The Tears of the Rose (6 page)

The staunchly loyal part of me protested. Sometimes the people at Castle Ordnung had whispered cruel things about Andi. But I had always,
always
defended her. They just didn't understand her. Andi had been shy, preferring to ride her horses instead of participating in the feasts and dances. Even when I encouraged the men waiting for their turn to dance with me to at least talk to her, she hadn't tried to be pleasant to them.

She always had to be difficult, it seemed. Still, she was human.

Wasn't she?

Kir read the confusion on my face, because he took my hand, folding it between his in a fatherly gesture. “Such loyalty. You have no ill thoughts in you, so you cannot imagine them in others. But we all heard the truth of it from Her Highness Ursula's own lips. Glorianna's spirit in you drives you to absolve the creature who carelessly, viciously murdered your husband. Your son will grow up without a father. Is there any way this cannot be the manifestation of a cruel and malicious will?”

My throat clogged, all of those unshed tears still trapped in there, locked in forever, stuck with pieces of my destroyed heart. I didn't feel like Glorianna's avatar. I felt more the five-year-old that Ursula scornfully accused me of being.

“Your mother was one of them,” Kir continued, his smooth voice relentless. “Many are the tales told of how she beguiled High King Uorsin and forced him into her devil's bargain. Ask yourself this—what did she get out of the marriage? They had no love for each other. What was her demonic plan?”

My stomach churned and Marin handed me a cup of tea from her flask. I might have imagined it, but it seemed she cast an angry, sideways glance at Kir. Taking the cup allowed me to withdraw my hand from the priest's grip, and I wrapped my own around the delicate mug, wishing my fingers weren't so cold.

“I don't know,” I admitted. “I never knew her. She's always been a cipher to me. No one would ever talk about her.” So much so, in fact, that I'd never heard of the Tala until Rayfe demanded our father make good on their old treaty to give him Andi for his bride, much less that our mother, Salena, had been one of them.

“There is a school of thought in Glorianna's temple that explains much about the late queen.”

“What is it?”

“Perhaps Your Highness should have a bit of a rest,” Marin interrupted. Kir flushed angrily at her lack of manners, and she cringed. “Your color isn't what I'd want it to be, is all, Princess.”

In truth I felt ill. The tea wasn't helping. But I needed to hear this. Nobody had ever said to my face that I killed my mother by being born, but they didn't have to. I knew when they lied about it. How they told me it wasn't my fault, that I bore no guilt for it. All the time the stink of lies ran beneath.

“I want to hear this.” I handed the mug to Marin. “This isn't helping.”

“You see, Your Highness”—Kir templed his fingers and bowed to me over them—“Glorianna created you to fight these battles for Her. Once the demon spawn Andromeda was born, Glorianna saw what a great evil had been released into the world. So She created
you
, perfect in every way. Your beauty is a guiding star for those who would serve your cause.

“Your very goodness burned through the womb and released your mother from the chains of evil. She died, yes, but she passed over redeemed, infused with Glorianna's nature from contact with Her spirit via you.”

I wanted to believe that, this idea I'd been mulling over. Maybe Glorianna had whispered it to me. That was how I'd known.

“You
saved
her, Princess Amelia. They named you for the love you brought to the world in her place. Now we are crying for that love. We need you to lead us. Everything that has happened has led to this moment. Do not let your mother's death be in vain. Don't forsake Prince Hugh, who sacrificed himself that your eyes might be opened.”

My head swam. “I don't feel well at all.” I missed Hugh, bitterly and profoundly. I needed to ask him what he thought of all this. He'd always known the right thing to say to comfort me. Now it seemed I was beyond comfort. How had the world changed so utterly?

Or not changed. From Kir's words, it had been this way all along and I had been simply too blind to see it. How Andi must have laughed at me, watching me indulge in fripperies and romance while she plotted all along to defeat me.

“What of Ursula?”

Kir shook his head, then slid a significant glance at Marin, whose needles flew furiously. “We should perhaps speak of such things at another time. We must do all we can to protect Glorianna's sacred cause. High King Uorsin's great quest.”

Did he mean to imply that Ursula wasn't on our side? But it was true—she had defended Andi's actions. My head pounded and my stomach lurched. “Stop the carriage!” I cried out.

