The Tears of the Rose

by Jeffe Kennedy

  My mother laughed, and in it were shades of both Ursula and Andi. “I don’t think Glorianna would claim me. You did well to find the vial I left for you. I hope your sisters found theirs, as well.”

  I shook my head. “Andi found something. I had only bloodstained rose petals.”

  “You must help them find their own vials. There are things they need to know.”

  “Andi said it helped her, somehow, in Annfwn.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes as if in prayer. “I am so thankful she is there. I worried for her.”

  That stung. “Well, she’s fine. I’m the one who’s had a tragic life. You can’t know.”

  She smiled then, with so much love it made me ache. “Ah, my lovely baby girl. You were born at dawn, you know, with all of the new day’s perfect beauty and potential. Filled with love for the world. You have always been the most blessed.”

  “I don’t feel blessed. First you died, then my husband, and now . . . I’m all alone.” Except for my son. He would have to be enough.

  “But you are,” she insisted. “I planned to take all of you to Annfwn, but you carry the magic inside you. As will your daughter. You two, at least, will never know the pain of being closed away from paradise. That is your gift—one of unparalleled value.”

  “She died.” I started weeping again, if I’d even stopped, and my mother drew close. She placed a ghostly hand over my heart, a cool shiver running through me at the touch.

  “Weep not. Your daughter will live, twin to her brother. Look for the trick.”

  “What trick?”

  “Childbirth nearly killed me, too. Every time.” She spoke in a gentle voice that I would have found soothing in other circumstances. “I would never have wished this on you, if we didn’t need these children so very much. The girl and the boy, to bring balance and knit the kingdoms. I had hoped that my third daughter could have her own life. But Ursula came first—I couldn’t foresee how she’d be until much later—and then, once Andi was old enough for me to see her fate, I knew what your path would be.

  “Both of your children will live. I want you to remember that, because it’s important. Do you understand me? Look for the trick.”

  “No. Ursula wouldn’t lie about that. Spare me your empty promises.”

  “They’re not empty. Bleak at times, perhaps, but always real. You have the twin gifts of life and love. Use them. See through the trick.” She flickered, became more transparent. Much as Andi’s image had. “Good-bye, Amelia. Know that I love you, that part of me is always with you.”

  “Me, too,” I told her. “I think of you, all the time. I always will. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “I must. I already have.” She smiled, and love warmed her gaze. “Trust in your heart, for it has no limits. You will always have love to give. You have always had mine. Know that I’m proud of you, my daughter of dawn’s promise, my rising sun.”

  She faded completely and Ursula stood in her place, very like our mother, in a honed way. She frowned at me and I wondered if she’d heard me talking aloud. “You should be in bed.”

  “I feel fine, thank you.” Thanks to Ash. And hopeful again, thanks to my mother.

  Ursula was scowling at the debris littered across the desk. “Why did you tear the doll apart again?”

  “Andi was right. There was a message, from Mother. I talked to her, Essla. Just now. She loves us. You need to find your doll.”

  “Okay, sure.” She nodded and gave me a gentle smile. Indulging the crazy girl. Oh, well, she’d find it when she needed to, no doubt.

  “I have a question for you—are you sure my daughter died?”

  She sighed and looked down. “Please don’t do this.”

  “It’s important. How sure are you that was her?”

  “What in Danu are you getting at, Ami? Of course it was her. I’m sorry for it, but your daughter died. I couldn’t do a thing.” She flexed her empty hands, staring at them. Not reaching for her sword hilt for once. Because none of her fighting skills had saved my daughter.

  “You buried her?”

  She nodded, shortly. “With her father. I thought—” Her steely eyes shone with tears. “I thought you’d want them to be together.”

  “And no one else knows—you kept it secret?” I stood and went into the bedroom, trusting that she’d follow, if only to keep an eye on me.

