Rose Borne

by Phoenix Briar

  She looked up at Alvaro, leaning against the table, feeling confident when he was sitting, although his mask still frightened her. “Alvaro?” she asked, tipping her head a bit and considering the name. Then she gave a single nod and said, “Alright then.”

  He seemed eager to speak, but he did not do so right away. He watched her, and she could see the faint motions of him clicking his teeth together from the way the mask shifted slightly. At last, he spoke. “I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your name either, have I?” he asked. “I know your son’s name is Jacob.” He shrugged. He’d heard her say it when he was watching her. He turned back to his tasks, carefully trying to change his work.

  She shrugged when he mentioned her name, although she was curious as to how he knew Jacob’s. She supposed that she was calling his name enough (the boy was always into something he shouldn’t be) that it wasn’t unheard of, but she wanted to think of a tactful way of asking if he spied on her room without accusing him of anything. “Keturah,” she said simply, her eyes going back to his work, “Although some call me Ketan.”

  “Keturah,” he said, his voice warm as it ran over her name. “It’s a beautiful name,” he told her. “Would you prefer I call you Ketan or Keturah?” he asked her, glancing over at her.

  Keturah gave a bit of a start when he told her that her name was beautiful and frowned at him. ‘Beautiful’ was not typically used in correlation to anything concerning her, although she was pretty when she was as a woman again. “Whichever you prefer,” she said simply. “Ketan is simply easier to construct habit to respond to when I am pretending to be male.” It was funny, really. She kept trying to unsettle him. She talked about being a thief, pretending to be a boy, and then there was the scandalous nature of her living alone and with a son no less. Yet none of it seemed to bother him.

  “Keturah it is then,” he told her. “Although…it is a better idea if you continue to pretend to be male… especially if Menawa or Manok come to visit. There are reasons why there are rules about women being here,” he said. “Do not fear…you are perfectly safe here. It will mostly just be easier for me.”

  Her eyes moved over to his face again. “How did you know my son’s name?” she asked abruptly, her voice dropping a bit despite herself into an accusation.

  He shrugged. “I heard you say his name. There is little in my home I do not control, and little of which I am not aware,” he explained to her. “Again: do not worry…I kept my eyes and ears out of your bedrooms. It is none of my business what you do in there.”

  Keturah considered him for a moment and then looked back to his work. It gave her something to look at other than the inhumanity that was his mask. Keturah hated masks in general, probably for the same reason she hated make up and fine clothes—people pretending to be what they weren’t. Although if he was doing it out of fear for her reaction to his appearance, she could understand that a little better, even if some part of her did think of it as cowardice.

  At long last, he said softly, “Your son… he’s still very young. I like to make things sometimes. I have a room of toys I have made, if you want to give him something to do one day.”

  “I’m sure he would be glad of the toys…” she said and laughed a bit. “I’m a bit afraid of his curiosity when he’s bored.” She sighed and leaned back against the counter, watching him work before her eyes went to the mask again.

  “This mask…” she reached out and touched it gently, not wanting him to crush the moth. She felt cloth under her fingertips and dragged them gently down to his chin. “I think it is probably more terrifying than anything behind it.” She hooked her nails under it but didn’t pull it off, waiting patiently to know what he would do.

  It was rather terrifying, honestly. Solid black and covered in some sort of fabric. The cheekbones were high, and the nose large. The lips were thin, straight lines that muffled his voice from beneath. Everything about it disturbed her, at least until she looked into his eyes. Where the mask was cut just large enough for him to see out of, twin irises of a soft, warm brown stared down at their work. They were the color of molten honey and sunsets, things of warmth and laughter. Surely no one with such eyes could be as terrible as that cold mask.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Keturah touched his mask, Alvaro sucked in a breath of air, and everything within him turned frozen and solid. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He was only glad that Keturah was waiting for his permission instead of ripping the thing off. Had she intended to remove it, there would have been nothing he could have done to stop her.

