For some of us it’s too late—we’ll never be whole again. I shivered. “Like the White Monk.” I murmured it to myself, but Andi nodded, sympathy for the man she’d barely met stark on her face.
“Maybe if he’d come to us as a young man, the shamans could have helped him. Now it’s too late. He can never be whole.”
“He’s perfectly vital and strong,” I snapped without thinking.
“You don’t know him.”
“Forgive me—I was speaking more in a metaphorical sense. I meant no offense to your lover.”
My face flooded hot, guilt and shame pounding at the inside of my skin. “He is not my lover, Andi! What kind of person do you think I am?”
She regarded me with clear, wise eyes. “I think you’re a young, flesh-and-blood woman with her entire life ahead of her. Happiness is not thick on the ground—gather it when you may.”
Thick on the ground—curious that she put it that way. “Sometimes. . .” I hesitated over the words. “I mean, since I’ve been pregnant, I’ve been feeling emotions. My midwife says that’s part of it, but . . . it’s as if emotions have a smell. Or I feel them, under my feet. I realize that sounds like I’m being silly and I’m just—”
“It’s not silly,” Andi interrupted my building babble. “The gift comes from your daughter, and it’s a powerful ability. Even our mother did not possess such a talent. I’m so happy your daughter will have that as her legacy.”
“Once she’s born, I’ll lose it?”
“I don’t know. Most likely. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged, trying to act as if it didn’t bother me at all. “Why should I have anything? Our mother left nothing else for me.”
“Did Ursula tell you about the dolls?”
My laugh came out as a bitter snort, not unlike Andi’s, but without the comedy. “Oh, yes. How about that? Zevondeth had mine, only it’s missing a head. Too bad for me.”
“Oh, Ami . . .” Her face crumpled, and she wrung her hands together. “That can’t be right. Are you sure?”
“That my doll doesn’t have a head? Yes—that kind of detail is kind of hard to miss. Stop feeling sorry for me. I’ve been fine without it.”
“That can’t be right,” she repeated to herself. “It must be somewhere. She wouldn’t have—”
“Well, she did. She was waiting for something to be sent and she died before it arrived. Story of my life.” I couldn’t match Ursula’s hard demeanor, but I carried off the not-caring attitude pretty well.
“Sent? Sent from Annfwn?” Andi’s face cleared. “Of course! I wonder what happened? I’ll look for it. I’ll find it and send it to you. But you might not need it.”
“A headless doll isn’t much of a thing.”
“What I needed was inside the body. Look there. But I’ll also see what I can find among her things here.”
That rankled. “Don’t bother. It’s not important.”
“But it is.” That in her big-sister tone. “You’ll need it in the days ahead. If not you, then your daughter will.”
“I’m not having a daughter!” I was sick of this game. “Zevondeth says the babe is a boy and the High King has declared him as his heir.”
Andi positively faded at that news, her face whitening under the golden tan, trees visible through her image. “What? That’s terrible news! How is Ursula?” She twisted her fingers together in that weaving motion, her gaze focused on something only she could see. “Moranu curse Uorsin and his cruel ways.”
“He’s not cruel,” I protested. “My son will be High King. That will be a fitting legacy for Hugh.”
Her attention returned to me. “I would ask what’s happened to you, but I suppose I know. Still, you never used to be mean. Of the three of us, you were the most loving, and now—”
“Maybe I’m growing up. It’s a hard world. As you said, happiness is not thick on the ground. I’ll stop distressing you with my presence.”
“Come back anytime.” She said it to my back as I walked away.
“My love goes with you, Sister, always.”
I snatched up my things and stalked back over the border, where the White Monk sat by a small campfire, warming himself, naked blade on the snow at his side, waiting for me.
His head snapped up as I emerged, and the cold hit me like a fist of ice. Stupid not to get re-dressed before crossing, except that the dramatic exit was worth it. The White Monk didn’t comment when I stalked up to the fire and hastily layered up again. Nor did he say anything—or move—when I finished and stood there expectantly.
