"I know, I know, someone will spill the beans. I'm working on a plan. See, I figure that first like, Gavin proves himself as this great squire, maybe even gets knighted."
"Knighted before he's eighteen. That's impressive."
"Yeah, yeah, probably not going to happen, but Dad can't get all grouchy if he's part of the castle family, right?"
Rosie opened her mouth, wanting to agree with Myra, but she tipped her head down and broke into a laugh, "I'm sorry, sis, but..."
"Good thing I'm known as being the troublesome one," Myra laughed, bringing another to her sister.
"What's it feel like?" Rosie suddenly asked, her eyes staring at nothing. "Falling for someone?"
"Like diving headfirst into a lake where you have no idea how cold it is or how deep the water runs. But that's what makes it so thrilling too. The unknown bits, the testing and discovering. Finding out that that person you fancy fancies you back. That's the best part."
Rosie smiled at her sister, "Well..."
"Oh, and the kissing. Actually, that's probably the real best part."
Both girls tipped their heads together and laughed, Myra's freckles bright red as she struggled to shake off sharing a moment of fragility with another person. While her sister dipped back and forth on her chair, Rosie's eyes darted to her pile of papers and the sketch hidden within. It would be nice if she could ever know any of that one day.
CHAPTER FORTY
Cleansing Rain
Rain pounded down the canvas roof, deep puddles of water waiting to collapse the tent downward as the weather picked up. Rosamund ignored them all, her hands wafting over the table bearing her map of Ferelden. They'd trekked out into the woods for a few days, marking spots where the darkspawn had supposedly erupted from the ground. Though so far, these were all blank holes that'd already been purged. No one wanted a repeat of before, but Henry and a few of his men came with just in case.
"I think here's a good stopping point next," Rosie jabbed at an old hunting lodge deeper into the forest.
Henry twisted around the map, sliding closer to get a better view of the area, "Not a lot of room in that old thing as I recall."
"We wouldn't need to take many," she assured him. Half of her retinue were back at the castle, including Cailan. Myra was out with her for now, because Daryan sent Gavin in her stead. She didn't say anything, just let her sister happily tag along. No doubt the two of them were holed up in a tent together snogging. If the Maker was kind, no one else was there with them.
"What are you thinking, my Lady?" Karelle's second in command, Ruderick asked. The chamberlain said she was far too old to go traipsing into the woods for a week, and sent him along. Rosie was grateful she was being given this much leeway so soon. If Karelle was here, everyone would look only to her.
"Me, two guards, the surveyor, you Ruderick, a cleric to record any relevant information. I don't see a reason to take more for a day's hike there and back," Rosie explained, feeling rather proud of herself. It wasn't that tricky of an outing to plan. She'd been up to the lodge before with her father. In truth, she could probably walk the path on her own, but that would be unseemly of course. Princesses never traveled alone.
Henry thumbed the pick she jammed into the hunting lodge, "I assume I'll be coming along as well."
Shrugging, Rosie turned to him, "It is your place, technically. It'd keep us from having to break in. Though I seem to recall a key kept under a funny shaped rock." Her cousin laughed from the idea, but at the back of the tent she heard a soft growl. Looking up, Rosie caught the dark shadow that stepped into the tent without being invited but didn't seem to want to interact with anyone either.
Anjali's face was neutral, almost looking as if she hadn't made the noise at all. But at Rosie staring at her, she suddenly rubbed the back of her neck and found the bowing ceiling fascinating. Why was she even here?
"Your Majesty? Princess!" Ruderick's shrieking finally pulled Rosie away from the assassin. She tried to put on a penitent face so the man wouldn't ask what she was looking at. "Are we finished here?"
"Hm? Yes, I'd say everyone head back to your tents and try to get a good night's sleep. There's no way we're moving until the rains stop."
"Assuming they ever do," Henry sighed.
"Here I thought summer in the Hinterlands was supposed to be dry," Rosie jabbed an elbow at her cousin and he laughed.
"We save all of the most impressive weather for a royal visit, my Lady," he smiled bending deep at the waist. It was so silly, she couldn't help but laugh. In between her titters, she heard it again, that same low pitched growl as if a dog was stalking around the tent.
