The Tears of the Rose

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “You are wise, Your Highness. Uorsin sacrificed his dream of gaining Annfwn to make a lasting peace for Glorianna. And, some of us believe, so that you could be born. You. The third, most important daughter. Glorianna made flesh.”

  My heart thumped with the wild possibilities of it. I’d prayed for guidance and Glorianna had answered. Could this be my purpose? “Prince Hugh always said he thought my beauty came from Glorianna’s touch.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. Her radiance is visible in every aspect of your grace and loveliness. Small wonder the poets told tales of you. They will again, as you lead Glorianna’s church to greatness. As you lead her children into Annfwn.”

  That night, I sat in front of the mirror in the grand guest room set aside for my use. Ursula had been given the master’s suite, which seemed unfair. Truly, our ranks were equal now. Though she might be heir to the High King, I would be Queen of Avonlidgh sooner than that, as Old Erich couldn’t possibly last much longer.

  And, if Kir had spoken truly—which I believed he did, for he spoke in Glorianna’s chapel, surely at her behest—I carried Uorsin’s true heir. Even Ursula—as much as she tried to be a son to our father—she knew as we all did that he’d longed for a boy to take his place. It had been a last trick of Salena’s to saddle him with daughters.

  Though no one said this aloud.

  Kir, though, had put a new spin on our family history. Perhaps Glorianna had guided Salena to our father so that I might be born. Then, her role complete, she passed on. Perhaps she redeemed her devil nature before her death and now rested in Glorianna’s arms.

  For the first time since I heard that Hugh was forever gone from me, I brushed my hair before bed. I’d started when I was five, when my nurse taught me to do it for myself. My beauty, she’d said, was a tribute to Glorianna, so I owed it to the goddess to maintain that.

  One hundred strokes every night, to keep the shine.

  I should never have stopped. I counted them as I drew the brush through the red-gold locks, sinking into the peaceful, even feel of it. The woman looking back at me in the mirror wore the same face I’d always known. Still beautiful.

  Not ugly as I’d imagined. All that had happened had failed to touch me. Nothing dimmed the fiery river of my hair, the translucence of my skin, the twilight blue of my eyes, enormous in my delicate face. I’d heard myself described in poems before I knew half the words to assign to the features the mirrors showed me.

  The most beautiful woman in the Twelve Kingdoms. Then and still.

  My gift from Glorianna and a sign of Her favor. She would no more strip me of that radiance than She could tear it from Her own being. Though Glorianna’s enemies had torn Hugh from me, I would not give up Her fight. His death would not be in vain. Our child would be High King and cleanse the land of the Tala.

  Glorianna willed it.

  I would honor her will.

  If Ursula looked at me strangely the next morning, I put it down to the fact that she hadn’t seen me out of mourning since we’d reunited. Of course, she was angry that I’d delayed our departure by hours while Dulcinor recruited the Louson maids into sewing my new pink gown. Not that I cared a whit for Ursula’s moods.

  I belonged to Glorianna and I would honor Her.

  “Done primping?” Ursula asked, looking me up and down.

  “And puking, yes, thank you.”

  She had the grace to look chagrined, and I enjoyed the score. Even though the queasies were much better thanks to Marin’s concoctions. I sent Dafne to ride with some of the other ladies, so Kir could talk with me more about Glorianna and his plans to recover Annfwn for us and for Glorianna’s greater good.

  For all I knew, Dafne was one of them. Who said the shape-shifting demons couldn’t masquerade as humans, too? It seemed more and more likely that she was a spy and her supposed concern for me a clever ruse to gain my confidence. But I would be more clever than she.

  As for the midwife, she simply spent her time knitting, humming to herself, and glancing up from time to time to check my color. She seemed to know when the carriage movement was getting to me, handing me well-timed mints or thin toasts to chew on before I realized I needed them.

  Time passed quickly with High Priest Kir’s excellent conversation. I hadn’t recognized before what a well-educated and intelligent man he was. And so devout. His allegiance to Glorianna practically glowed from his countenance. Never before had I understood the true foundation of the war the Tala had waged—and catastrophically won—to wrest Andi’s loyalty from us.

