The Tears of the Rose (13 page)

“The head is missing.”

Zevondeth sighed. “Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“She'd sent for something to complete it. I recall her mentioning something along those lines, but I didn't pay close attention. Had I known what was coming, I might have done so.”

“Before I was born?”

“After, Amelia.”

So it was true. She'd been alive after I'd been born. The twin halves of sorrow and joy cleaved me. Breathing in and out over the change in my world, I tried to assimilate what that meant.

“What happened to her?”

“Replace the tile and seal it. Then come here. And stoke up the fire while you're there.”

I slid the piece into place and rubbed my still-bleeding finger over the shadow woman, watching the edges this time. The mortar re-formed, matching the rest even to the soot stains, as if it had never come and gone at all.

Magic.

“I can do magic?” I asked the old lady when I returned to my perch.
So there, Andi!

But Zevondeth snorted. “There's a difference between activating a set spell and working magic yourself. Your blood is the key. It opens many doors for you, if you but know where to look for them.”

“Like the border to Annfwn.”

“Think you to go there?”

“If I'm the only one who can, then I owe it to my King, my kingdom, my son—the future High King—and Glorianna to bring the traitor back and deliver Annfwn to the people of the Twelve Kingdoms.” My tone sounded suitably ringing with purpose.

Far from being impressed by my noble intentions—or even fearful for the heir I carried—she laughed at me. “You have all of Uorsin's bold ambition and none of Salena's keen and strategic caution.”

Stung, I fiddled with the doll. Such an ugly thing, made of some prickly cloth, without artfulness. It smelled bad, like old animal hair. Even when I pressed the dismembered arm up against the ragged shoulder, it looked monstrous in its decapitated state. The silly pink dress seemed to be a cruel joke. “I could also find the rest of this doll, maybe. Andi would help me. She told me to come.”

“Which is it, child?” Zevondeth's voice gentled, became kinder. “Do you wish to punish your sister or visit her?”

“I don't—I just don't know.” I nearly hurled the doll across the room. “I'm so angry at her. How could she murder Hugh. How?”

Zevondeth stared sightlessly over my shoulder. “If you go, be sure that you ask the right question.”

“I'm tired of riddles.”

“Then you've given up the game before it's barely begun.”

“This isn't a game. This is my
life
.”

She shrugged, settling into the blankets. “To the goddesses, there is no difference.”

“Glorianna would not toy with us. She loves us.”

“Ah, but what is toying to you may be an expression of love from Her. They are not the same as we are. The concerns of our mortal lives can't compare to Their long view of the world.”

“I don't understand what you mean.”

“Then ask a question you will understand the answer to. Start simple and work your way up to the more complicated ones.”

Another person had said something along those lines recently—who was it? Ah, Marin with the knitting. Maybe she'd start teaching me tonight, before the feast. She'd be waiting in my rooms when I returned. My ladies would have found her, wherever she'd wandered off to.

“What happened to my mother?”

Zevondeth opened her mouth, throwing her head back as when she made that cackling laugh, but only a long breath rattled out of her. For a panicked moment, I thought she'd died. But she blinked open her milky eyes and stared at the ceiling.

“As if that's not complicated to answer.”

“I deserve to know.”

“You should count yourself lucky not to get everything you deserve.”

“The worst has already happened. My one true love died. I didn't deserve that.”

“And who are you to know? It's always been so with you—you claim the pride of being Glorianna's avatar, but you don't truly give yourself over to Her will.”

She fell silent. The nearby brazier of red-gold coals snapped and sizzled quietly. I smoothed the doll's gown where my sweaty fingers had pressed creases into the old silk. When she seemed to be planning to say nothing more, I risked an inquiring glance at the old woman. She appeared to be sleeping, her breath rattling wet in her nose.

“Lady Zevondeth?”

She snorted, choked a little, and jerked those milky white eyes open. “You're still here? Go.”

“But—”

“No. No more.” With a palsied hand, she wiped tears from her face.

“I still don't understand why she died, though!”

“It's not given to us to understand everything,” she snapped, snatching up a little bell and ringing it so loudly for the maid that my ears hurt. “Perhaps you should seek your answers elsewhere. Leave an old woman be—quit your pestering.”

