The Enchanted Rose

by Konstanz Silverbow

  “Of course not, Mother,” I say through gritted teeth. It must have been evident because she turns on her heel and clutches my upper arm.

  “You will do well to remember how this is going to go about. You will greet him as if he is the reason you breathe. You will be cordial and allow him to woo you. You will show him your world, welcome him in, allow him to get to you know. And whether you like it or not, you will marry him in three days’ time. So I suggest you get rid of all thoughts of your far-off prince and allow Chavez to own your heart.”

  I want to argue. I wish I had the strength to tell her everything—how I feel about Osric, how at this moment, he is trying to find a way to stop that rose from turning red so we can be together. I want to tell her I will not marry Chavez, but I simply nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  She smiles, more a sneer before turning just in time to see the carriage drive through the castle gates, flanked by soldiers on horses. I look past Jossa to the king and wonder if he heard a word she just spoke to me, and if he did, does he care? Does he also want me to marry Chavez, despite where my heart lies?

  I clench my jaw. Jossa looks my way, her glare so menacing, I fear her more than ever. I take it as a hint and smile a proper smile fit for a princess, happy to finally be with her fiancé. But the truth is, I’ve never been more miserable in my life.

  A manservant opens the carriage door, and the prince climbs down from inside. His skin is caramel brown. His black hair covers his forehead and enhances his forest-green eyes. His jaw is chiseled, but his cheeks are round. He’s handsome, no doubt.

  But seeing him, I do not long to be in his arms. I do not want to be his wife. I only hope he finds someone who loves him as much as I love Osric. Despite his good looks, his fortune, and the fact that he’s mine, my heart refuses to give up. Osric is the only prince I will ever love. The only man who will own all my heart, occupy my every thought, the only person I would gladly die for.

  Prince Chavez approaches and bows graciously to all three of us—first to the king, then to Jossa, and finally to me. As he bows, he takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles. I take calming breaths and try to remain happy on the outside.

  Thankfully, I do not have to worry about faking a blush, for I’m sure the cold air already has my cheeks a light shade of pink. “It’s a pleasure, Your Highness.” He looks up at me with bright eyes, a smile on his lips. I realize that if my heart did not already belong to another, I might have fallen for this man. He’s charming and handsome.

  “Thank you.” I curtsy, completely forgetting all proper etiquette. Mother clears her throat, but I don’t know what I did wrong, so I ignore her and slip my hand away from Chavez.

  “You there,” Jossa commands one of the servants. “Take the prince’s belongings to his rooms. You.” She looks to another servant. “Take his horses and carriage to the stables. Make sure they are properly fed and groomed.” She nods, an annoying habit she has when she is bossing others around.

  “As for you.” She latches on to the prince’s arm. “Let’s get you settled in. The cooks are already preparing a feast in your honor.” She smiles wide and leads him into the castle. King Inginio either doesn’t notice or just doesn’t care—most likely the latter—and goes off in another direction entirely.

  Just once, I wish he would ask me what I think. What I want. I wish he would be the father I need and take care of me. Instead, he has allowed Jossa control of my life, and she couldn’t care less if I don’t want to marry Chavez.

  “Milady, are you all right?” Madrid steps up beside me.

  “Why does she want me with Chavez so desperately, Madrid?” I watch them walk away until they turn a corner and disappear from view. I take a step back and stand outside the doorway, unsure what else to do.

  “I do not know, Rose. But if she is adamant you marry him despite being in love with someone else, she has a reason. And most likely not a good one.”

  “I think you’re right. Certainly she would not force me to marry someone I did not love just to spite me. The question is, how do I figure out her reasoning? And more importantly, how do I stop this from happening?” I turn to look at her.

  “I believe that for the moment, you’re going to have to trust Osric completely. He must succeed in saving us all from this storm. We need magic restored, or the land won’t thrive. The kingdoms will fall. And it won’t matter who’s royal and who’s peasant.”