"Shall I escort you back to your sleeping tent, my Lady?" Ruderick asked, clearly wanting to beat feet before the rain really picked up. Thunder rumbled above them, promising an even greater show.
"No," Rosie shook her head and smiled. "I'm going to go over a few more things here."
Ruderick shrugged, already tucking tighter into his cloak. The others filed out of this smaller tactical tent. Before leaving, Henry winked at her, "Don't work too hard, Cous, or you might wind up stuck here for the night."
She snickered at him, but didn't look up. There were still a lot of issues left to solve, most of which Ruderick kept insisting they leave for Karelle. For some reason, he seemed to think the Chamberlain was the only person in thedas capable of organizing reams of data. Apparently, Ruderick never met Cailan. Maybe she should have made her brother come on this 'aimless wandering into the woods' after all.
Rosie moved to reach for her cup of half filled wine, when her eyes lifted up to find a body standing in the tent. Her shoulders tightened, her spine snapping rigid in surprise, until her eyes glanced upward to find it was Anjali standing there with her arms crossed. The shock wore to a different kind of alertness, Rosie trying to smoothly wipe away the jitters in her fingers.
"Was there something you wanted to discuss?" she began, barely able to talk through a million butterflies lodging in her gut. To try and cover it over, Rosie tipped up her mug and took a long drink.
"I," Anjali stepped forward once, "Well, um, yes I suppose so."
The assassin's words faded away, and Rosie placed down her cup focusing fully upon her. It seemed odd for the always certain woman to be taking her time. After a beat, Anjali asked, "I'm wondering if you want me...for your little day trip. In case there are assassins about. To provide protection."
"I hadn't considered," Rosie said, her fingers sliding over the piles of vellum scattered upon the table. She really should scoop them up and place them inside a skin before the roof leaked.
"What?" Anjali suddenly scoffed so hard, Rosie's head shot up fast, "You think Henry is the only protection you need?" There was no mistaking how she spat out her cousin's name as if it was poison.
Rosie blinked a moment, fully confused, "Do you have something against the Arl's son?"
"Me? Nope. Not a thing. Not one thing. He's one of those gallant types, right? White steed, shining armor, probably lays his cloak over water puddles and all that."
What in the Maker's name was she talking about? Folding her arms together, Rosie stared hard at her. Henry was good hearted, much like his father. The people of Redcliffe were enamored with their future Arl, but she'd never heard any of that considered a bad thing. Certainly not the way Anjali was framing it.
"I get it," Anjali spat out, both hands up as if to show she was fully defenseless. "I more than get how all of that works."
"What? How does what work?" Beyond confused, Rosie paused in the gathering of her work and stared slack jawed at the woman.
"The whole proper breeding bit. Got to get the right...face and name or else, or it's all a waste."
Breeding? Face? Sweet bloody Andraste, Rosie was lost. Why would a woman from Rivain care at all about Henry's prospects? "I'm not certain what you know of my Cousin, or think you know, or will know, but he's..." Anjali's glare at the world shifted, her eyes melting into one of undeniable pai
n. It stung her so fast, Rosie stumbled a bit, her fingers flailing out and her words mumbling.
The word jealous flared in her brain, but she shook it away. That was silly. There was nothing to be jealous of. Certainly no reason, because... It wasn't as if...
Oh dear.
"Uh," Rosie drifted her fingers along the collar of her dress that ran right to her neck. "Maker's sake, why did I wear this?" she muttered to herself, her internal thoughts falling in a plop on the ground.
"Because someone made you?" Anjali threw out.
"Actually, I prefer dresses of this make when I'm out in the woods. The insects seem to disapprove of such a sallow yellow for whatever reason, and I wind up with less welts due to bites. Though the neckline is far too tight and I prefer to leave it unbuttoned for a few..." Her cursed cheeks lit up bright pink and she whipped her head away in shame. She was bumbling again. Why was she bumbling?
"Forget I said anything," Rosie shot out fast, a hand pressed to her red hot skin.