  More and more I understood how they’d clouded her mind with half-truths and used her emotions against her. As I’d suspected, she didn’t love Rayfe. Even if she believed she did, it would be impossible because he wasn’t even human. It made so much sense—though the Tala appeared to be people, they were truly animals and thus without souls.

  “Love is the expression of the soul, Your Highness,” Kir explained. “It is the pure and true animus of us as Glorianna’s children. In Her wisdom, Glorianna gave us love to connect our souls together, to give us solace until we return to Her encompassing light. Thus, love must be given to be received, and received to be given. It’s an eternal cycle.”

  “So the Tala cannot love.”

  Kir shook his head, looking somber and sorrowful. “No. You are as insightful as you are beautiful, Princess. You are correct: the Tala cannot give or receive love because they aren’t Glorianna’s children.”

  “Whose children are they?”

  “Some say Moranu’s. Others say they belong to none of the trinity but are simply animals that have learned to mimic humans.”

  “Then Andi has been bewitched.”

  He considered that, then leaned forward. “Your compassionate nature does you credit, Your Highness. You are indeed Glorianna’s avatar on this earth. You carry within you all of Her goodness and thus you can’t bear to think ill of others. But you are also brave and strong. You may have to face that the woman you thought was your sister was never truly human at all.”

  The even click of Marin’s needles hitched and she muttered about dropping a stitch.

  “I’ve heard tell”—High Priest Kir lowered his voice, turning a shoulder to the midwife—“that those in Princess Andromeda’s presence sometimes felt a strange creeping sensation, a visceral fear, perhaps, such as when one sees a poisonous spider.”

  The staunchly loyal part of me protested. Sometimes the people at Castle Ordnung had whispered cruel things about Andi. But I had always, always defended her. They just didn’t understand her. Andi had been shy, preferring to ride her horses instead of participating in the feasts and dances. Even when I encouraged the men waiting for their turn to dance with me to at least talk to her, she hadn’t tried to be pleasant to them.

  She always had to be difficult, it seemed. Still, she was human.

  Wasn’t she?

  Kir read the confusion on my face, because he took my hand, folding it between his in a fatherly gesture. “Such loyalty. You have no ill thoughts in you, so you cannot imagine them in others. But we all heard the truth of it from Her Highness Ursula’s own lips. Glorianna’s spirit in you drives you to absolve the creature who carelessly, viciously murdered your husband. Your son will grow up without a father. Is there any way this cannot be the manifestation of a cruel and malicious will?”

  My throat clogged, all of those unshed tears still trapped in there, locked in forever, stuck with pieces of my destroyed heart. I didn’t feel like Glorianna’s avatar. I felt more the five-year-old that Ursula scornfully accused me of being.

  “Your mother was one of them,” Kir continued, his smooth voice relentless. “Many are the tales told of how she beguiled High King Uorsin and forced him into her devil’s bargain. Ask yourself this—what did she get out of the marriage? They had no love for each other. What was her demonic plan?”

  My stomach churned and Marin handed me a cup of tea from her flask. I might have imagined it, but it seemed she cast an a
ngry, sideways glance at Kir. Taking the cup allowed me to withdraw my hand from the priest’s grip, and I wrapped my own around the delicate mug, wishing my fingers weren’t so cold.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I never knew her. She’s always been a cipher to me. No one would ever talk about her.” So much so, in fact, that I’d never heard of the Tala until Rayfe demanded our father make good on their old treaty to give him Andi for his bride, much less that our mother, Salena, had been one of them.

  “There is a school of thought in Glorianna’s temple that explains much about the late queen.”

  “What is it?”

  “Perhaps Your Highness should have a bit of a rest,” Marin interrupted. Kir flushed angrily at her lack of manners, and she cringed. “Your color isn’t what I’d want it to be, is all, Princess.”

  In truth I felt ill. The tea wasn’t helping. But I needed to hear this. Nobody had ever said to my face that I killed my mother by being born, but they didn’t have to. I knew when they lied about it. How they told me it wasn’t my fault, that I bore no guilt for it. All the time the stink of lies ran beneath.

