The Tears of the Rose

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Though her room had been cleaned, no one else had occupied it since. That was clear from the few things left on the dresser—needle, thread, and ribbons—the ladies had used to dress her for the wedding. My loneliness throbbed a little with the wistful thought that I should have been with her, overseeing the preparations.

  I’d acted badly at the wedding, refusing to stand up for her. I’d thought it was so wrong, such a travesty of fate.

  Something gleamed at the rear of the dresser, gold and sparkling. Andi’s rose of Glorianna pendant. The twin of mine, which lay far below, entombed with Hugh. I searched my memory and recalled the cloth-of-silver gown she’d worn—and Moranu’s silver moon on her breast. Even then, she’d made her choice.

  Just as I’d made mine.

  I fastened the necklace around my throat and returned to my empty bed, feeling a little less alone.

  Glorianna’s Feast Day dawned brightly beautiful, dazzling and filled with all that spring should be. Kir officiated at the sunrise services with what seemed to be all of Avonlidgh gathered along the road and on the various ledges and pockets on the eastern face of the old volcano. The sun rose over the farmlands, the young crops flashing the bright green of Ash’s eyes. A full-throated roar of celebration went up from the assembly, an atavistic joy in the life-giving warmth of all Glorianna brought to us.

  Traditionally, after the morning services, the day was spent with family, or in quiet contemplation, until the evening feast, with dancing and festivities that would last well into the night.

  I spent it cornering Kir. Honoring Glorianna’s will in my own way.

  We prayed in the chapel together, Kir offering me the pink wine of Glorianna’s absolution from hands that seemed to me to be dripping with the blood of innocents. Then, his eagerness ill disguised, Kir led me to a private alcove and urged me to confess my visions to him.

  Biting my lip and gazing at him, I pretended to a hesitation I didn’t feel. Kir praised and petted me, and I let him for a while, giving him the illusion of control. Finally, I told him the visions started when I crossed into Annfwn.

  “But, Your Highness, I understood that you couldn’t even find the border,” he said. I’d shocked him and he smelled of equal parts excited ambition and confused apprehension.

  Before he could recover himself, I went on, only wishing I could dredge up a few tears for the occasion.

  “I found the border and I was able to cross it.”

  “Then Princess Ursula lied.”

  I looked as sorrowful as I could. “I’m not sure what made Ursula say so. But, High Priest—I didn’t know what to think—for Glorianna Herself descended from the heavens and spoke to us.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t Tala magic?”

  “I know you’ll be able to tell me if so. She said that it wasn’t for me to claim Annfwn. That Her paradise belongs not to kings and queens. Not even to Her avatar. No, She said only Her priest could claim Annfwn. She bade me return home and tell you this news on Her feast day—that you, and only you, should be the one.”

  “Truly this is so?” Kir breathed, flooded with an almost perverse excitement. For the first time in weeks, my stomach turned, recoiling at the smell of it.

  At least it helped me look miserable. “She said that as Her avatar, my job was only to give you the message and the means. I’m to fund your expedition.”

  “My expedition?”

  “Yes. She said Annfwn awaits you and that when you cross into paradise, it shall be yours and that the High Throne of the land shall belong to Her church, not rest in the hands of mere kings.” I furrowed my brow at that, resisting the immediate urge to press the wrinkles away. “I don’t really understand what She meant by that.”

  He patted my hand. “Don’t you worry, Princess. I understand.” “My son will still inherit the High Throne, won’t he?” I thought the whine in my voice might be a little much, but Kir only smiled harder, nearly manic with ambition. I’d stoked him into such a frenzy over the last few days that I feared he teetered on the brink of going mad with it.

  Though it would only help my plans if he did.

  “All will be as it should be, praise Glorianna.”

  “I’m so glad!” I gave him a trembling smile. “I hated to lie to King Erich, but She said to tell you in secret, and my allegiance to Her comes first. And She said that you had pursued Her sacred cause where the kings had not.”