  “I thought it best to keep it quiet. Let the people celebrate the boy’s birth and not mourn what they never knew they lost. Of course, you can always announce her birth and death still if you—what are you doing?”

  I arched my eyebrows at her and finished stripping off my nightclothes. “Getting dressed.” I pulled the first gown I found over my head.

  “You can’t greet your people in that dress,” Ursula snapped, then groaned. “Danu, we’ve traded bodies. I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. If you feel good enough to get up, then you’re up to dealing with the current chaos outside. Which, I might point out, I’ve been handling for you. You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you.” I turned around and made her help with my laces. With an impatient sigh, she did.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what’s going on?”

  “Let me guess. Messages went out to Uorsin and Erich, who have been waiting with full battalions at the ready and are moving into position to claim the baby. You likely feel conflicted because you’re meant to command Uorsin’s troops in his name, but your loyalty to me and your new nephew means you should marshal my troops to defend Windroven. However, this selfsame new nephew also means you lose your bid for the High Throne, so the obvious thing to do is to hand him over to Erich. Did I miss anything?”

  She yanked on the final knot with a grunt. I’d likely have to get one of my ladies to cut the ribbons later, to win free of it. “I liked you better when all you cared about was gowns and dances.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  The annoyed set of her mouth uplifted in one corner. “At least you see what needs doing.”

  “Yes, though my priorities are different. I’m going to check on Ash and then I will see the child buried with Hugh. All else can wait.”

  She looked at me with that cautious sorrow she’d had in her eyes after Hugh died, when I had been out of my mind with grief.

  “Oh, Ami. You mustn’t—”

  “No, Ursula!” My voice lashed out with a strength and confidence I hadn’t realized I’d gained. “You mustn’t. I will see this child. I won’t let you stop me.”

  “Your child,” Ursula insisted. “It won’t hurt less to pretend she isn’t yours.”

  Love for her, working so hard to protect me, filled me to bursting. “I’m not sure what child you found in the cradle and entombed with Hugh, but she isn’t my daughter.”

  “You’re out of your mind.” Ursula looked so devastated that I went to her and hugged her. After a stiff moment, she returned the embrace, so fierce and hard that I gasped.

  “No. I’m not crazy. In fact, I have my head in exactly the right place. My daughter is alive. I don’t even need to see what you buried to be certain.”

  “Then why put us all through such a dreadful thing?” Ursula demanded.

  I smiled at her and went to the door. “To prove it to you.”

  Dafne stayed with the boy—I needed to decide on a name for him and my daughter—while Ursula took me to the room they’d stowed Ash in. It was far from the best levels, and we took the rear stairs to avoid anyone but the servants, who gave me startled bows and congratulations. Windroven bustled with jubilation. Ursula’s instinct—as always—had been correct on that. News of the little princess’s death would have only marred a much-needed celebration of birth and life.

  But she shouldn’t have lied to me. About anything. Before this was out, I would have the truth from her.

  We descended to nearly the servants’ quarters, reached one that sometimes doubled as a jail cell, compl
ete with guards, and I raised my eyebrows at Ursula, who stalked, as stiff legged as a recalcitrant stallion, beside me.

  “What?” she snapped, but sent the guards away. “The man is an escaped convict. He wears the brand, plain as day, even if he removed the brand from his face, however he managed that.”

  “He used a knife blade. Then spread lantern oil on his cheek and set it on fire, to cover the scar.”

  She hissed and slammed a hand on the door, to keep me from opening it. “You knew? And who in Danu is he to you, anyway?”

  “He saved my life.”

  “If I didn’t know that, I’d have packed him off to the nearest prison already.”

  “Just like that? With no trial or test of justice?”

  “He’s already had that or he wouldn’t have been branded.”

  “Are you so certain of that, Sister?” I returned without anger.

  “Seems to me you’re very sure of a number of things it’s clear you’re wrong about. Why not this?”

  She clenched her jaw. “Fine. I won’t say anything. Yet. But you’re not acting like yourself.”

