The Enchanted Rose (13 page)

“Clean up this mess, and hurry,” the queen commands. It becomes very apparent as to why she only brought a few people with her, and why she said she would not return until nightfall. 

Now discovering every secret this woman has is my new mission. I will find out everything. I will learn the truth, and I will expose her for what she is. As a ruler, she should be caring and kind, not murdering people because they know too much. 

My heart feels broken. Jossa and I have never gotten along. We never agree on anything. She’s tried her hardest to make sure I hated everything she ever made me do growing up—even now. But this? It is beyond what I thought her capable of. 

I don’t wait for them to finish cleaning the mess, but run through the field. I try to be quiet and stay out of sight, but my first concern is to get out of there as fast as possible.  

The journey back to the castle is much quicker when I am alone and not being completely silent. What took nearly six hours this morning only takes me two now. 

As soon as I arrive, I leave the horse in the stables and run to my bedroom. I only barely make it before the tears come forth. 

“Milady?” Madrid’s sweet voice startles me, but I do not answer her. I lie on my side and sob until my pillow is wet enough that it is no longer comfortable. I pull another toward me and rest on it, throwing the first one on the floor. 

“Rose, please tell me. What’s the matter?” She sounds concerned, but I do not have it in me to speak. I mutter one word. 

“Jossa.” How could this happen? Why did it happen? I was there—I saw it. I watched my mother murder two farmers. I could have stopped her. I
should
have stopped her. Why hadn’t I thought to take a sword or any other weapon with me? I didn’t go prepared. 

“What did she do?” Madrid now whispers. I wipe the tears from my face and sit up. I lean against the headboard and hold on the pillow as if it could protect me. 

“She killed two people.” I look in Madrid’s direction, but all I can see is that scene replaying over and over in my mind. 

A gasp escapes Madrid, and she comes into focus. “No,” she mutters in disbelief. 

I nod. “I saw it. I saw their faces as she did it. Madrid, I was there. I could have saved them, and I didn’t. I just sat there and watched her do it.” 

Madrid is by my side in an instant, pulling me against her as she wraps her arms around me. “This isn’t your fault, milady. She did this, not you. Do not place blame on yourself.” 

“I should have done something, but I was too scared to move. I thought she was just going to speak to them. She asked them who they told her secret to, but they promised they hadn’t spoken a word. She said she had to be sure they never did.” 

“Did she say what the secret was?” Madrid strokes my hair. 

“No, but it has something to do with me and the wedding. She said that the princess is getting married, and she had to be sure no one would ever find out the truth because if they did, it would bring Elna and possibly Tivor down.” 

“What secret could they possibly know that would warrant such an end?” She seems just as heartbroken and horrorstruck as I feel.  

Without much thought, I rise and slide off the bed. I walk three steps and stand before the mirror, examining my face. I can’t stop thinking about the way that woman looked. How could it be that I look more like a stranger than I do my own mother? 

Gwydion allows me space for the rest of the day and into the next. Selma has yet to awaken again, which worries me. I do not wish for her to suffer, but I can’t possibly take her position as Oracle. 

But then, how can I ask someone else to make the sacrifice I myself am unwilling to make? I’m caught in a trap of guilt, with no way out. Because I refuse to take her position, she continues to suffer, and the storm rages on, though as her body gives in and dies, the storm quiets down. Now only a light breeze passes through. 

But I can’t take it any longer. I march over to where the wizard sits sulking. “I can’t do this, Gwydion. I don’t know how to be an oracle. I don’t know how to watch over magic. I can’t sit here and watch Selma die slowly, and in pain, but I don’t know how to save her, either.” I sit beside him and hope he is inclined to speak to me. 

“I understand. I too do not wish to see her suffer. And while I do know what it takes to be in her position, I can’t find it in myself to be willing and ready. This is not something one should take lightly. So what do we do, Prince?” 

“Is there not someone who would receive this task upon Selma’s death? Anyone to inherit it? Or a council who decides upon the next Oracle?”  

“Selma has lived a long time. Anyone who could have inherited it from her would be long gone, and there is no council. This is up to you and me, Your Highness. One of us must take her place. If we do not do it before she passes, the magic itself will decide whom it wants. Should that happen, neither one of us will have a choice.”  

“Have you ever been in love?” I look him in the eye and gauge his reaction. 

“No. My love is for magic.” 

“Then why do you not want to take the Oracle’s place? You would have far more magic. You would be given her powers, would you not?” 

“I do not want it for many reasons. I’m not in love, but that does not mean I want to be trapped on this mountain, alone, for the rest of my life. I do not want it because I fear having more power than I know what to do with.”

“And that fear is all the more reason for you to receive it. You would not abuse it the way some would. How do you know that I would not take it and use it for evil purposes? How can you be sure that I would not do more damage than good?” I question him, badger him, try to show him he is the one for the position.

“I know because Erimentha told me so,” he counters, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Who?” I raise an eyebrow. I hadn’t expected his quick comeback.

“One of my fairies. Where Ophelia knows the heart by love, Erimentha knows it by hate. She knows you are not the kind to use your gifts for evil, just as she knows you do not have an evil bone in your body.” 

