Beana’s thoughts were consumed with that Other, that one unlike all others, whom she sensed with such terror. They would draw nearer to it, the farther down the mountain they journeyed. It would know they were coming. And it would call to Rose Red. Her skin trembled with terror at the thought, and many times she was tempted to stand upright, to shed all pretenses, to force the girl to remain in hiding.
She would not. No, by grace and good courage, Beana would continue as she had been all these years, and perhaps by some miracle she would succeed.
Rose Red’s thoughts were full of Leo. He would protect her. Had he not promised? He would take her in and give her work, and she would become his servant. Leo, her best friend, now her best master. What a good and true servant she would be, as faithful as a . . . as a goat. She would bless him with her service in every way, and eventually she would win over the people of his household. They would see with what a true heart she poured herself into her tasks. They would see.
And they would know that she could not be a monster.
It’ll never work.
“Shut up,” she hissed low enough that Beana, trotting behind her, could not hear. “Shut up, shut up!”
They’ll never trust you behind that veil, and you dare not show your face to them. Not as you may show it to me, my beautiful prin—
“I won’t hear another word of yours!” She dared not speak the words out loud, so she mouthed them silently behind the veil. “I won’t hear you anymore. I’m leavin’, and there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me, ’cause you’re only a nightmare! I’ll follow Leo down this mountain, and in that fresh air down lower, I won’t dream no more. I’ll sleep like a little baby, I will, and I’ll never see you again!”
You will see me again.
She increased her pace and would not answer.
You were meant to be mine.
She came to the end of the deer trail and stepped out upon the path leading down the mountain. Beana emerged behind her, and the two of them picked their way down.
Leave the mountain if you dare. See how the dogs below will bark and worry your bones. See how Leo, his good deed done, will forget all about you save when he remembers the nuisance you cause him.
“I won’t hear you no more,” she muttered.
“What’s that, child?”
“Nothin’.”
See how they will abuse you. And then, you will return to me.
Rose Red shook her head. She would die before she came back.
If you do not, said her Dream in a whisper like seeping poisons, if I do not see you at my doorstep within a year and a day, I swear to you . . . I swear by that cursed stone of gold upon which I slept those long centuries . . . I will come for you myself. And you will not like that. No, you will not like that at all.
The gates of Hill House gleamed below her as the sun touched their polished hinges, and Rose Red was suddenly terrified almost beyond bearing. But Beana pressed up beside her, and Rose Red touched the goat’s forehead between her horns and drew comfort from her. “I’m leavin’ with Leo,” she said in a firm voice. “And there ain’t nothin’ nobody can do to stop me.”
“I won’t try to stop you, girl,” Beana said. “Though I’m against it. Well, shall we knock or just barge inside? Perhaps we could leave a calling card and let them get back to us at their leisure.”
The girl and the goat approached the gate, leaving the forest behind them. And Rose Red did not hear the whisper that blew among the shadows of the trees, then vanished like a puff of smoke.
A year and a day, princess.
6
IN SOME WAYS, it had been the longest summer of her existence. In others, Daylily had to admit, it had been a singularly pleasant one, and she was rather sorry to see it drawing to a close. There was something so fresh and, simultaneously, so ancient about the air of the mountains. An out-of-this-world sensation such as she had never experienced in the social hubbub of Middlecrescent.
She sat in her bedroom, gazing out the window. Daylily could not put a name to her present feelings. She was not one to be anxious, but was she, perhaps, a little concerned at the prospect of leaving Hill House? Here she had enjoyed peace; peace edged with that hint of danger that the country folks’ rumors and superstitions delightfully fed. It was a danger like the fears children experience in the night, when they know beyond doubt that something lurks under the bed, though their parents may not believe.
Nothing like the dangers of conspiracy. Nothing like the dangers of failure.
