Page 6 of Ash and Roses

I crouch down beside him, slipping off the floral scarf that held back my hair and press it against his wounds. This will do nothing to stop the bleeding, but it’s all I can do until someone else comes to his aid. His hand finds mine, and he squeezes as if doing so will somehow free him from his pain.

“You’re safe now,” I promise him, and hope beyond hope that I’m right.

* * *

I awake with a start, the sound of the crowd’s murmured voices still lingering in my mind while the haze of sleep fights to clear.‘Abilene, the Merciful,’they call me, and the ghostly words have me shuddering more than the frigid breeze blowing through the open tent flap.

That dream has haunted me for nearly fifteen years, and I suspect it will never fade. Most nights I can avoid it by having Teagan sleep in my chambers, but even that proves ineffective after a Marching. Things would be so different now if I’d let Jade die that day, and a small part of me wonders if it would’ve been better. Marked live only the shadow of a life—in poverty and humiliation. Some look to me with hatred in their eyes, which is far better than those who still see me as their saviour.

The journey home is long. The carriage jostles with every bump in the uneven road as our tired horses struggle to pull us up the incline that will eventually lead us to Lunae’s main city district. Arabella and I ride in one of two carriages, while our father rides in the other. The Commander has a horse of his own, as do two other high-ranking Guardians, but aside from them, everyone else must walk.

At one time, our kingdom flourished and our farms were bursting with livestock, but just as it’s become hard to feed ourselves, it’s harder still to feed the animals. We’re down to only a dozen horses now, and if we lose them before we can breed more, the Lunar Hunt will become even more challenging.

Looking to distract myself from the thought, I pull back the sheer silver curtain for the fourth time and peer out through the open window. I can only just make out the palace in the distance, sunlight making the moonstone glisten. To some, the palace must seem beautiful with its enormous white walls and shimmering towers that spread ripples of reflected light over the land below. To me, it’s nothing but monstrous. A prison from which I will never escape, heir to the throne or not.

“You won’t see him,” Arabella says, not bothering to look up from her embroidery. I don’t know how she does that for hours on end. I would grow tired of the minuscule task in minutes. When my stepmother tried to teach me to sew, I’d only attended three classes before she told my father to have a maid instruct me because she was done. He never did burden the staff with me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s a feeble lie, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of catching me. It’s not that I thought I was being subtle, but this is none of her business.

She sets down her embroidery this time, giving me my first clear view of it. Our palace home with a striking full moon taking up much of the lapis sky behind it. Arabella loves our home, and she worships the moon more than anyone. More than even our father. It’s narcissistic, really, considering that she’s been raised to think of herself as a mortal God.

“I’m no fool. I’ve seen the way you look at him. He’s no good for you, Abilene. Stick to bedding Guardians.”

Indignation flashes through me. I’d long ago given up asking her to call me Abby because the request only ever made it worse. It’s easier to just ignore her, though the name still irritates me. “Last I checked,” I say through tight lips, “he’s a Guardian now too.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Is this jealousy, or are you just vexed he saved me from that wolf?”

She blanches, and despite herself, her expression softens. “You’re my sister. Do you really think I wish you dead?”

“You knew it would happen. I know you saw it.” Arabella has had visions since she was a child. Not quite visions of the future, but dreams with elements that sometimes come to pass. She claimed they were messages from Lunalissa herself, hints and instructions to better serve the Goddess. I can’t say I believe that, but I can’t deny her dreams either. I just don’t believe that they should be allowed to govern as if they were set in stone.

“I didn’t know it was you the wolf came for. When I realized…” She trails off, either unable or unwilling to finish the thought.

“That shouldn’t have mattered. You have a gift, and you should have used it to warn us. A man died last night because of you.” That may have been a bit harsh. Even if we’d known about the wolf, there’s no guarantee everyone would have survived.

“Lunalissa demands sacrifice.” And just like that, all regret melts away. Someone died, and that’s all she can say? She’s like my father in that way. The common people are less than human to them. They see themselves as close to Godly, and a death here and there is of no concern to them.

“She gets a pig,” I grumble. There’s so much more I want to say, but fighting with Arabella about this is a waste of breath.

“You know as well as I do the pig is not for her.”

The pig is for the people, just another part of the show. If there was ever a time that not one animal came from the forest, at least we would have the pig to serve as a distraction. We would leave the people with a meal while we slipped away in the night to return to the safety of the palace, for the next morning when people awoke with empty bellies and no food to ration, the rebellion would surely begin.

I read between the lines of her words. “You fear my survival will displease Lunalissa? Sister or not, you think I should have died. Did you know the Commander forced me to send an innocent Marked to the woods last night?”

“The Marked aren’t innocent, and your obsession with that boy—”

“He has nothing to do with this.” Anger flares in me again.

“He has everything to do with it.”

“Have you seen something about him? In your visions?”

She purses her lips. “No.”

“Then keep your opinions to yourself.”

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