me?” She looks terrified, but she stands her ground.
I know it doesn’t matter how I feel. I must go with her. If not for my sake, for hers. She won’t leave without me, and I cannot put her in any danger.
“Let’s go.” I take her hand and run through the corridors with her as we search for my father and mother.
Another clap of thunder shakes the castle walls, and we jump. If I didn’t know better, I would think the storm was coming to attack the castle directly.
The walls tremor as if they aren’t thousands of years old, having withstood the worst storms ever recorded in our history. Madrid’s hand squeezes mine harder. I do not know which is more terrifying— my thoughts, or her fear.
Servants rush past us, going in all directions as people barge through the main doors demanding protection from the storm raging outside. I do not blame them. I too would seek shelter in the longeststanding building in the entire kingdom.
As sworn protectors and rightful rulers of Tivor, the king and queen allow their entrance, setting up camps for families in the main hall. More servants rush in, bringing clothing and blankets and food.
As I watch, slowing my run, knowing we are safe for now, I look at each face, hoping he’s here. Knowing Osric has promised to come to Tivor soon—perhaps even this night. If he is not here, he may be caught in the storm that continues just outside.
My heart stutters when I do not see him, but there are many faces looking away from me. He could be here, I tell myself. I force myself to believe it, despite the evidence saying otherwise. I continue to search every face.
But in my heart, I know. He won’t be in here. Even if he tried to enter, my mother would send him away. She loathes him for reasons I don’t understand.
I can only hope he never left Wentsden. A part of me wishes I could believe that, but I know i
t isn’t so. Osric promised to come, and that means he is coming. Worry threatens to overtake me. I rock back and forth on my heels, holding a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
“Roselyn!” my mother shrieks. I turn to her, still forcing myself to hold back all my fears and worries. “Come! Help those in need! Do not just stand there!” She points in the other direction, where people are still pouring through the main doors.
I take one look at her, my eyes veering to the door again. I have to go find him. I have to know if he’s all right. I don’t stop to help the people as I know I should. I feel awful for leaving them, but once they are in the castle, I know all will be well.
I run, pushing past those who seek refuge here, weaving between people, going straight into the storm that is bringing others in. I still hear her yelling my name, but she is the least of my worries now.
The rain pierces my skin, sending an uncomfortable tingling feeling through me, almost as if the rain is charged with magic itself. I shield my eyes as I force myself against the wind, pushing with all my might as I make my way to the stables.
“I’m so sorry, Cherry Blossom. But I can’t go out there alone.” I open the doors and begin saddling my horse, the stable boys nowhere to be seen.
I mount and pull on the reins, attempting to convince Cherry to ride into the storm. “Please, I need your help! My other half may be in danger,” I whisper against her mane. She seems to awaken, understanding my pain. She bolts forward, sending us into the storm.
Rain pummels down, marring everything it hits. My skin prickles, and a throbbing pain overcomes me. But I continue on, riding through the town square in search of Osric.
What I find is not the prince, but destruction of every kind. Gardens washed away, buildings beginning to crumble and decay. Signs fallen to the ground, smashed and shattered.
The wind is strong, but not enough to do this kind of damage. It feels like the world is falling apart, crumbling under the power of the thunder overhead. Lightning strikes to my left, so close I watch as it touches down, almost as if time has slowed. A deafening clap of thunder shakes the very ground.
The Enchanted Rose Page 5