Roses (20 page)

She heard him following her on his horse, and she pressed her shoulder against Champ’s side. She was frightened, but she knew better than to show it. The commotion had destroyed the beautiful blanket of snow, churning it into turmoil, and she waded through muddy whiteness to the cottage. Her gaze flicked to the forest and she prayed that there would be a way out of this.

Patting Champ, she left him outside and entered the cottage. A few moments later Eli followed, and she made the sign of the gods behind her back. Silently, she called to Owaine; wherever he was, she
wished that he would stay there, safe from the harm that she sensed would come.

“Beauty, Cousin, I have found you. I should have known that horseman was a Hillander, but who would think to search for you all the way up here? Not I.” He looked around the room, taking in the simple furnishings and pens of animals. “Things have changed for you, Beauty. I have changed also.”

“Yes, I see that clearly.”

He smiled.

“How came you to be a State official?” she asked.

“Somehow you managed to escape Sago, but we did not. We were stopped on the outskirts of the city and sent right back.”

“That does not explain how you came to wear that gray uniform.”

“All in good time, Beauty. I am purely happy to have found you at present.”

His eyes wandered over her and her knees trembled. “I always knew that you would be beautiful. I saw it before everyone else. Where they saw a terrifying child, I saw a fine woman. Last season, I was posted to the Forest Villages and we were pushed farther north, hunting out Magic Beings. That was when I heard the first whisperings of a silvery woman in the hills. I knew it was you immediately and I followed the rumors here.”

“That is a long journey.”

“Yes, we do extraordinary things for treasure. My men were not delighted to hunt through a desolate, forsaken place such as this, but we stopped in villages along the way. These people are remarkably welcoming with the right incentives.”

Outside, the buttery light of the winter sun flashed on the snow.

“How came you to be a State official?” Beauty whispered, but Eli ignored her.

“I dream of you every night, Beauty. Do you understand what that is like?”

She shook her head and Eli’s lips tightened. “I know that you dream. Am I right?”

“Everyone dreams.”

“Not like we do.”

He was taller than her and his powerful, lithe figure loomed above her own. He stepped forward.

“How came you to be a State official?” she asked once again.

“By killing my mother.”

“Ma Dane is dead?”

“You knew that already.”

She did. She had known it would happen when she was a child and it had haunted her since, but only now did it make sense. She had always seen Ma Dane tied to a stake; a tiny, thin figure dressed in rags and that was all. Now, she saw the logs at her feet and the guttering flames licking them. Now, she saw Eli standing at the front, in the crowd of State gray uniforms, his hand pressed to his chest as he watched with his fellow comrades as a Magic Blood was destroyed. He watched his mother smothered in flames and burned to black ash. His expression did not flicker.

Beauty coughed, the smoke of the vision disappearing as quickly as it came.

“Ma Dane was a Magic Blood, and she had to die. If I did not turn her over to the State, their hunters would find her,” said Eli.

“They would not find you?”

“No. She taught me strong methods and I am more powerful than she ever was or could be. Only one person knows of what I have, and she stands before me now.”

Beauty’s fingers tingled with fear. Outside she heard a muffled thump as a pile of snow fell from the cottage roof.

“What do you want with me?”

“I wish you to marry me.”

She gasped.

“You cannot say no for there is no, choice. You will come with me.”

“I will not.”

“You may marry me, or you may die.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

The Red Rose

A
t noon that day, Beauty stood in the cottage, biting down on her lip to stop it from trembling. There was a State official posted outside the door to watch over her while Eli left to speak with Hally, and Champ was frantically whinnying outside, sensing something was amiss. She wished to go to him but she was paralyzed with fear.

She stared at the chickens clucking and scratching in the pen near her. She had never been particularly fond of them since they smelled the worst of all the indoor animals, but she was glad for them now. She would not have been able to endure total silence, and their familiar sounds reminded her of winter evenings sitting in front of the fireside with Owaine singing Hilland songs while Isole prepared dinner.

