Veiled Rose (28 page)

With her head still low, she said, “I ask only that you give me a cart and a goat to pull it. And I ask that you would command this good baron, your servant, to let me return to the Eldest’s House.”

Lionheart blinked, and the baron, standing near, after taking a moment to decipher what he thought he had heard, swore under his breath. “Rose Red,” Lionheart said, “you should not return to the House.”

“But if my master’s family is indeed still held inside, they must be told of your plan. They must have something to hope for, or they’ll . . . they’ll die.”

Lionheart thought of the dragon fumes to which he had nearly succumbed, the awful, heavy despair as he had watched the dearest-held dreams of his life slain before his eyes again and again. And he thought of his parents and Foxbrush and the others imprisoned with them, surrounded night and day by that poison. Could they have survived even this long?

He went down on one knee and took hold of Rose Red’s hands. She tried to pull back, but he held them even so. “Such a favor is too great,” he said, speaking in a whisper so that the others nearby might not hear. “I would never ask it of you. No one should be burdened with such a task.”

“But you ain’t askin’ me, Leo,” she said. Through the slit in her veil, her eyes sought his. He thought he glimpsed them shining, though it was difficult to see through the folds of fabric. “You ain’t askin’ me. I’m askin’ you.”

He shook his head, squeezing her hands between his. Then suddenly he lifted her gloved hands and kissed them. And the baron and his daughter and the attendants standing nearby gasped and didn’t know which way to look. Lionheart did not notice their whispers, or if he noticed, he did not care.

“Rose Red,” he said, “was there ever a better person than you? Bless you a thousand times! Yes, I will give the order. You shall have your cart and your goat and, if the Lights Above are kind, you will go to my family. Somehow, I think that if anyone could get past that monster, you could. Here.” He took a ring from his finger, a gold ring carved with his seal, a seated panther. “Use this so that everyone will know you act as my servant. But tell me, while we’re at this boon-granting business, is there nothing you wish for yourself?”

Her voice was so low and soft by nature that Lionheart could not discern that it struggled to speak through tears. “My only other wish, my good master,” she said, “is that you would be safe, that you would return to us whole, and soon. Also that”—and here she could hardly believe her own daring, but once begun, she had to finish— “perhaps now and then you would remember your servant.”

“Dearest girl,” he said, “I will remember you, and I will take comfort in knowing my parents have you yet.”

With those words, he kissed her hands again, then got to his feet, leaving her where she knelt, and went to his horse. He mounted stiffly, breathing hard, for he was not yet fully recovered. But his face was determined. Let all Southlands know that, scalawag though he may be, once Prince Lionheart had set his mind on something, neither time nor tides could turn him back.

He rode from Middlecrescent Manor flanked by the baron and his daughter. When they came to the northernmost bridge of the baron’s land, arching across the trench-like valley below to the far tableland, they were all three surprised to see that it was not burning as they had been told, though the smell of smoke lingered in the air.

“Nothing for it, then,” Lionheart said. “Good-bye, baron, Daylily. Wish me luck. I will return, if all goes well, before the year is out.”

He urged his horse forward and would have ridden across the bridge without another word. But before he had gotten far, Daylily caught up with him. “Lionheart,” she said, “wait.”

He pulled up, and she rode up beside him. Then, to his great surprise, she leaned forward in her saddle, caught him behind the head, and kissed him, awkwardly but soundly, on the mouth.

“There,” she said when she pulled back. “Remember me too, Leo. And come back to me.”

He gaped. His head for a moment cleared of dragon fire and whirled with another fiery but much more pleasant sensation. Then, his face breaking into a grin, Lionheart spurred his horse onto the bridge and, without another look back, rode from Middlecrescent.

R
OSE
R
ED SAT ON THE STEPS
of the baron’s house and waited, her hands folded around the prince’s ring. All who looked upon her through the windows were frightened, though they couldn’t say why. In those dark times, with dragon smoke spreading ever more thickly across the sky, the sight of that veiled figure, still as a statue upon the doorstep, was like something from a nightmare.

“Didn’t they say the prince was bewitched by a sorceress in the mountains?” someone whispered.

“Silly talk, that!” someone else snapped, not taking wary eyes from the girl.

Rose Red, oblivious to the talk, waited, watching the road down which Lionheart, the baron, and Lady Daylily had disappeared.

The baron and his daughter returned, and Rose Red breathed a sigh. This meant Lionheart had indeed crossed the bridge and gone on his way. Whether or not she was relieved, she could not say. She rose as the baron approached, curtsying when he drew his horse up before her and dismounted.

Like Daylily’s, the baron’s eyes were large for his face; but unlike Daylily’s, his were not beautiful. They penetrated like cold daggers. Rose Red, in the moment those eyes bore down on her, was thankful for her veil.

“Get out,” the baron said.

Rose Red drew a short breath. “I was promised a goat and a cart—”

“Guards.” The baron’s voice did not rise, and his eyes did not leave her.

Two guards approached and grabbed Rose Red by the arms. “Father!” Daylily cried, dismounting in a rush of skirts, but had no chance to say more. For Rose Red, after an instant’s surprise, screamed and, with strength the guardsmen did not expect, hurled first one and then the other from her. They staggered back, surprised, and Rose Red turned upon the baron.

“I was promised a goat and a cart,” she declared and held up Prince Lionheart’s signet ring. “You heard the prince yourself, and you saw him give me his ring. Now do as he wished!”

The baron’s mouth hardened into a thin line, his gaze fixed on her. “You will not order me about on my own land, witch,” he said. “I am not under your spell.”

Terror filled her, and Rose Red stepped back, turning from the baron to the guardsmen and back again. “The prince—” she began.

“He is as good as dead.” The baron spoke smoothly, without emotion. His focus shifted briefly to the ring in her hand. “That will do you no good now.”