“Well?” I finally prompted. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
He cast an eye at the sky overhead. The snowflakes fell thick and heavy from the darkening clouds. “It’s almost nightfall, there’s no moon, and the weather is treacherous. It would be suicide to descend tonight.” He’d returned to his formal, neutral mode. No warmth about him. None of that smoky sense of desire that so intoxicated me.
It had been so sunny in Annfwn, I’d forgotten. As if the eternal summer made even the sunlight last longer, though it seemed to be early evening in both places. Here, that time meant winter dark.
“But we don’t have blankets to sleep in. Or any shelter.”
“True. We’ll freeze to death if we stay here.”
“So we die either way?”
“Well, there is one warm place to spend the night.” The White Monk raised his brows at me.
Of course. “So this is your plan to get me to take you back into Annfwn. Clever.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to, as it had been foolish of me to say. He could have stayed in the first place.
“Fine.” Torture that I’d have to let him carry me again. “But I forbid you from any touch other than necessary, understand?”
He scattered the burning branches with a stick, scuffing snow over the embers with his boots, scarred mouth in a grimace. “Believe me, Princess, I’m not the least tempted to touch you in any way.”
“Good.” I waited for him to finish, the cold still in my bones.
“You might have mentioned this plan before I got all these winter clothes on again.”
“I didn’t want to overstep my bounds, Princess. Seeing as how I’m just a low-life former convict and not fit to be in your exalted presence.” He sheathed the blade with a snap that made me jump. Only then did I smell his anger. Like hot blood splashed on the snow beneath my feet. But a rage so old it had frozen over, a scar tissue of ice. He scooped me up without meeting my eyes, staring into the distance and the blizzard that went on forever for him. With perfect faith, he strode without faltering, straight into the paradise long denied him.
And that I denied him still.
He could come back, though. Once he’d delivered me to safety, Andi would let him in and he could be rid of me and the rest of the Twelve Kingdoms. Good riddance.
I was ready to tell him to put me down, but he dumped me unceremoniously on my feet the moment we crossed. Score one for him. He stalked away, ripping off his outer layers with fast jerks, surveying the landscape.
Andi—or her image—was gone. Still, I felt a prickling, a sense of her in the ground. Feeling self-conscious, I said out loud, “Andi, we’re here again because we need to spend the night so we won’t freeze. I, um, hope you don’t mind. We’ll stay near here and be gone in the morning.”
No answer, only a chorus of evening birds with a fluid, heartbreaking song I’d never heard.
“I don’t want to talk to you again,” I added, for good measure. “I hope you’ll respect that.”
Once again, I divested myself of all the winter gear. It would have been so much easier to make this plan to stay the night inside Annfwn earlier. In my heart of hearts, however, I knew it was my fault.
I walked over to where the White Monk studied several branching paths. “I didn’t mean to call you a low-life former convict.” It wasn’t exactly an apology—after all, it was true—but I honestly hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way.
“You meant it, all right,” he commented without any emotion in his voice. “I think this path.”
“Why can’t we stay here?” At least the logistics gave us something to discuss that wasn’t treacherous ground.
He glanced down at me, eyes full of contempt. “We have no food or water. It would be as unwise to venture down the mountain in the morning without strengthening ourselves as it would be to go now.”
Oh.
“I suppose you imagined that servants would appear from nothing and bring you dinner?” Full of scorn, he turned his back on me.
I hadn’t thought about where food would come from. Even after all I’d experienced on this journey, I behaved like a spoiled princess, that person clearly reflected in his gaze.
No wonder he detested me so.
No wonder everyone did.
And yet, I felt like a hind trapped by a pack of hunting dogs; no matter the reprimands everyone flung at me, I couldn’t seem to change anything. They nipped bites out of me, but I couldn’t seem to stop being who I was.
How did a person change?
We started down the path the White Monk chose, me trotting behind to keep up with his long strides. Just another puppet, following along because I didn’t have enough sense to know we needed to find food, or a warm place to sleep. This was supposed to be my holy mission, and I’d been useless or a hindrance or annoying people. No power of my own, once again. Nothing useful to offer. Even the one thing I’d been able to contribute—crossing the barrier—came from an accident of birth.