  “Do you think someone in a lesser station intentionally set off that storm? Perhaps that is what they want—the kingdoms and their kings to fall.”

  “I wish I had the answers, but Osric is out there at this very moment, Roselyn. He is searching for the truth and doing all that he can to ensure that you two are together. Let him worry about the storm. You worry about Chavez and the wedding.”

  “We must stop the wedding, Madrid.” I rest my hands on her shoulders, facing her. “And I’m going to need your help.”

  “Anything you need.” She offers me a smile.

  “Thank you.” I turn and watch the people milling about while the storm starts up full force once more outside.

  “Of course, milady. So what do you propose we do?” She turns as well, but stands a few steps behind me.

  “I need to know what Jossa is doing, why she wants me with Chavez so much. I need to get the prince out of Mother’s clutches long enough to speak with him alone.”

  Fuentes lands at the base of the mountain and allows us to dismount and stretch our legs. I’m grateful for the break—not only did I fear freezing to death, but I was terrified of falling off the dragon’s back.

  He swerved around the lightning so much, I was afraid I would never get a chance to find out what caused the storm and how to fix it. I tremble the entire three steps it takes me to get to a tree so I can lean on something for a minute.

  “Are you going to be all right, Prince?” Gwydion asks, clapping my back to get my attention. I am about to fall apart, but nod, breathing a little heavier again.

  “I will be.” I rest my head against a branch and close my eyes. It causes a dizzy feeling to overcome me, and I have to hold on to the tree and look around so I don’t feel as if I am about to fall.

  “We must hurry. The storm appears to be getting worse, Your Highness.” I watch him from the corner of my eye. He gazes up to the sky with a look of disdain on his face.

  “All right, let’s go.” I push away from the trunk and head toward Fuentes.

  “Oh, no, Osric. Fuentes can only take us so far. There is nowhere up there for him to land safely. We must climb from here.” The wizard pulls a bag from beneath his cloak and sets it on the ground while he digs through it.

  “We’re climbing the mountain?” I look at it, noticing how steep it is, how few foot and hand holds it has, and the fact that lightning is flashing left and right, never reaching the ground, but I don’t doubt it has struck the mountain.

  “I will stay close and circle about, keeping an eye on both of you, but Gwydion is correct. There is nowhere up there for me to perch or land, certainly not somewhere you could safely climb to and from my back. I am sorry I cannot take you farther, Prince,” Fuentes says.

  “Then we should get going.” I sigh, realizing they are right. I just thought with a dragon on our side, surely this would be simpler.

  “Yes, we should.” The wizard puts the bag beneath his cloak once more and approaches the base of the mountain. He feels around until he finds somewhere to grab on to before clamping both hands down and pulling himself up. Once he is a few feet above me, I begin climbing.

  “My arms ache, everything aches, and we’ve only climbed a few feet. However are we going to make it to the top?” Gwydion yelps, once again losing his grip.

  I have trained for battle, learned to fight with a multitude of weapons, my arms are strong. I’ve climbed up a castle wall multiple times to see Roselyn. Even that was easier than what I do now. But still, I don’t dare complain. I don’t give up hope. We’ll get to the t
op.

  I reach up and put one hand over the other until I’ve climbed another foot. The storm comes down on top of us, the black, smoky cloud now covering us. I can only see the bottom of Gwydion’s boots until he takes another step, and then all that is visible is the mountain itself.

  My hand slips from the icy surface, causing me to clench tighter with my other hand. The mountain is so cold, it’s almost burning me. Now I am grateful for bringing gloves, just as my mother told me to do. If the pain is this intense with the gloves, I can only imagine how much worse it is without. I continue on. I make it another foot. The wizard is nowhere in sight, but I don’t allow myself to panic, knowing I didn’t pass him, and I didn’t hear him fall.

  The storm is strangely silent. I reach up and find a much bigger section to grab on to. I pull myself up and over the small ledge and find we’re at the top, and a bit of the fog clears out.