  His lips curved in a secret smile of satisfaction. “You did exactly right, child. Did She say aught else?”

  “She said that She would show you the way, but that you should go north, past the Phoenix River, and then in to Annfwn. There is a secret way in.”

  He blanched at that, and I worked not to hold my breath. That was nearly to the Northern Wastes. It would take him well into the summer or longer to get there.

  “That’s why I was to wait,” I layered on the story, “because She feared your loyalty and obedience to Her would cause you to set out too early on your journey. But She said that She’s spoken to you and given you signs, so you’d be expecting this.” I paused, drumming up extra anxiety. “You did hear Her voice, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did.” He smiled, but I smelled his worry. “Really none of this is a surprise to me. I suspected your information would be this very thing.”

  “Praise Glorianna!” I favored him with my most brilliant smile. “I knew the White Monk must have lied.”

  Kir blinked. He had totally forgotten about Ash. “The White Monk? He was there?”

  “Oh, yes. He crossed over with me and witnessed Her message, too. But he said that Glorianna meant any priest and that, since he was already in Annfwn, he would claim it. He ran off and left me there.” I tried to look pitiful, though the building rage on Kir’s face nearly made me laugh.

  “That upstart! After all I did for him, elevating him to a position far beyond his station in life.”

  “Glorianna spoke again after he left . . .” I let that trail off, leading him to my bread crumbs.

  “She knew he would try to usurp me!”

  I nodded, eyes wide. “She said that you must stop him. That only you have the secret of the blood test.”

  He recoiled, stopped himself. “Whatever do you mean, Your Highness?”

  “I don’t know!” I pouted with a pretty tremble of my lips. “I told you I didn’t understand it all. She said for you to leave it with me, so that I may carry on your sacred work while you claim Annfwn. To cleanse the land of the demons. Is that right?”

  Kir relaxed, nodding knowingly. “Ah, yes. I can see that you are meant to serve me in this way.”

  Was he even listening to himself? I clenched my teeth against my ire, casting my eyes down so I wouldn’t give the game away. At any moment he might reveal it to me.

  “Do you swear to Glorianna never to reveal this to another living soul?” Kir intoned.

  “I swear my loyalty to Glorianna and all that falls to Her under heaven.” I held the pendant in one hand and drew Glorianna’s circle with the other, praying that She would understand my lie of omission in Her service.

  With great ceremony, Kir withdrew a packet of cloth from an inner pocket and unwrapped a small, round object. He cupped it in his hands, a sphere made from some kind of red-gold woven floss, a long, dangling tail. “In the presence of Tala blood,” Kir said, gravely serious, “this turns deep red. It’s a warning talisman. So that by this you may know them.”

  I took it, holding it gingerly, half afraid of what it would show about me, quickly wrapping it in the folds of my skirt. I should have worn gloves.

  “Use it well, Princess. Soon the time will come when the land will indeed be entirely cleansed of their unwholesome presence. Until then, it’s the one sure way to tell.”

  Nodding, I kept myself composed, dizzying excitement thrumming through me. I had no idea how Kir had laid hands on it. He clearly had no idea what it was, always holding it upside down. But I’d recognized it nearly immediately.r />
  The missing head of my doll.

  27

  Once Kir departed, well funded and traveling in secret, I assumed the reins of Glorianna’s church. It would be slow going, but balance would be restored. I’d depose Kir with his ostensible blessing. By the time he returned—if he returned, as I trusted to Glorianna to mete Her justice there—he would have no entry.

  Working with a few local priests, I found some who abhorred the practice of ferreting out and burning part-bloods. Ruthlessly, I advanced them to positions of power and found “missions” for the others. Employing trumped-up visions of Glorianna’s wishes as willfully as I’d done as a child, I invented a dire need for Glorianna’s word in Kooncelund and the Isles of Remus.

  In groups or one by one, I sent them off on quests, hopefully far away from any Tala.