My whole life seemed to be an accident of birth, in fact. Even this new ability to detect emotions was only borrowed, as was my time in Annfwn. And I’d been wasting them, going in my own circles. Maybe a person changed by breaking out of the circle. I looked around me, hoping for a sign.
In a glen to the left, dappled with golden light, a deer stood on the trail running through it. Her fur gleamed a glorious red-gold. She could have stepped out of my thoughts, the image of the hind—only this one looked free and powerful. No dogs chased her. She moved down another trail. Looked at me. The White Monk’s ferocious strides carried him off through the trees.
This was something I would never do, follow a random deer in the forest. A good place to start.
“Hey, Monk!”
He stopped, shoulders tense, and turned with the infinite patience of a man about to lose his temper entirely. “Yes, Your Highness?”
I pointed to the hind, who took several significant steps down the path and looked back at us expectantly. “I think we should go that way.”
His gaze flicked to the deer and then to me. “Now you’re an expert in omens in Annfwn?”
I wouldn’t let him ruffle me but stuck close to my conviction. “This is my mission. You came along for the ride and I understand why you wanted to—though you might have told me. I’m going this way. You can follow me or not.”
19
I turned away from him and went after the deer. After a bit, I heard the White Monk follow me, his fuming gaze palpable on my back, his anger like roasting meat. How long would he stay angry?
Not that it bothered me. We would part ways, as we were meant to.
The rest had been nothing but a fantasy.
I found that I could be okay with that. With the deer a vision of grace ahead of me, the birdsong, the sweet redolence of the exotic flowers, studding the emerald forest floor like the richest jewels, the gentle evening sun—it all worked on me, sending a feeling of peace into my heart. Even the iron fist of thorns lodged in my breast dissolved a little. My hurt, anger, and self-reproach thinned at the edges and cooled along with the violet sky above.
Like a gift, the trees gave way to a great clearing, a bowl holding a perfectly calm lake that mirrored the sky. All around, the verdant forest spread thick over the hills and I felt I could see it clearly for the first time.
On a moss-covered bank lay a blanket and a basket, along with a copper flagon, beads of sweat showing that whatever was inside would be cool. With a little coo of delight, I ran to the basket and opened it up. Inside was a feast—fruits, pastries, cheeses, some cold meats. I popped a grape into my mouth. It burst on my tongue like a melting, sugary snowflake. We’d had them once, when a delegation from Elcinea brought them to court. Those had been kept on ice for part of the journey, but they’d shriveled some on the way after it melted, the Elcineans said. I’d thought they were miraculous. After I gobbled all of my share, Ursula and Andi gave me most of theirs, too, I’d loved them so much.
Now I understood how grapes should be. Just like this.
And Andi had remembered. Indulging me now as then. Both gestures made out of love. Maybe those meant more, the small actions, than the poems and protestations.
I plucked another, ready to savor it, when the White Monk knocked it out of my hand.
“Ami! Don’t eat that stuff.”
“Why not?” Clutching the bunch of grapes to my breast, I put distance between us.
“It could be poisoned.”
“I thought this was paradise.”
His jaw muscles clenched. “A euphemism. That doesn’t make it perfect.”
I deliberately put the basket between us. “I think you’re mad that invisible servants did show up and provide me with dinner.” Slowly and deliberately, I placed another grape on my tongue and crunched it, letting the pure sweetness of it fill my mouth. “Mmm . . . delicious.”
His gaze seemed to be riveted to my mouth. The hatred had faded from his eyes, and I smelled that dark, smoky current. Not so oblivious to me, perhaps. It helped to know what this meant, my borrowed gift.
“You’re being foolish. It’s my job to protect you,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“Can’t protect a fool from her own choices, can you?” I shrugged cheerfully, spreading my arms wide. Oh, yes, he looked at my breasts as they bounced, even if he immediately yanked his gaze out to the lake. Feeling much better, I sat and emptied the picnic basket. “You can wait and see if I die. Meanwhile, I’m starving.”