If anything, this thought caused Daylily’s brow to smooth even more perfectly into a beautiful mask. “I am a child no longer,” she whispered to the window, to the dark green forest of the mountain. “And this is not a child’s game.” No, her father’s Plan was certainly no game, but there would be a winning and a losing side nonetheless. She must be certain of her position.
Dragons eat that goat girl, whoever she might be!
Her goodwoman entered the room, dragging an empty trunk behind her. She curtsied to her mistress. “Am I disturbing you, m’lady?”
“No, do continue,” Daylily said with a wave of her hand. Her servant set the trunk in the middle of the room and started gathering Daylily’s belongings.
They were leaving Hill House on the morrow. Daylily was struck now by how quickly the summer had flown. And she would return to her father’s house with . . . with what?
She rose, straightening her skirts and touching her hair to be sure each curl was properly in place. Properly in place, up here in the mountains, meant just the slightest bit out of place, a few tendrils escaping here and there as would appeal to a boy of Leo’s nature. Too much perfection might frighten him. “Lay out my green for tomorrow’s journey, goodwoman,” Daylily said as she passed from the room. Her maid, who knew the baron’s daughter perhaps better than anyone in this world, could not have told a soul what Daylily’s thoughts were from what she could see on her lady’s face. If someone had asked, she would have curtsied and said, “M’lady is herself, and her thoughts are her own. Pardon me, I have work to which I must attend.”
Daylily avoided the library. She always avoided the chance of meeting Foxbrush, particularly since that conversation they’d shared a few weeks back. She’d known from the moment she set eyes on him that he was no more than a stuffed shirt, but a superstitious stuffed shirt was even worse. He was too well educated, had spent too much time at court to hide behind the excuse of a rustic country upbringing. It was silly for a lad of his station, who could boast the lineage he did, to believe in Faerie stories and monsters. Daylily made it a point to shun him.
The house was busy, though she passed no one in the corridors. She could hear the bustle of packing and travel arrangements being made. Tomorrow, she and the two young sirs would set out from Hill House and journey together to the low country and across Baron Blackstone’s land. Then they would part ways, Daylily for Middlecrescent, the boys for the Eldest’s City. Or at least, this was the plan.
But it would not be much longer, if Daylily had any say in the matter.
She found Leo in the Blue Room. This was one of the many pointless rooms to be found in houses such as Hill House. Its sole purpose for existence was to be decorated, painted, and otherwise fitted out in shades of blue, many shades of which did not blend happily together. A lord or lady knew they had truly arrived when they could afford to have a Blue Room in their household, and Dame Willowfair was proud of hers. People seldom sat in it of course, for it was difficult to think anything but blue thoughts within its walls. But it provided a solitary spot in the house, and Leo liked it for that reason.
He sat in an overstuffed chair of blue velvet, to all apparent purposes studying a large textbook, but in reality, staring into the fireplace. His face was as empty as a face could be when he looked up to meet Daylily’s eyes. But he offered her a smile. “Hullo. How’s the packing going?”
“Well enough,” said Daylily, and her voice was sweet, but not nearly so sweet
as her face when she settled into a low chair across from Leo’s. She was wearing a rich sienna-hued gown that contrasted starkly with the hues of that room, giving her skin a glow and her hair a fine sheen. It would be impossible not to admire her, even if she had not arranged herself to look so very fetching while seated.
Leo noticed. He even admired. He simply didn’t care.
They looked at each other, then looked away, then looked at each other again. This little exercise continued for about three rounds, and still Leo neither spoke nor seemed to notice the faraway sorrow that Daylily was so carefully painting on her face. She sighed and almost gave up then and there. But her father’s voice still spoke in her memory: “Did I ask you to love him?”
“I have enjoyed these last few months, Leo,” she said, her eyes gently veiled with long lashes. She waited a few poignant moments before softly adding, “Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Have you enjoyed these last few months?”
He shrugged. This summer had not been what he had hoped, and his sleep had been less than restful. When the sun rose, Leo’s spirits failed to rise with it, and no amount of strong coffee had enabled him to clear his fuzzy head. That blasted dream returned every night, always with the same demand: Tell me what you want.
