Blood Rose Rebellion

by Rosalyn Eves

  I swept a despairing glance around the ruined room before turning away, retreating through the accumulated detritus of William’s life and out to the street beyond.

  Grandmama was awake. Despite the pallor of her face, her voice was firm when I climbed into the wagon. “Noémi told me what has happened—that Lady Berri is dead, that Mátyás and your friends are imprisoned.”

  “There is something else.” I told her what I had surmised of my ring, of the role I had played in this devastation.

  “We need Pál,” Grandmama said. “He can open a conduit to Vienna. I have friends there who might help us.”

  “I thought he was a Coremancer,” I said. Only Lucifera could open conduits.

  “He is many things,” Grandmama said. “As he gained power in the Circle, they granted him greater magic.”

  “Will he help us?” I asked. “He works for the Circle.” I thought of his chilling expression when he spelled the Romanies—and then of his flickering contempt as he looked at Herr Steinberg. I shivered. Which of those faces was his true face? Was he the obedient puppet of the Circle—or something more?

  “I hope so. I believe there is a part of him that remembers being my son.”

  I was not so sanguine. But what other choices did we have?

  “Will your friends be able to help in time?” Noémi asked. “The executions begin tomorrow.”

  Grandmama’s shoulders sagged. “I do not know. We can only try.”

  It was not yet the hour for fashionable visits when we arrived at the modest house where the Circle kept Pál. Ginny waited outside in the traveling carriage Grandmama demanded we hire, after finding the wagon less than satisfactory. Grandmama had also insisted on sending Ginny back to the house to bring us all a change of clothing, for which I was out of measure grateful.

  A crow circled overhead as we climbed the stairs to the front door. I chose to see it as a good omen.

  Grandmama spelled me before we entered—a Misdirection spell that turned away the eyes of those who looked toward me. Anyone determined to see me would do so, but we hoped the subterfuge would suffice. I could only pray the Circle was busy pursuing me elsewhere, not believing me capable of overt confrontation.

  A butler led us up a narrow flight of stairs to a simply furnished salon. The drapes were drawn tightly, giving the room a dank and dusty air. A small fire burned in the grate, casting flickering lights over my uncle and Herr Steinberg, seated in the center of the room as if they were holding a royal audience. Two footmen stood at attention by the door, though I suspected they were not servants but Luminate guards.

  Their careful arrangement raised the hairs on my arms. They had been expecting us.

  After a few pleasantries, Grandmama spoke directly to Pál. “We need your help. We believe that my cousin’s grandnephew was wrongfully apprehended. I wish you to open a conduit for me to speak with Prince Pál Anton Eszterházy, or his son, Prince Miklós.”

  Herr Steinberg raised an eyebrow. “Wrongfully? We have evidence of treason against him and the others who were apprehended.”

  “But why execute them so summarily? Why not give them a trial?”

  “The Hapsburgs wish to send a firm message. Unlike the Bourbons, they have no wish to deal with recurrent rebellions. The crown has every right to execute known traitors.”

  I was not supposed to betray my presence, so I swallowed my retort: You mean the Circle wishes to send a firm message. The Circle ruled the Hapsburgs, not the other way around. I might not agree with the means William and Petőfi had chosen, but I still believed their aim was right: to free Hungary from Hapsburg law and Circle control.

  “But what appears to be treason in one man may be patriotism when seen through another perspective,” Noémi said. “They only acted as they did for love of their country.”

  “I’ve no doubt. But I will not stop the progress of the law. It should give you some comfort to know that your cousin and the others will be seen as martyrs for their cause. You Magyar love a good martyrdom.”

  “We would rather they lived than died martyrs!” Noémi’s cheeks brightened with anger.

  Herr Steinberg removed his spectacles and polished them with a handkerchief. “I am sorry, my dear. But there is nothing I can do. And your pleas to your cousins will be equally fruitless. They will not help you. The Circle will not tolerate any Luminate interference.”

