Goddess of the Rose (27 page)

And then what? In the spring she must be sacrificed. In despair, he looked down at his hands as his claws extended. He could still feel the softness of her skin against their razorlike tips. Would he allow her to escape, as he had the deceiver who had come before her? No. He could not. The roses were sick, and he had little doubt as to why. Their last Empousa had fled without completing her destiny. What would happen to the realm if this one did the same?

He knew what would happen. It wouldn't survive.

If he would be the only one to pay the price, he would gladly do so. He knew it for truth, even though the thought shamed him. It meant he was willing to betray his goddess again. But no matter how desperately he longed for Mikado, he would not allow his own desires to cause the destruction of the Realm of the Rose.

His growl deepened, and he had to fight against the urge to rend and tear. The man within him held the beast at bay, but only just. The ache and yearning for the impossible that caused his emotions to be in turmoil also roused the monster within. She might believe in the man, but he was joined with the beast—they were one in the same. If she stirred the man, the beast roused. He had to remember that no matter how sweetly she may speak his true name, or how sweetly she might touch him and let him touch her, she would be imagining the man. What would happen when she realized that she was seducing the beast, too?

She would reject him. Anything else was only a dream. And he, of all creatures, knew how insubstantial dreams really were. He must forget the dream and deal in reality, which was what he did best.

And none of this mattered. He could not love her—he could barely touch her without feeling the raging pain of Hecate's spell.

Asterius's head suddenly lifted and his eyes widened. That was it! He didn't have to hold the beast at bay. The goddess had tethered the monster for him. He could stay as close to Mikado as she would allow; the goddess's spell would ensure that he never went too far . . . all he need do would be to bear some pain. When it became too much, too unendurable . . . he remembered the feel of her skin against his lips and her small hand within his. Yes, he could endure a taste of the goddess's punishment for the miracle that was the touch of Mikado's skin.

If
she allowed him near her again. He resumed his frustrated pacing. After the way he'd left her last night it would be understandable if she avoided his company completely.

But perhaps she would not always avoid him. She was so different, so unlike any of the other women. She had asked him if he would seal the gate! No other Empousa would ever have asked such a thing. Of course, she didn't know her fate. Didn't know that her only escape from it was through the rose gate and back to the world of the mundane that lay beyond the forest. Part of his mind whispered that even if she knew, she might still choose to stay for the roses . . . for him . . .

He went to the mouth of his lair. The sun was calling the sky awake with young tendrils of light. He could feel Mikado's thoughts slide away from him as she left the baths and then he could no longer feel her at all. He imagined that she was preparing to summon the Elementals and begin her day. He, too, must begin his. She had asked him to inspect the rose wall, and her request had been a wise one. He left his lonely lair and began his solitary trek along the boundary between worlds.

Choosing to remain invisible, Hecate watched her Guardian. His powerful stride was weary, and she clearly saw the strain of conflicted emotions in his dark, expressive eyes. The goddess smiled and let her hand absently caress the head of one of her great hounds.

“It goes well . . .” she whispered.

 

 

“See how I've divided the gardens into fourths?” Mikki had hated to tamper at all with Asterius's map, but it was necessary that everything be clear for the Elementals, so she'd had Daphne bring her a quill and some ink, and she'd drawn her own considerably less-attractive lines to quarter the blueprint. “As I said before, each of you will take the area that corresponds to the direction of your element. Nera, you'll be west; Aeras, east. Gii and Floga will, of course, be north and south. You'll each have your own group of women. Start by fertilizing the beds, like I showed you yesterday. I'll make my way through each area, checking to see if the roses need any other special attention. Do you have any questions about your areas?” Mikki asked the four Elementals. As she'd done the night before, she'd pushed the dishes aside and spread Asterius's map out on the dining table. The handmaidens were gazing at it raptly.

“This is a lovely map, Empousa,” Gii said, touching the delicate sketch that represented the realm's central fountain.

“And accurate, too,” Aeras said. “I think every one of the paths have been duplicated here.”

“Your baths are even drawn in,” Nera said, obviously delighted with the squiggly water lines that represented her element.

“Who did this for you, Empousa?” Floga asked.

Mikki lifted her eyes from her own contemplation of the map to meet the Fire Elemental's sharp gaze.

“The Guardian drew it for me,” Mikki said, careful to keep her voice casual, her expression placid.

“The Guardian!” Gii exclaimed. “But how could he have—”

“She commanded it,” Floga interrupted the Earth Elemental. “He would do whatever she commanded.”

Unruffled by her odd tone, Mikki said, “Actually, I didn't
command
him. I just asked.” She lifted a shoulder. “That's all. Apparently it wasn't that big of a deal. He has claws that he can extend and use as built-in quills. And he's been here for ages. No wonder he knows all the nooks and crannies of the realm.” She gave Floga a tight smile. “But thank you for reminding me. I do need to command him to come here. I asked him to inspect the rest of the rose wall and make sure there are no other weakened parts of it we need to pay special attention to.” Mikki didn't need to close her eyes to concentrate on him. After last night, he never seemed to be far from her thoughts. She turned her back to the handmaidens and looked across the gardens. “Come to me, Asterius,” she whispered into the wind.

She only had time to wonder if he minded that she called him by the name his mother had given him, before the pressure of the air on the balcony changed. It felt heavier and thick against her skin. Then she heard his hooves pound forcefully on marble as he climbed the balcony stairs. Though his stride was powerful, that unmistakable mixture of animal and man with which he moved, Mikki thought he looked tired and was almost as annoyed as she was disappointed when he bowed and spoke formally to her without meeting her eyes.

“You commanded that I come to you, Empousa?”

“Yes. I was hoping you'd had a chance this morning to inspect the rest of the rose wall.”

