The Branded Rose Prophecy

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Charlee stole a scoop from his bowl, but let him eat most of it, which Roar had no trouble doing.

  “I’m surprised, if you like ice cream so much, you don’t smoosh it into paste and stir it smooth. My brother says that’s the only decent way to eat ice cream.”

  Roar looked startled, then gave her a rueful grin. “I do that, but only when no one is looking.”

  Charlee laughed. “I wonder if I could get a coffee, instead?” she asked, putting down her spoon.

  “For you, anything.” He pressed the button at the edge of the table that called the waiter to them, and after consulting with her, ordered an espresso. Then he sat back. “Thank you for your help today.”

  “I’m not sure how I’ve helped, but it’s good to know I made a positive contribution.”

  “I think that’s one of your better qualities,” Roar said. “Your humility is quite genuine. It’s very refreshing, especially here in New York.”

  Charlee could feel her cheeks burning. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “It’s a compliment. You’re supposed to say thank you.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  “Then you say ‘yes, I will’.”

  “Why do I say that?”

  “Because I would like you to accompany me to the solstice feast at the Second Hall, next week. Will you, Charlee?” His expression had lost all its merriment. His gaze, so much like Asher’s but yet so different, pinned her to the spot.

  Charlee was abruptly breathless. The solstice feast!

  She understood what Roar was not saying. The implications behind his request were profound. If she walked into that hall by his side, Roar would be declaring to the Kine world that he had made an unspoken claim upon her that she had agreed to. Shortly after that public and silent declaration, a formal request would follow. Then...a contract. Short or long, and the terms of it would be open to negotiation.

  But this invitation was the start of a process that ended with her becoming Roar’s...

  She couldn’t finish the thought. The whispering in her mind, the one panicky thought repeating itself over and over was a nearly incoherent pleading. Asher...please, please, tell me what to do now! The need to consult with him, to tell him what was happening, and to have him fix things like he always had, was almost overwhelming. She shifted on her chair, fighting the impulse to jump up and run all the way to the Ash Tree, which was only three blocks away.

  “You look shocked,” Roar said. He tried to make it sound jovial, but the worried note slipped through.

  “I...” She cleared her throat. “I never thought anyone would ask me.” The last was a whisper.

  “Because of your scar, or because of Asher?” he asked gently.

  Something grabbed at her chest. “Yes,” she breathed. It was all she could manage.

  “I like the scar,” Roar said flatly. “It ties you to us in a way that reminds me every time I see it. Asher...” He let out his breath. “Asher isn’t here. I am, and I am the one who is asking.”

  Charlee gripped her knees beneath the table, to stop them shaking. “May I...could I think about it? Could I give you an answer in a day or two?”

  He considered. “That seems only fair,” he decided. “But know this, Charlee. You kicked me in the heart last week, when you pointed out how much I have changed since the Descent. I have been thinking hard all week, and I’ve decided that you are right. I have changed, even though I have fought tooth and nail to stay as I was. But it’s a good change and I want to keep on changing. I think you would be such a catalyst, the world will look quite different with you in it.”

  “You’re equating me with common hydrogen peroxide?” Charlee asked, for that was one of the most common catalysts in the world.

  He tilted his head. “No, I’m equating you with rare earth.”

  Charlee blinked, surprised.

  The corners of Roar’s mouth lifted. “You didn’t think I’d know about chemical catalysts, did you? It’s nice to know I can surprise you.”

  “You’ve done that more than once,” she assured him.

  “Think about it, Charlee,” he urged her. “Mine is not the biggest or grandest hall in our world, but it has a degree of influence, nevertheless. I can’t offer...” He swallowed. “I won’t insult you by professing deep love, but that might come. I have a feeling that life with you in it will be more than sufficiently interesting and always changing. Who knows where we will end up?”

  Coldness gripped her. “You’re...you speak like you are looking years ahead.” Her lips felt numb.

  “I am,” Roar said evenly. “I would not insult you twice by offering a paltry few years of my time and then tossing you aside like so much refuse.” He hesitated. “Or, if you would prefer that, we can come to a shorter arrangement. I want to be fair, Charlee.”

  Fair. He offered fairness. Years of it.

  Oh, gods, Asher! Where are you?

  * * * * *

  Eira was sitting at the long, narrow table she used for meetings. There was a large pitcher of mead on the table, and from the sharp smell, Charlee guessed it was sack mead, which had a higher alcohol content than any of the others. The pitcher was nearly empty. So was the glass in front of Eira, who sat with her head turned to study the painting on the wall in reaction to Charlee’s news.

  “I have to say no, of course,” Charlee said, speaking as calmly as she could.

  “Why would you do that?” Eira asked, her head still turned. “Do you not consider the earl of New York to be a sufficiently powerful conquest for an Amica like you?”

  Charlee hesitated. There was something in Eira’s tone. “I don’t...that’s not why I think I should refuse.”

  “Why refuse at all?” Eira asked. For a single moment her gaze met Charlee’s face, then skittered away. She looked at her hands, lying motionless on her knees. “You’ve moved the earl of New York to the point where he wants to negotiate a long-term contract, a man who has never once in all his long years even so much as looked sideways at an Amica. You come along and in a week, you snare him. If you accept his contract, your fame as an Amica is assured. You will be remembered among the Kine forever. Why would you refuse such an opportunity? Is that not what the Amica are for?”