  “On the contrary. This is myself. I’ve only recently found out who that is.”

  She followed me into the room and I decided against trying to lock her out, as restlessly as she fingered her hilt. Spoiling for a fight she could win.

  Ash lay on the narrow bed, thin and pale, the scars standing in stark relief to his sallow skin. I sat beside him, taking his hand in mine. It felt limp and damp, like old lettuce. I chewed my lip, worried. “Where is Marin? I need one of her restorative teas.”

  Ursula didn’t answer right away, and I realized Dafne had never answered that question, either. I looked over my shoulder at my sister and she looked grim.

  “Gone.”

  “Gone? You don’t find that odd?”

  “She went to join one of Glorianna’s cloisters. To atone for what happened.”

  I laughed, the sound bursting out of me, which didn’t help my campaign to make Ursula believe I hadn’t lost my mind. “Did she say that?”

  “No.” Ursula waved an impatient hand. “She left a note.”

  “Convenient. Except that Marin bore no love for Glorianna’s temple—and she can’t write. She told stories because she never had schooling. Probably whoever took my daughter made Marin come along, to care for her.”

  Ursula’s irritation morphed into shock, then something else. I let her mull over the implications and concentrated on Ash, gently patting his cheeks. He didn’t move. I considered tying a piece of yarn around his wrist and yanking it, sure that would bring him instantly awake, so ingrained in him was that duty to protect me. Wherever it came from.

  But I was loath to startle him so. You have the twin gifts of life and love. Use them. I leaned over and brushed my lips over his. Using my body to hide it from Ursula’s view, I slid my hand over his cock and deepened the kiss. She made a sound of protest, but I paid her no mind.

  Under my touch, Ash’s body warmed and he groaned, mouth moving under mine and arms coming around me to pull me close while he kissed me like a drowning man gasping for air. I laughed, pulling away, and he yanked me back, holding me tighter, mouth devouring mine with his typical ferocity.

  Until the tip of Ursula’s blade prodded his neck.

  He let me go, eyes traveling up the length of her sword. “Ah, the fearsome dragon protecting the fair princess.”

  Ursula smiled thinly, without humor. “Unhand my sister or I’ll remove your hands.”

  “Leave him alone, Ursula. He’s weak as a kitten.”

  “Gosh, thanks, but I’m not that bad off,” he said in a dour tone, but his eyes glinted. “It’s good to see you alive, too, Your Highness.”

  Ursula huffed out a breath, clearly incredulous at his attempt to show decorum.

  He ignored her and picked up a long lock of my hair. “You haven’t brushed your hair. What’s wrong?”

  “I need your help, Ash.”

  “I thought I already did that.” His words were teasing, but faded when tears escaped my eyes. He thumbed them away with great gentleness. “You’re crying. I thought you couldn’t.”

  “I can. Now. It means something, I don’t know what. But, Ash—we have to rescue my daughter.”

  He sat up with his preternatural speed, casting about for his clothes and weapons. “Who took her?”

  “I don’t kn—”

  “Nobody took her,” Ursula gritted through her teeth. “Don’t buy into this, convict. The Princess is beset with grief and unable to face reality. We all hate it, but the girl child died. It can’t be good for her to indulge this twisted fantasy.”

  He assessed her with one sweep of his gaze and focused on me. “Did they show you the child’s body?”

  “No,” I answered in relief while Ursula huffed out an exasperated breath. “That’s all I’m asking for the moment. I want to see if it’s her.”

  “Will you know?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m sure of it.”

  “How are you so certain?”

  I slid my eyes over to Ursula’s and held her gaze. “My mother told me.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Ash stood, pulling me up with him.

  “Absolutely not.” Ursula barred our way, her sword still drawn. “Just because you’re both crazy doesn’t mean I am.”

  Ash sized her up. “I could take you. I had you last time.”

  She lifted her lip in a sneer. “In your dreams. Besides, you have no weapon and I’m not in a generous mood.”

