Page 49 of Ash and Roses
“Just watch.”
As if carried by a phantom wind, the ash floats up off the altar and spreads out around the garden in a spiral that matches the roses. It hovers in the air, shimmering slightly as if bathed in early morning sun, before falling over the flowers in a gentle cascade. The flowers themselves seem to welcome the ash, emanating a soft glow of their own.
“What kind of magic is this?” I’ve never seen anything like it, never mind something so equally sad and beautiful.
“This garden is a graveyard. Rosewood was named for the roses that grow naturally around this part of the forest, buttheseroses appeared after the curse. So long as our remains are burned atop this altar and our ashes become one with the roses, it’s as if we’ll never truly be gone.” He touches a petal and rubs it gently between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s the only thing I don’t hate about the curse.”
“King and commoner rest together as equals.”
He smiles then, though the sadness behind it lingers. “Exactly.” We let the silence settle between us for some time, but eventually he speaks again. “You may not see me for a while.”
“You’re leaving again.” It’s not a question. I knew this was coming, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.
“I would stay if I could, but—”
“But your curse is different.”
He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, and the action seems to pain him. It’s as if I’m someone that matters to him, and this is our last goodbye. “Tess and Ruben will be back soon. They never wander far, so they’re always among the first to return. Everyone else should be back by the time the sun sets.”
“And you? When will you be back?”
He looks out to the forest, and the pain that radiates from him is almost tangible. “As soon as I can.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
ABBY
Ihaven’t seen Quinn since we spoke in the garden, but his words are still a vice around me. On the one hand, he’s letting me stay—but he’s the one leaving. I shouldn’t care. So much has changed between us, but just as much hasn’t. He’s still an ass, the furthest thing from Prince Charming, and a small piece of me wants to hate him… but the rest of me can’t. I think that, over time, I may even grow to like the prince. If he can ever get over himself, that is.
Tess waves at me with an air of embarrassment as she steps out of the woods. One by one, the wolves have been shifting back into their human forms and returning to the castle, fully clothed. Quinn must have put some clothes just beyond the tree line, or they have a stash somewhere. It makes sense that they would, though they could have just as easily become accustomed to their nakedness, and this is a courtesy to me.
Many are still in the woods, and those who are back are preoccupied with washing themselves after their stint in the forest. Which leaves me to myself. I shiver as a cold breeze brushes over me. Winter is just around the corner now, and any day now we might get the first snowfall. I wonder what happens to the roses in winter. When another gust hits me, I decide it’s time to head inside.
“Going somewhere?”
The question has me whipping around to find Morgan standing just a few yards away. How long had he been there watching me in perfect silence? I notice then that, a little further behind him, two other men are speaking silently to one another, their eyes darting to me every few seconds. I’ve seen them around, but haven’t yet spoken to them. They’ve kept to themselves, mostly.
“Inside. It’s getting cold out.” I cross my arms and rub them as if to underline the statement.
Morgan nods in agreement and glances up at the grey clouds above. It’s late afternoon, but all traces of the sun have vanished. “Indeed. I can smell the snow in the air.” He inhales deeply, as if savouring the scent. “You know what else a wolf’s nose is adept at smelling? Fear.” As he says that last word only just above a whisper, his lips twitch up into a grin that has me wanting to take a step backwards, but I hold my ground.
“Is that why you attacked me that day?” Maybe I shouldn’t bait him, but he’s looking at me like I’m his prey and my instincts are screaming at me not to turn my back on him.
“Oh, no, Princess. Why don’t you come with me for a stroll through the woods, and I’ll tell you all about it?”
I take a step back at the veiled threat in his words. He didn’t come to apologize. He came to finish whatever it was the wolf in him had started. But why? What have I ever done to this man? His faint familiarness taunts me again, the knowledge of who he is teasing me from just out of reach.
My eyes dart around in search of the other two men. They’ve moved in opposite directions, encircling us, with the intent of getting behind me. I move to run for the castle before they can trap me, but Morgan’s taunt stops me. “I wouldn’t do that. Wolves enjoy a chase and if you run, I might not be able to stop them.”
“I could scream.”
“You could. But who would hear you?”
A hand slips around my mouth from behind. One man must have moved when I was distracted, and now holds me tight against him. The force of my struggle is no match for the animalistic strength still flowing through him. I kick with my legs, but the second man grabs them and hoists them up so that the two of them can carry me into the forest and away from anyone who might hear.
It can’t have been more than ten minutes when I finally free a leg and kick the dark-haired man in the face. He drops me, and the other man relaxes his hold just enough to shift my head a fraction. It’s enough, and I sink my teeth into the fleshy spot of his palm until I taste blood.
“You bitch!”