My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "And Karelle will use you. You thought Avery was bad..."

  "But she's been your Chamberlain for, for decades."

  "Right, cause she's terrifyingly good at her job. In fact, I think in the month or so you have her, there's a good chance the palace will fall to rubble. So, if you return home and it's a big pile of bricks, that'd be why."

  Rosie rolled her eyes, "Dad."

  "Just promise me, kid, that you'll keep safe. You'll keep your brother and sister safe on this."

  "I already have, and I will," she swore. "But you promise me something." At that her father tipped his head in confusion. "You have to tell me things. Matters that you share privately with the other Banns and Arls which I deserve to know about."

  Alistair wrapped his hands around her and tugged her into a hug. After patting her back a few times as if he could tap out his worry he sighed, "Okay, I will. Now, I don't know about you, but I am blighted exhausted. Just sitting around watching someone else kill darkspawn is strenuous. I need to get to sleep, especially if I'll be leaving in the morning."

  Rosie winced at that, "You can remain for a little while. Catch up..."

  "No, nah it's your show now, kid. Besides, I think I mighta left a hearth going and probably should head back home before I burn all of Denerim down." It was so silly, the way his face sloped and he jerked a thumb towards the east, Rosie giggled. After getting one last joke out of the way, her dad moved towards the door. She stared out across the horizon, her mind too invigorated to consider sleep.

  "Oh, and one more thing, Rosie. Be careful with that assassin you already got wandering around." She turned to find her father halfway in the door, his head turned down. With a shrug, he said, "Make certain she doesn't stab you in the heart," then vanished inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Sketching

  It wasn't easy to transfer the power with her father hanging around, giving last goodbyes and hugs, but Karelle managed to make it less jagged at least. Alistair gave her one last out, but Rosie was dead set on her path. She expected Cailan or Myra to return with their father, but both declined. Their brother because he suspected things were far more likely to get interesting on the road. Myra didn't give a reason, just shrugged her shoulders and scampered off. For a beat Alistair met the eye of his eldest and both sighed.

  Whatever Myra was hiding it couldn't be that bad. Probably.

  Once the King and his smaller company headed home, waving to everyone in their wake, it became Rosamund's job to lead the group. She thought she had a good grasp on things, drifting in and out of the various clumps of advisors and clerics all making notes and forming opinions for the crown, but while standing outside a doorway she overheard a few in conference.

  "This is pointless. We're acting on a farce. You know her father will just swoop in and do whatever he wants."

  "We're under orders."

  "To serve him, not her. Besides, seems like anyone who gets too close to her winds up on a pyre."

  Rosie was about to run inside and shout them deaf, when Karelle suddenly snagged onto her arm. The woman was incredibly tall, perhaps as tall and imposing as Squire Gavin. She tipped her head down to her majesty, then whispered, "Let me handle it."

  Stomping into the room as if skulls she wished to crush littered the path, Karelle's booming voice ordered, "Get to work. If I catch you slacking like this, you'll answer to our Highness."

  "Which one?"

  Wrong choice. Karelle spun and glared, "The one with a sword, and who doesn't brook foolishness."

  At that Rosie stepped in primly. Dressed in ivory linen she appeared like a freshly scrubbed angel come to rescue the poor clerks. "Chamberlain," she greeted Karelle, "is there a problem?"

  "I don't know," Karelle turned to both with her teeth out, "is there?"

  "No!" they shrieked at the same time, scattering away to their books.

  Rosie nodded her thanks, but the Chamberlain already turned back to her work inside a great red book she carried everywhere. About to leave, Karelle suddenly whispered, "I used to do that for your Daddy a few times. Once he ran in to try and play the good guy with his hands and face smeared in cherry juice. Never seen a pile of clerics run so fast in my life."

  With a real itinerary which Karelle had operating at such efficiency you could barely see the cogs and gears moving, Rosie was whisked from one meeting to another. It worked out much nicer than Highever as well, what with Arl Teagan presiding and even Cousin Henry sitting near to Rosie. He was sweet enough to help her with any necessary materials, or even lean down to whisper who was who in a meeting. They whipped past so fast, she had no chance of remembering the quick greetings and was grateful.