  The wizard stands beside me, looking in horror at the sight before us. It looks as if the lightning struck the alcove we stand in, causing the ice to splinter and turning the ground it touched purple—the same purple as the sky above.

  There against the back wall lies a white-haired woman, darkness seeping from her heart into the sky, causing the terrible storm above us. She lays motionless, but a small moan comes from her lips.

  “Selma!” Gwydion rushes to her side and rests her head in his lap. I stand by, unsure what to do and how to help.

  “My friend.” She opens her eyes, both violet purple. She opens her mouth to say more, but nothing comes out.

  “Selma, what happened?” The wizard no longer appears strong. I hadn’t thought about him knowing the Oracle, whom I assume is this woman.

  “She came and d—d—demanded I give her powers. She commanded me to give her magic. She stole it, Gwydion.” The woman’s voice trembles, and she begins to shake violently.

  “Hold on, dear,” he says to her. “Prince, help!” I approach, still unsure what I am supposed to do. “Here, hold on to her. The elixirs are going to hurt a bit, but they will help.” He slides out from beneath her head and holds her up while I stoop down and allow her to rest on me.

  The wizard begins searching through his cloak until he finds a small vial. He pours a single drop onto the mountain and watches it fizz before grabbing another bottle and doing the same thing. Three times he does this before pulling out an empty glass and pouring the contents of all three bottles in it.

  He kneels down beside Selma and slowly pours the liquid into her mouth. She begins to cry as she drinks it. She clutches my hand and squeezes with such strength, I fear she may break my fingers.

  “Even your elixirs cannot save me,” she whispers, and her grip on my hand loosens. “She stole magic, Gwydion. She took it, and for that, she must pay. I tried to stave off the storm. I attempted to stop her from bringing this wrath, but I couldn’t do it. And now the world’s fate rests in your hands.” Her words chill me to the core. What is she talking about?

  “Selma, who did this to you?” Gwydion takes her hands.

  “The woman who shouldn’t be queen.” The words leave her mouth, and her body slumps. I look at Gwydion, uncertain what I am to do. Is she gone? If so, why is there still a storm rising from her? He looks just as panicked as I do. Quickly, he hovers over her mouth, searching for breath, I assume.

  “She’s alive. Most likely exhausted from the storm and magic being stolen from her. She will need to rest. We need to find a way to fix all this. We must close the storm, and figure out which queen in this land is the one who shouldn’t be.”

  My first thought goes to my mother. She wasn’t raised here, but then again, she wouldn’t attack Selma for magic. She has her own, and she spoke fondly of the Oracle. Plus, she hasn’t been here in twenty years.

  There are those I wish weren’t queen. Jossa, for instance. But that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be queen. Queen Krea—but she would never do this. She hated the evilness of her aunt. Magic stole her brother, Prince Javier, from her. There is Queen Amber, Prince Chavez’s mother. They are the only queens I have any connection with. And Queen Amber hardly counts, considering I only know of her because her son is betrothed to the woman I love.

  We know for a fact that all of these women are rightfully queens. So which of them doesn’t have magic? Which of them would need to steal some?

  Gwydion interrupts my thoughts. “We have quite a situation, Your Highness.” An understatement.

  “What did she mean about the woman who shouldn’t be queen?” I ask him, hoping he has an answer.

  “I do not know. She said the world’s fate rests in our hands. That means we have to figure this out. We have to find the person who did this. Selma said she cannot be saved, but as long as the storm thrives, she will be kept alive. We have a day or two, three at the most, to figure out how to stop it. Her body won’t last any longer than that.”

  “I suppose that’s the end to a lot of magic, considering that’s the maximum on the rose,” I comment dryly.

  “I know this is hard, Osric. I know you will do whatever it takes to be with her. And I can promise you, I will do what I can to help, but I need you to focus. Don’t worry about the rose. Don’t worry about Roselyn. Worry about this, about now, because unless we figure this out, there is no way we will be able to protect the one you love.”