In a flash, Marin had me around the waist, supporting me out of the halted carriage. I fell ignominiously to my knees in the half-frozen mud, retching up toast and tea. She patted my back, soothing me, murmuring that babes take their toll and I must keep peaceful.

The cold filth soaked through my skirts and I knew the pink gown would be forever stained.

5

W
e arrived at Castle Ordnung a day later.

The High King's seat and my childhood home, Ordnung had been built fairly recently—completed not long after Ursula was born, in fact. It didn't look as if it had grown out of the old volcano as Windroven did, constructed of the same dark rock, towers and wings added over time. Instead, Ordnung gleamed brilliant white, with perfect, straight lines and solid defenses. Both a monument to our father's immense achievement in uniting the kingdoms and a fortress in case of attack, Castle Ordnung was, by definition, the finest castle in the land.

Out of long habit, my heart rose to see it, with its uniformed soldiers standing guard and all the bright pennants flying—one for each of the twelve kingdoms—and High King Uorsin's rampant bear above them all. I'd always thought of Ordnung as my true home.

Oddly, though, I missed Windroven, in all her dark rock and ungainly sprawl.

Uorsin received us in the grand audience chamber. As heir to the High Throne, Ursula preceded us and Erich escorted me on his arm. High Priest Kir and that creepy White Monk followed behind.

The last time I was here, I'd been on Hugh's arm and we'd been bursting with fun over our surprise visit—my first since our wedding. With a start, I realized that my wedding anniversary would be soon, when true spring came to Mohraya. We hadn't had even a full year together.

No doubt it would still be wintery on the cold coast of Avonlidgh, but that would be fitting. I would celebrate by myself, perhaps holding vigil at Hugh's tomb, so he wouldn't be alone. My stomach clenched and Old Erich patted my hand, where I dug my nails into his bony forearm.

Uorsin glowered at us. Or, more precisely, fixed his angry gaze on Ursula.

“So you come home with your tail between your legs, do you?” If that insult struck home, Ursula didn't show any sign. She stood at attention, her spine rigid. Because it was court, she wore a gown, dark and severe in cut, but well made. Had she dragged it with her on the long campaign? Someone had trimmed her shaggy hair, too, and attempted to make it look put up like a proper court lady's instead of just short. She wore the simple gold band across her forehead that proclaimed her heir to the High King's throne. Despite myself, a thrill of pride ran through me. Ursula was nothing if not admirable.

“Yes, my King.” Ursula curtsied deeply, keeping her head bowed. “I bring grave news indeed.”

He flicked an irritated hand at her. “We have already heard your news. Every damn person in the Twelve Kingdoms and beyond the Wild Lands has heard the news. You can explain your many failures to me in private.”

A susurrus of speculation ran through the assembled court. I'd never seen Uorsin so mightily, so fulminously and broodingly enraged. Not even when we first received the message from the Tala. It did not bode well for Ursula. Then he surprised me again by stepping down from the throne and calling my name. He opened his arms, as he had when I was a little girl.

I couldn't possibly embarrass him by not responding, no matter how odd his actions for formal court, so I did what he expected of me—and ran to him, leaving Erich to lean on his valet and brushing past Ursula, who'd stepped aside to clear my way. Uorsin embraced me in his bear hug, nearly crushing me. He rubbed his bristled chin on the top of my head and held me tight.

“My flower, my precious rose. Always you have been the best of us. The sweetest, most innocent, and most beautiful of my daughters. It is a tragedy beyond speaking that
you
should be the one to suffer for your sisters' many sins. First, one betrays me; then the other fails me. You alone have been all that a dutiful daughter should be.”

He finally released me and I drew a long breath, feeling more than a little dizzy. Uorsin smelled as if he hadn't been bathing enough—and like the greasy meats he ate for breakfast. I concentrated on breathing through my mouth as Marin had taught me, to master the sickness. It would not do to hurl on the High King's shiny boots.

“You will stay in Ordnung with me,” he declared. “I have need of a proper hostess, as my heir seems to be useful neither as a woman nor as a man.”

I winced for Ursula, though she did not reveal a flicker of expression on her face. Meanwhile the Avonlidgh contingent behind us began muttering unhappily. Old Erich came forward and bowed to the High King, then put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.