Standing, I gathered the pieces of the doll in a fold of my skirt. I didn't want my sweat to mar it any more. Dafne had said finger oils would harm the scrolls, which I acted as if I didn't care about, but what might sweaty hands do? Zevondeth irritably asked the maid for another blanket and the girl scuttled off with the speed of the well intimidated.

I seized the chance. “But it was put about that she died birthing me and you knew that wasn't true.”

“Not such a silly goose,” Zevondeth muttered, picking at her coverlets, eyes closed.

“So who told you not to speak otherwise?”

“You're out of questions, Princess, though that's a fine one.”

“I'll give you something else. More blood?”

“You have nothing more I want. Go on with you.”

“You clearly loved my mother. I just wonder why you never told anyone the truth!”

She cracked one eye open and fixed it on me. “I'm still alive, aren't I?” She let it close again and snuggled in. “Some things are worth dying for. Some worth living for. Salena taught me that. Go learn your own lessons.”

12

I
prayed to Glorianna in the quiet of my bedchamber. Marin had not reappeared and I felt queasy—both from the lack of her soothing tea and from the growing worry that something had happened to her. The White Monk had implied as much, hadn't he? That I'd put Marin in danger by revealing that she had told me that story.

My head felt muddled, swirling from all the conversations I'd had through the day. Kir, the White Monk, Ursula, the audience in the High King's study, and the surreal episode with Lady Zevondeth. I'd opened my window, to better view the sunset while I said my prayers, inviting Glorianna's illuminating light into my heart. The cool evening air felt delicious against my overheated skin. Not long ago I thought I'd never unfreeze; now I thought I might never stop sweating. It would be better if I could remove the heavy winter gown, but I'd need help with that and couldn't bear anyone else's company at the moment.

I drew another of Glorianna's circles in the air around the setting sun, whispering thanks for the sealing of the day and beseeching Her to rise again in the morning. The tip of my cut finger stung as the air moved over it, and impulsively, I departed from the prescribed prayers.

“Please send me guidance, Glorianna.” The rays barely warmed my face, but Her light shone with fierce glory. “I am lost. I have no idea what I'm meant to do. Every step I take seems to be the wrong one. I thought You wanted me to go to Annfwn, to begin claiming it for You, but I've already failed at that. The same way I've failed at everything. Nothing has been right since Hugh died, and I”—I had to pause to silence the hiccups of my faltering breath—“I feel I'm failing. That I truly am worth nothing. I think that maybe my mother died to protect me, and what if I'm not worthy of that? What if—”

“Your Highness?” One of my ladies—a quiet girl from Castle Avonlidgh who had no one to visit at Ordnung—peeked around my chamber door. “I'm so sorry to disturb your prayer, but High Priest Kir requests an audience with you.”

“I'm not dressed for visitors. And I need to prepare for the feast tonight.”

“I told the High Priest as much. He indicated that they would meditate and wait upon your convenience.”

My brows rose in surprise and I stifled the movement, so as not to crinkle my forehead. “The High Priest chooses to wait on me? And is that White Monk with him?”

She nodded, her soft blue eyes wide with anxiety. Torn between obeying her future Queen and the High Priest of her goddess's temple—that couldn't be easy. “He asked for my utmost discretion and obedience, in the name of Glorianna.”

“All right then, Ilsa. Set up my bath. Tell them I'll be out as soon as I'm dressed and ready. Warn him that it will be some time, as I must wash my hair. If Kir prefers, I can speak with him at the feast.”

“I suggested that, in lieu of disturbing you. He seems most insistent on speaking in private.”

Curious, as we'd spoken just this morning. “Has Marin arrived?”

“No, Your Highness. No one seems to be able to find her.”

I didn't rush through bathing, but I didn't take my time, either. I needed to start being smarter, watching my words. The guilt ate at me that I might have indeed endangered Marin. Had Kir done something to her, as the White Monk obliquely warned he might? And why wait on a private audience? I could think of only one reason not to wait for the feast, or for them not to leave and return later—because Kir did not wish to increase the chances of his being seen coming and going.