  My heart plummeted. Was this it? Was there nothing more to do but hope Petőfi could manufacture an army? I refused to believe it. I would storm the prison myself before I would give up on Gábor or Mátyás. The Circle would have to bury us together.

  He looked directly at me. “You may drop the façade, if you please. I know Miss Arden is with you.”

  I returned his gaze. “Did you spell my ring so you could hear my conversations?”

  “Most illuminating they were too. Thanks to you, we have quelled a rebellion and rid the world of a dangerous heretic.”

  Lady Berri deserved more. “At least she had some standards. Eavesdropping on the private conversations of a girl? Surely that was beneath even you.”

  His eyes flashed cold. “You insult me. I serve only my Circle and the Binding. There was nothing prurient in my intent.”

  “Very likely,” I said. “What happens now?”

  “You will be tried before the Circle. If you are lucky, they will look kindly upon your assistance in the matter of the revolution—and they will let you live, under close supervision. If not, you will hang with your cousin.”

  I jerked in surprise.

  “Thank you for bringing her to me,” Herr Steinberg said to Grandmama and Noémi. “Your cooperation will be noted. Guards—”

  He never finished his sentence.

  Pál muttered something and stood, flinging his hands out, his fingers curled.

  The salon seemed to explode, a wall of foggy air sweeping through it with hurricane force. Wind tore at my hair and the hem of my dress. An enormous vase shot across the room, smashing into the far wall with a tremendous clatter. Grandmama. I could only just see her beyond the whirl of mist and broken crockery, crouched low to the ground. I tried to cross to her, but the wind was too strong.

  I clasped my arms protectively over my head. Shards of glass and porcelain sailed past me, slicing across my exposed knuckles. I prayed Grandmama and Noémi were all right.

  The wind began by degrees to calm. When it was just a sluggish breeze, I put my arms down and looked around the room. Only four of us were mobile: myself, Grandmama, Noémi, and Pál. I rushed to Grandmama to help her rise.

  Herr Steinberg and the two guards were flat against the floor, unmoving. One of the guards bled from a rather nasty cut in his head. Noémi started toward him.

  “Leave him,” Pál said. “Someone will find him soon enough. But we must go. The Circle will come hunting as soon as they discover I am missing.”

  “You will have a price on your own head now, fiam,” Grandmama said.

  Pál bared his teeth. “Then let there be a price. I am tired of being a kept magician.”

  The carriage rattled through the city streets of Pest and then bumped along the rougher dirt roads leading toward the village of Szentendre. We had escaped Herr Steinberg’s house with the aid of Grandmama’s Invisibility spell, which she used to hide Pál. To anyone watching, we would have appeared simply as three ladies leaving a morning call.

  Grandmama had been the one to decide on Szentendre. We knew we could not return home, or anywhere the Circle might think to look for us.

  As the miles rolled past, we discussed our options.

  “We cannot simply let Mátyás and the others die,” Noémi said.

  “Petőfi told me he will try to help,” I said.

  “The poet?” Noémi looked incredulous. “How can he hope to succeed where Will—where so many others did not?”

  Pál’s pale eyes rested on me, unblinking. “He will need Luminate aid.”

  “Why are you helping us?” Noémi
asked. “We may be family, but you scarcely know us.”

  Beside Pál, Grandmama stiffened. “It’s true. Pál has much to forgive me for.”

  I wanted to wrap my arms around her, but wedged as I was between Ginny and Noémi on the opposite seat, I could not reach her.

  “What’s past is past,” Pál said. “The Circle taught me much about my powers I could never have learned at home—but I do not owe them anything. They saw me only as a weapon, best kept close and shut away when not in use. They forgot that no caged thing loves its captor. You wish to bring down the Circle. So do I.” He turned to face Grandmama. “You taught me, as a boy, to love my country. If you mean to free Hungary from the Circle, I will help.”

  Grandmama laid her hand on his, her eyes bright. Her son, lost for so many years, had come home. I wanted to ask Pál if we could trust him, but I did not know how to ask that without wounding Grandmama. Instead, I prayed he would deserve her trust.