“King Erich.” Uorsin acknowledged his obeisance and assumed a concerned expression. The smoldering scent of lies tinged the air. “My deepest sympathies on the loss of your son—my heart-son—and Avonlidgh's heir. It must be a grave blow in your old age.”

If the insensitivity of the remark bothered Erich, he didn't show it. For all that he was terribly old and frail, he was a shrewd man. Hugh had often spoken of how much he admired his father's wisdom and strategy. I'd never given it much thought, but I marked it now, how he gathered a regal air around him—and showed with his arm around me that he, too, called me daughter.

“My gratitude, High King. Your grace and bearing in this time of Avonlidgh's trial simply demonstrates yet again the wisdom of your leadership over us all. Truly, the Twelve flourish under your evenhanded and just rule. I feel confident we can trust in you to right the many wrongs we've suffered and restore peace, bounty, and lawfulness to our lands.”

Uorsin frowned, that beefy anger seething below the surface of his skin. He didn't appreciate being taken by surprise. Perhaps Erich had lost some of his wisdom to the dementia of grief. It hit people that way sometimes—they thought they were being rational, but they weren't.

“It is so unfortunate that the unrest in your household resulted in Avonlidgh's loss,” Erich continued. “However, I and the people of Avonlidgh wish to assure you of our continued fealty and utter faith that Your Highness will make recompense.”

Uorsin's bushy eyebrows knotted. Derodotur, his long-time adviser, moved up surreptitiously and caught the High King's eye. In the court were ambassadors from all the Twelve Kingdoms, save Mohraya, since Uorsin claimed kingship of that land also.

“Of course, Erich.” Uorsin took on a boisterous mien. “I shall determine the appropriate recompense and give it to the people of Avonlidgh with love and respect.”

Erich bowed. “You are indeed a great and good High King, but I do not wish to impose. To save you the trouble of casting your mind upon us and our troubles, when you have so many greater tasks to attend to, we have determined the small boons we ask of you.”

Ursula pretended to be casually scanning the room but caught my eye with a bit of a raised brow. No, I hadn't known about this plan. She was the type to be included in strategy discussions, not me. Something I'd have to change, if I wanted to be taken seriously.

“Princess Amelia came among us as a stranger and has become family. She is Avonlidgh's daughter, in truth. Our heart-daughter. A princess and wife beyond reproach, she inspires the people of Avonlidgh equally with her grace and loveliness. The child she carries in her womb shall be my heir. Thus does joyful news mitigate the terrible and grave.”

Uorsin barely hid his astonishment, and I felt more than heard Ursula's impatient sigh. She'd planned for us to tell our father the news in private. But crafty Old Erich had outmaneuvered us. He'd also added a nod in Ursula's direction, as if offering her his respect despite Uorsin's rejection.

The whispers of surprise rippled around the room, growing in volume until they became shouts and cheers. The third generation of Uorsin's reign was in sight. At Derodotur's signal, musicians struck up a triumphant and joyful avalanche of sound while everyone shouted Uorsin's name.

All accomplishments belong to the High King.

When the tumult settled, Uorsin had recovered enough to beam at me with paternal joy. So clever of Derodotur to arrange the distraction. My father pulled me into his arms again, and I held my breath, hoping the embrace would not last so long this time. Fortunately he let me go quickly, but kept me under the drape of his arm. Reasserting his role as my father.

“If the child is a boy, he shall inherit the throne of the High King!” he declared.

Behind me, Kir shouted praise to Glorianna. I didn't dare look at Ursula. Somehow this moment wasn't as sweet as I'd expected. Erich nodded, seeming to agree, applauding with the others. “Avonlidgh shall be gratified to become the seat of the High King,” Erich shouted, and the Avonlidgh contingent cheered.

“Mohraya is the seat of the High King. That is how it's always been.” Uorsin's powerful voice cut through the cheering. Beside him, Derodotur sidled forward, into the High King's peripheral vision.

Erich appeared befuddled. “Always? But you are the first High King. Mohraya has been and continues to be your seat of power. As the patron country of your successor, Avonlidgh will be honored to serve. The High Throne will move to Castle Avonlidgh.”