“And what about you? Can she say the same?” I soften the harsh tone in my voice and ask with sincerity.

The wizard’s gaze drops to the ground. “I’ve never asked her. I’m afraid of what she will say.” His tone holds no anger either. 

“If I were to bet on it, I would say that her answer would be very much the same for you. You fear too much power. Those who would use it for evil would only want more, without a second thought as to if they were abusing it or not.” 

“You say that, and I appreciate the kindness in it. But it does not change the fact that I do not want that kind of power. I cannot take over as Oracle. I can’t, and I’m sorry that it is left to you. But that is my final argument on the matter.” 

“Gwydion.” Without meaning it to, my voice has turned to a plea. “I may have already lost Roselyn, but I can’t quit fighting for her until I know with all my heart. I know this is a large task for anyone to take on. You have already done so much for me. But I am begging you to please reconsider. I can’t lose Roselyn like this. Not to magic.” I slump down on the icy rock and think of all the ways I’ve already almost lost her.

Jossa has done all that she can to keep us apart. For her to finally win in such a way, without Roselyn knowing why I disappeared, why I never came back for her, would be the death of me. 

Gwydion slides down beside me, a look of concern on his face. “I told you that if your love were true, that rose would show you the way. It would ensure that you and the princess got your happy ending together.” He sighs. I glance at him and realize he looks just as torn down as I feel. “I never realized that it would also lead to
my
fate,
my
supposed happy ending.” 

“What do you mean?” My heart soars at his words, but I calm down, unsure if he is saying what I think he is saying. 

“You’re right. I fear having too much magic, but perhaps that is why I am the best one to take it. I am not so young anymore. My days are numbered now. Selma is the one who gave me my power, and for that I am forever grateful, but I am still mortal. I did not know that one day, I would take over her position.” 

“And one day, you will have the chance to give someone like yourself magic and allow them to be a wizard,” I offer. 

“Prince Osric, I will become Avonathia’s Oracle. I will become the keeper, protector, and guide of magic in the land. But you must promise me one thing.” Goose bumps cover me with his words. 

“Anything,” is all I can say, choked up at his sacrifice. 

“
Promise me you will be happy with Roselyn. That you two will be together. Promise me you will show the world that love will always find a way.” He seems as choked up as I am. I lean over and hug him. 

“I promise, my friend.” 

“Good. Now, let us relieve Selma before she has to suffer any longer.” He stands, and I follow. We both approach her writhing form with caution. 

I allow Gwydion to speak with her first as I stand to the side, unsure what needs to be done. The wizard whispers in her ear, and slowly, she awakens. 

With a start, she sits up and begins speaking. “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.”

“What are you talking about?” I lean closer. 

Lightning strikes, brightening up the darkening sky. As the thunder rolls, the entire mountain trembles. It’s an odd sensation, sitting on the mountain as it shakes. I feel as if I’ll fall off or the mountain will topple over. 

The Oracle looks my way with a glare in her eye I do not understand. “You heard what I saw, and now you must puzzle it together. Until the person responsible is found, no one shall be crowned. I cannot die until the reason the storm began is stopped, and the magic they took is safe once more.”  Without warning, she falls back against her makeshift bed, and the storm continues on.

Gwydion steps away from her, and his shoulders heave. He is as worried as I am. 

“What did all of that mean?” Hopefully, he knows, because her words made no sense to me. 

“She is known for speaking in riddles, for what she sees is never clear. We must figure it out, and we have to find the fake queen before Selma will give in and allow the storm to close.” 

“Why would she do that?” 

Gwydion looks up at me, an amused and bewildered expression on his face. “The storm was a safeguard, ensuring that whoever stole the magic cannot use it. If the storm lets up and the person who stole the magic can use it, what do you think is going to happen? There is a reason why only royalty and those who are gifted magic are allowed to have it. There is also a reason why royalty do not marry commoners, Your Highness.” 

It all becomes clear, and I feel foolish for not understanding the severity of the situation beforehand. I was so consumed with my own future, I had not thought about the one who stole magic, aside from wondering which queen could need it. 

“Without leaving this mountain, how are we supposed to do any of this? Would it not be easier for one, if not both, of us to go out there and figure out who would need to steal magic, and who they murdered? That would be something we can work with. Information we can trace back to the person responsible.” 

“How could it be easier? We cannot scour every kingdom for murder victims. Selma said the storm sees all. That means that even though this storm is destroying the magic, it is, in itself, magical. I think we can find a way to see what the storm saw and use that to figure it out.”  

“And how do you control a storm long enough to ask it what it saw?” I reply sarcastically. His plan cannot possibly work.

“I don’t know. But Selma would.” He turns and walks back, speaking to her, lowering his voice so I cannot hear what he says. But I watch, curious if she will wake up and give him the answers. 

“Do you have any powers left? Any bit of magic at all?” He looks at me weakly. Selma did not stir when he attempted to awaken her. 

“I do not know. I hadn’t thought about it, truthfully.” 

“If we can control the storm at the source, even a little bit, we will be able to see what we need to see. But in order to do that, we need magic. Even the smallest amount.” 

I nod and kneel beside him. “I suppose the best way to find out is to try.”