Black Rose (22 page)

Jon
had been in the same initiation class, and from what Mara could remember, was
only a few years older. He was now standing before his friend with a whip
clutched tightly in his hand. He moved the whip with unpracticed hands, sliding
it across the stone floor and flipping it in an unsmooth arc. He smacked the
whip against the stone floor, the sound reverberating through the room and it
struck the ground once, twice, thrice. He again glanced at where the two
Sub-Captains stood and again, they remained silent.

Mara’s
eyes trailed over Brendan’s still form as she stepped around the room to see
his face, which was turned to the left as he lay upon the stone table. He
looked young in comparison to those of the higher guard. It was more a look
than anything physical. A mixture of fear and confusion; the eyes of a man who
was unaccustomed to seeing the more horrific parts of life. Mara’s gaze then
returned to the man with the whip. He looked almost as scared as the man lying
on the table. 

Jon
again struck the floor with the long black whip and then finally drew back his
arm to rake the sharp metal ends against Brendan’s exposed flesh. It was at
that moment in which Mara called out the only thing she could think of. “I
demand the Right of Substitution.”

Jon
froze at her words. “Forgive me, my Lady, but this matter does not concern you.
There is no reason for you to do this.”

           
“He is a member of the Guard in which I am his superior,” Mara answered, taking
several steps closer to the young man clutching the whip. “Jon, Brendan is
little more than a child. He had no idea what they were doing. You know that
carrying out this punishment is not right.”

           
He looked at her with uncertainty. “I cannot change the Queen’s commands.”

           
“No, but we can save him from what you are about to do.”

           
“My Lady,” the man stated, “please, I don’t want to harm you. Everyone respects
what you are trying to do for the Guard and for what you have done for the men.
You are leading us with honor.”

           
Mara gave a small nod. “Then you can understand why I need to do this.”

           
He shifted uncomfortably. “My Lady, I’m not…I’m.”

           
She offered a shadowed smile. “Just tell me.”

           
He sounded timid and unsure. “Please, there is no one considered as highly
respected as you. You’ve been leading…I mean, helping the Captain to lead…I
mean,” he drew a sharp breath, “and you’re asking me to harm. Please, my Lady,
do not ask me to spill your blood.”

           
She looked across the room at Garreth who instantly said, “No.” She continued
to stare, the weight of her gaze fully settling upon him. “Mara, don’t even
think about it.”

           
“Garreth, don’t allow these young ones to be punished for this. They do not
deserve it, and you know what it will do to them.” She offered a tight smile
that did not reach her eyes. “Look what it did to us.”

           
Garreth finally dropped his gaze to the floor before walking slowly across the
floor and placing his hand upon Jon’s arm. “I will take it from here,” he said
in a resigned voice. Then he turned slowly back to Mara, who knelt down beside
the chained man and released Brendan from his bonds. “It’s okay.”

           
He looked at her with unmasked eyes. “I am sorry. I never meant to upset the
Queen. I don’t understand what I did. I was only trying to…”

           
“I know you didn’t. It is going to be okay.” 

She
then motioned him away before turning to face the large stone slab which stood
in front of her. She drew a deep breath and then turned back to Garreth, the
whip now clutched tightly in his hand. It was a long whip hosting three thick
strips of leather each tipped with thin pieces of silver metal with jagged
edges which would bite into Mara’s delicate skin. He took several steps forward
and placed his hand upon her right cheek then moved his hand towards her
shoulder. “Mara, you don’t have to do this.” 

A
shiver passed over her tall form as she forced herself to meet her cousin’s
gaze. “Just do it quickly. I will try to stay quiet.”

He
looked at her with such sadness. “Oh, my Lady, my beautiful, beautiful cousin.
You will scream.” He shook his head, then returned his gaze to hers. “You will
scream and scream and scream.”

Mara’s
teeth sank lightly into her bottom lip as she drew a deep breath. She gave a
single nod. She removed her outer jacket along with the golden chain which was
clasped securely around her neck. She handed both to Garreth, who placed the
discarded items against the far wall. Mara turned again to face the stone table
and slowly lowered her body across it. She gripped the edges; it was cold to
the touch.

Garreth
drew another deep breath. The sound of metal striking stone filled the room as
Garreth flicked his wrist, testing his grip on the whip. A long moment of
silence filled the room before Garreth said, “Forgive me.”

Moments
later the first stroke of the triple pronged whip buried itself into the flesh
of her back.

           
The water continued to cascade over her body as she forced herself from those
dark memories long ago. “Dammit, Brendan!” She slammed her hand against the
tiled wall. 

When
she had formed the foundation of the Rose, Brendan, along with nearly a hundred
other men, had taken the oath by her side. He had been young and untested—not unlike
Nolan was now. Mara initially had little time for the youth. In fact, she would
have dismissed him outright had Phillip not decided to take Brendan under his
wing, training him in both the ways of the sword and the ancient traditions
which, even all those centuries ago, had already begun to fade from the courts.

           
It was nearly fifteen years after his arrival, at the end of a particularly
nasty run-in with several members of the Muir Court, that Mara finally agreed
to grant him a position of rank among the guard. With valor unwatched by all
but few, he rose swiftly through the ranks to achieve the title of a
Sub-Captain. When Philip finally died nearly two-hundred years after his
arrival, Brendan had seemed the natural choice for Mara’s second-in-command.

           
Though she never expressed much affection, Mara had come to care deeply for the
man who had fought so bravely by her side. With great courage and unquestioned
loyalty, Brendan had somewhat managed to cling to a sense of hope for the world
which Mara had lost long ago. The realization that he would never again stand
by her side was almost unbearable.