Uorsin shrugged Derodotur away. “The only seat of power is here. The child will be born in Castle Ordnung and rule from here—under my hand, until he learns his way.”

Erich staggered a step, leaning on his valet heavily, appearing devastated. “Avonlidgh must lose yet another heir?” He projected sorrow and horror. “Already our ravaged land must yield up more. Our people slaughtered, slowly starving, and continually preyed upon by bandits the High King's armies seem to be unable to contain. Has Glorianna turned Her back upon us all?”

The ambassadors around the room looked angry, and several ladies dabbed at their eyes. Mutterings turned from joyful to unsettled.

“I fear the worst is true.” The Duranor envoy stepped up beside Erich. “We, too, have suffered from the effects of your war, High King. Even still, escaped Tala prisoners raid our farms, raping our daughters and stealing the bread from the mouths of innocent children. All for a treaty you signed in good faith and declined to honor.”

Uorsin glowered, clenching his fists. The unclean, meaty smell of his twisted rage thickened.

“You understand nothing of the situation, Lord Stefan,” Uorsin ground out.

“Do we not?” Stefan spread his hands to include all the ambassadors. “You promised us peace and prosperity. Instead you've brought the Tala down on our heads. Again. And this after years of decline. Every season, the fields yield less, the livestock grow more gaunt. Instead of gaining bounty for us, you've carelessly lost one of your daughters. What shall we sacrifice next, High King?”

Shocked silence fell heavy over the room, followed by the wintery smell of fear and despair.

Mastering himself, Uorsin took me by the hand and guided me up the steps to the dais with the High King's throne, my mother's empty throne, and the three for my sisters and me. He settled me into Ursula's seat at his right hand with a great show of solicitude. I couldn't look at her.

Tension creased the rims of Derodotur's eyes, before he smoothed his face into his diplomat's blandness. Even I understood that Uorsin had transgressed several political lines here in seizing Avonlidgh's heir from them. It seemed . . . unlike him. That deep anger rumbled through him, and I had to steel myself not to lean away from the greasy smell.

Instead I focused out over the hall and the assembled people, dividing into various factions, already aligning themselves. Here, too, Glorianna's window had been replaced. Twice the Tala had shattered Her rose windows—both times seeking Andi. I'd been frightened at the time but had never suspected that it would be that moment when the foundation of the world would shift—and keep shifting.

I prayed to the goddess for guidance. Surely being Her avatar should come with more certainty about what I should do and say.

Kir must be right. The Tala had brought the seed of evil to us, and the poison continued to spread. Even my father, who had always been so strong, so certain of his rule and his ability to bring peace to all the lands, seemed uncertain. Unstable. I needed to give him the gift of Glorianna's confidence and the brilliant future before us.

Derodotur placed himself in front of us. “It will be months before we know if the child is a boy or a girl. We need not settle this right this moment.”

“When is the babe due?” That from a voice in the crowd.

“Yes! Are we even sure it will live?” someone else called out. I kept my eyes on Glorianna's window.
May She protect my child.
As Her avatar, surely I deserved that much from Her. Though it hadn't prompted Her to save my one true love. The grief sucked at what little confidence I had. Was I favored by Glorianna or not?

Some people shifted in the rear of the hall, a stirring and muttering, and I glimpsed Dafne pushing Marin forward. The woman looked overwhelmed by the grand hall, far more elaborate than anything at Windroven, to be sure.

“Who are you?” Uorsin demanded. “Why is a commoner approaching my throne?”

“She is my midwife, High King,” I answered in a quiet tone, not sure where I found the courage. Except that Marin had been kind to me and the way she'd knitted her fingers together bothered me. “I believe she seeks to answer the questions put forth.”

“Hmph.” He rapped his knuckles impatiently on the arm of his throne. “This is hardly public business.”

I would have laughed, if such a sound could make it past the knot of tears that clogged my throat. It felt as if all those tender moments between Hugh and me, those shadowed, firelight kisses and touches, had been trotted out for display before all these people. They watched me with avid, hungry faces. No longer a person to them, but a means to an end.

They'd warned Andi about that—that the Tala wanted her only for her womb. Now it was me. By my own people.