Finally, I emerged, my semidamp hair artfully coiled and braided by Lady Ilsa, a heretofore unknown talent of hers she seemed happy to employ. I'd donned a purple gown with green trim for Hugh's memorial feast—a nod toward Avonlidgh's traditional colors, but festive enough to satisfy the High King's directive that this be a celebration. As if he commanded our hearts as well as our actions. The disloyal thought surprised me.

High Priest Kir waited for me in the formal outer chambers. The White Monk sat on the window seat, apparently praying, though the last of the winter sunset had long left the sky. Salena had sat in that same spot, I remembered Ursula saying once, forever staring off into the Wild Lands. Was that a sign from Glorianna?

“Princess Amelia”—Kir stood and bowed elaborately—“you are lovelier than the sunrise. You do honor to Glorianna with your bright beauty.”

The White Monk did not look over at us, his cowled profile indicating he stared out the window. Something told me, however, that he listened to every word.
Any female who spreads her legs can do that. It takes no special skill or ability.

“I'd like to think I honor Glorianna with my thoughts and actions, as well.”

He scratched his nose. “Well, that is certainly something worth aspiring to, Princess. Perhaps with prayer and study—and a holy mission.”

“Oh?” I settled myself into a chair carved with roses and padded with pink satin cushions. With an odd certainty, it occurred to me that my mother would have hated it. Surely it was never here when she occupied these rooms.

“I understand you proposed to the High King that you travel to Annfwn.”

How could he possibly know that? Ursula would neither confirm nor deny something like that, so I simply waited for him to continue, my face smooth and blank.

When I didn't respond, annoyance flitted over Kir's face. “I have reason to believe that King Erich and his allies would support such a venture.”

“I have not spoken to Erich since yesterday,” I said in an agreeable tone. Courteous small talk worked well for this, for being discreet. I needed to know if Kir had done something to Marin—it wouldn't do to make him too irritated with me.

“He is careful of the High King's displeasure.”

“As are we all,” I reminded him.

“Naturally. Though, in this instance, King Uorsin wishes greatly to achieve the mission you proposed. Only his natural fatherly concern for you prevents him from taking advantage of your special entrée to Annfwn.”

“That and the well-being of his unborn grandchild and heir.”

“That should not be an issue if you're properly protected and guided.”

A shiver of excitement ran through me. I could go to Annfwn after all! There I could take my revenge on Andi. Once I'd returned triumphant, Uorsin would see that his worry had been for naught.

“I had a visitation from Glorianna.” Kir spoke in urgent tones, as if he thought I needed convincing. “She gives Her blessing for this holy mission. She directed me to tell you that you must follow Her will in this.”

That bothered me. Why hadn't Glorianna spoken to me Herself? I pressed away the frown between my eyebrows.

“Your impulse to offer to go to Annfwn came from Her. That is how Glorianna moves—by guiding your thoughts and feelings. When you spoke, that was Glorianna speaking through you.”

“Truly?” I asked, before I could stop myself. That would make so much more sense—if Glorianna was sending me some of these strange ideas and enormous emotions.

Kir nodded solemnly and made the circle of Glorianna over me. “You are, as yet, an impure vessel. As you meditate and study, you will learn to discard your own muddied thoughts and feelings and allow Glorianna's will to move through you. You will become her perfect avatar, her perfect servant—doing only as Glorianna wishes.”

Once, when I was a little girl, a troupe of performers had performed for the court. They'd asked for volunteers from the serving staff and then dressed the valets and maids in fine costumes. The performers stood behind the dressed-up servants, who were tied to them with ropes at waist, wrists, and ankles. The servants had scarves in their mouths so they couldn't speak; instead, the performers moved them about and said things for them. They acted out scenes, which made everyone laugh—most of all Uorsin—but I hadn't liked it.

I felt like one of those people.

As if he sensed my uncertainty, Kir laced his fingers together and leaned forward. “Do not doubt, Your Highness. You received divine inspiration. Honor that. Honor
Her
.”