All he really wanted right now was an answer from Rose Red, but he’d not seen her since that night in the graveyard. And perhaps he’d dreamt that too. Moonlight and graveyards and beings that disappeared in a waft of rags . . . definitely not the stuff of waking hours.
He closed his eyes and sank his head into his hand. “It’s been right enough, I suppose,” he answered. “For summer, you know. Better than last year at Upperwold, where they made me attend an entire concert devoted to Poet Eanrin’s work. A misery.”
Daylily licked her lips. “Perhaps next year will be better still?” she suggested. “You might consider visiting Middlecrescent.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged again. Why did she have to come and talk at him just now? Why did girls talk so much anyway? He wanted to be alone, and he wanted a quiet snooze, a chance to catch up on sleep before beginning tomorrow’s long journey. A chance to—
Suddenly Daylily stood beside him, one soft hand removing his from his head, the other gently stroking his cheek. Leo came wide awake, blinking up at her, and noticed now how pretty all that red hair of hers was. Almost as pretty as it had been out in the forest with the light shining through the leaves and landing on it in bursts. What a brave creature she had looked that day, so beautiful and strong as she led the way up the mountain. A woman fit to be queen if ever there was one. And she was gazing deep into his eyes.
“Um.” Leo licked his lips.
“Yes?” said she, her mouth just hinting at a smile.
“Maybe . . . maybe you’d like to come stay at my house this winter?” He spoke the words in a bit of a rush, and his tongue tangled around several of them. “I’m sure my mother would love to have you.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes, I know she would.”
“What about you, Leo?”
His mouth opened, but his brain could not form any words. Her smile was growing, and he found it difficult to think. “Um,” he tried, and it was not a propitious beginning. “I think . . . well, I think—”
He heard the sound as though he’d been listening for it all along. It was faint through the closed window, but unmistakable.
“Baaaah!”
Leo was on his feet in an instant, sliding past Daylily, who remained blinking where she stood for a moment before following him to the window. Leo opened the casement and leaned out, and a gust of mountain air caught his hair and tossed it back from his face. He saw the garden gate open, and he saw who entered.
“Rose Red!” he shouted.
She heard him, all the way out there by the gate. He saw her hesitate as she gazed about, looking for him. Beana, that shaggy old nanny, walked in her footsteps. Leo leaned farther out the window, waving an arm. “Rose Red! Rosie!”
She saw him. One gloved hand raised in a hesitant wave.
Leo cupped his hands around his mouth. “Wait there! I’ll be right down!”
“What is it?” Daylily demanded, pressing up behind him and trying to see through the window herself. She received an elbow in the stomach for her pains, and then a string of hasty apologies as Leo excused himself around her. All trace of a smile vanished from her face.
“She’s coming!” Leo cried, disappearing out the door. Daylily looked out the open window. She saw the girl, covered in rags from head to toe, making tentative progress into the yard. She saw the veils, and her teeth set on edge.
Perhaps Foxbrush wasn’t such a blessed fool after all.
Leo pounded down the stairs and was out the kitchen door within moments, running across the garden to meet his friend. “Rosie!” he cried as he approached. She had stopped in her tracks, as though afraid to progress any farther, but the set of her shoulders relaxed as he neared. “Rosie, have you decided?”
She nodded. “I think I’d like to be your servant, Leo. I think I’d like that very well.”
“Lumé’s crown!” Leo could not stop his smiles. “I knew you would; I knew it! Just wait and see what a difference it’ll make to you, getting off this mountain.”
“Bah,” Beana said.
“You can bring Beana too, of course,” Leo added with another smile for the goat. He reached out to stroke her ears, but Beana gave him a look like death, and he retrieved his hand. “There’s plenty of room in my father’s stables for her, especially if she gives good milk.”