  Instead, he rasped out, “No,” and drew up a shaking hand to wrap firmly around hers, pulling her fingers from the mask. He held her small hand in his, but she did not seem to mind. Keturah tipped her head slightly, her eyes holding the look of unconcerned boredom she had learned from Alexzander in order to hide her emotions. “Believe me, Keturah…I’ve been told that I am much worse without it, and…I simply must agree.”

  No one could look at his face without great effort. For most, the response was screaming or horror or worse—some sort of green look. Manok was the only one who could stomach the sight of him for long, and Alvaro knew that it took great pains for him to do so.

  Keturah merely studied him, watching what she could see from his eyes, what she could feel from the large, trembling hand that held hers. He was afraid and… wounded. His face was a source of great pain for him, and that much alarmed her. Surely a man so large and great and powerful as he could not be touched by trivial emotions as the rest of the world felt. But perhaps, she realized, he was not so impassible as he had seemed. Sorcerer or not, he was a mortal man with a mortal heart. Somehow, she had not expected that.

  She sighed. “Perhaps it is, Alvaro.” At the sound of his name on her lips, he closed his eyes, his hold on her hand loosening just a bit, and his trembling quieted into somber shudders. “But I would still prefer to see it.” He cracked his eyes open, feeling his heart pound. If she reached for his mask again, he was not sure if he could stop her when she spoke to him like that.

  But Keturah did not reach for him again. She pulled her hand from his, and Alvaro mourned its absence while she slid off of the counter and moved over to some of the finished butterflies. They welcomed her attention, fluttering on her fingers or in her hair. She stroked one that had made its perch on the back of her hand, speaking quietly, “What are you afraid of? Why will you not show me?” She turned her head to look at him, but he was no longer facing the desk. He had turned in his chair and was watching her, devouring her with his eyes.

  There was so much hope and sorrow and desperation in his eyes, and Keturah wondered at why. What could possibly have hurt this man so much? She looked back at him calmly, unafraid.

  “Because you will leave, my lady,” he said at last and he looked away from her. “Everyone leaves…Manok stays only out of duty to the Darkwaters family…not for anything else.” She studied him, but she could not guess the thoughts in his mind or the fears in his heart. To be alone once more …no…He would rather hide in his rooms and at least know that there was something—someone—living within these stone walls whom he could never see and never touch than for her to look on him and to be alone once more. “And I…” he said softly, “would not be so cruel as to make you stay…I do not know what agreement left you within these halls but…I would not make you stay once you looked upon me.”

  Keturah’s eyes widened at his words. He would let her leave so easily? She’d scarcely completed any of the work assigned to her, and her contract was for a full year. And yet, he was so concerned for her reaction to his face that he would actually break the contract? She considered it for a while. It was temptingly easy to leave here, to escape this place. But…winter was almost here. Her home was destroyed. She had not completed her assigned mission to steal the rose brooch. No…here was the best place to stay, at least until the next spring…There was nothing she could do for now.

  She sighed, placing the butterfly
back on its perch. “I am not leaving, Alvaro.” She ran a hand through her black hair, and his eyes returned to her. She had come to him, had stayed by his side, willingly and without fear—more or less. He was not used to that. He had enjoyed having company, any company, and he did not want to let her go. His heart squeezed within him. But he knew that he could not deny her anything. He could never deny her whatever she asked.

  “I am here because of my contract with the Lady Darkwaters. I am here because of my son. We will not survive the winter outside of these walls. And so, for now, I will stay here. The mere sight of your visage, no matter how horrible, will not be enough for me to place my own child in danger.” She turned towards him again and took a few steps.