The assassin chuckled, her unwelcoming stance and locked in arms fading. With light toes, she stepped closer to the princess who wanted to dig her way into the ground. "Consider it forgotten," Anjali promised. "Though I'm surprised by the yellow fact. I'd never heard that before."
"I was going through a bit of a rainbow phase as a child, and wanted to wear every color I could," Rosie kept risking a quick glance at Anjali before whipping her eyes away in shame. Every word out of her mouth sounded infantile. "Caught on that a yellow day equaled less insect attacks, so I had a few dresses done in the same dye."
Anjali's captivating smile dipped up as she laughed, "Will there ever be a time I won't be surprised by you?"
"Um..." Rosie's mouth ran dry, uncertain if that was a compliment or not.
Soft umber eyes lifted, the edges crinkled in a smile. "Why don't you tell me about this hunting lodge? If I'll be going with you, of course."
"Yeah," she couldn't stop her own idiotic smile, Rosie nodding her head. Racing to tamp it down, she stared hard at the work instead, "Yes, right, I will. It's not very large, designed to hold three or four hunters, really. More a stop over when chasing stag. Um, I believe we have an old sketch of it and various surroundings in..."
She began to shuffle through the stacks of vellum, searching for a drawing of the lodge, when one scrap that she always kept pinned safely in between two dull reports slipped free. The parchment floated so slowly through the air it looked like a leaf tumbling off a barren branch. It took Rosie's brain a full second to comprehend just what it was, and another one to order her body to scoop it up.
"What is this?" Anjali exclaimed, snatching it away and pressing the image to her face. Internally, all of Rosie collapsed in on itself, her organs heating to a thousand degrees from the burn of shameful embarrassment. She whipped her head around to try and find an escape but there was none to be had.
"It's, an...a thing I do sometimes, of..."
"It's me," she turned the drawing around as if Rosie needed to see it to know. As if she hadn't been stressing over it for a month, trying to get everything right. It began as a simple sketch, but every day with the assassin remaining in their midst, more detail emerged until a black and white shaded copy of Anjali rested inside that vellum.
The ink assassin had her head at three quarters profile, Rosie drawing her form a little past her shoulders. She'd...foolishly decided to not add on clothing. Because she was bad at it, and hadn't quite decided what to do. Which was what Anjali was looking at, the sliver of shadowed cleavage evident at the bottom of the page.
Blessed Maker, she was going to the void.
"I like to draw!" Rosie shouted at near deafening levels, the panic clawing up her voice. "People, people that I meet, it can be useful for others. And helps me to relax or not have to do work stuff for the crown." Damn it! Why did she keep that stupid thing with her at all times? She should have hidden it, folded it up into a pocket, burned it! Not shown it to the subject as if its mere existence wasn't a terrifying invasion of...she didn't even know. It couldn't be good though. Girls didn't...they didn't draw other girls.
"It's beautiful," Anjali sighed.
"Huh?" Rosie gasped.
"You make me look beautiful, better than I can manage on a good day when not wandering around in the woods."
"No, see, it's," she reached over to touch her work still stained with old tea drops before pausing. A giddy laugh erupted from her throat for no discernible reason, Rosie's cheeks lighting up, "I just draw what I see."
"Oh?" her voice purred, Anjali sliding a step closer. "Is that so?"
"If," her heart was pounding harder inside her chest, each erratic beat knocking until it reverberated through her hair. "If you want, you could keep it."
A sliver of her succulent lips lifted at the edge, "I can see myself whenever I wish. You keep it." She passed over the drawing, her fingers skirting off the vellum to cup along the back of Rosie's hand.
Another childish laugh broke at the contact, her eyes darting around in all directions, but always landing back upon the beautiful woman in her tent. "Uh, okay. I can."
"If you ever draw one of yourself; however," she leaned closer, her voice dipping low, "I'd love to have it."
Rosie screwed up her eyes tight, goosebumps rising all along her arms at the lust ringing in Anjali's voice. She tasted her own lips, barely flitting her tongue against them, while...yes, thinking about someone else's pressed to hers. Not just someone else's, plush ruby lips that belonged to a mahogany face.
What are you doing?
