The Enchanted Rose (14 page)

Osric has been gone for three days. They have been the longest, most miserable three days of my life. And yet, it only continues to worsen. Madrid wakes me gently. “Milady, Queen Jossa has demanded that you be present for breakfast. She is holding a private meal in her personal dining hall for you and the prince.”  

“Might I decline?” I do not know how I can face my mother and look at her, speak to her with any civility, knowing what she did yesterday. With the unease I feel in my stomach, I do not know that it will be possible for me to eat, either. 

“I do not think that is such a good idea. She seems to be upset this morning, more so than usual, though she seems genuinely happy about breakfast.” Madrid looks at me pitifully. 

“You would be scolded more so than I, so I will go.” I bite my lower lip and get out of bed. My every movement is filled with anguish.

Once I have dressed and Madrid has braided my hair, I walk as slowly as possible, without appearing to be stalling, toward the queen’s dining hall. I wish to be anywhere but there at this moment, but I walk. 

What’s worse than dining with Jossa is knowing that I cannot give her any reason to suspect that I saw what she did yesterday. She cannot know because if she finds out, I may share the same fate as those farmers. 

So I walk, and though it is slow, I do not stop. I don’t run away like I so long to. I continue forward as if all is right in the world and I am not about to dine with the woman I no longer wish to be my mother at all.

Chills run down my spine, and my arms are covered with goose bumps. With every step, I begin to shake a little harder until finally, I stand before the doors. Two servants reach out to open them for me, but I put up my hand. 

“Please, give me a second to collect myself.” They each nod. I take deep breaths and try my hardest only to think of Osric. Of every night we spent exploring, every moment we shared just being happy. And with thoughts of seeing him again, I allow the servants to open the doors. 

I am the last to arrive. Jossa sits at the head of the table. An empty seat is to her right, Chavez sits to her left, and the king is across from the queen. 

Madrid said the queen was more upset than usual, but the wicked smile on her face says otherwise. She seems quite happy. I think of yesterday, and can’t imagine how she could laugh. 

“Good morning, Princess Roselyn. How kind of you to join us.” She greets me as if she wasn’t scheming ways to rid herself of me right now. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” I curtsy and sit down as far away from the queen as possible.

“I hope you slept well. Prince Chavez wishes to go riding with you after breakfast. I thought it was a lovely idea. At this very moment, servants are preparing the horses. I’ve arranged an escort as well.” 

“I would like Madrid to accompany us as our escort.” 

“I am sure you would. However, I have requested Madrid’s help and have already sent instructions to Laron.” Her smile is cold, as cold as her heart. As wicked as her intentions. And the fact that she requested Madrid speaks volumes. She has never liked my maid. Whatever she has planned cannot be good. 

The very ill feeling I awoke with fills me once again. I nod because I have no valid reason to argue. 

The queen smiles as if she’s won. And that scares me even more. 

Breakfast is finished quietly and quickly. I only look up once to see Chavez looking at me with pity. I eat a few bites before I cannot anymore. 

“Have fun, you two. You need only wait one more day before the wedding.” Jossa smiles as we leave the dining hall. Loran meets us at the door with our coats. He leads us to the stables, and we walk silently before mounting. 

I wish I had dressed properly to go riding, but I suppose the queen intended for me to be dressed like a princess, which is why she did not send Madrid with a warning. 

I worry about Madrid more than for myself. The thought of her alone with that evil woman terrifies me. Why did she not tell me that Jossa requested her presence? What could Jossa possibly have to say to her? 

“I want you to know, this was not my idea,” Chavez says. “I thought we should ask you what you would like to do, but Queen Jossa was adamant that you liked riding and would be excited about going with me.”  

“I didn’t think it was your idea. Not when Madrid isn’t going with us.” I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm and composed.

“Of course. I just . . . she said
I
thought it was a good idea, and—”

“Chavez, I understand. It’s all right.” I cut him off, not meaning to be rude, but not needing an explanation. 

We ride for what feels like hours and very possibly
is
hours before I beg for a rest. Chavez gladly stops beside me and even helps me from the horse, placing his hands on either side of my waist and lowering me to the ground. 