  I sewed the doll together, carefully attaching the head and the arm, even mending the seam up the back that I’d opened. Her hair had become a greasy rope over the years, from being gripped in Kir’s hand. I nearly replaced it, then thought better of it, not knowing for sure where her magic lay. It served as a reminder of my own journey, from being a pawn directed by someone else, to becoming . . . maybe a whole person.

  With no other message forthcoming, I took bringing the doll together as another kind of message and followed my other instincts. The world needed balance and cohesion. Flushing the poison from Glorianna’s church was only the first step. If the bulk of us could not go to paradise, then perhaps we could bring something of magic back to the other twelve kingdoms.

  Bringing the three goddesses back into balance also meant strengthening the presence of Moranu and Danu, so I sent invitations to those chapels. I wanted to be sure that Windroven and the surrounding areas, at least, observed Danu’s midsummer festival, approaching with the same astonishing speed as the prodigious growth of my belly.

  The priestess from Danu’s small chapel in the mountains seemed taken aback by the attention, but also delighted to advise us on planning the proper rituals and presentation. Moranu’s priestess, too, visited Windroven for a short time, though she seemed uncomfortable inside the walls and left quickly. Dafne caught me staring speculatively after the silver-haired priestess, and I smelled the secrets in the air.

  “She looks so familiar,” I said, inviting Dafne to confide in me.

  She hesitated only a moment. “She helped Andi, when she was here and feeling ill from the effects of the Tala magic working on her.”

  “I’m glad she had someone to help her,” I murmured, half to myself, though Dafne still stood there. I hated that I hadn’t paid enough attention to Andi—and now could never make that time up to her. Would we always have recriminations between us?

  Dafne put a hand on my arm. “Andi wanted to protect you the same way you wanted to protect her. It’s the way of sisters.”

  I ripened along with the crops, growing as heavy and full as the stalks in the fields, their heads hanging with the weight of the fat seeds they bore. On Marin’s advice, I took a lot of long walks, along the cliffs overlooking the tranquil summer sea, through the forests, alongside the fertile fields. Dafne or Gilly most usually accompanied me, along with one or two of Graves’s squad, just in case.

  In the evenings, I entertained. Because I had suitors again, Glorianna save me.

  As if my festive return to Windroven had been a signal, princes and other noblemen from all the Twelve Kingdoms came to visit and pay court. Dafne and Gilly developed a game of tracking how many of my body parts they could praise without ever noting my swollen belly. Though I felt sorry for the men—after all, it’s not easy to flirt with a woman so visibly pregnant with another man’s child—I also had little patience for them.

  Where before I met Hugh I’d loved spending time with the many handsome and charming men who paid suit to me at Ordnung, now I chafed at what felt like wasted time. Ursula had been this way, irritated with what she’d called false flattery and “romance as a spectator sport.” I’d laughed at her then, and the irony didn’t escape me that I now found myself in her shoes.

  Because, like her, I never intended to marry.

  But all of my advisers counseled me that I should give the appearance of being open to remarriage. The hopeful men came from all over, competing with one another for the opportunity to marry me, elevating not just their own status, but that of their home country as well. Some even hinted at alliances, aligning our countries to break clear of Uorsin’s grip, stopping just short of outright treason. I pretended not to understand these, though I made careful note of who did the most hinting.

  Perhaps I’d been an oblivious girl before and had only heard how much my suitors loved and admired me, but with this round, it became painfully clear that, more than anything, these men desired my power. They praised my beauty, of course, as always, but I smelled their ambition, the stench of freshly slaughtered meat laced with the metallic tang of calculation. And, like that, it sickened me.

  I sometimes had to grit my teeth to appear sweet and pleasant, to not scream in their faces that I knew how they really felt. My daughter’s gift would be a difficult one to bear. There was nothing quite like hearing an apparently heartfelt declaration of undying love, looking into the warm and earnest eyes of a handsome man, while smelling his true intentions in the air, as if he’d passed the worst gas in your presence.

  In truth, I missed Ash. All the time.