One hand gripped onto the drawing, while Rosie foolishly let the other slide her fingers along the back of Anjali's hand. Her eyes opened only a peek, enough to watch the woman smile as she drew her beautiful, tattooed hand to Rosie's cheek.
Sweet Maker. What are you doing?
Rosie's eyes slipped shut, her brain flailing its hands in wonder. What was she doing? Letting a...no, not just letting, wanting a woman to kiss her. To, to touch her in ways that turned her ice-white skin red as a sunset. She shouldn't want it, not-not for who she was. For what she was.
But Maker, she did.
Heat from Anjali's mouth washed over Rosie's face, her body smelling of a spicy jasmine. Rosie softly puckered her lips, terrified of turning her head the wrong way or doing something else foolish. Closing her eyes so tight she could see stars she waited in an exquisite terror.
What are you doing?
Anjali jerked back instantly, her hand falling right off of Rosie's cheek. By the time she opened her eyes, the assassin was another foot back, anger and pain etched across her scowling face. What had...Oh no. No, she did not say that aloud.
"I cannot understand you," Anjali hissed. "Is this...are you playing some game with me? Think it's funny to toy with the assassin in your grip? One moment you act as if...and then you..." Her lips were wobbling, her nose flaring and eyes watering as if Rosie personally attacked her.
"No, it's..." she tried to reach for Anjali to attempt to explain, but the assassin hopped back further.
"Forgive me for intruding upon your time, Princess," she spat out. "It shall not happen again."
Spinning in place, Anjali ran out of the tent and into the storm. Without thinking, Rosie gave chase after her. The moment she crossed into the storm, Rosie's body twisted towards the ground. Rain and winds hammered hard into her shoulders, nearly wiping the much shorter woman out. But Anjali, either with the power of her fury or being used to such weather, marched onward.
Gritting her teeth, Rosie dug a heel into the mud and staggered up. She chased after the woman trying to flee into the dark skies. "Wait!" her voice could barely echo about the crash of thunder. If Anjali heard her, she gave no signal, the woman stomping harder through the dirt and barely caring that the rain was hammering upon them both.
She was angry at her, the woman's head practically steaming from the chilled rain and it cut right to Rosie's tender heart. Anjali had the longer gait, even walking she
was outpacing Rosie and would soon be gone. A foolish fear struck her that she might not see the woman ever again.
"Please," Rosie whimpered, rain dripping off of her forehead to pool on her cheeks. "Please, stop."
Something in her tone must have made it over the pounding weather, as Anjali froze in her tracks. Her head hung down a bit, eyes seeming to skim across the puddles, but she wouldn't turn around to face Rosie.
"Why? Tell me, princess?" Anjali's waterlogged face twisted to Rosie, rivulets streaming across her rich skin as she stared. "Why should I stop?"
Rosie took in a deep breath, struggling against the battering of the storm and the water already tightening her dress to her skin. Why did she come out here? Why did she chase after this assassin? Why did she care to stop her?
For a beat Anjali's glare shifted to one of confusion and hope. She wanted an answer, any answer beyond a dismissal. Rosie could feel it in the air, hear the answer in her heart, but she was frozen in place. Water drenched through Anjali's headscarf, flattening it tight to her curls which were already escaping. She looked so...so what?
Pure as rainwater, hot as an open fire, electric as the storm zapping overhead.
Why couldn't she stop staring at this impossibly striking other woman?
You know why.
Rosie clomped through the mud, not caring at how it erupted from the puddles to latch onto her dress. She lifted a hand, raindrops pelting a barrage into her palm's skin before it found sanctuary nestled against Anjali's cheek. "So I can do this," Rosie whispered before lifting off of her heels and pressing her lips to the ones she'd been aching for.
Steam sizzled through the air, Anjali's heat wafting to Rosie's waning body as for a brief second they melded in perfect harmony. Soft as a flower petal, her lips fell flush with another woman's and her entire body erupted in goosebumps. She moved to slide down, to step back and assess just what she did, when Anjali locked a hand around the back of Rosie's head and pulled her tighter. The assassin's pillowy lips softly nipped against Rosie's bottom one. For a brief moment, her tongue slipped into tune with hers, the heat, the taste, the feel of a woman melting from her touch doing the same to the princess.
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