  For a few of the dinners, Cailan was forced to sit up at the head table, and amazingly Myra even made it up for one. Didn't last long, the girl all but unhinging her jaw to inhale the food. It was an aspect she must have received from their father, who was often cramming things in before rushing to his next problem. But Teagan enjoyed having her around -- he was probably the only noble to not treat her as a bastard, which made Myra behave around him.

  Hopefully whatever she was up to, she'd wait from unleashing it at Redcliffe.

  You should talk to her about her magic.

  Rosie put down the quill which -- instead of forming diplomatic words or harsh sentences -- was tracing the silhouette of a nose. It kept escaping her, the round perspective slipping from her mental grasp. Their father put the issue of Myra's magic on Rosie's shoulders. The half sister blew up during one of Rosie's parties, a birthday party come to think of it, sending fire streaking across the lawn. Everyone knew after that, but none would come out and say for fear of how their King would react.

  Everything about Myra made her an outsider. Her status, her speech, her clothes, even her gait which often included her leaping onto furniture or climbing out of windows. It would be so much easier if she just tried to blend in a bit better. Live up to her expectations a bit.

  Because that's working out so well for you, Rossie.

  She picked up the quill and thumbed the feather through her fingers, savoring the feel of soft tufts caressing her skin. It reminded her of something, but she couldn't ascertain what. Something nice, that was a given. While lost in the gentle swish of a feather, she stared at the eyes. She'd inked them in first, the only part of the drawing she knew she got right. Even without the mouth finished, they crinkled at the edges in an impish smile.

  But that wasn't quite enough.

  Glancing over at her mug of tea, Rosie dipped the end of her pinkie into the black brew and dropped two tea stains onto the vellum. Brown swirled right over her ink lines, umber irises seeming to melt in affection. Twisting the feather around, Rosie gently thrummed it against the back of her hand. Yes, that felt more right, like lips skirting over her skin.

  A noise clattered from outside the quiet kitchen. The quill scattered from her fingers raining drops of ink upon the table she sat at to steal a quick bite while working. With wide eyes, Rosie scooped up all her paperwork and then plopped it on top of her drawing. In doing so, the tea dripped down from the eyes, staining the vellum with brown tears.

  There was no time for regrets as Rosie glanced around, her heart beating erratically at the fear of anyone finding out. But whoever made the noise paused further outside the door. She was about to resume her work, real work, when a voice called.

  "Shhh...you're gonna give it all away."

  That was Myra. Was her sister about to do something sneaky to the food? Poisoning wasn't her style, but switching the salt for sugar could be. Maybe altering a leavening agent for laughs. Rosie collapsed her work tight to her chest and glanced around. The kitchen's hearth was slumbering but never allowed to go out. Enough light kicked up from the embers that Myra would spot her in an instant if she tried to say hide in the back or under a table. But the pantry door...

  Another one of her sister's giggles kicked out from the door, followed by more requests for someone else t
o remain as quiet as they had. Shifting fast, Rosie yanked open the pantry door and slid inside. It was a tight fit, her backside bumping into a knot of onions strung up to dry, but she was able to close the door. Holding her breath, Rosie listened as it was obvious Myra and some other mysterious stranger stepped into the room.

  "See," her sister said, clearly walking around the apparently abandoned kitchen, "told you no one would be here."

  "I didn't doubt you for a second." The voice was male. Funny, she thought it'd be that elf friend Myra was always around. It was also familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Not Cailan, not with that gravitas.

  "That's smart, because the things I know..." Myra's sentence faded as a new sound erupted from the kitchen. With Rosie's acoustics being muddled by drying vegetables, it sounded a bit like soup being slopped through a sieve into a bowl. That couldn't be right. There was no soup left out. Rosie had to make do with a bit of bread she sawed off from scraps.

  The sounds ended and Myra whispered, "Your ears are fun to play with. That was probably weird to say."

  A man's laugh followed, "A little, but it's cute coming from you."

  Oh Maker.

