Black Rose (27 page)

           
“Kneel, niece.  Let me see those pretty, pretty eyes.” Mara began to lower
herself towards the ground when the Queen, clad only in the blood of the man
lying beneath her, said, “I cannot see your eyes from there.”

           
Mara straightened and eyed the bed as her heart continued to pound. The Queen
noted the hesitation. “If you like, I can have Liza brought back and she can—”

           
“No!” Mara said quickly, stepping forward into the pool of blood. When she
reached the edge of the bed she forced herself to kneel, Edward’s blood soaking
into the dark fabric she wore to wet the skin beneath with a surprisingly cool
touch. She lowered her eyes towards the floor when the Queen moved a finger to
her chin, raising her gaze. “Such pretty eyes,” the Queen said as she ran a
finger along Mara’s high cheekbones, smearing her face with Edward’s blood. “A
hint of silver—so rare among the courts. They were my mother’s eyes. Did you
know that?”

Mara
attempted to answer but was unable to find her voice. The Queen continued to
run her hands over Mara’s face, tracing a finger along her lips and slowly down
her throat. “My mother was a harsh woman, Mara. You were fortunate to never
have known her.” A slight tremor ran through Mara’s body as the Queen stared
down at her. “No,” she said. “My mother was not a nice woman at all.” 

Her
blood-soaked hands moved back to Mara’s cheek and pulled lightly on her bottom
lip. Her lips parted as the Queen whispered, “Taste him.” She slid a finger
over the edge of Mara’s lip before slipping deeper, smearing Edward’s blood
across her white teeth and along the tip of her tongue before slowly
withdrawing her finger.

As
the blood mixed with saliva, Mara’s mouth became saturated with the metallic
taste of Edward’s blood. Her stomach churned. Her gaze trailed to Edward’s
against her will.
“ignosce mihi,
” she begged silently. “
Please
forgive me
.”

She
swallowed, fighting the urge to vomit as the crimson liquid lined her throat.
Her spine twisted in a violent shudder and a thin stream of blood seeped from
the corner of her mouth.

Edward’s
head tilted and his eyes bore into hers. “
I’m sorry
,” he said without
words. Mara clung to his gaze like a lifeline and as the moments passed, the
tremors which wracked her body became less violent. The racing of her heart
began to slow. “
Hold on
,” she prayed silently.

           
Then the Queen moved her hand back to Mara’s cheek, forcing her gaze from the
man she loved. “Are you ready, Mara?” The Queen raised the silver blade
clutched tightly in her right hand.

           
Fear became a living thing as she watched the blade begin its descent. Blood
splattered her face as Edward began to scream.

           
Tears streamed down Mara’s face, mixing with the blood that was beginning to
cascade down her neck to soak through her shirt. Edward’s cries continued in a
cycle of low moans to full-fledged screams as the Queen found new ways to twist
her blade into her victim’s flesh. As more blood splattered her still form,
Mara’s body began to shake uncontrollably and her heart pounded so hard she
thought it would burst from her chest; yet even the constant pounding was not
enough to lock out the sound of Edward’s anguish.

           
“
Hail Eleos, Goddess of mercy
,” Mara prayed silently. “
Shine your
light upon the heart of our Queen
.
Temper her rage with your gentle
hand, in the name of those who strive to serve her
.
Hail Eleos, Goddess
of mercy. Lay your hands upon the heart of our Queen
.
Hail Eleos
.
Hail
Eleos
.”

           
The blade sliced up and down Edward’s body in a series of shallow and deep
strokes, no two ever quite the same. The Queen raised the crimson blade yet
again and this time, Mara could not stop herself from praying aloud. “In the
name of Eleos, mercy!” Her voice increased in volume as she spoke. “Hail Eleos,
Goddess of mercy. In the name of Eleos, mercy! Mercy!” The Queen paused in her
tender attentions and turned her eyes slowly upon Mara. “Please, my Queen, I
implore you. I beg of you…stop this! Can’t you see you’re killing him?”
Desperation filtered through her voice which quickly manifested to an
uncontrollable sob. “Please,” she begged, seeing the line and crossing it
anyway. “Aunt Clarissa, for the love you bore my mother, your sister, I beg of
you, stop this madness!”

