Black Rose (10 page)

Mara
had held her tears in check until she reached her rooms where Phillip found
her.  No sooner had she finished repeating the Queen’s words then he went
to find Edward and Garreth.

“For
God’s sake, just give her the initiation vows,” Phillip advised.

“She
is too young,” Garreth repeated, replaying the same old argument.

“Yet
not too young for the Queen,” Phillip pointed out. “I hear rumors of a Muir
Court Prince heading our way. Could it be that he is coming for her? If she is
old enough to be forced into a royal wedding, then surely she is old enough to
choose a different way of life. I fear that if we do not let her choose now,
the Queen will choose for her.” He turned towards Edward.  “After all the
years you have spent teaching, are you really going to take away her choice?”

Edward
exchanged a glance with Garreth before turning to face her. “You are a Princess
of the Blood,” he said to her. “If you choose to join the guard, it is a title
you will bear no longer. You will surrender everything that goes with
it—wealth, title, rank and ultimately, your freedom. You will surrender all of
it and will be expected to sacrifice everything for those to whom you are
ordered to serve. Do you understand, Princess Mara? Your life will not be your
own.”

She
looked him in the eye, reviewing each of his words slowly as she searched his
gaze. In a breath barely above a whisper, she said, “The Queen would see me
locked up alone, in a tower, before giving me to a man of her choosing. How is
that life my own?” He parted his lips, but when no words came Mara continued.
“You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone. Please, Edward, don’t let her. I
can’t bear it. I want to be with you. I just…please.”

Edward
nodded and took a step closer, shortening the distance between them to a single
pace. “If you join the Guard, Mara, it will be a hard life; one of pain and
sacrifice, but…” he reached out and caressed the side of her face, “you will
never be alone.”

“Then
please,” she begged, “let me take my vows. Before it’s too late.”

He
searched her violet eyes, and for one moment, she thought he might refuse her.
Then he suddenly leaned forward and kissed the cheek his hand had caressed only
moments before.  “Mara Sethian,” he said, dropping her title, “welcome to
the Royal Guard.”

Lady
Sandra paused as she stepped inside the dark room, allowing her eyes to slowly
work their way across the large chamber. A black desk stood against the wall
immediately to her right, topped with several piles of neatly stacked papers.
In the center of the far back wall was a large, four-post bed covered in thick
wool blankets. Her eyes lingered on each item as she wracked her memory, but
she could find no recollection of having ever been there before.

“My
Lady.” The deep, masculine voice forced her attention to the farthest side of
the room. Edward stood dressed in all black. His pale skin seemed almost
translucent as he stood before a roaring fire. “My Lady,” he said again, taking
several steps towards her. “You’re…” He paused as recognition began to dawn.
“You’re the one.”

A
slight shiver ran through her. “Please,” he said, motioning her closer. “It is
much warmer by the fire.” She stepped forward until she was close enough to
feel the warmth of the fire on her pale skin. As her gaze focused upon the
flames, it was not to desolate chambers of torture that her mind wandered, but
to a very different memory.

“There
once was a magical knight,” her mother’s voice rose from an all but forgotten
dream. “He was brave and strong. He will protect you from all harm.”

“My
Lady?” Edward’s voice brought her back to the present. 

She
turned from the flames to face him. “My Lord, I needed to see you. I needed to
know that you were…” Her voice again trailed and she asked, “Do you know who I
am?”

“No,
my Lady.”

“Have
we ever met…before?”

His
eyes searched her, tracing their way up and down her body. “Not to my
knowledge.”

She
turned back to the flames and could almost see her mother sitting within them.
Her long dark hair, the ruby lips that never smiled. There was so little she
could recall of her mother. She was little more than a vague image and an air
of sadness which Sandra had been too young to understand. “A hero with a fierce
soul and eyes of night.” The long-forgotten words rose from the deepest recess
of her memories. “He will protect you.”

“My
Lady,” Edward’s deep voice eclipsed her mother’s. “Will you tell me your name?”

“Sandra.”

“It
would seem that I am in your debt, Lady Sandra. What I don’t know, is why.” He
took a step closer to better see her face in the light of the flames. “What
would you have of me, my Lady?”

“When
I was young, I was in an accident. I have very few memories of my past. And of
those I have, fewer still exist outside of a few stories.” She drew a breath
and turned to face the flames, unable to look at Edward as she continued. “When
I was a little girl, my mother told me stories about a hero—a knight in shining
armor. Late at night I used to pretend that he was watching over me, guarding
me while I slept. I had terrible nightmares, and storms often raged across the
night sky. But when my mother told her stories, I always felt safe, protected.

“My
mother spoke of a man who knew no fear. Who helped those around him without so
much as a thought to himself. A man so strong and brave, he could only exist in
the realm of dreams.” She drew a trembling breath and forced herself to face
him. “Yet, here you stand.” She searched his gaze. “I don’t know what these
memories are or what they mean. I don’t know what happened to you that night.
But…I have dreamed of you my entire life.”

“Forgive
me, my Lady. I don’t understand. Of what memories do you speak?”

She
drew a shallow breath. “I…I saw you. Lying…”

“Yes,”
Edward answered. “You saved me.”

“No,”
she replied. “Not that one, another. I saw you on a bed with a woman.” Her
voice grew small, haunted. “She held a silver blade and you were…”

No
sooner did she speak than that horribly angelic laughter seeped into the room.
She shook her head vigorously, desperate to clear the echoes from her mind.
“You…you were screaming.” Her breath became shallow. “I have seen these
vision…nightmares. I…” She searched his gaze

“How
do you know this?” A touch of anger fueled his voice. “Who are you?”