We stand so close, looking at one another, unsure where to go from here. I realize I can’t pretend any longer. I can’t hold back and give him any hope. 

“Laron, please tend to the horses.” I look at the servant still struggling to dismount from his ride. It appears he will be a minute, so without warning, I grab the prince’s hand and run into the forest. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, but doesn’t resist. 

“I need to speak with you without prying ears.” I pull him into a small grove of trees, out of sight of the road and far enough into the forest that it should take Laron at least a moment to find us. 

“What about?” he asks.  

“Queen Jossa.” I shudder, just thinking of her. 

“Your mother?” His eyebrows draw together.

“Don’t call her that. She is not my mother. Yesterday, the hunting trip was set up to get people out of the castle. I sent Madrid to search the queen’s quarters while I followed her myself because something isn’t adding up,” I explain, knowing I have to tell someone about what is going on aside from Madrid. 

“And what did Jossa do yesterday when you felt inclined to follow her?”  

“Yesterday, I watched the queen of Tivor murder two people because they knew too much.” I allow that to sink in before saying more. 

Chavez gasps. “She did what?”  

“She murdered two commoners. She went far out, almost to Elna’s border, to see two people—a couple. She said they knew too much, that she couldn’t trust them. That I would be leaving soon, and she couldn’t chance them talking to anyone. She killed them. I watched her do it, and then she sent her guards to clean up the bodies.” 

“Roselyn, I am so sorry. I can’t believe you had to see that.” Chavez wraps his arms around me, holding me close.

It was unexpected, but comforting, so I hug him back. 

“And what did Madrid find?” 

“Oh, no.” I step back, covering my mouth with my hand. 

“What is it?” 

“Madrid,” I say, panicked, remembering that Jossa requested her. 

“What about her?” 

“I don’t know what she found. But I do know this is no coincidence. If Jossa knows Madrid searched through her things, we may already be too late.” 

Chavez puts his hands on my shoulders. “First, we will find Madrid and make sure she is all right.

Afterwards, we will come up with a plan, and we will work through this. All right?”  

“Yes. Thank you.” 

“Your Highnesses,” Loran gasps. We break apart. It appears he finally got off his horse and bothered to come looking for us. I can’t help but laugh at his shocked expression. 

“I do believe it is time we returned to the castle, don’t you?” I look at the prince.

“Indeed! Loran, fetch the horses,” Chavez commands.

“But . . . yes, Your Highness.” His cheeks flush as he scurries back the way he came to fetch our steeds. We both burst into laughter. 

“Thank you, Chavez. Truly, I don’t know how I would get through this alone.” I know that once we reach the castle, all merriment and sentiment must end, so I must thank him now. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Once we reach the stables, I do not wait for Loran or Chavez, but run inside and search for Madrid. She is not in my quarters, nor the kitchen or the servants’ rooms. No one else has seen her either. The only other place I can think to look is in Jossa’s quarters. 

Terrified of what I will find, I run through the corridors in hopes that is where I will find Madrid, hopefully safe. 

As I approach the door, I hear Jossa’s voice and stop to listen. 

“Who are your parents?” she asks in a demanding tone. 

“I do not know,” a very scared Madrid replies. 

“I demand to know! If you cannot tell me, I will be forced to banish you from Tivor. Now tell me who your parents are!” Jossa screams. She sounds like a child throwing a tantrum. Never before have I heard her scream like that. 

Madrid sobs as she responds, “I do not know, Your Majesty. I do not know. I have lived in the castle for as long as I can remember.” I can’t take it anymore. I open the door, not caring that it will anger Jossa further.

“What is going on?” I demand as I walk up beside Madrid, who is standing before the queen, her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. 

“This woman is a traitor to the kingdom, and because of it, she will be banished from ever returning to Tivor. Guards!” Jossa calls toward the door. 

“Madrid is not a traitor. Unless you have proof otherwise, I will be taking her to my quarters now. And I would suggest, Mother, that the next time you fear my maid is a traitor, you speak to me first,” I say, so angry I can hardly get the words out without screaming. 