  “I want to hear this.” I handed the mug to Marin. “This isn’t helping.”

  “You see, Your Highness”—Kir templed his fingers and bowed to me over them—“Glorianna created you to fight these battles for Her. Once the demon spawn Andromeda was born, Glorianna saw what a great evil had been released into the world. So She created you, perfect in every way. Your beauty is a guiding star for those who would serve your cause.

  “Your very goodness burned through the womb and released your mother from the chains of evil. She died, yes, but she passed over redeemed, infused with Glorianna’s nature from contact with Her spirit via you.”

  I wanted to believe that, this idea I’d been mulling over. Maybe Glorianna had whispered it to me. That was how I’d known.

  “You saved her, Princess Amelia. They named you for the love you brought to the world in her place. Now we are crying for that love. We need you to lead us. Everything that has happened has led to this moment. Do not let your mother’s death be in vain. Don’t forsake Prince Hugh, who sacrificed himself that your eyes might be opened.”

  My head swam. “I don’t feel well at all.” I missed Hugh, bitterly and profoundly. I needed to ask him what he thought of all this. He’d always known the right thing to say to comfort me. Now it seemed I was beyond comfort. How had the world changed so utterly?

  Or not changed. From Kir’s words, it had been this way all along and I had been simply too blind to see it. How Andi must have laughed at me, watching me indulge in fripperies and romance while she plotted all along to defeat me.

  “What of Ursula?”

  Kir shook his head, then slid a significant glance at Marin, whose needles flew furiously. “We should perhaps speak of such things at another time. We must do all we can to protect Glorianna’s sacred cause. High King Uorsin’s great quest.”

  Did he mean to imply that Ursula wasn’t on our side? But it was true—she had defended Andi’s actions. My head pounded and my stomach lurched. “Stop the carriage!” I cried out.

  In a flash, Marin had me around the waist, supporting me out of the halted carriage. I fell ignominiously to my knees in the half-frozen mud, retching up toast and tea. She patted my back, soothing me, murmuring that babes take their toll and I must keep peaceful.

  The cold filth soaked through my skirts and I knew the pink gown would be forever stained.

  5

  We arrived at Castle Ordnung a day later.

  The High King’s seat and my childhood home, Ordnung had been built fairly recently—completed not long after Ursula was born, in fact. It didn’t look as if it had grown out of the old volcano as Windroven did, constructed of the same dark rock, towers and wings added over time. Instead, Ordnung gleamed brilliant white, with perfect, straight lines and solid defenses. Both a monument to our father’s immense achievement in uniting the kingdoms and a fortress in case of attack, Castle Ordnung was, by definition, the finest castle in the land.

  Out of long habit, my heart rose to see it, with its uniformed soldiers standing guard and all the bright pennants flying—one for each of the twelve kingdoms—and High King Uorsin’s rampant bear above them all. I’d always thought of Ordnung as my true home.

  Oddly, though, I missed Windroven, in all her dark rock and ungainly sprawl.

  Uorsin received us in the grand audience chamber. As heir to the High Throne, Ursula preceded us and Erich escorted me on his arm. High Priest Kir and that creepy White Monk followed behind.

  The last time I was here, I’d been on Hugh’s arm and we’d been bursting with fun over our surprise visit—my first since our wedding. With a start, I realized that my wedding anniversary would be soon, when true spring came to Mohraya. We hadn’t had even a full year together.

  No doubt it would still be wintery on the cold coast of Avonlidgh, but that would be fitting. I would celebrate by myself, perhaps holding vigil at Hugh’s tomb, so he wouldn’t be alone. My stomach clenched and Old Erich patted my hand, where I dug my nails into his bony forearm.

  Uorsin glowered at us. Or, more precisely, fixed his angry gaze on Ursula.

  “So you come home with your tail between your legs, do you?” If that insult struck home, Ursula didn’t show any sign. She stood at attention, her spine rigid. Because it was court, she wore a gown, dark and severe in cut, but well made. Had she dragged it with her on the long campaign? Someone had trimmed her shaggy hair, too, and attempted to make it look put up like a proper court lady’s instead of just short. She wore the simple gold band across her forehead that proclaimed her heir to the High King’s throne. Despite myself, a thrill of pride ran through me. Ursula was nothing if not admirable.