“I
don’t know. I remembered nothing, nothing but a few vague images…whispers in
the dark. Until I saw you, lying on that table.”

“How
do you know this?” he asked again.

“I
don’t know, please…” Tears of frustration and fear filled her vision. “I don’t
know who you are. I don’t know why this is happening. I don’t know why I am
seeing these things.” Her gaze lowered to the floor as tears began to fall.
“Help me. Please. I’m afraid.” That angelic laughter slid back into the room,
growing steadily louder until it was all she could hear, could feel, could
breathe.

Edward
leaned forward and grabbed her, pulling the young woman against him. Jerked
back to reality by his touch, Sandra realized that she had dug her hands into
her own arms so hard she had drawn blood, which had prompted Edward to grab
her. “I’ve got you,” he said gently.

“I’m
sorry.”

“It’s
alright. You’re safe.”

“Can
you help me?”

He
stared at her and it was only then, holding her in his arms, that he caught the
full weight of her gaze. He raised his right hand from her arm and brushed a
long strand of her hair from the side of her face. “Your eyes are so…” He
leaned closer. “Who was your mother?”

“I…I
don’t really know. She died when I was very young and my memories
are…scattered.”

“Anything
you can remember.”

“All
I know is that she was beautiful. Soft spoken, a gentle touch and…sad. She was
always sad.”

Edward
gave a slow nod. “Her eyes,” he asked. “What color were her eyes? Do you have
your mother’s eyes?”

Sandra’s
tears ceased. She closed her eyes, attempting desperately to focus upon the
long-lost memory. She sat at her mother’s feet, playing with the edge of her
blue, satin gown. “A hero,” her mother whispered, “unmatched with a sword, with
eyes dark as night. He will always protect you, my darling—always.”

“She
was beautiful,” Sandra said with a startling realization. “With long, dark hair
and sad, violet eyes.”

Mara
sat at the desk, pouring over the papers spread before her. Multiple requests
had arrived over the last few days, everything from politicians to movie stars
requesting bodyguards from among the elite of the Rose. Once, Kings and Queens
would have traveled hundreds of miles to beg for such favors, swearing titles,
fealty and even kingdoms for help from the famous Black Rose. That was no
longer the case in this new world where technology disrupted old traditions and
one’s solemn promise lasted only as long as the speaker could find another to
utter the same words to.

Mara
shook her head in disgust before finally putting pen to paper, authorizing the
requests of both the American President and a joint request from several
members of the European Union. She tossed aside those from the more Hollywood
types, whose names meant as little to her as any other member of the nameless
billions now populating the world. “I miss the days of Kings,” Mara said with a
sigh. “So easily is wealth mistaken for nobility. These people get the
slightest taste of wealth, and suddenly believe they are entitled to be privy
to the elite of the immortal world! Like buying their way into their own isn’t
enough. We were Gods when their ancestors were carving their names on cave
walls! And they think to buy my loyalty with thin strips of paper which they
claim to possess the value of gold!” It was an argument she had had frequently
with her sub-commanders.

Not
that gold was not important, or that the Black Rose didn’t have its fair share.
As a group, the Rose held titles to the former holdings of the Muir Court. In
fact, there was a possibility that her small, elite force had wealth to rival
both the Ciar and Arum Courts. The wealth was spread strategically among
vaults, and yes, even banks across America, Europe and Asia. Her guard was also
paid handsomely for their services, though it was a fact that continually made
Mara’s stomach churn. This ‘false gold’ as Mara referred to modern forms of
wealth, was a shadow of the respect that was once given so freely to members of
her court by the mortal world. “We are no longer Gods,” she was continually
forced to remind herself. “And one day soon, will be no better than hired
guns.”

           
Her rant was interrupted by a knock at the door followed a few moments later by
the appearance of Jonathan. He was shorter than the majority of her guard,
standing only 5’6”, with closely cropped brown hair and matching eyes. He took
several steps into the room and then slid to a knee in a time-honored bow before
his Captain. Mara pushed the papers to the side of the desk and then stood from
her straight-backed chair and addressed the man who had served her for just
over two hundred years. “Yes?”

           
He rose from his kneeling position, but was still required to tilt his neck in
order to meet her gaze. “I came to ask if you had seen the requests of
Guardship which had arrived while you were away. But,” he motioned to the
crumpled papers laying at the foot of her desk, “I see that you already have.”

           
Mara sighed. “Let me guess, there is some new starlet who one of our more
recent recruits is just dying to meet?”

“Meryl
Streep is hardly a new starlet. 

“Who?”

“She’s
only been nominated for more Academy Awards than any actress in history! You know,
the actress?”

Mara
stared at him with cold eyes. Jonathan lowered his gaze. “You will take these,”
she held out the two requests she had selected from among the pile, “to
Sub-Captain Brendan. That will be all.” Jonathan gave a brief nod and then
bowed at the waist before turning to leave the room. He walked quickly down the
stone corridor and down several flights of stairs. As expected, he found
Brendan seated in front of a large desk in the ground-floor study. He walked
forward and placed the two papers on the edge of the desk.

“Let
me guess,” Brendan stated without looking up from his papers. “She turned you
down on the Jennifer Lawrence request.”

Jonathan
sighed. “I even tried telling her it was Meryl Streep.”

Brendan
gave a soft chuckle. “You should have tried Kate Middleton instead.”

“Yeah,
but then she might have taken it herself.”

“Not
likely. Elizabeth perhaps, but not Kate.”

“Really?
Not even for a Princess of England?”

Brendan
shook his head. “Sometimes I forget how much younger you are than the rest of
us. The last time Mara served on a human guard detail was for Queen Victoria on
her wedding day.”

“Really?
That must have been an honor.”