The Tears of the Rose (5 page)

“Looking in a mirror to fix your pretty face isn't the same as seeing yourself.”

The impertinence—and the uncomfortable parallel to my own thoughts—made me gasp, and I swung on him, full of imperial rage.

“Your Highness!” High Priest Kir called from the rear of the chapel. “Had I known you intended to come here, I would have been here sooner. I will assist with your prayers.”

The assistant priest faded back, but a breath of a laugh made me think he mocked Kir and me both.

“I shall retire, then, sir.” He'd folded those coarse, tanned hands into his loose sleeves and bowed his face.

“Yes, yes.” Kir waved him away, busying himself with preparations at the altar.

When I looked again, he was gone.

4

“W
ho is that?” I asked Kir, who frowned a little, losing his count in the infusion of Glorianna's wine.

“My assistant, Your Highness. I believed you'd seen him before, but perhaps in the, ah, aftermath of Prince Hugh's tragic passing and your extreme grief—”

“Not that.” I gave rein to my irritation. Better than letting the sorrow take me over at Kir's careless words. Just when I thought the edge had dulled, it swamped me, a wave wanting to drag me off the rocks at Windroven, cold, bitter, and irresistibly powerful. “I mean what is his name? His background.”

“Ah.” Kir smiled, composing his features into that beatific expression he favored. “These things are not known to me. He is of the White Monks.”

I'd vaguely heard of that order, over in far Nebeltfens, but I couldn't recall why they sounded familiar. A special cult of Glorianna?

“And that means?” I prompted Kir, who had to conceal his frustration at losing his count again. “You can leave off on that—I don't care for the full ceremony tonight.”

“But, Your Highness, if you wish to pray in the Temple, then—”

“Tell me about the White Monks.” I didn't care if I sounded like a spoiled drama queen right then. Especially if it got me the answers I sought.

“They consecrate themselves to Glorianna's service very young. They give up their names, their previous identities, all the better to make themselves vessels for Glorianna's pure and holy presence.”

“Why are they called the White Monks—for the robes?”

“The robes are secondary, Your Highness. The White Monks spend the first three years of service under a strict vow of silence, and the name of their order reflects the stillness and purity they believe that brings. Many never speak again.”

“But this one does.”

“Did he speak to you? He rarely does.”

“He did.”

Kir looked at me expectantly and I nearly said how impertinent—even rude—the assistant had been. Then closed my lips over it.
But you won't do that, will you, Amelia?
He'd called me by my name and I hadn't noticed. How odd.

“I hope he didn't bother you, Your Highness. You're something of a legend among the younger priests—in truth, among the older ones, also. This one asked to accompany me in my journey here, but I trusted his taciturn nature to restrain him.”

“I'm a legend? Restrain him from what?” A flutter of pleasure threaded through me, the first since I'd heard the tragic news from Odfell's Pass. I used to feel this, it seemed ages ago, when some troubadour sang a new song composed to me. Though I would never have told Hugh so, in my heart of hearts I'd missed it. Windroven is well off the traveled routes. And nobody writes poetry about wives.

“They see you as the incarnation of Glorianna, Your Highness.” He bowed to me, a deeply respectful and ceremonial gesture. “Her avatar, sent to us in our time of need, to combat the demonic forces that threaten to tear us asunder.”

My heart rose, painfully. “The Tala.”

He nodded. “Already they tore Princess Andromeda from our breast, leaving a gaping wound for their poison to flow in and rot us from the inside out. You fought to save her.”

“I did.” How did he see what no one else had? “I fought for her with all my might. And so did Prince Hugh.”

“Which is why she killed him.” He made the sign of Glorianna, a circle in the air. “Like a viper at your bosom, she struck at you, attempting to destroy you, also. But Glorianna protects Her avatar. She's blessed you with the child who will save us all.”

“She will?”

“
He
will.” Kir made the circle again. “We have seen visions. He will be the next High King, and the Twelve Kingdoms shall flourish under his rule. We will destroy the Tala, utterly and for all and forever. We shall take back Annfwn, the paradise that should have been Glorianna's, that
Her
sister stole from Her. And you shall lead us there, Glorianna's chosen one.”

Kir's visage gleamed with a glowing, nearly fanatical light. Could this be true? It would mean that Andi—and Ursula—were wrong about the child being a daughter. But then, they had already tried to mislead me in other ways. And Dafne, making out that Andi had been so noble—was that more misdirection? After all, Andi's actions had spoken very loudly.

High Priest Kir came closer, then knelt before me, kissing the tips of my fingers. “Do you see the parallels in your story?”

“I'd never heard this, that Moranu stole Annfwn. I'd never heard of Annfwn before those Tala showed up.”

He nodded gravely. “It's a wound to Glorianna's children and so we don't speak of it. Annfwn is said to be paradise, where we once all lived. Shouldn't paradise belong to Glorianna?”

“But Her sister Moranu stole it?”

“Through vile treachery. It was High King Uorsin's lifelong quest to recover Annfwn for Glorianna.”

My mouth was sticky, the scent of roses too strong with the burning candles. “What happened to his quest?”

Kir glanced from side to side, as if checking for eavesdroppers, and lowered his voice. “Salena of the Tala.”

“My mother?” And Andi carried our mother's mark. It all began to make sense, Andi's change, her betrayal. The half-breed blood showing through.