But Rose Red no longer saw Leo. She watched over his shoulder as person after person stepped through Hill House’s various doors and approached up the lawn. It took all her willpower to keep from vanishing right then, fleeing back into the forest. Redbird came from the kitchen, her face pale as a sheet, her meaty hand gripping an iron ladle. Leanbear appeared soon after, and he held fire irons in both fists. Foxbrush followed, his eyes huge beneath his oiled hair, and behind him came several footmen and servants, clustering together for the comfort of numbers.
Rose Red saw this cluster of servants part as Daylily marched between them. Her face was like that of some queen of old. She moved ahead of the others, but Leanbear, Redbird, and Foxbrush fell into step just behind, and the others followed after. She was so beautiful that Rose Red’s heart leapt with terror at the sight.
Leo, turning around and seeing what Rose Red saw, reached out and quickly squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry,” he said, and his voice was not like that of the Leo she knew. It was, in that moment, older. And harder. “Don’t disappear.”
Beana stepped in front of her like a forbidding fortress, and Leo faced the oncoming folk, his arms crossed over his chest.
“So, Leo,” said Daylily, and the smile on her face as she neared was very lovely indeed. “You found your goat girl again, did you?”
Leo smiled back, but his shoulders were tense. “This is Rose Red,” he said. “She grew up in the mountains, but her parents are dead. I’ve offered her a position as my servant, and she will be joining us tomorrow when we leave.” He turned to Redbird and the other servants. “You will make sure she is fitted out properly for the journey.”
“By the Sleeper’s waking snort,” Leanbear growled. “That we certainly won’t.” He was trembling in every limb as he clutched his fire irons. “She ain’t welcome in these parts. Ain’t welcome in the village, nor on this mountain neither.”
“Then it’s just as well she’s coming with me, isn’t it?” said Leo.
Redbird whispered, “Silent Lady!” and Leanbear spat. “You don’t know what she is, do you? Have you taken a moment to look at her?”
Leo stood with his feet planted. “Look at what?” he demanded. “There’s nothing to look at.”
Leanbear bared his teeth like a dog. “Look at how she covers herself. Look how she hides.”
“So what?” Leo shrugged but did not r
elax. His hands balled into fists. “She’s got a right to wear what she likes. It’s her business.”
“You know what she is, same as the rest of us,” Leanbear said. “That, or you’re blinded. Or bewitched.”
Daylily caught Leo’s eye. “Bewitched,” Foxbrush had told her, just as Leanbear said now. She searched now for signs of that bewitchment but saw none. Perhaps the enchantment was too powerful to be detected, but all she saw in Leo’s eyes was a rising, boiling anger.
“You all are dragon-eaten idiots,” he declared, advancing aggressively. The servants backed up, save for Leanbear, who also stepped forward. “What nonsense are you all talking? Bewitchment? Spells? Magic? You’re as backward as first-year schoolboys! Your mountain superstitions have blinded you.”
“Careful what you say about the mountain folk,” Leanbear growled. “We know more of the goings-on in these parts than you, with all your pretty city ways. We’ve lived in these forests, breathed this air, dug our hands deep into the roots and dirt and rock. Call us superstitious if you must, but don’t insult our ways. We’ve survived up here for centuries while the rest of you fled to the lowlands. And we’ve survived by not lettin’ the likes of her poison our lives.” Leanbear raised his fire irons threateningly and took yet another step forward. “She’s not welcome among us.”
“Baah!” said the goat.
Leo uncrossed his arms and held his fists tense at his sides. “I’m not scared of your nursery stories.” He turned to Foxbrush then. “You’re as bad as the rest of them, aren’t you? My own fool cousin—why don’t you speak up? You’ve studied science; you’ve studied logic. Tell them they’re being idiots, and let’s all move on. Or do you believe in this magic as well?”
Foxbrush hung his head, too ashamed to speak. For Daylily had turned her gaze upon him, and he found he had no courage under that blue-eyed stare.
Veiled Rose Page 15