“What is there to look forward to? I am to be given away to someone not of my own choosing. There is no joy to be found in that. I wish to marry for love, not for land.” My words come out more forced than I wished. I do not mean to be so angry or hurt by the betrothal, but I cannot help it.
“Do you not yet know whom you will marry?”
“No. And unless it is for love, I do not care,” I repeat. Curiously, I find myself wishing that it is Osric. I may not know him very well, but I find myself attracted to him, and already we are getting along so nicely.
But he does not have time to respond, as we have reached the castle. I ride for the stables, knowing I had best hurry and reach my room before any more time is wasted.
Osric dismounts and takes me by the waist, lowering me to the ground. “Well, then, whoever he is, I hope you are able to fall in love with him.” He almost sounds dejected as he says it.
“Thank you.” I look into his eyes, enchanted by him. “I must go,” I say, forcing myself to walk away.
He grabs my hand. “I shall see you tonight at the ball. Would you prefer I keep my distance? From what you said, Queen Jossa would not appreciate me stealing you away from your betrothed.”
I look down at our intertwined fingers. “I suppose that depends on who I’m betrothed to.” I look up at him through my lashes before dashing off, not allowing him to stop me again. I don’t stop running until I’ve reached my quarters, burst through the door, and stand against it until my knees give out and I slide against the smooth wood until I am sitting on the floor, my dress a massive pool of fabric all around me.
“Your Highness? Are you all right?” Madrid comes around the corner, kneeling before me.
“I don’t know, Madrid. I met a prince in the woods—and the idea of marrying someone I do not know or love is a pain I wish not to endure.”
“Princess, who did you meet in the woods who could steal your heart away in a matter of hours?” she asks playfully.
“Prince Osric of Wentsden, son to Queen Shanice and King Valentino,” I say, my cheeks warming. “And where is this prince now?” She takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.
“The last I saw him, he was standing just inside the stables. His mother and father were already on their way here when he got lost in the forest, which is how I came upon him.”
Madrid’s smile grows. “Well, then, let’s not disappoint. You are going to be the grandest sight this evening. No one will be able to look away. And even less so, your prince.”
“You know he is not my prince, even if I wish it to be so.” I look out the window before she pulls me farther away from it and toward the armoire.
“You do not know that. You can’t possibly know that until it is announced, milady. So for the moment, you are going to think of the look on his face when he sees you walk into the ballroom, and nothing else. Even your mother will be surprised by your beauty.”
“Thank you, Madrid. I don’t know what I would do without you. You are my dearest friend. And even if it is a mere wish, you make me believe anything is possible. Even being with the prince of my choice.”
“That’s because it is possible. You’ll see!” She pushes me behind the privacy screen to get undressed to bathe.
I stand at the top of the staircase as the trumpeter announces my entrance into the ball. All heads turn toward me, a collective gasp filling my ears.
My hair is braided into three large roses trailing down my head. My red gown, embroidered with gold, makes my cheeks redder, the flecks in my hazel eyes brighter, and my blonde hair lighter.
Madrid made me seem more beautiful than I thought possible. I wish she could be here to see the looks on everyone’s faces as they stare at me. As I descend the staircase, I search each face, looking for Prince Osric.
I don’t see him, and my chances of doing so dwindle as I reach the bottom step. I am greeted by everyone, whether I’ve met them or not. The crowd parts as Father—King Inginio—steps forward and takes my hand, guiding me to the much smaller steps leading to the thrones.
We turn around to face the people, and Mother grasps my other hand. My entire body is shaking. I am not ready for this. I don’t want to know. Knowing makes it real. It means I must do this and at least pretend to enjoy it.
“Welcome, all! This night, my daughter, Princess Roselyn, is to be betrothed. This evening, we unite Tivor and Elna through our daughter's hand in marriage to Prince Chavez!” Father smiles, happy with the announcement, with his choice in whom I will marry.
The crowd bursts into applause, and parts once more for the prince to approach. His eyes are dark brown, warm and inviting. His thick, dark hair is short. He’s taller than me by several inches.
Standing before me, he takes my hand and kisses it. “Your Highness.” He looks into my eyes, wonder filling them. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you, and to our marriage.” His accent is like silk. And though he does not mean them to be, his words are like a stab in the heart.
“Thank you, Your Highness. I too look forward to those times.” I must force myself to speak, not knowing what to say.
“May I have this dance?” He offers me his arm. I take it and allow him to lead me to the middle of the room.
As we turn, Osric catches my eye. His are full of sadness. Before I have a chance to react at all, he turns and disappears into the crowd again.
Once we have danced a whole song together, the rest of the guests begin dancing. The music is lively and cheerful. There is merrymaking and eating, and to the world, it looks like not a thing is wrong.
In my heart, it doesn’t feel that way. I look up at Chavez and appreciate his fine looks, his kind manner. But the connection I felt with Osric isn’t there.
“Would you care to walk with me?” he whispers, pulling me in before spinning me out again.
As I take his other hand, I lean closer. “Yes.”