  Something Pál had said earlier about Luminate aid nagged at me. “But even if you and Noémi help Petőfi—that’s hardly enough against the Circle,” I said.

  “I meant you, Anna.”

  “You know I cannot cast spells. And I cannot predict or control which ones I break.”

  “You are far more than that.”

  His words stirred a memory. The morning after he attacked me in my rooms, he had said, I know what you are. Not I know who you are—but what you are.

  “And what am I?” I held my breath, not sure I wanted the answer.

  “You are chimera. Two souls in one body.”

  Silence exploded in the carriage.

  Perfectly composed, Pál continued to watch me. Ginny edged away from me, as though my dual-souledness were catching. Noémi looked out the window, as if Pál’s words exposed a secret shame and she wished to give me privacy. Grandmama’s hand fluttered up, like she might reach for me, then fell back to her lap.

  Chimera.

  Like Pandora, who had broken the world.

  I shuddered, unease prickling my skin. Two souls. I had always thought of myself as Anna: impassioned, restless, stubborn, sometimes contradictory—yes, all those—but still Anna. Still one entity, at heart, one soul that would eventually die and, perhaps, stand before her God. But two? Two souls made me monstrous, inhuman. The doubled reflection I had seen all my life began to make sense, though the sense was hardly comforting.

  Pál continued, oblivious to my distress. “A Luminate spell works as the caster draws the magic into his soul before pushing it into his charm with his will. But as you have two souls, when you draw magic into your souls, they repel one another, much as magnets pushed same side together. A spell with such instability at its heart cannot hold. Thus, you cannot cast spells, and the Circle believed you Barren.”

  “How, then, do I break spells?” I could scarcely choke the words out.

  “When you were Confirmed, you were connected to the Binding, and that connection creates an innate longing for magic. Oh yes,” he said, seeing my surprise, “your Confirmation did take. That’s why you can reach the magic to break spells. But you cannot wield magic; thus your souls constantly thirst after it. When you are strongly moved, you instinctively grasp for the nearest magic. If a spell is being cast, you pull the magic from that spell into you—and of course the spell cannot hold, and it shatters.”

  A series of shocks burst through my body. This. This is how I destroyed Catherine’s spells. Why I had nearly killed Gábor’s niece. How I broke the spell at Sárvár. And how I might break the Binding. This is why the Circle feared me, why Lady Berri had sought me out.

  “Why did no one tell me?”

  “No one else could have known. No one sees as I do. And there has not been a Luminate chimera for centuries.”

  A second question, quieter. “Why did you not tell the Circle?”

  Pál smiled, but it was a smile like Hunger wore, as though he were not entirely certain how humans ought to smile. “Why should I tell them? I owe them nothing. Besides, I rather think I should like to see what a broken Binding unleashes.”

  I turned away, trying not to see my faint doubled reflection in the glass as I watched the houses and fields flashing past. All I could think of was my extra soul, like an invisible twin trapped in my body. My skin crawled. I scratched at the flesh exposed above my glove. Had I been alone, I would have torn my clothes off and scraped at my entire body. The hand rubbing at my skin felt like that of a stranger.

  All my life I believed being Barren was the worst curse one could wish on a Luminate.

  But I was wrong. There was something worse.

  Chimera.

  I do not know what the others discussed to fill those long miles while I wrestled in my heart and soul—souls—to understand Pál’s revelation. When we stopped at length at a small csárda in Szentendre, I went straight to the room I was to share with Noémi and lay down upon the straw mattress. I wanted to weep, to wash away the strangeness of it all, but my eyes were dry and my heart cold.

  Ginny brought me a bit of bread and meat, which I did not touch. Instead, I watched the shadows creep across the floor, and when darkness filled the room, Noémi came in and lay down beside me.

  “Anna.”

  I said nothing.

  She propped herself up on one elbow so she could look at me. “Anna. It’s all right. There is nothing wrong with you.”

