Her heart lurched with sympathy and kindness. Didn’t he know? He never gave up hope in his search because if he did, he wouldn’t continue to hunt for it. “What will you do?” she asked anxiously. “You have to find the rose.”
“I will keep looking. I’ll return to the farmhouse and –”
She straightened. “Then I am not returning to the castle. I will help you. I want to help you.”
He looked at her again for a long moment. “You’re exhausted.”
“If you will not stop, then I will not either.”
He grinned softly. “Come. Ride with me.”
Before she could protest, he had reached across and scooped her into arms, moving her onto his steed. He settled her before him, his strong arms moving around her, holding her.
Ella opened her mouth to protest, but his warmth and strength and comfort seeped into her fatigued body. She closed her mouth and put her head against his chest with a gentle sigh. This was a man she could fall in love with.
It was still dark when they entered the town. The chapel called to Ella in the darkness, the bright round moon glistening behind the tower. She suddenly had a strong urge to go to Edwin, to see his grave, to talk to him. The horses came to a halt outside the small graveyard and Ella slid from the horse. She signaled Graden to follow with a wave of her hand.
Graden dismounted and walked to her. “Is this where you’d like me to leave you?”
“No! No.” She grabbed his hand, partly to prevent his leaving, partly to feel his calming touch. “Please. Come with me. I just want to speak to my brother.”
Graden scowled as she led the way toward the graveyard.
She stopped at Edwin’s tombstone, staring down at it in the bright moonlight. She felt as though she had failed Edwin. She had apologized so much to him but had never forgiven herself. That was not what she wanted to say to him. She had failed him because here she stood, holding the hand of his murderer.
She saw a weed at the base of the rock and fell to her knees, grabbing it. She yanked it from the ground and tossed it aside. She stared at his name carved into the stone. It was all she had left of him. She ran her fingers over the letters. She wanted him to know how much she loved him. How sorry she was for not being stronger. And maybe, maybe, she wanted to ask him for her life back. She wanted to love and laugh again.
“Ella,” Graden whispered. “Would you like a moment alone?”
She reached for him. He went down on one knee beside her. “What would you say to him?”
“To your brother?”
She nodded. When the silence stretched, she added in a husky voice, “I don’t know what to say to him anymore.”
Graden’s hand tightened around hers. “I would tell him that he has the most wondrous sister.”
Ella’s chest tightened, and she blinked back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes.
“I would tell him how she keeps his memory alive by planting these roses beside him. I would tell him…how beautiful she is. And how much I will miss having her by my side when I am gone. I would tell him…that I love talking to her about roses. I love to see her excitement and passion –”
A sob escaped her lips and she turned to look at Graden. She swiped tears from her eyes so she could see him clearly. His gaze focused on her, not the tombstone, causing her to tremble. He was so handsome. She could not ask for a more honorable man. “How can I tell him that I love the man who killed him?”
Graden’s eyes widened in surprise. “What of your deal with the witch?”
“I never made a deal with her. I don’t have to. You are the remedy she offered me.” She moved up to him on her knees.
He touched her cheek gently, whispering, “Ella.”
“How can I tell Edwin that I don’t ever want you to leave me? Not even to search for your blue rose?”
“Tell him you are more rare and beautiful than that blue rose. Tell him I would gladly marry you, I would gladly love you forever, but I cannot abandon my oath. It is my word. Tell him –”
Her breath caught in her throat. Marry him? Marry Graden? “You would marry me?”
His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her against him, bending his head to press his lips to hers. It was a desperate, claiming kiss that seared through her body to her very soul. She put her arms around him, holding his lips to hers, never wanting the kiss to end.
Graden pulled back but held her tightly. “Tell him. Tell him how much you mean to me. Tell him I don’t know how or when, but I fell in love with you.”
Ella’s heart pounded, beating with joy and excitement. “I will go with you. I will search for your rose with you. Because I don’t want to spend a day without you.”
Graden shook his head. “No, Ella… I can’t ask that of you.”
She lifted her lips to his, whispering, “I love you, Graden.” When he didn’t kiss her, she opened her eyes.
His mouth hung open in surprise and awe, his eyes gazing in shock at Edwin’s tombstone. She followed his gaze. For a moment, she saw nothing, only one bloom of a white rose. She straightened to Graden’s height, ready to admit she saw nothing. But then, hidden behind the tombstone, she saw it. In the darkness behind the stone, she saw a rose unlike any she had ever seen. It was deep blue, deeper than any sea she could have imagined. She gasped.