           
The Queen rose slowly to a kneeling position upon the massive bed and stared
down at Mara’s shivering form, kneeling in a pool of Edward’s blood. She took
the blade in her hand, and never removing her gaze from Mara’s, plunged the
point of the now crimson sword into Edward’s left side. “No!” Mara’s shout
eclipsed Edward’s own cry of pain. Her voice reverberated throughout the room
before finally fading to a profound silence, shattered only by the shallow
gasps of Edward’s attempts to draw breath. When the silence finally fell upon
them, the Queen stood from the bed, Edward’s blood cascading down her body.
Dressed only in blood, she walked across the room, leaving a trail of
footprints behind her. Without pausing for a robe, the Queen turned towards
Mara’s shaking form and said, “He’s all yours, niece,” before turning and
leaving the room.

           
Mara was unsure how long she remained violently shaking in the pool of blood
before she finally managed to whisper. “Ph-up…Phil…”

           
“Forgive me, my Lady,” said a masculine voice from behind her. “Did you say…”

           
“Ph..Phi…up.” Mara forced herself to draw a deep breath and attempted to clear
her throat. Unconsciously, she pressed her teeth against her bottom lip and had
to fight the urge to vomit as the taste of Edward’s blood danced upon the tip
of her tongue. She forced herself to swallow and again tried to speak, this
time managing to gain enough control over her voice to say, “Get Philip. Run!”
She did not need to speak twice, as the young guard to her left sprinted
towards the door.

           
Struggling to recall her training, Mara turned her eyes upon the rest of the
room. “You,” she motioned to a tall, dark-haired guard whose name she could not
seem to recall. “Guard the door.  Let no one in except Philip. Do you hear
me?  No one else.”

           
“Yes, Captain,” came the singular response as the man began to move towards the
door.

           
Mara’s eyes turned slowly back towards the broken form of the man laying upon
the bed but spoke to those standing behind her. “Not a word of what you saw
tonight.” She issued the warning in as strong a tone as she could muster. “If
anyone so much as breaths a word of what they saw tonight, I shall personally
cut out the tongue that formed them. Is that understood?”

           
All three of the remaining men voiced their consent, but Mara did not
acknowledge them, unable to tear her gaze from the blade protruding from
Edward’s chest. His breaths came in short, wheezing gasps. She knew that the
sooner the blade was removed, the sooner that he would be able to heal. She
knew that she should remove the blade. Yet she remained motionless on the
floor, unable to move as her pervious tremors returned to her body with a force
of their own.

           
“My Lady,” one of the nameless men said. “What can we do?” Mara knew she should
answer, but found herself frozen; the world around her seeming unreal as she
continued to tremble upon the floor. “My Lady?” The guard touched her right
shoulder, causing her to jump, slipping deeper into the pool of blood.

           
“Mara?” This time it was Philip’s voice. She turned towards him quickly,
splashing more blood upon her already covered form. Relief filtered through her
as she spun to find the tall man with sandy brown hair standing behind her. A
member of the Royal Guard for more than eight hundred years, Philip had been
promoted to second in command of the Queen’s Personal Guard shortly after
Edward had been promoted to Captain. He stood in silence for several moments,
taking in the gory scene. Then he turned his light blue eyes upon Mara’s
kneeling form. “What?  I…”

           
Her senses swirled in momentary relief at the arrival of the far more seasoned
Captain.  “The blade…” She drew a short breath. “We have to take it out.”

           
“Mara?” he asked, “what in the name of all the Gods…”

           
“Blood,” Mara stuttered. “Too much blood.” Philip walked across the room and
helped Mara unsteadily to her feet. His eyes searched her body. “It’s not
mine,” she managed to answer in broken words, “not mine.”