  Charlee couldn’t dispute her. This was the reason the Amica were given access to the highly protected inner halls of the Kine, why they were trained to within an inch of their lives to entice and enfold a man in womanly snares.

  “It isn’t why I joined the Amica,” Charlee said, her voice weak after Eira’s ringing tones.

  “It is your purpose!” Eira shouted. With a scream that would freeze battleground enemies, she swept the glass and the pitcher off the table. She got to her feet, her chest heaving. “You will not refuse him!” Her eyes were glittering with fury.

  With a hot rush of fear, Charlee put it together. It wasn’t anger that was making Eira’s eyes glisten. It was tears.

  Eira loved Roar, but for reasons Charlee didn’t fully understand, but knew would be political in nature, Eira had done nothing about it. She had been secure in the knowledge that Roar was not interested in the Amica or the companionship they offered.

  And now he had changed his mind.

  You would be such a catalyst, Charlee....

  She stepped forward, closer to Eira. “Go to him,” she urged. “Tell him. Now.”

  Eira laughed bitterly. “He’s made his choice.” She closed her eyes and turned away. “Finally, he has made a choice.”

  “I can still refuse.”

  “You would be a fool if you do. No man, no Einherjar, would make another offer if you turn down Roar. Your effectiveness as an Amica would be at an end.”

  “There are other roles. Medicine. The kitchen.”

  “You would end any chance of happiness in a man’s arms, Charlee. You would lose not just Roar, but everything that counts in this world.”

  Including Asher.

  But Asher was already lost to her. He
had told her to do her job. This was doing her job.

  Eira put her face in her hands for one long moment. Her whole body shook. Then she lowered her hands and squared her shoulders and looked Charlee in the eye. “As your Regin, I could not arrange a more advantageous match, Charlee. Take this opportunity. Roar is a good man. You will not suffer as his companion.”

  Charlee swallowed. “I don’t want him.” It was the weakest argument she could muster. But it was the truth.

  Eira nodded. “Then we have that in common, don’t we? We both must give up what we really want.” Her smile was bitter.

  Chapter Thirty

  Charlee stood off to one side of the round hall, watching gorgeously dressed couples head into the main hall through the towering double doors. She was wearing her best, and waiting for a man.

  The parallel to the long forty minutes she had waited in front of another hall in the past was not lost on her. Only, Asher had come to her rescue that night.

  He wouldn’t rescue her tonight, for she knew he was already in the hall. She had watched him enter—alone—fifteen minutes ago, from the gallery high above. Only after he had gone in had she had the courage to step out into the round hall to meet Roar, as arranged.

  She brushed at the skirt of her dress nervously. The dark green stretch velvet clung to her, all the way down to just above her knees, where it flared into a full-skirted hem that pulled along the ground behind her as she walked. The long sleeves extended over her hands, coming to a point just above the knuckles. The back of the dress dipped down below her waist, also coming to a point. There was nothing modest about the dress at all, even though it covered almost every inch of her.

  She was getting glances from Kine as they passed her, heading for the doors and the bright light spilling out into the dimly lit round hall. The noise from inside was climbing in volume.

  Charlee felt cold and gripped her hands together tightly.

  (...he’s not coming. Not tonight. Tonight you get to live with your choice....)

  The sense of time running out, of gates starting to close, was strong.

  Roar stepped through the New York portal, looked around and spotted her.

  (...and the gate just closed.)

  He came straight over to her, smiling. “You look stunning,” he told her, picking up her hand. Then he studied her more closely. “You’re shaking.”

  Her voice shook. “I...I’m scared.” Then she pressed her lips together, dismayed as well. Why had she said something so stupid? Just because it was the truth, didn’t mean she could just blurt it out like that.

  But Asher would have understood, the devil’s advocate in her mind whispered. He would have joked, and made you laugh and made you know everything would be fine.

  Roar didn’t do any of that. He just held her hand, looking at her. “Seventy years after we arrived on Midgard, I set up a hall in England. I met a Saxon girl who lived in the village that built up around the hall. Meggy, her name was.”

  One day I will tell you about a woman called Meggy.

  “You loved her,” Charlee breathed.

  “Like the sun loves the moon, and the stars dance in the sky to proclaim it. I loved her with every fiber of my soul.” Roar’s blue eyes were narrowed, as if the memory was painful. “She was human, but I told her what I was, because I couldn’t imagine loving someone that much and not having her love me for what I really was. And she did, Charlee. She loved me anyway.” A fine line etched itself between his brows. “There were no children, of course.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling for an aching moment. “If only there had been, she might have been saved. But the village laid the blame upon Meggy.”

  Charlee caught her breath. “What happened?”

  “They called for me to shun her. To turn her out. If I did, they would run her out of the village, for nothing was as useless to a village as a woman who could not breed warriors and wives for those warriors. They would cast her out, rather than share their food with her. So I told them what I was, to save her.”