He leads me out of the ballroom before looking either direction, unsure which way to go. I can’t help but laugh before leading the way out a side door that is hardly used. It goes straight into the gardens, through my favorite path leading to the wall of roses and thorns.
“This is beautiful.” He looks around, letting go of my hand, and wanders off the path.
“Milady, I saw you leave and thought you might be chilly, so I brought your shawl,” Madrid says, startling me.
“My apologies, Princess. I should have thought of that before bringing you out here.” Chavez takes the shawl from Madrid and wraps it around my shoulders.
“It’s all right. No harm done. Madrid is far smarter than I, and thinks of these things even when I do not.” I smile, ever grateful for my maid.
“Thank you, milady.” She curtsies, keeping her eyes averted.
“Thank you, Madrid. I would hate for the princess to get or anything to happen to her because she was cold.” Chavez looks at Madrid as he speaks. Her cheeks darken, and even in the pale moonlight, I can see the blush there.
I look at both of them and feel as if I am intruding. The connection I made with Osric, I feel has been made between Madrid and Chavez. I can at least hope.
“I had best return to my duties.” Without another word, Madrid ducks back inside.
“She is your maid, you say?” Chavez looks at the door where Madrid just disappeared.
I look up at him before following his gaze. “Yes. But more so, she is my friend. I hope that one day, she finds love and can have a family and be happy. She deserves it. She has done so much for me.” A crease forms between his eyebrows as he turns back to me.
“We should return to the party. I would not want anyone to miss us when we’re the reason they came.” He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes, and takes my arm again.
Shadows surround me, only a glint of moonlight guiding my way. Edda was insistent that I bring a torch with me, but it would be far too obvious. This night, my journey is not one accepted by either kingdom, though my parents understand it far more than
Roselyn’s.
Thinking of her causes my pulse to quicken, and I begin to walk a little faster. My heart beats at irregular intervals as I approach the town square. In the dead of night, I am bound to be caught if I continue at my current pace, however, so once again, I slow myself.
A man drunk at this hour wouldn’t be looked at twice. But someone—a prince, no less—almost running would surely draw attention, though I do not look like royalty in the least. Having messed up my hair—though it’s hardly ever contained, being curly—and wearing little more than rags I purchased from a serving boy, being compared to the prince would be outrageous.
Prince or not, if caught, it may cost me my life. The queen has made it clear that I am to stay away. But Roselyn is worth it. The prettiest rose alive, living with a family of thorns.
“Osric,” a deep voice says from the shadows. I look around, hardly breathing as I wait and search for the owner of that voice. Seeing nothing, I continue on my way. I must be imagining things, already nervous about being here this night, and so out in the open.
“Osric!” the voice says again, this time with more urgency.
Something sparkling to the left catches my attention. I turn toward it. As I take a step forward, seven human-sized fairies block my path. Each one hovers above the ground, using their massive wings, buzzing as they whip back and forth.
The fairies have my attention, but the voice could not have belonged to any of them. I try to see around the one who is blocking my view. Her purple gown sways back and forth, making it impossible for me to see what or who is behind her.
“Who spoke my name? Who’s there?” I call out. I stand still, letting the fairy believe I am giving up. But my plan to get around her doesn’t work. She continues flittering about.
“Pandora, move aside,” the same deep voice says. The fairy in purple steps to the left, revealing an old man, stooped over and relying heavily on his cane.
Had the man been alone, I would not have felt the immediate need to get away. But being surrounded by his fairies, towering over us as they continue to hover, makes me feel smaller and more vulnerable.
“How do you know who I am?” It seems the most relevant question. Dressed in servant’s garb, dirty, and weary from traveling, not to mention the fact that our only light is that of the moon, no one should have recognized me.
“Many years ago, I was granted the same powers given to all royalty at birth—magic. It is as much a part of me as it is you, but it is different. I had to learn how to use my powers, whereas it came naturally to you.” He straightens a bit, standing slightly taller.
Right now, I have no patience for his useless trivia. “Answer my question,” I say more forcibly this time.
“Magic, dear boy, magic. How else would I know that you are on your way to visit Princess Roselyn of Tivor, who is betrothed to another prince?”
“You could be a spy, for all I know.” I take a step back, rolling my shoulders, my entire body tensing up. What am I to do if he is a spy?
“Calm yourself, prince. I am no spy. If I were, why would I call you out?” He points his cane at me, punctuating his questions with his movements.
“Why did you call me out?” I ask, now angry.
“I have a gift for you and the princess who holds your heart.”
“Why would you offer me a gift?” The urge to get away from here grows stronger.
The old man beckons behind him. “Because one day, I will need a favor from you. And once you realize the full power of my gift, you will be forever grateful. You will have no desire to turn me away.”
I look at him, confused. The lack of a constant whir in the air causes me to look away and toward the sky. I realize the fairies are no longer hovering over us, but standing nearby. One of the fairies, her hair so long, it reaches beyond her waist, steps forth. She comes to stand before me, curtsying in her silky pink dress.
“Your Highness, I know the pain of what you are going through. Please take these flowers and give them to the Rose you love, and not even fate will stand between you.” From behind her back, she pulls a bouquet of roses, eleven of them the deepest red and one white, so bright it shines like a star in the night sky.