“I do,” I breathed, opening my eyes wide and moistening my lips. “What would I do without your wise guidance, High Priest Kir?”

He beamed at me and seemed not to hear the muffled cough from the White Monk. “Then you accept this holy mission?”

“Yes!” I drew Glorianna's circle in the air, let my hand falter. “Oh . . . but my midwife cannot be found. I couldn't possibly travel without her support.”

He waved a languid hand, gaze hard. “The commoner has received succor in Glorianna's Temple. I could not allow her to continue with such wayward ideas, for the sake of her own salvation and accord with the goddess.”

“Then I shall have to stay here.”

It satisfied me, to see the High Priest momentarily gape at me. “But, Princess, Glorianna specifically desires that you—”

“I don't care!” I put on my finest pout. “I need Marin. I can't possibly take on a long journey without her. I couldn't possibly risk my child that way.”

“We shall find another midwife to travel with you,” he soothed, looking more than a little frantic at my tantrum. And here I'd barely wound up.

“No!” I wailed, adding the drama. I stood and paced the room, throwing up my hands to the skies. “She is the
onliest
one who has been able to treat me. Glorianna sent her to me. I know that in my heart.” For emphasis I pounded my fist against my breastbone.

“I can't see how that's true, with her heretical ways,” Kir made the mistake of snapping at me.

I buried my face in my hands, sobbing. The artifice made the thorny ball in my throat spin, digging in painfully. Oh for tears, even manufactured ones. “Who better to help her than Glorianna's own avatar? I feel I was meant to take her under my wing, to lead her to the truth.”

“Princess Amelia, I, that is, we, while we believe that you are, indeed, the hand of the goddess, you are not trained as our priests are.”

I wailed into my palms as if my heart broke into a million pieces. “I shall stay here and learn from them. I
must
have Marin to tend me or I fear I shall lose the babe! I'll talk to my father. He'll understand.”

“No!” Kir coughed, stopping what he'd been about to say. I peeked at him through my fingers. My dramatics had brought me to the other side of him, and, over his shoulder, I saw that the White Monk had risen from the window seat, hands tucked into draping sleeves, cowl pulled back, a strangely victorious light gleaming in his apple-green eyes. “Princess, Glorianna needs you to go and—”

“I shall go with Her Highness.” The White Monk's words broke into our scene. Kir physically startled, because he'd not seen what I'd seen.

“I shall accompany Her Highness and take the midwife's education upon myself. I see that this must be why Glorianna called upon me to journey with you at this time. It is the perfect solution.” He intoned a prayer, drawing Glorianna's circle, and Kir was compelled to follow along.

“I shall think upon it, but this might be the best solution,” Kir reluctantly agreed.

“I am not without martial skill,” the White Monk told him, “so I shall be of double benefit to our holy mission.”

I studied him with an eye for that surprising disclosure. The White Monk, though tallish, lacked Hugh's broad shoulders and the physique that had allowed him to wield his heavy sword so well. Though Ursula could best most fighters, even those who outweighed her, as so many did, given her long, lean frame. She always said that cleverness, agility, and speed could win out over brute strength, if the fighter trained in those aspects enough.
If they can beat you with strength, don't let the match become a contest of strength.
Andi used to mimic her saying that, especially when she returned from fighting practice with a new bruise.

One of those bits of advice that sounded much easier in theory than it was in practice.

It applied to my situation. I was not the strategist Ursula was or all full of special witchy magic as it turned out Andi possessed. So I shouldn't get into those contests. Unfortunately my only talents lay in being beautiful, and no one held contests for that. I suspected I could throw only so many temper tantrums before they lost potency.

Maybe being Glorianna's living, dancing doll was all I had to offer. That and being mother of the next High King. Both of those things came from others, though. Still not me.

“Will that be agreeable to you, Princess Amelia?” Kir startled me from my thoughts. The White Monk observed me with a cynical expression, his eyes mocking me, as if he'd followed my train of thought, that I understood I was as without power and worth as he'd accused me of being. No, it wasn't agreeable. I didn't want him around me with his hateful glares and taunting remarks. But I'd won my chance to find my purpose, to serve Glorianna and the High King both.