The Enchanted Rose (11 page)

My heart beat a little faster. “Madrid.” Her name escaped my lips before I could think about it. 

Chavez turned away from me, his cheeks red from blushing. “It could never be, though. I do not even know if she cares for me. After all, I am to marry you.”

I rested my hand on his arm. “I do not think that is something you need to worry about.”  “I will take that into great consideration, Your Highness.” He nodded a bow. 

“I must warn you, though,” I said in a more serious tone. “If you break her heart, it will not be forgotten or forgiven, Prince.” I gave him my most stern look.

“I assure you, that will also be taken into great consideration, Your Highness.” He looked at me meaningfully, but a hint of a smile plays on his lips.  

“Good.” Relief flooded me, knowing he was on my side. 

“Would it be acceptable if I were to approach her now and let her know of my feelings?” Chavez then looked bashful.

“Go. I’ll be right here waiting. Just don’t be too long because I would hate for anyone to see you two alone and for word to get back to my mother. I can only imagine what kind of war it would start, considering everything.” 

“Of course. I will be right back. And Roselyn?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you!” 

“Thank you, Chavez.” I smiled and watched as the prince I was supposed to marry walked away in search of my maid and best friend. Perhaps there was hope left after all. 

The sound of giddy laughter brings me back to the present. Madrid and Osric walk hand in hand toward me, smiles on their faces, a bounce in their step. 

“I hate to tear you away from the moment, but we do need to get to Nadi’s before someone notices we’re not where we need to be,” I say to both of them.

“Of course, milady. I am sorry we took so long. Let us go, then.” She turns, heading for the village just beyond the market, where Nadi lives. 

Chavez falls back, now walking beside me. Once we reach the forest line, Madrid steps into place behind us, as it should be if Chavez and I were truly in love, planning on getting married. 

Once there, Madrid approaches the door and knocks while Chavez and I stand aside, all three of us playing our parts. 

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but it is not his voice I hear. “Your Highness,” Madrid interrupts. “Nadi awaits you.” I look at her and nod.

“It appears the seamstress is ready to for us,” I say to Chavez. I move to follow Madrid, but Chavez doesn’t allow our interlinked arms to separate.  

The seamstress smiles when I walk into her little cottage. I note how all the structures in this part of the kingdom seem untouched by the storm. “Welcome!” She wraps her arms around me. I’m a little stunned, not used to such affection. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” She steps back quickly, realizing what she did. 

I laugh. “Nadi, it’s all right.” I return her hug, and the woman relaxes. 

“Thank you, Roselyn. Now, you in this room, and the prince over here. I would hate for him to see your dress before the wedding.” She pushes the prince into another room and calls for one of her children, Ellie, to begin my measurements while she works with the prince.

Ellie walks into the room timidly, hardly looking at me as she asks for me to move one way or another. 

Madrid stands in the corner dutifully and waits for something to do. I wish to speak with her in private. If it were Nadi in the room, I would speak aloud, but with Ellie, I know not what could tempt her to speak of what she heard. 

I need Madrid’s help to spy on the queen. That is not a matter lightly discussed, and certainly not within earshot of anyone I do not trust with my life. 

She looks at me quizzically, an eyebrow raised, completely prepared to do whatever I ask of her. She may hate me for what I need her to do, or it may end up being the best day of her life.

Selma has tossed and turned, moaned and shivered. But she has yet to wake. I sit and watch over her, waiting for something to happen. She gave us clues, hinted at something huge, and left us without the answers.

The woman who shouldn’t be queen.
Those words replay over and over. 

Gwydion continues flipping through page after page of his book, searching for any information. Thus far, every queen’s story is true. They are all royal born, gifted with magic through blood. 

It wouldn’t make sense for any of them to need the Oracle’s magic, so we continue waiting, and the time is passing by. I fear what will happen if this isn’t resolved before the storm is too strong to stop.

“What happens to Selma when this is all over?” I ask. 

“I die,” a weak female voice replies. I look down at the Oracle and find her eyes open. 