  “Okay.” I nod, knowing he’s right. I have to concentrate. I have to figure this out. It’s a puzzle, a riddle. So we need to go back and find out which queen would have the most motivation. Where did each queen come from? How is it possible that a member of a royal family doesn’t already have magic?

  “Good. Now, what do you know of the royal families?”

  “I know that my mother already has magic. She would have no reason to come here and do this. She just wouldn’t.”

  “I didn’t believe for a moment that your mother was the queen Selma spoke of. No, we’re looking for a queen who had nothing. Who came from nothing. So, which of our queens wasn’t born royal?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know how to figure that out.”

  “I can’t use magic, or we would already know the answer. That means we are going to have to consult something that already knows.” He begins searching his robes again.

  “Don’t you mean someone?”

  “Not at all. People don’t remember facts like that, but books will never fail you.” He pulls a small book from his robe and sits down on the icy mountain. I join him at the edge, letting my feet hang over as he begins flipping through the book. I notice that as he changes the page, pictures are moving, the words shifting. I try to lean closer to get a better look, but he leans farther away. “A wizard never gives away his secrets.”

  “The pages were changing,” I say in reply. “So that book isn’t from this world?” “No. Or it wouldn’t work.” He continues flipping through the pages.

  “What information are you looking for?”

  “I need to know the lineage of each queen currently living. There is quite a bit of information here, though. It could take a while to get through everything. Even after it’s given me what I need to know, I still must cipher through the pieces and figure out which parts are relevant.” “So you’re saying this is going to take a while?” I raise an eyebrow.

  He looks at me, the most serious of expressions capable of showing on his old face. “This, my boy, could take ages.”

  “We don’t have that long.”

  “Then I suggest you be quiet so I can search a little faster.”

  That shuts me up immediately. How can I argue with him when he’s trying to save Roselyn? I assume he has his own reasons, but still, my only concern is for Rose. Already, I miss her. I long to be holding her, to be with her, to at least know that I will get to see her again.

  The queen smiles and chats constantly. She demands that I sit beside my betrothed, but it matters not. Every time he attempts to speak to me, Jossa pulls his attention back to her. If I thought I could get away with i
t, I would suggest that she marry him.

  Brunch is miserable. I can’t eat more than two bites of food before I feel sick enough, I fear it will all come back up. Madrid stands in the corner, waiting to take care of me in any way she can, for which I am forever grateful. I will most certainly need someone to rescue me before the day is over.

  “Dear, you should eat. I wouldn’t want you to be too weary to take the prince out and about.”

  “But Mother, what is there to see but ruin and disaster outside during the storm that still carries on?” I comment, knowing it will irk her. But how can she deny it when everyone can see it?

  “But dear, you must still see the seamstress for your wedding dress. And I am sure the prince needs to be fitted for his attire as well. While you’re getting that done, you can show him the beautiful gardens, the market that was unaffected by the storm.”

  I nod, knowing that arguing with her at this point is of no use. She will find a way to push us together, no matter what I say or do. And I suppose it is for the better. I wished to speak with him alone anyway.

  Chavez looks at me with sorrow in his eyes, and I wonder if he has any idea what he has gotten himself into. Or is he dreading it just as I am, only he is better at pretending to be happy? I look at him again, taking in his features. He truly is handsome. I can imagine he would make Madrid the happiest person in the world.

  Now if only Mother and Father saw that too. I dare not look back at Madrid, but I can imagine she is watching the prince, studying him.

  And I realize that even if I didn’t love someone else, I could never be with Chavez. I meant it when I said Madrid is my best friend. I would never marry the person she wishes to be with, arranged or not. She deserves to be happy. And even if Osric and I can’t be together, it doesn’t mean all four of us should suffer.

  “Prince Chavez, when will your family arrive for the wedding?” Jossa asks sweetly.