Graden was already crawling toward it. He reached for it, carefully pulling the stem into the moonlight.
Until it emerged into the light, Ella didn’t really believe. She had already been tricked once. But she wanted to believe. She wanted to believe the blue rose existed. That her mother had been right. And that it’s magic and radiance and wonder could reach her.
Graden turned his hand over, the rose shimmering in the rays of the moon.
It was blue. Deep, glorious blue!
“The blue rose,” Graden gasped. He stared for a moment and then laughed out loud, shocked, amazed, victorious.
Ella looked down at Edwin’s tombstone. “He approves,” she whispered. Her gaze swiveled to Graden with realization. “Edwin approves!”
He grabbed Ella into his arms, squeezing her. “All this time! All the searching! And it was right here, with you! My search is over, and my life can finally begin! With you!”
Chapter Eight
Graden and Ella made it to the witch’s shack by sunrise. Everything was still and quiet. Graden recalled the first time he had been here. It had been storming. He had been soaked through to his skin. The shadows had been long and frightening from the flashes of lightning. But now, it was different. So different. There was no wind, no chirps of birds. Nothing.
He glanced back at Ella as she dismounted her mare. She had insisted on coming with him. She said she wasn’t afraid. But ever since the last time she had been here, something was different in her. She was more caring. Open. Understanding. This was the woman he had fallen in love with.
Together, they moved toward the shack and Graden called out, “Good morn!” so as not to catch the witch off guard. Who knew what she was capable of. He didn’t wait in the doorway as he had the first time. He moved into the shack.
It was dark inside, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He scanned the small room. There was no fire lit in the hearth which made it difficult to see. The rising sun cast a dim red glow that grew with each moment, its rays spreading over the room from the open doorway.
He saw a shadow sitting beside the table. “Good morn,” he said in a softer tone.
The shadow did not move, and he wondered if she had heard him. “Are you ill?”
“No.” Her voice was soft.
For a moment, Graden wasn’t certain he had heard her.
Suddenly, Ella moved past him toward the witch.
Graden’s heart lurched. He reached out to stop her, but his fingers grabbed air. “Ella!”
She knelt at the woman’s side. “What happened? Are you alright?”
The woman did not look at her. Long golden locks fell forward, obscurin
g her features.
Prickles danced along the nape of Graden’s neck. The witch had not asked about the rose. Had she gotten one already? It didn’t matter. He fulfilled his part of the deal.
Ella’s fingers closed over the witch’s hands. She brushed some of the hair from the woman’s cheek.
“I’ve brought it,” Graden said.
The witch looked at him with those white eyes that seemed to glow red in the rising sun. The room slowly took shape as the light spread over the world.
“I have the blue rose.” He opened a sack at his waist and carefully removed the rose. He stared down at it for a long moment. He had searched for it for so long. The moment of his freedom was finally at hand. Relief coursed through him, as well as excitement for the future. He glanced at the witch. And trepidation. He didn’t like her lack of enthusiasm. He stepped forward and carefully placed the rose in her palm.
A soft hiss escaped the witch’s lips as the petals touched her skin.
“What is it?” Ella asked kindly.
“It’s all anyone is searching for, isn’t it?” the witch whispered. “Freedom to love and be loved.”
Graden glanced uneasily at Ella. Ella bent before the witch, staring up at her with compassion, stroking her hand.
“I asked everyone who came to me for years to bring me the blue rose. Everyone.” Tears entered her white eyes. “No matter what they asked for.” She shook her head. “I would give it to them in exchange for the blue rose.” She looked up at Graden. “I would have given anything…” Her voice cracked, and she closed her fingers over the rose, crushing it.
Ella gaped.
“Do you know what it does?” the witch asked. “Do you know what the legend says about this blue rose?”
“There are many legends,” Graden answered.
Ella nodded in agreement. “Healing properties. Links to our Lord.”
The witch let out a soft breath, almost a snicker. “It turns enemies into lovers.”
Graden looked down at Ella, shocked. Is that what happened between them? Is that why she was suddenly so understanding? Is that why they both loved each other? She looked at him and their gazes locked. He saw the same questions in her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” the witch said. “It doesn’t matter what power it holds. For me, it is too late.”
Graden glanced at the witch. Her shoulders were slumped in sadness and defeat. “All this time I sent others out to look. For nothing. Now that I have it, it means nothing.”