  “You...told them?” Stunned, Charlee looked at him. “Did they believe you?”

  “They were simpler times, when magic was used to explain much they didn’t understand. They believed me.” He sighed. “So they stoned Meggy to death for sleeping with a god and rising above her station.”

  Charlee let out her breath. “Oh, Roar....”

  Roar dropped his gaze to the floor. “We learned from Meggy’s death that we could not tell humans about ourselves. The principles of laun were laid down that same year, and they have not fundamentally changed since then.” He brought his gaze back to hers. “I have not changed, either, or so I thought. I have not loved another woman since Meggy, Charlee. I have not shared myself in any way.”

  No Amica. No Valkyrie. No one at all. “That was...fifteen centuries ago,” she breathed.

  Roar nodded. He lifted her fingers, caught in his. “I’m afraid, too, Charlee. This here...it has been a very long time.”

  She compulsively gripped his hand. “Don’t let go, then. We can help each other up if we trip.”

  He licked his lips. “I hope to the gods we don’t. You understand, Charlee, they will all be watching, the moment we step inside?”

  She swallowed and nodded. “I guessed.” Then she deliberately rolled her eyes. “That’s a hell of a way to stop me being afraid.”

  Roar’s mouth quirked upwards. “I wanted to share the panic. Isn’t it supposed to be cut in half if you do?”

  “I think that’s a trouble shared that you’re talking about.”

  He turned and led her toward the door. They were already drawing attention. From the corner of her eyes, she could see heads turning. People whispering.

  “Trouble, yes,” Roar murmured as they approached the doors, the light, the noise. “I knew you would make life interesting.” His hand gripped tighter.

  * * * * *

  It was the spreading pool of silence with murmurs rippling over it that caused Asher to turn and look.

  Roar stood just inside the big doors.

  And Charlee.

  Her hand was in Roar’s.

  Something invisible, large and powerful slammed into his chest. Asher sank onto the bench, the pressure so tight he couldn’t draw breath. He hung his head, fighting to breathe and to make sense of what he had just seen.

  You know what it means. You just don’t want to let it be true. She’s with him. She’s with your brother. He had the guts to reach out for what you could not.

  His chest unlocked and he could breathe, but the air he pulled into his lungs was dripping with acid pain that ate into him, spreading its noxious fumes, making him moan softly. He curled his hand into a fist, fighting it...and losing.

  For a moment, even his vision faded. All that was left of his senses was a lingering memory of her scent, the taste of her against his lips.

  “Holy cow bells,” someone at the next table said. “That’s New York isn’t it? With that Amica, what’s her name? The spitfire.”

  “Charlee,” came the answer.

  “She’s delicious. Easy to see why he climbed off his high horse and took that one for himself.”

  Asher kept his head down. He would not watch them pass by. He wanted to erase the sight that was now etched onto the back of his eyes and was burning an afterimage into his brain. He couldn’t leave until the feasting was done. It would be considered an insult of the highest order. He had nearly two hours of torture to get through before he could leave and deal with this in a dark room, alone and unobserved.

  “Would you mind?” came a quiet voice behind him.

  The bench he was sitting on shifted under him as the men shuffled along its length, making room.

  A fourth man settled down next to him. “Could you pass that pitcher?”

  The sound of mead being poured.

  Then someone uncurled the fingers of his fist and a cool metal mug was pressed against his palm. “Drink, friend,” came the quiet whisper. “When this
is all done, I will see you home.”

  Asher clutched the mug in his hand and looked up. Sindri sat next to him, in the same black robes he always wore. He was watching Asher with sympathy in his black eyes.

  “You know?” Asher whispered. How many knew? How many suspected?

  “I recognized the pain in your face.” Something shifted behind his eyes. For a fraction of a moment, Asher saw pain flash there, then it was gone and the same bland light filled them that was all Sindri ever held. “I know it well.” His cold fingers touched Asher’s wrist. “Drink.”

  * * * * *

  Roar held the door aside. “I’m surprised it took you this long,” he said. “It’s been three days. I was expecting you to come banging on my door the next morning.”

  Asher pushed his hands into his pockets. “Had something to do.” His voice was still raw from the mead and there had been singing and shouting, but he couldn’t quite pull together a coherent memory of that.

  “Is that this year’s euphemism?” Roar asked dryly. “Come in. There’s no need to force everyone else in the hall to listen to your yelling.”

  Asher stepped inside. The apartment was as neat as a pin. Even the dishes were done, and drying neatly on the rack. “What, you’ve got her keeping house for you already?”

  Roar settled on one of the barstools. “I know how to clean when I have to.”

  “You didn’t get one of your Amica to do it? Charlee really has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

  Roar crossed his arms. “You know her better than I do. You know very well she would never keep company with a man who would let her do that. She has too much self-respect.”

  Asher tightened his fists inside the coat. “But you’re going to change all that, aren’t you?” The words came out tight and hard. “I suppose I should congratulate you. You’re going to get to know Charlee very well indeed. It’s quite a coup. She wouldn’t look at another Einherjar, except to stick her nose in the air and tell him he wasn’t good enough.”

  Roar just looked at him, with the same patient, understanding expression.