“You are wise, Your Highness. Uorsin sacrificed his dream of gaining Annfwn to make a lasting peace for Glorianna. And, some of us believe, so that you could be born.
You
. The third, most important daughter. Glorianna made flesh.”

My heart thumped with the wild possibilities of it. I'd prayed for guidance and Glorianna had answered. Could this be my purpose? “Prince Hugh always said he thought my beauty came from Glorianna's touch.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Her radiance is visible in every aspect of your grace and loveliness. Small wonder the poets told tales of you. They will again, as you lead Glorianna's church to greatness. As you lead her children into Annfwn.”

That night, I sat in front of the mirror in the grand guest room set aside for my use. Ursula had been given the master's suite, which seemed unfair. Truly, our ranks were equal now. Though she might be heir to the High King, I would be Queen of Avonlidgh sooner than that, as Old Erich couldn't possibly last much longer.

And, if Kir had spoken truly—which I believed he did, for he spoke in Glorianna's chapel, surely at her behest—I carried Uorsin's true heir. Even Ursula—as much as she tried to be a son to our father—she knew as we all did that he'd longed for a boy to take his place. It had been a last trick of Salena's to saddle him with daughters.

Though no one said this aloud.

Kir, though, had put a new spin on our family history. Perhaps Glorianna had guided Salena to our father so that I might be born. Then, her role complete, she passed on. Perhaps she redeemed her devil nature before her death and now rested in Glorianna's arms.

For the first time since I heard that Hugh was forever gone from me, I brushed my hair before bed. I'd started when I was five, when my nurse taught me to do it for myself. My beauty, she'd said, was a tribute to Glorianna, so I owed it to the goddess to maintain that.

One hundred strokes every night, to keep the shine.

I should never have stopped. I counted them as I drew the brush through the red-gold locks, sinking into the peaceful, even feel of it. The woman looking back at me in the mirror wore the same face I'd always known. Still beautiful.

Not ugly as I'd imagined. All that had happened had failed to touch me. Nothing dimmed the fiery river of my hair, the translucence of my skin, the twilight blue of my eyes, enormous in my delicate face. I'd heard myself described in poems before I knew half the words to assign to the features the mirrors showed me.

The most beautiful woman in the Twelve Kingdoms. Then and still.

My gift from Glorianna and a sign of Her favor. She would no more strip me of that radiance than She could tear it from Her own being. Though Glorianna's enemies had torn Hugh from me, I would not give up Her fight. His death would not be in vain. Our child would be High King and cleanse the land of the Tala.

Glorianna willed it.

I would honor her will.

If Ursula looked at me strangely the next morning, I put it down to the fact that she hadn't seen me out of mourning since we'd reunited. Of course, she was angry that I'd delayed our departure by hours while Dulcinor recruited the Louson maids into sewing my new pink gown. Not that I cared a whit for Ursula's moods.

I belonged to Glorianna and I would honor Her.

“Done primping?” Ursula asked, looking me up and down.

“And puking, yes, thank you.”

She had the grace to look chagrined, and I enjoyed the score. Even though the queasies were much better thanks to Marin's concoctions. I sent Dafne to ride with some of the other ladies, so Kir could talk with me more about Glorianna and his plans to recover Annfwn for us and for Glorianna's greater good.

For all I knew, Dafne was one of them. Who said the shape-shifting demons couldn't masquerade as humans, too? It seemed more and more likely that she was a spy and her supposed concern for me a clever ruse to gain my confidence. But I would be more clever than she.

As for the midwife, she simply spent her time knitting, humming to herself, and glancing up from time to time to check my color. She seemed to know when the carriage movement was getting to me, handing me well-timed mints or thin toasts to chew on before I realized I needed them.

Time passed quickly with High Priest Kir's excellent conversation. I hadn't recognized before what a well-educated and intelligent man he was. And so devout. His allegiance to Glorianna practically glowed from his countenance. Never before had I understood the true foundation of the war the Tala had waged—and catastrophically won—to wrest Andi's loyalty from us.

More and more I understood how they'd clouded her mind with half-truths and used her emotions against her. As I'd suspected, she didn't love Rayfe. Even if she believed she did, it would be impossible because he wasn't even human. It made so much sense—though the Tala appeared to be people, they were truly animals and thus without souls.

“Love is the expression of the soul, Your Highness,” Kir explained. “It is the pure and true animus of us as Glorianna's children. In Her wisdom, Glorianna gave us love to connect our souls together, to give us solace until we return to Her encompassing light. Thus, love must be given to be received, and received to be given. It's an eternal cycle.”

“So the Tala cannot love.”

Kir shook his head, looking somber and sorrowful. “No. You are as insightful as you are beautiful, Princess. You are correct: the Tala cannot give or receive love because they aren't Glorianna's children.”

“Whose children are they?”

“Some say Moranu's. Others say they belong to none of the trinity but are simply animals that have learned to mimic humans.”

“Then Andi has been bewitched.”

He considered that, then leaned forward. “Your compassionate nature does you credit, Your Highness. You are indeed Glorianna's avatar on this earth. You carry within you all of Her goodness and thus you can't bear to think ill of others. But you are also brave and strong. You may have to face that the woman you thought was your sister was never truly human at all.”

The even click of Marin's needles hitched and she muttered about dropping a stitch.

“I've heard tell”—High Priest Kir lowered his voice, turning a shoulder to the midwife—“that those in Princess Andromeda's presence sometimes felt a strange creeping sensation, a visceral fear, perhaps, such as when one sees a poisonous spider.”