  Except for my extra soul. Could one be twice damned with two souls? I didn’t move.

  “Anna.” Noémi tried again. “I’m sorry.”

  This time I did look at her, rolling onto my back to stare up at her. I had never heard Noémi apologize before. “For what?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I’ve been so prickly.” Noémi let her breath out in a sigh. “The truth is—you are the closest thing I have to a sister. And I don’t want whatever has happened to fester between us. I need you. And I think you might need me too.”

  Something broke in me. The tears I’d wanted earlier came gushing, spilling down my cheeks. I sat up, and Noémi held me while I cried and she cried with me, and then, as suddenly as the tears had come, they ceased, and we both began to laugh helplessly. Anyone hearing us might have supposed us mad. But if I were to label the feeling in that small room, I would call it relief.

  Whatever happened next, we would not have to endure it alone.

  While Noémi snored softly beside me, my mind whirred. Petőfi might be able to rouse a few hundred or even thousand to fight, but without Luminates it would not be enough. Tomorrow, the executions would begin. A thick dread clutched at my heart and stomach.

  I thought of the Binding. I could break it—I could do as Lady Berri had wished, as Papa wished. And what would I unleash on the world? I remembered the imps in the tower, the snarled sisters in the wood. But if I did not act, could I let the others die? We needed an army, and I could think of only one way to raise it: barter with Hunger, an army of creatures in exchange for their freedom.

  In the darkness of my room, I stared down the smallness of my soul—my souls. There was no courage, no hope, only a wretched sense of self-preservation. I wanted to curl up in my bed, pull the covers over my head, and wake to a restored world. I wanted to be safe and comfortable. I did not want to decide anyone’s life or death. I told myself it would not be my action that killed them—but I could not hide from the succeeding thought: if my friends die through my inaction, I am still at fault.

  I let myself scream into my pillow, once, twice, at the injustice of it all. This was not supposed to be my life. My story was not supposed to end this way, with a deadly, impossible choice. I was supposed to find my way back to society, to sweep triumphantly in on the wings of revolution to some greatness.

  Not fail miserably in the quiet of a rented room.

  Tears stung at my eyes, but I blinked them away. Words floated back to me, my conversation with Hunger the second time I’d tried to break the Binding: If I set you free, is this what I unleash o
n the world?

  Who can say, when you give a creature freedom, what he or she will choose? What will your world look like when you give all individuals the same rights? Can you say with certainty each person will use that power for good?

  His words echoed in my heart.

  I brooded over the terrible creatures in the Binding, the blood and destruction I’d seen and heard in the walled city. But I remembered also the warming gentleness of the Lady who’d visited my dreams, and I contrasted her with the terrifying chill I’d felt when Pál’s spell silenced the Romanies.

  Who can say, when you give a creature freedom, what he or she will choose?

  The creatures were capable of terrible things. But so were humans. And perhaps captivity had warped the creatures into something they were not meant to be.

  Who was I to make this decision for anyone—for anything? Was I not also something monstrous? A chimera who could break the world, if Pál was right.

  I had never questioned that women and men of all classes ought to have the right to determine their own lives. Yet I had thought I could make that decision for creatures much older and more powerful than myself.

  The awful sense of my own hubris struck me as a physical pain, radiating through my stomach and into my heart. The problem of the Binding was much bigger than Hungary’s independence from Austria, much larger than the Circle’s control of magic. I curled up, wrapping my arms around my knees, and tried not to wake Noémi.

  All through that long night, I considered what I ought to do. When hunger pangs struck me about midnight, I devoured the bread and meat Ginny had left on the bedside table. Then I began pacing the room, measuring my thoughts with agitated steps.

  The Circle-run Binding was a flawed system, maintaining the Luminate in power, perpetuating injustice, allowing Austria to dominate a country I had come to love. I knew it. Papa knew it. Others would come to see it too.

  I could not ignore the external factors—the threats to me and to those I loved. But stripped of those externals, the question was a simple one: should every individual (man, woman, creature) be free to decide their own course?