I hesitate, feeling there is something wrong with this situation, but as if I have no control over my hand. I reach for them, taking them from her grasp. Slowly, my fingers close around the stems.
“Now go to her. Speak these words, and your worries will be for naught.” She tucks a note in my hand. She blows a kiss in my direction before stepping back into the shadows. The wizard and the other fairies are gone, almost as if they were never here.
I look at the roses, at my clenched fist holding the note, and find that I can’t let go of either. A fuzzy feeling takes over—things are no longer as clear. Why am I standing in the town square, out in the open, where I could easily be spotted? With that in mind, I begin walking toward the castle once more.
I cut through the forest, careful with my every step. I approach the hole in the wall Roselyn herself showed me three years ago when we first met. It’s a wonder that after all this time, it hasn’t been discovered by anyone else and sealed shut.
Carefully, I go around the broken brick and approach the southwest tower. The grounds are particularly quiet. The usual guards are nowhere to be seen. I stick to the shadows, looking about in hopes of seeing at least one of them. With the events that just unfolded in the town square, I want to know Roselyn is safe, that men are on watch.
I don’t see them, and no one comes near me. I let the minutes pass, not daring to step into the light or approach the castle wall. But with every second that goes by, the tension becomes a physical pain.
Unable to wait a moment longer, I approach the bottom of the tower. Only when I lift my arms to pull myself up do I realize that my hands are still full. Where did I get roses? I open my left hand and watch as a paper floats to the ground.
I look around, making sure I’m not being watched, before bending over and picking it up. I slip it into the pocket in my breeches and begin looking for a long, slender leaf or vine I can fasten around the rose stems so I am able to carry them up the tower with me.
Nothing I find is suitable. Frustrated and feeling anxious, I reach down and tear a strip of cloth from my tunic. It comes easily, making me feel all the worse for the poor boy I purchased the materials from.
When I return to Wentsden, my first course of action will be to order new clothes for all the servants in the kingdom. They may not be royalty, but no one deserves to freeze because their clothes are too thin to protect them from the weather.
Once I have tied the cloth around the roses, I tether them to the loop in my pants. I tug at them to ensure they will stay before finding a comfortable place to grab and pull myself up the side of the tower.
It takes me back to the first time I even attempted such a thing, a little less than three years ago, just weeks after meeting the princess.
I remember finding a stone to grab hold of. I reached out and began pulling my body up. Only a few feet from the ground, my arms started aching, my legs ready to give out. If magic was not created for such a purpose, I didn’t know why.
I used that power, forcing the energy to my muscles as I pulled myself higher and higher until I reached the bottom of the princess's balcony. Even with magic keeping me going, I felt sore and tired.
But I couldn’t give up then, having gotten so far. I reached, grabbing hold of the balcony rail and pulling myself the last few feet. I fell flat on my back onto the floor, unable to move, and only hoping the princess found me.
The curtain opened. There stood Madrid, holding a candle and looking scared out of her wits.
“My apologies. I did not mean to make such a ruckus. I wished to see the princess.” My eyes closed against my will. I only needed a moment to rest.
“Your Highness, are you all right?” the maid asked, coming closer. I could feel the heat from the candle she held.
“Could I both
er you for a cup of water?” I asked. I was parched, and it hurt to speak. My throat burned.
“Of course, Your Highness.” She disappeared, along with her light, and I waited in the darkness, alone and cold.
“Osric?” a hesitant voice I would recognize anywhere asked timidly.
“Roselyn?” I reached toward the sound of her voice.
“What happened? Are you ill? Please tell me you are all right.” Her voice became louder, and suddenly her soft hands were on my arms, my face.
“I had to see you, Princess. I scaled the wall, but I fear I was not prepared for the toll it would take,” I admitted, ashamed for being so weak.
“Oh, Osric!” She laughed. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard, like that of the birds singing.
“My apologies, for I asked your maid to fetch me a cup of water.” I cleared my throat, trying to erase the scratchy sound and feeling.
“No need to apologize. Madrid is the kindest person I know. She would fetch you a cup of water if she saw you needed it, whether you asked for it or not.” She gently pushed some of my wild curls away from my face. Her fingers were warm and soft.
I forced my eyes to open just so I might look at the princess. She was kneeling at my side, looking adoringly down at me.
“Your Highness, can you sit up?” Madrid came through the curtain, holding a large cup.
Without question, Roselyn moved over and gently lifted my head so I was using her lap like a pillow. Madrid began pouring the water into my mouth.
Once the last drop had been swallowed, I sat up, feeling refreshed and closer to my former self.
“Thank you, Madrid. I cannot thank you enough.”
Now as I climb, my arms do not feel so weak. I’ve had plenty of practice climbing this tower over the past few years. At least once a week, I visit Roselyn, as I have done since that first day.
The thought of water is an inviting one, stirred by the memory. But I know I will not need to ask for it upon reaching the balcony. Madrid is just as Roselyn said she was so long ago, kind and considerate. And every week when I visit the princess, there is a cup of water waiting for me.
The Enchanted Rose Page 2