  Her entire stomach turned beet red as Rosie's brain filled in what those soup sounds were. Myra snuck down to the kitchens to...with a boy. Blessed Andraste, it was a good thing their father went home. And she was trapped in the same room doing her best to pretend she wasn't here. Great.

  What was her hope? She could make a loud noise, pretend she was in the pantry looking for a bulb of garlic in the middle of the night. Never know when an undead creature might come through the window, best to be prepared.

  Stupid, Rosie. Um, maybe run out so fast they don't see you?

  This is Myra, she'd track her down before Rosamund even got back to her room. Okay, so, what about...? In shifting to come up with a plan, Rosie smacked into a shelf.

  The noise wasn't much, maybe on the level of a sneeze in the next room, but Myra suddenly said, "Did you hear that?"

  Crap. She knew. She'd find her. Struggling for a semblance of dignity, Rosie decided to be the one to reveal herself. As the door opened, she walked in on Myra with one hand wrapped around the waist of... Oh dear. Rosie put on a smile, lifting up her chin at the sight of her sister's eyes slightly bugging out of her skull. It was rare to get the drop on her.

  "Evening," Rosie greeted them.

  "Yo...your Majesty," Gavin sputtered out, his head bowing so low he nearly whacked his nose on the table they'd been about to... Best to not think about.

  "What in the Maker's taint are you doing down here?" Myra sputtered, jabbing a finger at her pantry-hiding sister.

  "I was about to ask you the same."

  Myra didn't stammer, she knew when she was caught red handed. Glancing over at poor Gavin who seemed to be trying to melt into the ground, she spat out, "What's it look like?"

  "How long has this been occurring?"

  "A bit," Myra gave out the barest of information, her lips buttoned tight. Great, she was always so delightful in that mood.

  Turning away from the sister she could never corral, Rosie focused on Gavin. "Squire," his head whipped up, shame and terror obvious in his eyes. "Could you give me a few moments with my sister? Alone?"

  "Yes, my Lady," he bowed again, and began to scamper away as if the mere whisper of royalty could bend a tree in half. It was Myra who kept a hand on him, Gavin struggling to get away, while she clung tighter. While he could have easily overpowered her, he froze at the end of her reach and stared with the most pathetic puppy eyes.

  "Why?" Myra aimed at Rosie.

  "To talk, please," Rosie gestured to the table. At Myra's continued glare, she sighed and plopped onto the chair, her back turned to them.

  Behind she could hear the couple quickly whispering in a panic at each other, Gavin wishing to obey and Myra wanting to rebel. Then a surprising thing happened. At his "Please," her sister let him go. Though it sounded as if she gave him a quick kiss before allowing it. On the way out, Gavin shut the door softly, no doubt with orders to remain close.

  "All right, you want to talk, so talk..." Myra paced annoyingly behind, one of many techniques she used to keep a person off balance.

  "Please sit," Rosie waved towards the seat and her sister's face turned sour.

  "Is that a command, your Majesty?"

  "No, I just thought you might want to."

  "Fine," Myra plopped hard into the chair, her arms folded as she kept tipping the thing backwards a bit courtesy of her long legs. After letting it crash back to the ground a few times, she shot over at Rosie and hissed, "Are ya gonna tell, Dad?"

  "No."

  At that response Myra paused in her sulking and sat up higher. "What? Really?"

  "Though if Karelle finds out..."

  "Yeah, like I don't know she's the worst blabbermouth of them all."

  "My," Rosie turned to her younger sister who sometimes acted so sarcastically adult she seemed to be forty, but could look so much younger than her seventeen years. "Are you being safe with him?"

  "Safe?" she puckered up her nose in confusion, looking far too much like their father, before she sputtered out, "What? Ew! Why are you asking that? That's...you don't need to ask that. Or wonder, or think that. Just, ew!"

  "It's a good question," Rosie reached over to try and pat her sister's hand and Myra actually let her. She didn't respond beyond laying there like a dead fish, but she didn't shake it off either. "Sometimes boys can be a bit..."

  Myra snorted a bit, "What do you know about boys?"

