Page 14 of Legacy of Roses

Was that what Rosalie and Daphne had meant about the tie to your birth kingdom starting in your heart? It wasn’t only his body that had been heavy in the mountains.

But even as he thought it, it felt like an excuse. He only had to picture Rosalie in his place to know she wouldn’t have given in to the sensation. As it was, she was clearly carrying a burden from something the Legacy had done, but it wasn’t enough to extinguish her spark. She hadn’t stopped caring.

It was that irrepressible spirit in her that drew him to her. But admiring her drive wasn’t enough. He had to do better himself. He had to prove he wouldn’t let the Legacy defeat him. He wouldn’t be driven from his home by fear.

He would stay right where he was. He would discover what had haunted his mother, and what had happened to his family. And then he would find out what had happened to Rosalie. It was too late for him to lift his mother’s weight, but it wasn’t too late to help Rosalie.

Chapter 5

Rosalie

Rosalie walked in silence, her mind consumed with worry. Why didn’t Dimitri understand the seriousness of the situation? Why wouldn’t he listen? He had royal blood. If he wanted to discover his family history, he should go to the capital. Did he have to stay here and torment her?

Her feet were moving as fast as her mind, and she quickly outpaced Daphne. When she finally noticed, she stopped dead.

How fast had she been going? She peered behind her and located Daphne, only just rounding the previous bend. Guilt washed over her. This was the second time she’d dragged Daphne out to the castle in as many days, and now she was abandoning her.

Rosalie retraced her steps, hurrying back toward her friend. Daphne looked like a wilting flower as she shuffled along, her head and shoulders drooping as if she was slipping into sleep while walking.

Sound exploded around Rosalie as three men erupted from the nearby trees with loud shouts, racing onto the road and toward Daphne. Rosalie faltered, her steps slowed by shock. But the first man reached for Daphne’s arm, and Rosalie responded instinctively, flinging herself into a sprint.

She had never heard of bandits on this road, but the men were clearly after Daphne. She must have looked like an easy target walking alone. Rosalie shouldn’t have left her behind.

There was no way for Rosalie to reach Daphne before the men, but the moment the first man’s fingers closed around Daphne’s upper arm, Daphne launched into movement. Gone was any appearance of sleepiness as she spun, wrenching her arm from his grip and driving it backward. Her elbow connected with his midriff, and he doubled over with a desperate wheeze.

His companions swore, assuming a more wary stance as they approached Daphne from either side. She lashed out, the toes of her sturdy boot catching one of them in the shin. He swore, his legs buckling for a moment. As he staggered, she smashed both of her palms against the sides of his face, flattening them against his ears. When she pulled them back, he howled, collapsing to the ground entirely.

Whatever Daphne’s open-handed blows had done to his ears, the man was clearly in too much pain to continue his attack. But while dealing with him, the third man had come at Daphne from behind, seizing her around the middle and trapping both her arms at her sides.

She cried out in anger, kicking backward, but he lifted her off the ground, taking the power out of her flailing efforts. Rosalie screamed as she threw herself at Daphne’s captor. She lacked Daphne’s smooth, confident grace, but she threw everything she had into the effort, kicking and striking him in a whirlwind of fury.

The surprise attack threw him off balance enough that Daphne managed to squirm out of his grip. Instead of attempting to recapture her, the man spun and lunged for Rosalie instead.

She screamed again, this time more in alarm than fury. She tried to fend him off, but without the element of surprise, shewas less effectual. With a threatening growl, he managed to grab her arms, twisting them up and holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

Daphne took two steps toward her, clearly ready to do battle on her friend’s behalf. But behind her, the first man had recovered from the winding and was approaching again, this time with a knife.

Rosalie couldn’t get enough breath to yell a warning, but she managed a strangled grunt, her eyes widening and her head straining toward the new threat. Daphne paused as she took in Rosalie’s silent warning, glancing backward to see the new threat.

Rosalie gave a desperate wriggle, managing to pull in a full breath.

“Run!” she cried. “Get help!”

Daphne hesitated for half a second before she recognized the futility of fighting. Nodding, she took off running.

Rosalie expected the armed man to chase after Daphne, but instead he refocused on Rosalie. Apparently one prize was enough for them.

Fear seized Rosalie, squeezing her insides tighter than the arms of her captor. Until that moment, she had been driven more by instinct than conscious thought. But now the reality of her situation hit her. She was alone and at the mercy of bandits.

And Daphne—never the best when it came to a sense of direction—had run the wrong way.

“Where’s the other one?” the second man asked. He had made it up off the ground and was approaching Rosalie and the other two with an ugly expression on his face. Given the blood trailing out of both his ears, Rosalie was glad Daphne had fled beyond reach before he recovered. Had she burst both his eardrums?

“This one is as good as the other,” the first man grunted, surveying Rosalie with satisfaction. “He said to bring whoever’s been frequenting the castle, and this one has walked out there two days in a row. She’ll do.”

Daphne’s mouth dropped open. The men weren’t bandits? Who were they working for? And what interest did their unknown master have in the castle?

The man who was holding her relaxed a little, freeing her lungs enough for normal speech.

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