  Which pissed me off even more, because I knew he didn’t miss me. He was, no doubt, relieved to be away from me. He’d likely found some pretty Tala girl who didn’t mind his scars and ate grapes for every meal in paradise. Meanwhile, I was lonely. My body hurt, I felt ungainly and awful, the heat of summer pressed down on me, and, more surrounded by people than ever, I wanted the one person I’d never see again.

  Sometimes I’d glimpse a white robe, a lean man who moved with wolfish grace, but it was never the right man. They filled my court like worshipful flies, buzzing and flitting about. In a fit of pique, I almost ordered them all out, but Dafne’s startled glance gave me pause and I managed to convert my words to a more benign request. She eyed me thoughtfully, likely guessing the source of my unhappiness.

  But she never said anything about it.

  “You need to think about who you want here for your lying-in,” Dafne said to me one morning during our walk. The flowers of summer bloomed in riots of color, covering the cliffs in purple and yellow. Glorianna’s midsummer feast would be on us in the next days and, shortly afterwards, the birth of my child. “Depending on the distance and their health,” she continued, as I hadn’t replied, “it could take some a month to travel. That means they would need to start planning soon.”

  “I don’t want anyone here,” I complained. “What, are we going to lay me out on a display table in the great hall so everyone can peer between my thighs to watch the bloody emergence of the child?”

  She snorted out a laugh. “What an image. I imagine some would love if you did, but I think we can safely go with more privacy than that.”

  We walked in silence for a bit, Skunk following well behind. The ocean breeze whipped my skirts against my legs and tasted of fresh salt. Finally I sighed, caving as she knew I would. “I suppose they all think they should be present, to lay their claims.”

  “Yes. They will want to hear immediately if the babe is a boy or a girl.”

  “And then the games will begin in earnest.”

  “No doubt of that.”

  I imagined the scene, Uorsin and Erich—possibly all the other kings and queens—arrayed around my court, all eyes on my belly. Childbirth as a spectator sport, Ursula’s wry voice offered in my head. And then, in my mind’s eye, they transformed into starving wolves, fighting one another, tearing me and my daughter apart in the process.

  “I don’t want any of them present,” I decided. “They don’t need to be and we can’t afford for civil war to start inside Windroven. My first responsibility is to protect my child, then the people of Windroven,
then the people of Avonlidgh, then the remaining kingdoms.”

  “Even Annfwn?”

  “Even so.”

  “As you wish, Princess,” she agreed, maybe with some approval.

  “Do you know who I really want to be there?” Besides Hugh, who, by rights, should have been there for all of this and would have loved to see his child come into the world. And aside from Ash, who would maybe come if I asked. That would be selfish of me, though. He’d found his paradise and deserved to stay there.

  “Who, Amelia?” Dafne coaxed. “This is your choice.”

  “My sisters. I want Ursula and Andi with me.”

  “Then you should write to them and ask.”

  “Having Ursula there would be the same as having the High King there.”

  “No, it wouldn’t, and you know it. She wouldn’t be there as the heir; she’s your sister first.”

  I wasn’t at all sure that was true. We hadn’t communicated since I was at Ordnung. She was likely still angry at me. Considering how I’d behaved, I didn’t blame her a bit. “If the babe is a boy, she won’t be the heir anymore. Would I be asking for trouble?”

  “Are you seriously wondering if Ursula would harm your child?” Dafne sounded sincerely incredulous. And well she should. Ursula might or might not be my sister first, but she wore her integrity like another suit of armor. She would never betray my trust.

  “Andi won’t be able to come. If she even wants to. She said there were reasons she couldn’t leave Annfwn.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. Ask.”

  So I wrote them both. Sending a missive to Ursula seemed ridiculously easy compared to contacting Andi. If we wanted real peace in the future, we would need to open up communications between Annfwn and the other kingdoms. Even if we couldn’t travel back and forth, it seemed we should at least be able to talk to one another. I didn’t want to go the rest of my life not being able to communicate with Andi.