  The words were cruel, but her tone was nothing but curiosity, as if she couldn't fathom the idea that Rosamund would understand the intricacies of courting or even simple...sex. Her stomach flipped at the idea, Rosie turning to stare fully at the fire. She should burn that image lest anyone catch her with it.

  "Gavin's not..." Myra continued to talk, dragging Rosie from her panic. If her sister thought at all about her implications, she didn't seem to care. Blowing air out of her lips fast, she planted her face into the tabletop. Words mumbled against the wood, but Rosie couldn't make them out.

  "What was that?"

  "I said we ain't done nothing," she turned what looked like weary eyes upon Rosie. "Nothing to worry about 'being safe' anyway. Stupid sounding anyway. 'Be safe.' Not like you can choke to death on a... Wait, can you choke to death on one?"

  Rosie pinched into her eyes, really not wanting to weigh that with her sister. "I was only concerned, with you sneaking around in the middle of the night."

  "He's stuck working weird shifts, I can sleep whenever I feel like. And we don't want our parents to know. No, we really don't want dad to know. Cause you know how he gets."

  Myra was the true baby in the family, not that their father didn't baby them all. Somehow Cailan escaped his smothering embrace and worrying hands about a bed partner perhaps due as much with his not caring about their father's reaction as being a boy. While Rosie was 'blessed' to not have to deal with the issue of informing their father about any romantic intentions, Myra seemed to have to be the first to leap right into it.

  "Well," Rosie reached over to wrap a hand around Myra's shoulders, "I'll stick up for you."

  "What? Really? Why?"

  "You're seventeen. You're more than old enough for a bit of snogging."

  Her sister's eyes popped open wide and her mouth dropped. "I had no idea you even knew that word."

  "I'm not that uptight, no matter what the servants may whisper in halls."

  "Duh, unless uptight people are known for ripping the heads off dummies."

  "It wasn't the head," Rosie rolled her eyes, "I stabbed it in the heart. And then my sword got stuck."

  Myra's shoulders began to shake from the silent laugh. "Sorry, sorry, but...that's kinda funny. Kinda really funny."

  "It is. And a story I imagine they'll be telling in Highever for years to come."

  "Don't piss off the princess or she'll stab you right in the hear
t so bad they won't even be able to yank the sword free!" Myra sat up, her palms banging a beat into the table, "That's got a good ring to it really. One o' them like long tales to your name."

  "Beware her brother, as he'll most likely bed your wife and her sister too."

  At that Myra rolled her eyes towards Rosie, "I heard him with someone on the way down here. He ain't even kinda quiet."

  "Why do you think no one will room with Cailan?"

  "I used to assume it was his smelly farts when I was younger. Which is real stupid as...you'd think I'd catch on or something, given all that I..."

  "Myra," she nudged her shoulder into her sisters, "are you happy?"

  "What? With Cailan? He's okay I guess, but...oh, you meant, uh," she ran her hands through her mess of blonde hair, the locks freed of their usual braided trap. "Yeah," a streak of red dashed across her cheeks, "yeah, I'm really happy with him. He's... Maker he is soo nice. Like..."

  Myra spun in place, her eyes shining bright, "So, cousin Henry, he gives me this little paper kite to mess with. A lot of the castle had one to kill time and I stupidly get it caught in a tree. Coulda gotten it myself but we had other boring shit to sit and listen to. Come back to my room to find my blue and gold dragon kite sitting on my pillow." The smile stretched wide as she thought of the cute boy rescuing her paper dragon. "Didn't even have to ask, he just...just did it."

  "You like him, you like him a lot," Rosie snickered, enjoying this side of her sister.

  "Shut up," Myra spat out, before smiling with that same brain melting look people falling in deep always had. "Maybe, maybe I do. Like him. But...don't tell him, okay. It'd, I dunno what he'd do."

  She'd seen her fair share of courting displays over the years, the male side of the equation often feigning indifference to the point it nearly drove the female part mad. But something told Rosie that the young Gavin wasn't like that. He didn't seem the type who felt he needed to prove his masculinity; it simply was.

  Rather than say that to her sister, she smiled, "I won't. But, you know father will eventually..."