  “So do not be afraid,” she said, standing before him. Even standing, her face was level with his while he was sitting, and she placed her hands on his mask, one on each cheek. “I will not leave you…I have no choice but to stay… let me see…” He looked straight at her with those brown eyes, and although he wanted to, he could not stop her. It was foolish, he knew. There was no future in which this ended well. But she watched him so intently with those blue-green eyes, and he wanted to believe…he wanted her to stay. But he could not deny her. So when her hands clasped firmly on his mask, he reached behind his head and untied the clasps, and the mask slumped forward a bit.

  Keturah caught the weight of the mask, but Alvaro looked away while she pulled the thing from him. She knew now why he had been so hot in the garden. The mask was heavy and felt warm in her hands. She couldn’t imagine wearing that suffocating thing on her face. She kept her eyes focused on it first, glad to be rid of it as she set it aside. Then, her eyes went to his face, and her stomach turned with revulsion.

  If Keturah had not been quite certain that he was a man, then she would have been convinced that he was some manner of beast or monster. Horns came up from the crown of his head, and his forehead and temples were rigid and scaled almost in a hard, bony surface. His nose was long and broad, and it had some curve to it in the middle that she could not determine if it was natural or if it had been broken. His cheekbones were high and sharp, and his jaw wide and unable to contain the rows of black teeth in his skull.

  She sucked in a slow, steady breath and looked at the whole of his face, his tall, pointed ears and grimacing lips. His eyes seemed sunken and hidden under brows of thick, black fur. He was still human and yet…distinctly not. And then those brown eyes looked to her face, and she was at once encased with a warm serenity and safety. He watched her, wanting to see her reaction and dreading it at the same time. He could not restrain himself any longer. He had to see her face, see what was there. She looked a little pale, and her eyes were wide, but they were curious and slightly perturbed, not afraid, not filled with hate.

  It was worse than the mask, she decided, but she was still glad that the mask was gone. Nothing was more terrifying than the unknown. And, as horrible as it was and as sure as she was that she would have nightmares now, she had only another year of the sight of him. He would forever be trapped in the visage of a gargoyle. Perhaps that was why she reached out and touched her hand to his face, and Alvaro sucked in a breath and held it, watching her with unblinking eyes as her two hands tested the hardened scale of his forehead and down the sharp cheeks to his heavy jaw. Her thumb brushed his lower lip, the lip that covered sharp, black teeth.

  This was the man who had hurt over the desecration of a little, paper butterfly…

  She looked back to his eyes and said firmly, “Do not make more of this than it is…”

  His brows pulled together in mild confusion, but as she moved closer to him, his eyes widened, and his lips parted automatically in awe before her rose-red lips touched his. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. Not until she pulled away from him and he was left trembling in the chair and looking up at her.

  “I will not,” he rasped and rubbed at his face a bit, giving a casual smile. She winced at the sight, at the rows of black fangs, and he gave her an apologetic look. “Human women have no appeal for me.” It was the most bold-faced lie that he had ever told in his entire life, and he was half sure that she was going to call him on it. But he did not want her to fear him, not ever. He only wanted her to stay a little while longer.

  Keturah seemed rather surprised at his declaration and then frowned at him, not entirely sure she believed it. “How odd,” she said dubiously. “I was nearly certain that the Lady Darkwaters was your lover.”

  But the sickly look on his face convinced her. He blanched and felt a chill of disgust go over him. “Most certainly not,” he said quite firmly, and Keturah believed him and the horrified look on his face. “Besides the fact that her husband could break me in half…”

  Keturah seriously doubted that, but she shrugged and accepted the response, sighing and looking back to the butterflies because she didn’t want to stare and it was making her uneasy to continue doing so.

  Alvaro watched her as she studied his butterflies, and he smiled faintly, waiting until the smile was gone before saying, “You are welcome here, Keturah…you and your son.” She glanced back over at him with an expression between curiosity and unconcern. “Even…after the year is up…if you ever need anything…shelter, food, clothes …whatever you desire…you may find it here…you could…stay…”

  Keturah sighed. She had given him some small hope and he was running with it. She closed her eyes and shook her head. No…she could never stay here. Besides the fact of growing bored to death (gardening didn’t take up all of the day when a garden was properly maintained, after all), eventually, Alexzander would hunt her. He would not let her go so easily. And although she did not think he would openly challenge the Guardian, she had no doubt that he would concoct something to draw her out and have her once more. And if Alvaro knew about Alexzander…She glanced to him. He was the kind of person to take trust very seriously…and she had no doubt that he would try to kill Alexzander.