I poured some of the water into a thoughtfully provided cup and drank deep. It tasted like the snow at the top of the mountains looked. Making myself a plate of the food, I soaked in the gorgeous scenery. If this was only the buffer area, what was the rest of Annfwn like? Feeling happier than I had in forever, I devoured the food, wordlessly passing a bunch of the grapes to the White Monk when he grudgingly sat. Without further comment, he ate them and the other offerings. Guess he’d decided I would have died by now if they were poisoned.
He repacked the leftovers in the basket and set it aside. Sated and sleepy, I decided I’d better brush my hair, lest I fall asleep soon. Rummaging in my cloak pocket, I pulled out the brush, then unbraided my hair and starting counting strokes. A bright moon had risen, the lake reflecting the light with silver-violet serenity.
“You brought a hairbrush?” the White Monk asked, breaking the long silence.
“In my cloak, yes.”
“You don’t have a dagger to defend yourself with, but you keep your hairbrush on you at all times.”
“Yes. And you’re making me lose count.”
“Count?”
I stopped at twenty, an easy number to remember. “One hundred strokes, every night. Well, usually. I missed the last couple of nights.”
“Unbelievable.”
“If I were Ursula and hopped up to practice moves with the dagger you think I should carry around, you wouldn’t be so incredulous.”
“That’s different.” He sounded as grumpy as ever.
“Is it? I will never be Ursula. Maybe I need to learn to use what I’m good at—like I have a different kind of weapon.”
He heaved out a breath, reclining on the blanket to watch me. It was frankly a relief to have him relax a little.
“Your beauty is not a weapon, Ami.”
And at least he wasn’t hurling titles at me like rocks.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
I pointed the brush at him. “Because it’s all I have. Didn’t you point that out to me first? I have no power of my own, only what I can borrow or steal from someone else. I certainly don’t have smarts to offer. How I look is my best tool. Perhaps I’m coming to terms with that.”
He fell silent, so I resumed brushing, the rhythm of the count like one of Glorianna’s prayer cycles.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he finally said.
“No?”
“I think you have many talents. You’re unbelievably strong-willed, courageous, sensitive, passionate . . .”
He trailed off after the last word, leaving it to hum between us. Something he hadn’t meant to say. It made me smile, and he shifted, looking away.
“I don’t think that counts as an ability.”
“It does,” he countered immediately. “You have no idea how many people in the world lack that ability, to love life and live it. Even now, when you’ve been kicked in the worst way, over and over, you revel in everything. Look at you—brushing your hair, laughing at me. And the way you ate those grapes . . .”
The dark current of desire deepened, and I breathed it in. Infinitely preferable to that stagnant hatred and scorn.
“What about the way I ate the grapes?” I teased him.
“Never mind.” He growled the words, but I could feel that he wasn’t angry, not anymore.
“Okay, let’s try this. Why did you say those things to me if you didn’t mean them?”
“I wanted to . . .” He heaved out a lungful of impatience. “To get through to you. To get you to really see what was going on around you.”
Aha. “Why?”
He didn’t answer. I tipped my head sideways, brushing up in the reverse direction, from the bottom over the top of my head. In the sapphire dusk, his eyes gleamed without color. Not saying. Okay, then.
“I guess we all say things we don’t mean sometimes.”
He nodded, with a rigid jerk of his chin.
“Look.” I set the brush aside and leaned on the blanket on one elbow, propping my head on my hand. “I apologize for what I said. I’m thoughtless and I blurt things out when I’m angry, which I was. Andi and I . . .” I sighed and rolled onto my back, staring up into the sky. Stars were beginning to prick the darkening sky, glittering with prismatic brilliance. “I don’t know how to handle anything anymore. But I am sorry that I hurt your feelings. You’re right—I meant what I said, but I didn’t say it to wound you.”
The Tears of the Rose Page 19