“You’re awake!” It surprises me. Not two seconds ago, I was watching her, and she looked like she would never wake again. 

“My time is not yet here, but it nears. Prince, please allow me to speak to the wizard alone.” She squeezes my hand. I nod and walk to where Gwydion sits, lost in his book. 

“She wishes to speak with you,” I announce before walking a little farther to the edge and sitting down. I’m cold. Everything is ice up here. I attempt to find warmth by looking out over the valley, if only to distract myself from the lack of heat. The world has grown dark, but off in the distance, a tiny sliver of Tivor is visible. 

I wonder where Roselyn is, what she’s doing. If I were to make a guess, I would say she is working to break off the engagement. Perhaps arguing with her mother—finding another way to save us. I thought that was my job. I thought I was risking everything by coming here to fix the mess I made, to ensure that Rose and I still had a fighting chance. 

But I realize that actually, it’s up to her. I might not make it off this mountain in time for the wedding—or hopefully, the lack thereof. I rest my head in my hands and try to not think about it. If I had ignored the wizard and just continued on to the castle, this might never have happened. I brought this upon us by giving her the enchanted rose. Our fates are bound to it.

Gwydion sits beside me with a disgruntled look. 

“Why did you offer me that rose?” I turn just enough to face him. I need to know what I ever did to him to deserve this kind of torment in my life. 

“You remember the fairies, yes?” He looks out around us. 

I gaze up at the sky, noticing how much darker it’s gotten. It doesn’t seem right that something so dark and evil, something causing so many people such an amount of pain, can still be beautiful to the eye. 

“Of course.” I nod, thinking particularly of the one who gave me the roses to begin with.

“They work for me. And like many creatures in our world, they thrive on magic. Each one has a unique power, a gift. They find my clients for me by telling me what they need.” 

“The fairies find clients for you?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to grasp this concept, and ensure I know what he means.  

“Yes. Each of them possesses a gift for certain magic. Ophelia is the most attuned to the woes of love. She can sense when someone’s worry in life is about the loss of love or of never finding it to begin with.” 

“And she told you I had those concerns? Who I was?” It wasn’t fate or destiny that brought me to the wizard. It was a fairy, looking for a client.  

“I already knew who you were, the moment I saw you. You walk like a prince. There is an air of royalty about you.”

“You realize, that rose could be the undoing of any chance I had to be with Roselyn. Because of this storm, the lack of magic, the rose is now turning red. You said it yourself, Gwydion—once that happens, our chance is lost.” 

“Ophelia knew that you suffered from the fear of losing the one you actually love. She could feel your pain. I would not have offered you that rose had she not been adamant that I help you. It’s why I didn’t ask for money or riches of any kind. I asked you for a favor. I didn’t want for this to happen. There’s no coming back from making royalty your mortal enemy, but the fairy begged that I help you. I tried to help Ophelia, and I was too late. But there was still hope for you, so how could I tell her no?”  “If you’ve already failed once, what makes you think you should try again? Now you’ll have messed up two relationships, not just one.” 

“It’s more than two already, Your Highness. However, you had the right to say no. You had the right to walk away and figure it out on your own. You chose to take my offer.” 

“How did I choose? You enchanted me! I did not accept anything. It was forced upon me,” I argue, remembering the feeling of relief once the magic had worn off. 

“Only because I could. If you weren’t willing to accept help, it wouldn’t have worked. And I didn’t ruin Ophelia’s chance at love. It wasn’t my fault.” 

“If you weren’t able to help her, why does she work for you?” I fist my hands, attempting to remain calm, noting that he does not deserve my wrath. He’s right—I didn’t have to take the rose. I hadn’t been sure it would work in the first place. 

“She owes me her life. That was only one of the many things I did for her. It may have failed, but already, she owed me a debt she could not pay. So payment became her services in finding me clients in need of a little help with love.” He looks far off, appearing to remember his past. 

“And the other fairies?” I question, wondering about each of their gifts. 