“How dare you speak to me that way? I am the queen, and I will be treated as such.” Jossa stands a little taller, now directing her wrath toward me. 

“How dare I? How could you think Madrid is a traitor? You knew I would vouch for her, so you sent me away with the prince. You may be queen, but I will not stand for you attacking my maid. If you have a problem with her, you may speak with me first.” 

I don’t wait for her to reply, but instead, I wrap my arm around Madrid’s shoulders and lead her out the door. She doesn’t say a word, and I don’t question her—just silently lead her to my room. Once there, I convince her to lie down. 

She curls into a ball beneath the covers and continues sobbing. I use the servants’ passages to get to the kitchen. “Your Highness, you know the queen does not like it when you are in here,” the cook scolds me. 

“She hurt Madrid,” I state, not wanting to argue with her. She stops what she is doing, dropping an onion on the chopping board before looking at me, stunned. 

“She did what?” Cook has always had a fond spot for Madrid, treating her like a daughter. 

“The queen took her to her quarters and interrogated her. Screamed at her. Threatened her with banishment.” I don’t wish to go into detail. I just need Cook to be sympathetic enough to bake me a treat of some sort to take to Madrid. 

“Where is the poor dear?” She looks close to tears.

“She is sleeping in my room for the moment. I hoped you could make a special treat to cheer her up.” 

“Of course, Your Highness. Between you and Madrid, I don’t know how I could say no.” She laughs ruefully. 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course, Princess. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll have one of the ladies bring it up as soon as it’s ready.” 

“And you know what to make?” 

“Of course. Madrid only has one favorite dessert. And don’t worry, I’ll send enough for two.”  “Thank you, Cook.” I leave the kitchen much happier than when I arrived. 

When I reach my room, Madrid is fast asleep, snoring ever so lightly. It gives me comfort, knowing she is safe. But I can’t help but worry about later. What does Jossa have against Madrid? Why did she demand to know who her parents are? Another thing that just doesn’t make sense. 

Jossa’s actions are becoming more and more confusing.

I grasp Selma’s hand and attempt to push my magic into the storm controlling her. Nothing happens, and my heart falls. I try again, hoping there is just enough magic left for this to work. When again, there is nothing in return for my efforts, I drop her hand. 

“Will you try one more time?” Gwydion asks. 

“What’s the point? I just don’t have magic. This storm is doing what it was made for.”

“This time, let’s both try. Perhaps you alone do not have enough power, but together we just might.” 

“All right.” I nod and grasp Selma’s hand again. Gwydion clasps my forearm, and I once again feel for any magic left inside me, trying to free it as I push it into the storm. 

A bright flash of light blinds me for a moment, but as it dies down, an image appears in the swirling darkness. Gwydion and I both watch the fuzzy picture as it plays before us, hung in the air between us.

Queen Jossa rides with two soldiers through the forest. They keep to the path, but movement suggests that someone is following them in the forest. Based on how far from the castle they are, they ride for hours before arriving in a small village surrounded by farmland. 

The queen descends from her horse and approaches a cottage. She appears to speak to whoever answers the door. The first person disappears before returning with another person. They speak for a moment longer before Jossa draws her sword and ends their lives.  

My hands drop to my sides, and the image disappears. I can’t believe it. Queen Jossa? She’s the queen who attacked Selma? The person responsible for the storm? But why? 

“Rose,” I say aloud as the realization hits me.

“Now is not the time, Your Highness,” Gwydion says in annoyance. 

“No, Gwydion.” I jump up, startling him. “Rose. She saw Jossa kill those people. She was there.

She’s in danger. I know what Selma meant. I figured out the riddle.” 

“Are you positive?” 

“She said ‘The storm sees all, the storm knows all, and a terrible thing has occurred. A mother and father, the queen did kill. A witness, the princess, now doubts her heritage is real. Questions arise, and all involved will pay. But the culprit’s hidden in plain sight, so listen to what all say.’ It was Rose. She witnessed Jossa killing those people.” 

“Now let’s relieve Selma from her pain.” He nods toward the Oracle. 

I agree, but all I want to do is get to Tivor as fast as possible. Roselyn could be in grave danger if Jossa even suspects that she was a witness. 

