Page 123 of Twin Crowns

42

Rose

On the morning of her wedding day, Rose woke at dawn. She was certain she’d only slept an hour, after spending most of the night sobbing into her pillow. Wren was trapped in the dungeons, and Rose had no choice now but to marry Prince Ansel. If she put even a toe out of line, Rathborne wouldn’t hesitate to kill her sister. This new, terrifying destiny was galloping toward her, and there seemed to be no way to stop it.

Rose went to the window, cupped her hands around her mouth, and whistled. Nothing. She tried again, this time tucking her thumb between her fingers. She managed a ragged noise, but it still didn’t sound remotely like an owl. She kicked her bed table in frustration, and then immediately regretted it. What was she thinking? Even if Shen did hear her, what could he do now? He might be a powerful warrior witch, but even he couldn’t take on all of the guards in her tower, not to mention the extra ones Rathborne had stationed in the courtyard last night.

Rose dropped her hand as another terrible thought occurred to her. What if Shen had been caught, too? No. She couldn’t let herself think such a thing. Today was bad enough already.

She turned from the window and sat at her mirror with a sigh. Dark circles pooled underneath her eyes, and her skin was hopelessly wan. If she had to be a bride today, she at least wanted to look her best. Rose knew her beauty was another kind of power, and she would need it later for bargaining. So she washed her face in cold water to brighten her eyes and brushed her hair until it shone. She lathered her face in cream and applied some rouge to give the appearance of a blushing bride. She darkened her lashes and painted her lips until they glistened in the dawn light.

There was a knock at the door, and Agnes bustled in.

“Happy wedding day, Princess!” She beamed at Rose. “Well, by the Great Protector! Don’t you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Agnes.” Rose craned her neck as the door drifted shut. “Have you seen Celeste this morning?”

As if summoned by the mention of her name, the bedroom door swung open again and Celeste burst in, clad in a purple satin nightgown, her hair still in a silk sleeping wrap. “What happened to you last night? Chapman said you’d retired early, but when I came to check on you, the guards turned me away.”

“I had a headache from all the drumming,” said Rose. With Agnes standing between them—and beaming from ear to ear—she couldn’t offer her friend the truth, just the strained look in her eyes. “The evening... got away from me.”

Celeste nodded in understanding. “I see.”

Agnes clapped her hands briskly. “Right, then. Let’s get you in your wedding dress. There are more than enough laces and buttons to keep us busy.” She looked at Rose, and her cheerful countenance cracked.Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish your dear mother was here to see you wed. I remember her wedding day as if it were yesterday. She was so happy, filled with the light of the world. It was practically shining out of her face.”

Rose blinked. “You were at my mother’s wedding?”

“Of course I was! Who do you think got her ready?” Agnes sniffed as she scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. “And now here we are, all these years later. I hope today is as happy a day for you.”

“Lillith got to live in her own country after she got married,” Celeste reminded Agnes as she wandered about the bedroom. It was quite obvious to Rose that she was idly searching all its nooks and crannies for Wren. “Rose won’t be so lucky.”

Agnes sighed. “I know you two will miss each other frightfully, but you’ll be able to visit. And I’m sure, in time, you’ll find your way in Gevra, love. We both will.”

Oh, you don’t know a thing at all, thought Rose sadly. But she grasped Agnes’s hand all the same and squeezed tightly. “I’m so very grateful for you, Agnes.”

“You know I’ll go anywhere with you, Princess. Even the icy mountains of Gevra. I’ll just have to pack myself a couple of warm shawls and some hot buns for the journey.Oh!” She threw her hands up. “Goodness gracious, I’ve forgotten the breakfast pastries Cam made special for you! Let me fetch those right away,” she said as she hurried across the room. “Then we’ll get you in your lovely dress!”

As soon as Agnes left, Celeste abandoned her search. “What on earth happened? Where’s Wren?”

Quickly and quietly, Rose filled in her best friend on howeverything had gone so terribly wrong. By the time she was finished, she was almost in tears again.

“What a mess,” muttered Celeste as she pulled her into a hug. “Don’t cry. There’s still time to put this right. You just concentrate on keeping Rathborne happy, and I’ll see if I can find Wren. At least I’m not being kept under lock and key.”

Rose’s gaze flitted to the door. “Yet,” she said nervously.

When Agnes returned with a tray of heart-shaped jam pastries, Celeste slipped away, announcing to the maid and all the guards in the tower that she was off to get ready, too. Rose forced herself to eat a pastry while Agnes spread her wedding gown out on the bed. It was one of three that the dressmaker had sent over, each more elaborate and intricate than the last.

The dress was beautiful, made of the softest ivory satin, trimmed in fine lace and embroidered with delicate gold beading. The top of the bodice sloped gently off Rose’s shoulders, the breast-line lavished in gold filigree, before winnowing to a point at her waist. Ruffles cascaded over the underskirts in layers of ivory and pale gold lace that flowed magnificently with even the smallest movement. At the back, along the ridge of Rose’s spine, the bodice was lined with hundreds of pearl buttons, which gave way to a billowing train.

“You are a vision, my love,” said Agnes, standing back at last. “I reckon the Kingsbreath will tear up when he comes by to collect you.”

Rose felt like tearing up, too. When she looked at herself in the mirror, all she could see was a frightened puppet in a decadent gown.

Agnes departed soon after, the door closing with a resounding thud, leaving the princess all alone in her wedding dress.

Rose drifted to the window and gazed out on to the courtyard. Just beyond the golden gates of Anadawn, high on a humpback hill and shining like a jewel in the sunlight, lay the Protector’s Vault. It played host to all important Eanan ceremonies, including, as of this morning, her own wedding. Inside, the Protector’s Eternal Flame would be burning on its ceremonial plinth, looked after by the esteemed keeper—a stern-faced old man called Percival Reeve, who guarded it with his life.

It was all so absurd now that Rose thought about it, but tradition in Eana meant everything. People held it to them as a comfort—a promise that the Protector would keep them from harm so long as they kept his flame alight. That way, he could always find them in the dark. Rose knew now that hewasthe darkness. That he had been all along.

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