Champ whinnied again, rousing her from the memory, and she pulled an extra fur over her shoulders, instructing herself to be brave. She opened the door of the cottage to see that it was still snowing. Upon seeing her, the State official on guard put his hand on his rifle.

“There is no need for that. I am just going to feed and tend to my horses.”

“You are not allowed to leave.”

“I must, but you may follow me if you wish.”

She strode away from the cottage and the State official glanced worriedly around before stumbling after her.

Champ cantered to her side, his ears flat against his head, and she tried to soothe him with gentle words, but her voice sounded strained. He followed her closely as she walked through Imwane to the next valley, almost clipping her heels with his hooves.

“If you try anything, I shall be forced to shoot,” warned the State official behind her.

“There will be no need for that.”

As they passed the cluster of cottages at the center of Imwane, Beauty saw worried faces at windows. The hillside was deserted of animals that—having heard the gunshot and sensing the fear of the villagers—had fled to a safer place, and the village felt eerily quiet.

The next valley was also empty. The snow there was a thick, uninterrupted sheet like a sweep of white satin, and Beauty regretted ruining its smoothness with her boots. Champ’s great feathered hooves left dish-shaped tracks in the snow that followed the neat footsteps she made.

The horses were pleased to see Beauty and she petted each of them in turn, lingering on the dun mare that had recently made such progress. She considered setting them free, instinct telling her that she would not see them again, but she reasoned that they would be well looked after by the Imwane villagers once she was gone. They would not be forgotten. Perhaps Owaine would even be home soon, but where he was concerned, her premonitions drew a blank, and that frightened her.

She fed and watered the horses, breaking up the ice in their trough, all under the watchful eye of the State official who was standing hunched against the cold.

When she had finished, she began climbing the hillside.

“Where are you going?” called the State official.

“To the temple. You may follow me again if you wish.”

“No. No, I order you to return to your cottage now.”

“Eli will not mind. I wish to pray before I marry him. It is the Hilland way.”

“W-what? Marry Pa House of Rose?”

Beauty continued on, her hand buried in Champ’s mane to stop her from slipping in the snow, and the State official followed, too shocked to delay her again. Once she reached the temple, she patted Champ’s side before pulling on the creaky doors.

The golden walls were flaking and peeling more than ever. Owaine had once told her that it had been an Imwane Head Man’s bright idea to buy gold paint from town and adorn the temple walls with it, but the villagers thought it a ridiculous thing now.

“Yur don’t need no pomp to worship the gods,” he had said. “Yur don’t even need a temple. It’s the faith, is all.”

She entered the silent temple. It was completely bare and she knelt on the cold ground at the far end, pressing her palms to the floor. Behind her she heard the State official slip inside and wait awkwardly by the door, but she paid him little heed.

She knew not how long she stayed there. With her eyes closed she fell into a trance, searching herself for answers but finding none. She had never been able to control her visions and dreams; they seemed to come to her instinctively and she wished now that this was not the case. She sought guidance and, unable to awake whatever strange powers she had, she turned instead to Hilland scripture. It was a confused and shrouded thing. The ceremonies at the temple revolved around the gathering of the village, the thanking of the gods for blessings sent, and the singing of songs. Beauty had heard many commands from the scripture spoken in ceremonies, but at that moment, she could focus on nothing. Instead, she asked the gods
what they wished her to be, but before she could form an answer, she felt the barrel of a rifle prod her shoulder.

She gasped and her eyes snapped open.

“What are you doing?”

The State official was gone and Eli stood behind her, a rifle cocked in his hands.

“Praying to gods? Cousin, you have turned positively native.”

Beauty tried to stumble to her feet, but her legs were numb.

“While you have been
praying
, I have been conversing with that simple leader of yours. He denies knowing anything about your powers, even after some . . . persuasion.”

It was darker in the temple now.

“Have you made your choice, Cousin?” He brushed the barrel of the rifle from her collarbone to her chest.