           
“Take a breath, Mara. Try to breathe.”

           
She obeyed and a few breaths later, the tremors running up and down her spine
began to slow enough for her to turn back towards the man lying upon the bed.

           
Slowly, Mara walked towards Edward. The right side of his face and arm had been
left untouched. She was relieved at this, realizing that even in her rage, the
Queen had not dared to risk injuring the Captain’s dominant hand.

           
One of the men Mara had threatened re-entered the room carrying several large,
dark strips of cloth which he began to tear into various sizes. Mara wondered
if Philip had ordered him to do so.  If he had, she had completely missed
the orders being given. “Thank you, Merin,” Philip said softly, confirming
Mara’s thoughts.

           
Edward’s glassy eyes looked into hers, his lips forming the shape of a
repetitive question which his voice seemed unable to ask. “Liza is safe,” Mara
answered him. “She is with Garreth.”  She leaned closer, being careful not
to touch his skin. “Do you hear me, Edward? Liza is safe.” A touch of relief
seemed to filter through his eyes before he again gave a low moan. Mara drew a
deep breath that proved only slightly steadier than the one before. “Listen, my
love. You have a blade in your chest,” she said to him slowly. “We have to take
it out.”

           
Panic returned to his eyes. Mara bent back to a kneeling position by the side
of the bed. She took his trembling right hand in her left. She then leaned
partially over him, positioning her face in his direct line of vision, blocking
his view of the blade as Philip moved towards his other side. “Edward,” Mara
said from her awkward position, “I know you are hurting and I know you are
scared.”

           
“
Please,”
he said, his lips forming the silent, agonized plea. 

She
fought against her tears. “Edward. Look at me, mi amor.” He turned his dark
gaze more directly into hers. “I am so sorry. I love you, and I am so, very
sorry.” She drew a deep breath. “But we have to do this. I am right here and I
promise you that we will get through this. I am going to stay right here, by
your side.” Edward’s hand tightened on her own. “Forgive me.”

Without
warning, Philip pulled up on the crimson blade.

For
three days Mara stood guard before his door, her right hand clutching the hilt
of her sword. She neither ate nor slept. When at last she was too tired to
stand, Garreth reached for her arm. “I can’t.” She shook her head.

           
“Mara,” he replied. “I will not move from this door. You have my word.” He
motioned to the door. “Go see him.”

           
Mara stared into Garreth’s green eyes. “After what was done to him. After what
I saw…After…”

           
“After what you saw,” Garreth interrupted. “He needs you more than ever.”

           
“Needs me? How could…” but her words lay constricted in her throat.

           
 Garreth leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Be strong, my Lady. He
needs you to be strong.”

           
Mara drew a deep breath and nodded slowly. She turned her exhausted body and
entered the room over which she had spent the previous days standing guard. The
Captain’s injured form lay on the large bed on the far side of the room,
covered in thick wool blankets. When she reached the edge of the bed, Mara bent
to one knee, fighting exhaustion to hold the expected position. She stared at
the dark stone beneath her when Edward moved his hand forward, and touched the
side of her face. “Captain,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Captain, I am. I
can’t…”

           
“Mara,” Edward said, moving his hand to stroke her hair. “Mara, look at me.”

           
A shiver ran through her body as she forced herself to raise her gaze. Words
tumbled from her lips. “I’m so sorry. I…tell me what to do, Edward. I’ll do
anything. I should have...”

           
“Mara,” he said, drawing a shallow breath. “There was nothing you could have
done. Do you hear me? Nothing.”

           
She shook her head. “Tell me what to do. What can I do?”

           
“Mara,” he said gently as he continued to run his fingers through her long
black hair. “My brave, brave Mara. You look so tired.”

           
She shook her head.

           
“I need you to sleep, Mara.”

           
“No. I have to stay by your side. I must guard…I must stay.”

           
“Then stay, my Lady.  But you must sleep.” He slid his hand to Mara’s
right arm, careful to avoid her injured hand. He pulled her forward to the edge
of the bed.