Page 31 of Blood and Roses

"I have taught you the art of diplomacy, my dear son. If you cannot make amends with a human girl, then what chance do you have against a fae host?"

"With respect, Father, I would rather face a fae host instead of Rosa Wylt right now. At least I can kill them when they become too arrogant." Balthasar grinned. "The angrier she gets, the more endearing she seems to be. I haven't met anyone like that in a long time."

"You see? Irresistible. But in all seriousness, a word of caution where Rosa is concerned," Eli said, stopping him from leaving. "Don't let her become a distraction. You are royal. You have responsibilities, especially at the moment. I know her presence is stimulating, but there are larger games afoot."

"Of course. She is only a human after all."

Eli was smiling at him, but Balthasar knew a threat from his father when he heard it. The real problem was going to be how to get her to talk to him so he could explain the Vane history.

Balthasar went back to the attic to try to think. Like so many times in the last few days, he ended up looking through the southern windows at the Wylt cottage. The lights were still on, but there was not even a flicker of Rosa.

She does not want to see you, remember?It was not as if he could go and knock on the door. A thought occurred to him, and he smiled. She didn't have to see him in order for him to talk to her.

Rosa satby the downstairs fire, drinking her ninth cup of tea for the day. Cecily had been by earlier with food. She had a worried expression when she saw the mess in the living room. Fueled by her angry outburst, she had begun to take the Wylt history fromout of the attic and go through it properly. There were hundreds of letters, sprawling family trees, and one undisputed fact. Where there had been a Vane, there had been a Wylt, and they had known exactly who and what they were loyal to. What bound them together originally, she still hadn't discovered. Cecily had been no help at all.

"Your father was the Wylt," she had murmured when Rosa questioned her. "He never told me if he knew how it all began. It just always has been that way. I know you are feeling overwhelmed and disconnected from everything. Maybe you could ask Eli or Bal?—"

"No, I'm not asking Balthasar a damn thing. In fact, until I get over the urge to throw things at the eldest Vane, I'm going to avoid him as much as possible."

"Can I ask what happened between you two? Should I be worried?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Rosa insisted. "I will get over it, don't fret. I need some space, that's all."And a fast car out of this crazy place. Or some brain bleach to stop thinking about him.

After leaving Balthasar on the doorstep three nights ago, she had taken all of his and Jane's letters and portraits back to the trunk into the attic, determined that she would get Goode to take the chest out of there as soon as possible. The next day she hadn't asked for the trunk to be removed. Every time she went into the attic, her eyes would find the chest under the window, and she would think of the words that were written inside it.

Rosa knew deep down that she was embarrassed for crushing on him and hurt by his anger toward her. The only way she knew how to react was with study. The letters had awoken something in her that she didn't even know had existed. She was having a difficult time reconciling the Balthasar from the warm letters tothe one who had yelled at her and then had maybe, almost kissed her.

Was he going to kiss you, Rosa? Or is that how your drunken mind is choosing to remember it? You remember the last letter... He went off to war. That has changed him. He isn't the same person that you were crushing on.Rosa's mind argued as she tried to concentrate on putting a pile of Wylt letters in date order.

What if he is the same person and your anger is stopping you from finding out? Admit it. You like him. You are being stubborn because he shouted at you. Then he apologized, but that is beside the point.

The gate outside rattled and she stilled, her heart hammering. She hadn't showered or changed out of her pajamas that day. Who could be coming to visit her at this hour?Why do you care?

She crept into the hallway and watched the shadow of someone standing on the front step. She peeped through the keyhole and watched Balthasar retreating. He cast one last glance at the house as if conflicted before the gate closed and he was gone. Rosa breathed a sigh of relief before opening the door a crack. She picked up a book that had been left on the step, quickly shutting the door again.

Back by the warmth of the fire, she opened the heavy leather-bound book and found a letter. Her name was now written in the gorgeous calligraphy that she had enjoyed reading so much. She touched it gently before turning the letter over and breaking the seal.

Rosa,

I know you are still angry with the Vanes, the world, and me. I don't blame you. We are not easy people to live with, and Iam certainly not easy to get to know. I have made it my mission in this life to isolate people, and yet, I find it impossible to do so with you.

With Eli's permission, I gift this book to you. It is an account of the Vanes that he told to a priest in the late seventh century and has been added to over the years. I hope that it will give you the clarity that you need to put your mind at ease. If it is agreeable to you, I would like to tell you more at a time when you are best ready to hear it.

I don't know if it means anything to you, but I didn't tell him about the protection against compulsion that your necklace affords you. I don't trust Pearl or my sister with you, and your mind deserves to be your own. I have ensured that Pearl will never hurt Cecily again. You have my word.

Once again, I apologize for my outburst. Making you afraid of me is the last thing I would ever want, and being the object of my anger and frustration is the last thing you deserve.

Balthasar

Rosa tooka deep breath and re-read the letter. "Why did you have to go and do this when I was so intent on hating you, Balthasar Vane?" she murmured.

She opened the book, and the first page was a drawing of a man that had to have been a young Eli Vane, but his eyes were more slanted and his expression wild. There was something in his expression that had not changed. It was as intent and serious as ever. It was clear that this book was not one of the carefully copied texts of the time. It was written in Latin, but behind every sheet was an added page translated into modern English.

"Down the rabbit hole we go, Rosa," she said as she turned a page and began to read.

The yearof Our Lord 792—Lindisfarne

A man has come to the monastery tonight, asking for a scribe to recount his life. At first, the holy brothers took him for a beggar, but when invited in for a bowl of stew, we saw that his clothes were fine, and he was of noble blood. The story that this stranger, who is calling himself Bleddyn, meaning the wolf, has told me sounded like the ravings of a madman. It was not until he showed me his miraculous transformation himself that I began to believe him. I am not afraid of him, though I know I should be. He has taken my fear away from me somehow.

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