  Knowing full well Ash’s hand-to-hand abilities, I stepped between them. “Stop this, Ursula. If I’m crazy with grief, what’s the harm in this? We go to the tombs and see. Either way, the path from there is clear.”

  The steel in her eyes softened, the lines around them deep with sorrow. “Ami, I can’t bear for you to go through that.”

  “Don’t you see? You can’t protect me from this sort of thing. I have to do this.”

  Her shoulders sagged. Another defeat. “Fine. Is there a back way?”

  Of course there was. The castle at Windroven had been built into a defunct volcano ages ago. While part of it had been constructed of shaped and relocated stone, much of it—especially the deeper levels and tunnels—were the natural, labyrinthine passages formed by lava and the nearby ocean tides. During the siege, Andi had dragged me along on her restless “explorations,” since she couldn’t run off and ride for the first time in her life.

  Coincidentally, one of these internal excursions led to my convenient capture, which it was clear she had set up. Born of a desperation I now understood.

  I led them down the route the castle denizens used to reach the cliff walking paths. Not exactly secret, but not frequented by many, either. With Andi heavy in my thoughts—and my mind free to focus on next steps, now that I was getting my way on this—I asked Ash what he’d meant, that he would have been with me sooner.

  “You remember that?” He smiled down at me with the warm affection I’d starved for. “I thought you were out of your head.”

  “She still is,” Ursula muttered behind us.

  “Bits and pieces. You came through the storm—did Andi get my message?”

  He rolled his eyes toward Ursula and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

  “You might as well speak freely in front of her,” I told him. “She finds out everything anyway.”

  Ursula snorted at that but didn’t disagree, just shadowed us. She’d put her sword away, but I knew she remained on full alert.

  “Andi received your message and was preparing to journey here.”

  That made me pause, a giddy happiness swelling in me. “She was?”

  “Yes. She was greatly touched when you asked her to come. Even more excited when we received word that Princess Ursula was also on her way.”

  “How did you know that?” Ursula demanded. “We traveled in secret.”

  Ash glanced over his shoulder at her with a feral smile. “The Tala see
all.”

  “Back to the story,” I interrupted their bickering.

  “She and Rayfe were ready to depart and had invited me to come along, when—”

  “King Rayfe, too?” Ursula mused out loud, and I glared at her.

  “He’d hardly let his queen travel alone,” Ash replied. “Though they argued about it. Both are quite stubborn.”

  “When—” I inserted. Again.

  He laughed, soundlessly, under his breath. “When they received some unsettling news that demanded careful attention. We spent some time investigating, and ultimately, the king and queen decided the situation required them to stay in Annfwn.”

  “The situation,” Ursula repeated.

  “As I said.” Ash had that neutral tone that meant he would say no more on the topic. “She asked me to tell you that she stayed because her being there would do more to protect you and your daughter than her traveling here would.”

  “What in Danu is that supposed to mean!” Ursula snarled out the question, right as we emerged onto the cliffs, dazzled by the sun off the water and buffeted by the salt wind.

  I turned to Ash, studying his face. “She knew this would happen.”

  His face creased with pain, he nodded. “Not this but something similar. She—King Rayfe, too—hoped to prevent this.”

  “So you believe me that my daughter isn’t dead because of that?”

  “No.” He shook his head, side to side, slowly, gaze on mine. “I believe it because I know you.”

  A rush of love filled my heart. Another shade of what I felt kissing my son’s forehead. Full-bodied and connected to something real and vital and meaningful.

  “This way, then.”

  30

  Going single file on the narrow path, I reached for Ash and he took my hand, reminding me of our journey up Odfell’s Pass. It felt so good to touch him again, his large, coarse hand enfolding mine. He hadn’t questioned my need to see the body of the child entombed with Hugh. He might not have wanted what we had together, but he believed in me. And he’d left paradise to come for me.