“Their stories are all similar, though they don’t all revolve around love. Some asked for help with revenge. Others wanted freedom, and by asking for it, were captured again. Sometimes the things we want most are the things we need the least, and we don’t realize that until it’s too late. Either way, they all must work off their debts.” 

“And how long should that take?” 

“A lifetime.” 

“Theirs or yours?” 

“Whichever lasts the longest.” He says it so blatantly. From the sounds of it, these fairies have already lost so much, and now, for that, they must work for him until the day they no longer live. It’s sad, truly.

“I wish I had never taken that rose. Now I don’t even know if I’ll make it back in time to see the princess before her wedding, let alone stop it from happening.” 

“Selma and I spoke. I came to inform you of what she said. Now we must focus on the future you look at so bleakly. The outcome may be more of what you want, rather than what you expect.” 

“What do you mean?” So consumed by thoughts of Roselyn, I had forgotten the Oracle and her private talk with Gwydion. 

“She is going to die. Very soon. There is nothing we can do to stop it, but we can ease her pain.” He looks away again.

“How?” I ask. 

“One of us must take her place. If we do it before she passes, it will shut off the storm, and the magic of the land will repair itself. She will be able to die painlessly, rather than writhing as the magic fights her.” 

“And how does one do that?” I raise an eyebrow and fold my arms across my chest, not liking the sound of this. 

“It is a straightforward process, really. She gives her magic to the one who is taking her place. Once the magic has been transferred, so will her responsibilities, her knowledge—everything.” 

“And what does it entail?” 

“The one to take her place will live upon the mountain, watching over the magic in this world. They will do what she has done for hundreds of years. They will foresee events to come and do what they can to protect the world.” 

“And what of the queen who did this to her?
Did Selma give you any more information about

her?”  

“She does not know the queen's name or the kingdom she rules over. But when they spoke, the queen mentioned another name, the name of her daughter, and the princess who isn’t royal. She knows not who they are. But I do.” 

“And? Who are they?” 

“Until I have confirmed every piece of information, I would rather not say, Your Highness.” Guessing from his tone, the answer cannot be good. Why not tell me unless he doesn’t believe it to be so? 

“And how long should it take to confirm this information?” 

“Hopefully by morning. But we do need to discuss our predicament. One of us must take the Oracle’s place as protector and keeper of the magic in all the land. It’s up to us to either take the position or appoint it to someone. I am a simple wizard who has lived a long time. And you are a prince, with authority in this world.” 

Panic overcomes me. He can’t think that I would be able to take the position. “You’re right. You are a wizard.
So though you are not royalty, you already have magic. You understand it far more than I ever could. It would make so much more sense for you to do it.”  

“You have a duty as a prince to your kingdom, to your people, to protect them even if it is with your life. That is your duty.” He says it with force. “And yet, you wish to place it on me, when this is not my battle?”

“If you have magic, it
is
your battle. Keep that in mind, wizard.”  I stand, brush off my trousers, and walk to the other side of the cave
.
Selma appears to be sleeping again, though this time, she is lying on a blanket. I wonder if she had it the whole time or if Gwydion found one for her, brought it with him, or was able to use enough magic to conjure it. It doesn’t matter. I can’t think of him without balling my fists in frustration.

His wording, the way he places all blame on those who come to him for help . . . I could have walked away without that rose, but at the moment, it felt like the only answer. I realize it is most likely a relatable tale for all the fairies working for him. 

Did each of them willingly go to him for help, or were they trapped and felt that his offer of help was the only way to escape? What could he have done for each of them to bring on a life of serving him?
He came to me to call in a favor—he asked for my help in stopping this storm. Was it all a trap? Did he know that one of us would have to become the next Oracle, and he didn’t want to be it? Or is this a surprise to him, and he simply doesn’t want the job? 

So many situations, so many questions. And now, not only is there a chance of losing Rose, but I may never see her again even if the wedding is called off. I was so stupid to think I could fix this. 

Why did love have to be so difficult? Do they not say that love is the answer to everything? That love can survive anything? 

Apparently, magic is stronger.