“I have, Empousa.”

“And?”

“I see no area that appears particularly weak except that which surrounds the gate.”

“So you agree that we can focus on the roses within the garden?”

Finally, he met her eyes. “Yes, I am in agreement with you.”

“Good,” she said briskly, ignoring the fluttering he caused deep in her stomach. She turned to the handmaidens. “So each of you collect your group of women and set up your own line of fertilizer baskets. Prepare the beds just like we did the area around the roots of the multiflora roses. I'll visit each area, and we'll go from there.”

“Yes, Empousa,” the Elementals chorused. They curtseyed and began to leave the balcony, along with the Guardian.

“Floga, Guardian—I need to see the two of you,” Mikki said.

Mikki thought that though the Fire Elemental had carefully arranged her face into a blank expression, her eyes gave away her uneasiness at being singled out.
She doesn't trust me.

“Floga, your area of the garden is the section that is most southerly. This happens to include the rose gate. I know it would be quicker for your women to go to the forest and use the loam for fertilizer as we did yesterday, but I'm concerned about having the gate open again today.”

Floga looked surprised, and Mikki couldn't really blame her. Just yesterday she'd insisted, in front of everybody, that Asterius keep the gate open, danger be damned. Mikki looked at him. “What do you advise?”

“I believe you are wise to be concerned about reopening the gate so soon,” he said.

“So we are agreed that maybe in a day or two Floga can allow the women to collect more loam, but right now it's not a good idea?”

“Yes, Empousa. We are in agreement.”

“Good.” She knew the smile she gave him was obvious in its warmth, and she could feel the handmaiden's eyes watching her every expression, but she didn't care. Let them all know she valued the Guardian's judgment. She would not treat him like an animal when he was not one, and neither would they. Not while she was Empousa. There was a new boss in the realm, and they'd better get used to it. Still smiling, she turned to Floga. “Do you understand what I need you to do?”

“Yes, Empousa.”

“Good. Then you're free to get started. The Guardian and I will be along shortly.”

Floga's eyes widened, but she said nothing as she curtseyed and then hurried from the balcony, leaving the priestess and the beast alone.

“Good morning, Asterius,” Mikki said softly.

And that was it. The sound of his true name on her lips undid him. He could not fight his desire for her and his need to be in her presence. Despite the spell Hecate had placed upon him and the pain it would cause him, come spring or come the very gates of the Underworld, for as long as they had together he had to hear the sweet sound of her voice and, if fate granted it, feel the touch of her hand again.

“Forgive me, Mikado.”

“For what?”

“For the way the night ended. I have no practice in . . .” He paused, struggling for words he'd never before spoken.

“There's nothing to forgive,” she said. “It's hard to know the right thing to say or do, especially when you're faced with a completely new situation. Sometimes it's easier to run away.”

“That makes me sound like a coward.”

She smiled. “No, it makes you sound human.”

He looked shocked, and then, slowly, his lips turned up into a smile that eventually reached his eyes. “You are an extraordinary woman, Mikado.”

“Well, let's see if you still think so at the end of the day.”

He raised a questioning brow.

“I'm going to put all those muscles of yours to work. Tonight you'll be too tired not to sleep.”

His dark eyes caught hers. “You knew I didn't sleep last night?”

“Don't be too impressed by my powers of observation. It doesn't take a goddess to figure it out. You look pretty rough this morning.”

“And I am usually so handsome,” he said dryly.

She gasped. “Do not tell me that you just made a joke!” Mikki's laughter floated musically on the breeze as the two of them made their way from the balcony. Neither noticed the women who peered wide-eyed from the palace windows, watching them go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

M
IKADO hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said she was going to put his muscles to work. Asterius had never lifted so many baskets or dug so many holes in all the long centuries of his immortal life.

And he'd never been so happy.

He'd been working beside Mikado all day. She actively supervised, which meant she did not shy from even the dirtiest of jobs. He could tell that the women of the realm were not pleased with the messy, tiring tasks she had given them, but they were visibly pleased that their Empousa was right in the middle of the mess with them. She worked twice as hard as they did; she seemed to be everywhere at once. And perhaps most surprisingly, she was cheerful about the work. The High Priestess appeared to actually enjoy getting her hands in the dirt as she demonstrated exactly how the earth needed to be worked around the roots of the bushes. She didn't shy away from the rank fertilizer; she did the opposite. The Empousa helped scoop it into the dirt and even laughed and made jokes about the irony that such a horrid smell could make sweet roses thrive.

He ignored the looks the women gave him. He was used to it. No matter how often he walked amongst them, the women of the realm were always uncomfortable around him. More so now than ever before. They all knew what he had done and the rage his actions had evoked from their goddess. They, too, had paid for his error. They hadn't been encased in stone and banished from the realm, as he had. They had only to wait . . . without aging . . . without changing . . . unable to do more than watch time pass around them for all the centuries he slept. He could only imagine how disturbing it must be for them to see him beside their new Empousa, especially when she made it clear that she appreciated his opinion and she treated him like . . .

Mikado treated him as if
he were a man.

What a true and wondrous miracle she was. And she did stay in his presence—or rather, he stayed in hers. She began the inspection of the roses in the east, and after thoroughly examining all of the beds, with Aeras promising to follow each of her directions, she had moved to the south.

He would never forget how he'd stood there pretending to be busy piling empty baskets easily within the women's reach as Mikado waved a bright farewell to the little Wind Elemental. He thought he would stay there in the east and continue working, that perhaps later in the day he would catch a glimpse of her as she moved amongst the plants, but she'd had other ideas. When she'd realized he wasn't leaving with her, she'd marched right back to him and said, “I need you to stay with me. I would very much appreciate your help today.”