Page 32 of Ash and Roses
Deep crimson flows from Teagan’s torn throat like a coursing river after a heavy rain. The ever-growing pool of blood flows out around her, turning brown soil scarlet. It spreads too far, too fast, with no sign of stopping. I drop to my knees beside her and press my hands against the wound. Her blood leaks out between my fingers as if they were only a mild hindrance.
“You can’t save her.” I know that voice. I snap my gaze up to find Jade watching me with cool sadness. “And you can’t save me.” In the time it takes me to blink, a long four-lined gash spreads down the length of his chest. It takes only moments for his blood to mingle with hers.
“This can’t be happening,” I say, desperate to change what I cannot. “Tell me how to save you.”
He looks down at the flayed chest that matches his back. “This is all your fault.”
I blink and again the image changes. Jade is on his back, sprawled along a thick tree branch high above me. Blood falls like rain below him as he angles his head to face me. Emerald eyes lock onto mine—both alive and not alive, seeing and unseeing.
“Your fault,” he says again.
* * *
I awake with such force that I’m flung from the bed. Soft rays of morning sun stream through the window and illuminate the room, though the light does little to comfort me. Nightmares have plagued me for years, but somehow this is worse. Witnessing Jade’s torture over and over again night after night is nothing compared to reliving his death. It seems I didn’t have to witness it for my brain to concoct an image itself.
I climb to my feet and wrap the blanket around myself. There’s a chill this morning, and I can smell snow on the wind. It won’t be long now before the first of it falls.
There’s no telling how much I slept last night. Not enough, of that I’m certain. After leaving Quinn’s tower, I stayed up for a long time, alternating between staring at the wall and screaming into a pillow. I should get up, but I want nothing more than to stay in bed. There’s an emptiness within me that’s colder than even the longest of winters. This isn’t how things were supposed to be. Leaving Lunae had been a dream come true, but it’s turned into nothing but a nightmare. I have my freedom, but at what cost?
A quick knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. With a groan, I stand from the bed and wrap the blanket tighter around myself against the shiver radiating through me. Anyone could be on the other side of that door, and if it’s Quinn, I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me in a nightgown.
I breathe a small sigh of relief when I pull open the door and see a young girl. She can’t be older than ten, but her youthful features have a ruggedness to them. I suppose that’s to be expected when you live immersed in nature.
“Princess Abilene,” she says, bowing before I can stop her. “I have a note for you.”
“It’s just Abby.” I yawn the words as I take the note. She watches me, and I wonder if she expects me to tip her. I would, if I had any money. Such things haven’t mattered in Lunae for some time. Food became a currency in itself. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Fern.” A fitting name for someone who grew up in the heart of the forest. “Are you going to read that?” She seems more interested in the folded paper in my hand than conversation with me. So it’s not coin she wants, it’s gossip. Some subtlety would do her some good, though I suppose that skill is learned.
I unfold the letter, fully intending to make up something worth reporting, but when my eyes fall to the signature, I can’t think about anything but the words written in a surprisingly elegant script.
Abilene,
When you’re feeling up to it, please join me in the dining hall. There are things to say.
~ Quinn
And thank you. For last night.
That last line looks as if it was scrawled in a hurry, or was an afterthought. I could ignore his invitation. It interferes with my plans of staying horizontal all day, and taking him up on his offer means that I’ll have to see him. My stomach flutters at the thought, but only for a moment. Still, that small moment was the first thing I’ve felt since finding out that Jade was dead. Even fighting with the absent prince has to be better than staying confined to this room. I may as well be back in Lunae if I’m so intent on being a prisoner.
Another thought occurs to me then. Jade may be gone, but there’s no guarantee that all of the Marked are. If any of them are alive, they’ll be heading to Marein and might come through this way. Their cause is my cause now, and maybe there will be valuable information to get out of the prince. After all, Rosewood shouldn’t exist. There are secrets here, and I’ve got nothing better to do than unravel them.
“Abby?” the girl squeaks nervously, and I look up from the note to meet her gaze. “Would you care to offer a reply?”
“Tell the prince to stop calling me Abilene. Tell everyone.” If I hear that name one more time…
“And what of his request?”
I sigh. I’m in no state to be in public right now, so I’m going to need some time to rectify that. “I’ll meet him in an hour.”
She bows again and then scurries off down the corridor and out of sight. She’s the first child I’ve seen here, and I can’t help but hope that she has at least one friend to play with. Children are rare in Lunae because there’s hardly enough food as it is. Many new mothers have trouble producing milk, and without the ability to feed livestock… Many choose to take precautions against pregnancy. The only reason my stepmother was able to deliver such a healthy son was that she’d taken it upon herself to triple her food rations. She would deny it, of course, but I saw the food she ate. She made no secret of it, but to accuse a queen of the same theft that would demand the execution of a commoner would not bode well for the accuser.
I boil a pot of water in the small fireplace that is somehow still burning despite my ignoring it all night. It only takes two pieces of wood to have it roaring again. When the water is warmed just enough, I pour in far too much soap. Bubbles fly as a familiar aroma overtakes me. Of course they would use roses in their soaps. Who wouldn’t want to smell like that garden?
It takes a fair while to scrub myself clean with just a washcloth, but a proper bath isn’t an option. Back home, Teagan would draw a bath for me every night before bed. As shameful as it is, I wouldn’t even know where to begin going about getting the water for it here. It would have probably been easier if I’d been stuck in some small hovel out amongst the people.
When I’m as clean as I’m going to get, I explore the wardrobe. I’d only skimmed through the dresses in my search for something as plain as possible yesterday, but this time I can’t bring myself to care. A dress is a dress, and as long as it covers the important parts, I couldn’t care less which one I end up in.