“If I marry you, I will surely be killed,” she said. “You may be able to hide your power, but they only have to look at me and they will be suspicious.”

“I will protect you.”

“Like you protected Ma Dane?”

Eli’s eyes hardened and he jabbed her with the rifle. “That was unavoidable. I have become indispensible to the State and they would not dare harm my wife.”

Beauty shuddered at the word. “Why should you even wish to marry me?”

“Because I have thought of nothing else, awake or asleep, since the moment I saw you. I must have you. It is important, although I do not yet know why.”

He reached out and lightly touched the silvery smoothness of her cheek, running his finger down the curve of her neck. His touch left a smarting sting.

“No.”

“Cousin, I have already warned you of the alternative.”

“No!”

He grabbed her arm and thrust her toward him, pressing his face to her own, and she could smell the cleanness of his skin and feel the heat of his body. He pulled her forehead to his lips and kissed her, paying no heed to her cries.

“You will come with me.”

“No!”

Suddenly there was an almighty bang and Eli fell to the floor. Beauty stood shaking over him with the rifle in her grasp. She did not remember grabbing it or firing it, but her finger was hooked around the trigger.

Eli yelped; there was blood everywhere. Red clogs of it pooled on the floor and the air reeked of a metallic tang. Sticky, scarlet liquid was spurting from the wound in Eli’s right leg and he flailed wildly on the floor, choking and gasping.

Beauty watched for a second, the thump of her pulse ringing in her ears and then, suddenly, she ran. The rifle dropped from her hands, clattering on the temple floor, and she fled through the doors, slamming them shut on Eli’s deathly screams.

Outside, the hills were quiet and the only sound was the whining of the wind. It was dusk and the Imwane valley was dark and deserted. Beauty had expected to see State officials running up the hillside to capture her, having heard the gunshot, but there was no one. Perhaps the temple’s walls had contained the sound. She did not know.

She held out her hands in front of her and they were silvery in the fading light, though she sensed them splattered with blood.

I must leave
, she told herself.

She inspected her palms and fingers, expecting to see at least a droplet of red, but there was nothing.

I have taken a life
, she thought.

She whistled for Champ, but for once he was not near, and instead she climbed down the hillside alone, skidding in the snow.
As she approached the center of Imwane she heard raucous laughter. Keeping to the shadows, she crept close to the villagers’ barn and saw the State officials feasting inside. Hally and Duna stood at the back beside some of the Hill women, their heads bowed. When a State official ordered it, they brought forward more food and watched with sad hearts as it was devoured.

Beauty made the sign of the gods and slipped away.

She hurried to the cottage, intending to pack a saddlebag and flee, when she saw a sight that stopped her in her tracks. Standing outside with her reins in disarray stood Sable, her ears flat against her head and her eyes rolling. Champ was nearby, nudging her with his nose and attempting to comfort her as she snorted and stamped her feet.

Beauty ran to her immediately, but Sable bucked.

“Easy, girl, easy.”

She had never known Sable to be anything but sedate and steady. Manwelly’s weak-looking children liked to hang off her nose and pull her ears and she was always gentle with them.

Beauty calmed and soothed Sable as if she were a newly caught mare, but still her flanks trembled and she sidestepped nervously. As soon as her saddle and bridle were off she cantered away, tossing her head as if she were running from something.

“Owaine?” she cried, carrying the tack into the house. It was not like him to leave a horse untended and she feared that he had been taken by the State officials.

“Owaine?”

“Beauty? Be that you?”

She gasped and dropped the tack, rushing to the old, withered man beside the fire. He was so frail that he could not sit on a chair, but instead lay on the floor with his traveling furs still wrapped around him.

“What—what happened to you?” she cried.

There were new wrinkles on his face and his body shook.

“I got it for you, Beauty . . .” He reached inside his fur and brought out a dark red rose that stopped her breath.

“Where did you get such a thing? Owaine, what has it cost you?”