“It’s what you wanted.”
“No. I only wanted the power it held. I wanted it to turn enemies into lovers. My enemy.”
Ella’s mouth dropped open.
And yet, Graden still didn’t see. The witch had the rose! It was what she wanted.
“Where is he?” Ella asked.
It was only through Ella that Graden understood. The witch loved a man, her enemy. She only wanted the rose to make him love her. “You loved him.”
“He is dead. Killed by a traitorous arrow. The rose holds no power over the grave.”
“You wanted him to love you,” Graden said.
The blue rose tumbled from the witch’s hands to the dirt floor as she raised her palms to her face, crying. “It’s too late. It’s too late.”
Ella embraced the witch.
All this time, Graden had seen her as a witch. Only now, in her sorrow, did he see her as a woman.
Graden sat on the stairs of the keep, waiting for Ella, twirling what remained of the crushed blue rose between his fingers. Ella convinced the woman to return to the castle with them. Around midday, Ella emerged from the keep.
Graden stood. “Is she alright?”
“No,” Ella said. “She is broken hearted. All this time, putting her faith in a flower. She should have spoken with him.”
“Maybe she did.” He held up the rose. “Maybe this was the only hope she had left.”
Ella shook her head sadly. “I have another story for you.” She sat on the stairs he had just been sitting on. “There was once a woman who planted and cared for and watered a rose. Before it blossomed, she saw the thorns on the stem and wondered how a beautiful flower could come from a plant fraught with such sharp thorns. Discouraged by the thought, she abandoned the rose and it died before it bloomed.”
Graden’s gaze swept her beautiful face. So kind, so lovely. She was like the rose. And he had almost abandoned her. Desperately, he grabbed her up from the steps and pulled her to him.
She stroked his cheek with loving fingers. “We all have thorns, burdens, and flaws. Mine almost destroyed me. My need for revenge.”
Graden shook his head. “No. You were right.”
“She offered me happiness. She offered me hope. I wanted you dead.” Ella’s face twisted in agony. “I would have been lost in darkness if I had given in to such hopelessness. But somehow, she only ignited the real hope inside of me. I didn’t want to be sad. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to live my life. It’s what Edwin would have wanted.”
“Oh Ella,” Graden gasped, lowering his lips to hers, tasting their sweetness and their kindness. “You fought your way back from the abyss. The abyss I couldn’t overcome.”
“Your abyss was different than mine. Your abyss was the rose. And you needed me to discover that. To find your life.”
“To find my love. I love you.”
Startled, she looked up into his eyes. “You do?”
“How could I not?” He kissed her lips again, hungrily. A chuckle issued from deep in his throat and Ella pulled back to look into his eyes quizzically. “What do you think Miles will say?”
Ella’s eyebrows rose. “I think he will say the same thing Edwin would have said.”
“What’s that?”
“The blue rose did, indeed, turn enemies into lovers.”
A slow smile spread across Graden’s lips and he leaned his head back to laugh out loud at the bright blue day. He grabbed Ella and swung her around in happiness and joy.
The End
From Laurel O'Donnell
My Dearest Reader –
Thank you for reading Ella and Graden’s story. The blue rose is a legend that a group of writers made up, but many of the stories and facts in A Knight Amid Thorns came from folklore and legends.
I hope you enjoyed reading A Knight Amid Thorns. If you have a moment, please consider leaving a review.
Don’t forget to subscribe to my monthly newsletter for news of my upcoming releases, sales, contests and more! Sign up for Laurel's newsletter here.
Laurel
About Laurel O'Donnell
Bestselling, critically-acclaimed novelist Laurel O’Donnell sold her first book, The Angel and the Prince, to Kensington after being a Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart finalist. She has gone on to win many more awards, including the Holt Medallion Award for A Knight of Honor and the International Digital Award for Angel’s Assassin.
Born in Chicago, Illinois, Laurel began writing in junior high school when she carried a pen and paper around wherever she went. In college, she took fiction writing classes to further her skill. Her love of the medieval time period led her to work at King Richard’s Faire in Wisconsin where she learned stage combat and sword fighting. The Faire fed her insatiable appetite for the medieval era.
Laurel has many books yet to write and hopes you will join her on her journey to bring the medieval era to life! Please visit her at her website www.laurel-odonnell.com for the latest information about upcoming releases, contests and to contact her.
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