  She shook her head. “No…I cannot stay. Demons lay in wait for me outside of these walls…and many people will die if I do not face them…as will I.” She glanced to him and saw his look of confusion and concern. She gave a bitter smile. “But perhaps…if they don’t kill me first…I might stop by again…no promises…”

  Keturah turned her eyes to him once more, but Alvaro was watching her with such an intent look, as if trying to make sense of her words. Was she rejecting him and trying to excuse it with pretty words? Or was his newest companion in danger? “You are hiding behind a mask as well, Keturah,” he said at last, and she studied him with veiled eyes. “That’s not entirely fair, is it? I have revealed my face…”

  “And mine shall remain hidden,” she replied curtly, turning to look out the window with her hand on her hips.

  He watched her silently for a moment before looking down at his hands folded against his knees. “You…are a rare kind, Keturah the thief.” She glanced to him. “I have read about ones such as you in books…the knights of the old courts…fearless, fierce, loyal, and full of strength… if… if there is anything you need…”

  She did not have words to answer him. The woman with black hair and two-toned eyes stood in that room and looked into his brown eyes and for probably the first time in her life was rendered speechless by a man’s words. Keturah turned her eyes away from him and walked away.

  She had no time for fairy tales.

  ◆◆◆

  “Where did it go?” Jacob asked when Keturah returned to their apartments.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes having been focused down and ahead of her, lost in her own thoughts. She gave a small smile and said, “To the Guardian…he was making a whole collection of them.”

  Jacob’s initial concern over the shadows in his mother’s eyes faded, and he sucked in a breath, his eyes going very large. “You saw him!” the child cried with great interest while Keturah moved over to the platters of food on the table, taking her pick and beginning to munch. She’d forgotten tha
t he did not know they worked together in the garden in the mornings and had done so for almost a month now.

  After a bite of cheese, she said, “Yes, I did.”

  “What was he like!” Jacob stood up in a chair, leaning in close to Keturah, and she gave him an annoyed look.

  “Don’t stand in the chair, boy. Sit down and leave me alone.” Jacob frowned and plopped down in the seat, but he still looked expectantly at the young woman, his curiosity daring to face her wrath. She sighed and rolled her eyes, sitting down in a chair across from the table.

  “He is…unlike anyone we’ve ever met.” He continued staring her down, and Keturah thought on her next words with a few munches of grapes. “He is…very frightening in appearances, like an ogre…or a monster. But he is very kind…and clever…I spoke with him a while and enjoyed my conversation.” More or less.

  “When do I get to meet him?” the boy insisted, sitting up in his chair and leaning over the table.

  Another annoyed look from Keturah had him back in his seat, and she sighed, shaking her head. “You do not. At least not yet.”

  “Aw!” the boy argued and frowned at her. “Why not? I want ta meet him!”

  “Shout at me again, and I will leave you in your room for the whole of tomorrow,” Keturah growled at him, pinning him with those dark eyes. Small she was, but she was nothing short of ferocious when she desired.

  The boy wisely sat back in his seat and lowered his voice when he asked again, “Please, mother?…I want ta meet him…”

  She sighed and shook her head, looking out the window. “You will, I am sure, but…”

  “But what?” he insisted, trying to not irritate her but also very frustrated.

  Another sigh. “But he is a very frightened and wounded man. It is…difficult to look at him…and if you are afraid of him—and you will be—it will hurt him very much.” She looked back to him with a little smile. “You will meet him, Jacob…but…you must wait until he is ready to meet you.”