  “Yes, my King.” Ursula curtsied deeply, keeping her head bowed. “I bring grave news indeed.”

  He flicked an irritated hand at her. “We have already heard your news. Every damn person in the Twelve Kingdoms and beyond the Wild Lands has heard the news. You can explain your many failures to me in private.”

  A susurrus of speculation ran through the assembled court. I’d never seen Uorsin so mightily, so fulminously and broodingly enraged. Not even when we first received the message from the Tala. It did not bode well for Ursula. Then he surprised me again by stepping down from the throne and calling my name. He opened his arms, as he had when I was a little girl.

  I couldn’t possibly embarrass him by not responding, no matter how odd his actions for formal court, so I did what he expected of me—and ran to him, leaving Erich to lean on his valet and brushing past Ursula, who’d stepped aside to clear my way. Uorsin embraced me in his bear hug, nearly crushing me. He rubbed his bristled chin on the top of my head and held me tight.

  “My flower, my precious rose. Always you have been the best of us. The sweetest, most innocent, and most beautiful of my daughters. It is a tragedy beyond speaking that you should be the one to suffer for your sisters’ many sins. First, one betrays me; then the other fails me. You alone have been all that a dutiful daughter should be.”

  He finally released me and I drew a long breath, feeling more than a little dizzy. Uorsin smelled as if he hadn’t been bathing enough—and like the greasy meats he ate for breakfast. I concentrated on breathing through my mouth as Marin had taught me, to master the sickness. It would not do to hurl on the High King’s shiny boots.

  “You will stay in Ordnung with me,” he declared. “I have need of a proper hostess, as my heir seems to be useful neither as a woman nor as a man.”

  I winced for Ursula, though she did not reveal a flicker of expression on her face. Meanwhile the Avonlidgh contingent behind us began muttering unhappily. Old Erich came forward and bowed to the High King, then put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.

  “King Erich.” Uorsin acknowledged his obeisance and assumed a concerned expression. The smoldering scent of lies tinged the air. “My deepest sympathies on the loss of y
our son—my heart-son—and Avonlidgh’s heir. It must be a grave blow in your old age.”

  If the insensitivity of the remark bothered Erich, he didn’t show it. For all that he was terribly old and frail, he was a shrewd man. Hugh had often spoken of how much he admired his father’s wisdom and strategy. I’d never given it much thought, but I marked it now, how he gathered a regal air around him—and showed with his arm around me that he, too, called me daughter.

  “My gratitude, High King. Your grace and bearing in this time of Avonlidgh’s trial simply demonstrates yet again the wisdom of your leadership over us all. Truly, the Twelve flourish under your evenhanded and just rule. I feel confident we can trust in you to right the many wrongs we’ve suffered and restore peace, bounty, and lawfulness to our lands.”

  Uorsin frowned, that beefy anger seething below the surface of his skin. He didn’t appreciate being taken by surprise. Perhaps Erich had lost some of his wisdom to the dementia of grief. It hit people that way sometimes—they thought they were being rational, but they weren’t.

  “It is so unfortunate that the unrest in your household resulted in Avonlidgh’s loss,” Erich continued. “However, I and the people of Avonlidgh wish to assure you of our continued fealty and utter faith that Your Highness will make recompense.”

  Uorsin’s bushy eyebrows knotted. Derodotur, his long-time adviser, moved up surreptitiously and caught the High King’s eye. In the court were ambassadors from all the Twelve Kingdoms, save Mohraya, since Uorsin claimed kingship of that land also.

  “Of course, Erich.” Uorsin took on a boisterous mien. “I shall determine the appropriate recompense and give it to the people of Avonlidgh with love and respect.”

  Erich bowed. “You are indeed a great and good High King, but I do not wish to impose. To save you the trouble of casting your mind upon us and our troubles, when you have so many greater tasks to attend to, we have determined the small boons we ask of you.”