“Selma, we know the answer. We know who did this. Now please, let us help you and end your pain. You do not deserve to suffer any longer than necessary.”  “You know the queen who did this?”  “Yes,” I blurt.

“And you know how to stop her? How to reclaim the magic she stole?”  I look to Gwydion because I do not know the answer to that question.

He looks at me before glancing at Selma. “Yes.” 

“Then you may end the storm. But before you do, let me speak with the prince alone.” Gwydion nods and walks away.

I take his place at her side and kneel down. “Thank you, Selma. I wish we could save you.” I don’t know the proper etiquette in such a situation. 

“Do not regret what you had no part in, Your Highness.” She pushes the hair from my forehead so it isn’t falling into my eyes. “Instead, do me one last favor.” 

“Of course.” 

“Repay Gwydion for his sacrifice. He deserves better than to live on this mountain, cold and alone. Build him a castle, give him a home, make him a hero, but last of all, be his friend.” 

“Of course. I owe him more than I could ever repay. I am beginning to understand how seven fairies came to be in his debt.” 

“Ah, his fairies. He must speak to you about them once he has claimed his new life. Be patient before leaving his side, Prince. I know you wish to hurry home to your princess, but I assure you, she is well for the moment. Please be patient a while longer.” 

“I will. Thank you.” 

“Now go. Stand away and allow Gwydion to save me from the pain.” 

“Good-bye, Selma.” Though I hardly know the Oracle, only met her three days ago, I can’t help but feel pain at the loss. Tears build up, but I hold them back as I walk away and inform the wizard she is ready. 

I watch from afar as Gwydion stands at her side and begins speaking in a language I do not recognize or understand. He speaks in rhyme—that much I can tell—but I do not know what any of it means. 

Slowly, the storm begins to fade, swirling into oblivion until nothing comes from Selma herself. It is still dark overhead, and the air is still cold. I have a feeling the world will need time to heal. 

Gwydion continues speaking until Selma is no longer writhing or moving at all. A breath escapes her, and I realize it is her last. The chant ends; Selma is gone. What appears to be her magic in the form of an orb slowly escapes her, like a ball of lightning, crackling and fizzing as it flies through the air and finds its way to Gwydion. 

It overcomes him, entrances him, absorbs into him. He gasps before falling to the ground. I rush to his side, but his breathing is even. He does not appear to be hurt—simply adjusting, perhaps. 

I look up, watching as the sound of thunder and bolts of lightning seem to roll into themselves, sucked into the clouds as if they were eating each other until all that remains of the storm is a dark-blue shadow of what was once there, almost as if it just needs to fade back to its usual brightness. 

I test my magic, seeing if it is back or like the sky above, needs time to fix itself. But the blanket I summon from my pack appears, so I take it and wrap it around myself before lying down and attempting to get some rest.

The sky is still overcast when I awake. I sit up, my entire body stiff from lying on the cold, hard ground. Gwydion sits on what I presume to be the Oracle’s throne, something that wasn’t there before.

I can only guess that the room put itself back together when Gwydion took over as Oracle. What used to appear as a room blasted with purple magic is now a furnished room with a throne, bed, table, and cabinet. All seem to be made of the mountain itself—that same icy substance.

“I am glad you are awake. We have much to discuss.” Gwydion turns to me. He seems to have aged even more. 

“Selma said as much.” I nod solemnly. 

“Come, sit.” He gestures to another chair beside the table. I get up off the ground, stretching my back before taking a seat. 

“Seven fairies in my debt, seven kingdoms under threat. We know now why Jossa has killed three, but for the future, we need not give them heed.”  I can’t help the sigh that escapes me. 

“I am sorry, but I could not help it. I can see why Selma loved her riddles.” He laughs. I exhale, grateful he doesn’t truly have to speak like that.

“If you can joke at such a time, all is forgiven. I do not know how much longer I will survive when I am in such a dark mood,” I retort. 

“Very well. But the riddle stands. There are seven kingdoms. We now know why Queen Jossa did what she has done, and I realize that it was avoidable had someone before me been in a position do what

I would like to do, with your permission, Your Highness.”