           
Mara turned the temperature of the water even higher. Hissing against the heat,
she put all of her concentration into forcing herself to remain standing in the
spray of the near-boiling water. She pulled at her hair, nails digging into her
scalp, as though trying to scrape away the memories along with Brendan’s blood.

           
It was not until the last hint of warmth had vanished from the water
surrounding her that Mara finally turned the golden knobs and removed herself
from the shower. She glanced into the mirror studying her beet-red skin, long
matted hair and hollow eyes. She then wrapped the towel around her body before
reaching mechanically for the small black brush lying on the vanity. She combed
through her hair methodically, starting at the end of each group of collected
strands and working towards her scalp before moving on to the next piece.

           
When her hair finally lay in straight, smooth strands, she walked to the
closet, where she pulled out a thin, satin nightgown with thin straps. She
pulled a matching robe of satin around her shoulders, but did not fasten the
black buttons, instead opting to leave the robe open as she turned to walk back
into the large bedroom. Standing in the doorway, was Edward.

           
Showered and dressed, Edward leaned back against the side of the closed stone
door. His borrowed shirt was loose along his arms, the top buttons open
revealing the contrast of his pale skin against the dark material of the shirt.
His hair hung straight, still damp from the shower.

           
Mara drew a deep breath and gathered her emotions as tightly as she could. She
forced her features into a cold, blank expression before slowly moving to take
a seat on the edge of the large bed. She then adjusted her robes, fidgeting
until the material finally lay comfortably around her slender form, blending
with the dark covers beneath her.

           
Only then did she raise her gaze to meet the dark eyes awaiting her. She did
not know what to expect when she finally met his gaze—anger, arrogance, pity.
Instead, she saw none of these things. In their place was a mixture of love and
tenderness so raw, so real that it shattered every defense she had worked so
carefully to put in place. A look that she had been certain, she would never
see again. 

He
spoke her name, the sound carrying across the room like the breath of a gentle
caress, and Mara began to cry, sobs tumbling from her pale lips. Her long
fingers dug into the black cloth of the cover lying beneath her, and her thin
frame shook visibly from the force of her tears.   

           
Edward crossed the room in three quick strides “Mara,” Edward said gently,
kneeling before her shivering form. He reached forward, gently running his hand
down her left arm. When he reached her hand, Mara slowly uncurled her fingers
from the cloth and slid them through Edward’s.

           
“I can’t,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “I am so tired.”

Edward
leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her chest. She raised her right
hand and laced her fingers into his hair. “Mara, I…” She felt him draw a deep
breath and try again. “Mara,” his said, his words a whisper.

She
tightened her grip on Edward’s black hair and gave it a hard jerk, forcing him
to stare up into her violet eyes. Her tears ceased as she gazed down at the man
kneeling before her. Then slowly, deliberately, Mara leaned down, closing the
distance between them. She pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back,
softly moving under her caress. She stared down at him with an intense
expression then suddenly moved her hands to the collar of his shirt and ripped
it open, exposing the smooth perfection of his skin, almost completely healed
from the shallow cuts from Viktor’s blade. 

She
ran her hands slowly across his chest, as though verifying by touch what she
could not trust through vision, then moved back further onto the bed. He
followed her movements, rising from his knees as she guided his upper body
towards her. Pulling him forward on the bed, Mara leaned back into the soft
black blankets. Edward lay beside her, and she placed her head upon his chest,
his arms moving to close gently around her.

“What
do you need, Mara? Tell me what you need.”

Several
moments of silence followed, then in a hushed whisper, “To drown them out,”
came the answer. “To have one, single moment where I don’t remember…anything.”

He
slid her from his chest, moving back enough to see the silver in her violet
eyes. Then he kissed her. “mea rosa immnortalis.” His voice was deep, his eyes
intense in their captivating gaze. “I will drown out the dreams.”

“Memories,”
she answered. “Never dreams.”

He
stopped her words with another kiss, this time more passionately with a sense
of desperation which drove all other thoughts from her mind. For one moment,
she melted into that kiss, then pulled back. “No,” she said, disentangling
their bodies as she moved toward the edge of the bed.

“What
is it?”

“This
is wrong. You don’t want this. You don’t want…me.”

“That
is a lie. I have always wanted you, Mara.”

“My
sword. My blood. My life. But not me; never me.”

“Mara,”
he interrupted. “Do you believe I don’t love you?”

Her
body jerked at the question. “Of course you don’t. How could you possibly love
me, when you have spent the past eight-hundred years hating me? Me, the one
responsible for the death of the one you truly loved.”

Edward
moved his hand to the side of Mara’s face, forcing her to hold his gaze. He
stared as though attempting to force his way past her violet eyes and into her
soul. A look of pain crossed his face that caused Mara’s breath to catch in her
throat, her heart pounding so fiercely she thought it might burst. His fingers
climbed higher to dig into her long black hair. “te amo, rosa, mea rosa
immortalis. I have always,” the words were tight, slow and strained, “always
loved you. And tonight, I am going to chase away your pain.” 

He
paused, allowing his words to firmly settle over the woman seated before him.
“All these years and I have never once done what is right for you. I would tell
you that I am sorry for what happened, but it would not be enough. It will
never be enough. So please, Mara, mea rosa, mi amor. Let me give you what you
ask. A single moment’s peace.”

She
stared at him in heartbreaking disbelief. Tears burned the corner of her eyes,
but did not fall. “All I want is to forget. To not remember. To not… Edward,
what the Queen did to you.  I couldn’t watch. And I couldn’t not watch.
And I can’t forget. Ignosce mihi, mi amor. I am so sorry. I am…”