Rose Red stood frozen. Then she clutched the ring tight to her chest, slumping into herself. The baron motioned, and the guards stepped forward again; this time when they grabbed her, she made no protest.

“Father,” Daylily said in a voice as cold as the baron’s own, “you cannot gainsay Prince Lionheart’s wishes. The Eldest could be dead, for all we know, and Lionheart, your sovereign. You dare not disobey him.”

The baron gave his daughter a mirthless smile. “Lionheart will not leave the country alive, my sweet child. He’s a fool to try, and he will not return.” He reached out and patted her cheek. Daylily stood woodenly, as though enduring some offense. The baron continued, “There is no king in Southlands now, save the Dragon. And when he eventually tires of us and leaves, there will be no king at all. Then we shall see where we are.”

Daylily said nothing. Rose Red stared at her from behind her veil, desperate to read her thoughts. “M’lady,” she said, trying to draw her gaze. “M’lady, help me.”

But it was the baron, not his daughter, who turned at the sound of her voice. His face suddenly became vicious, and he snarled to his guards, “Take her from here and . . . get rid of her.”

“Father—”

“Not a word from you, child.”

“Listen to me!” Daylily’s voice was sharp, a voice that would kill if it could. “I was there at the Eldest’s House when . . . when
he
came. I heard what he said to the prince and to this girl. I assure you, Father, if you harm her, your new ‘king’ will make you pay. Depend upon it.”

Her heart thudding so hard in her chest that she could scarcely think, Rose Red watched Middlecrescent and his daughter stare at each other like wildcats vying for dominance. At last, without breaking Daylily’s gaze, the baron spoke. “Guards, get the creature off my land. See that she leaves Middlecrescent. Alive.”

They hauled Rose Red off her feet in their haste to obey. She was bound at the wrists, placed on a horse—which was terrifying in itself, for she had never ridden before in her life—and escorted across Middlecrescent by several armed men. They passed towns and villages as silent as graveyards as the people, like so many ghosts, sequestered themselves into the recesses of their homes, hoping to escape the ever-growing stench of dragon smoke as it crept across the land. Farms were abandoned, flocks and fields left untended. Nowhere was there clean air to breathe. Rose Red watched the guardsmen gradually succumb to the poison, their faces losing color, their eyes losing light.

As the day neared its end, they had not yet reached the edge of Middlecrescent. But the men hauled her from her horse. They were under orders, so they did not kill her, but there was no gentleness in them. When she stumbled to the ground, they aimed kicks at her back, and Rose Red curled up in a ball and took the blows. She did not feel them. Those steel-toed boots would have broken the ribs of anyone else, but they could not physically harm her. Instead, humiliation slapped her with every strike.

“I think we’ve made our point,” one of them said at last, backing up and signaling for his fellows to do the same. “Follow the road before you and leave the baron’s land. If you remain anywhere within his boundaries, you will not find us merciful.”

“Shouldn’t we take her to the bridge?” another soldier asked.

“And be out here after nightfall?” The first man shook his head. “Be my guest.”

The other did not reply. They mounted their horses again and left Rose Red where she lay, still bound at the wrists, in the dirt of the road. She did not look up until long after the hoofbeats faded away. By then, night was falling.

Rose Red sat up and snapped the thick cords on her wrists without a thought. The pieces fell into her lap, and she looked at them idly. “What am I goin’ to do?” she whispered into the falling darkness. But there was no one to answer her. Not Beana, not her old dad, not even . . . not even Leo, who had promised to care for her. She was truly alone.

Her veil stank of dragon smoke. The stench of nightmares. “It’s my fault,” she whispered, as expressionless as stone. “I should never have left the mountain. I brought him down upon us.” Then she tore the veil away, flinging it to the ground. “What have I done?”

The wood thrush sang.

Silver and lovely in that gathering gloom, its voice reached out to her. And with it, she remembered.

“Let me give you something. . . . Because I might be unable to protect you once we’ve gone to the low country, let me give you something with which you may protect yourself.”

The Name.

The Name, which had nestled deep in near-forgotten places of her mind, slipped to her lips, resting there, ready to be spoken. Just the feel of it there gave her comfort, and her breathing eased. Then Rose Red swallowed, forcing the word back inside.

“I ain’t goin’ to be so foolish,” she muttered, rising to her feet. She did not replace the veil but clutched it in her left hand as she began the long march down the road. All was dark by now, but still she saw well enough to avoid every rut in her path, walking smoothly, like a gliding spirit. “I ain’t goin’ to depend on Faerie stories. I promised Leo I’d care for his family, and that’s just what I’m goin’ to do . . . just as soon as I can get back to the House.”

The House where the Dragon waited for her.

Well, that wasn’t going to stop her either. Had Rose Red not faced that Dragon in her dreams nearly every night throughout her childhood? Granted, he’d been incorporeal. But really, if one took the time to reason with oneself, why must it be so much more frightening for one’s monsters to be incarnate and huge rather than disembodied? The fear was all the same. True, disembodied frights rarely swallowed a person in one gulp . . . details like that did add up. Rose Red licked her lips but maintained her rapid pace.

And she did not speak the Name.

Rose Red walked for hours across the silent landscape, feeling as though she made no progress. Not a soul met her on that lonely road. How long would it take her to reach the Eldest’s House at this rate? What would she find when she got there? She’d promised Leo to care for his family, but how could she hope to fulfill that promise? The Baron of Middlecrescent had heard the prince’s orders and still disregarded them. Could she possibly convince anyone else to aid her if the baron himself would not?

The silence broke with the sound of hooves on the road behind her. Rose Red immediately slipped from the road into the still darker shadows on its edge, vanishing from any searching eyes. A horse and rider appeared, the rider sitting stiffly upright. Despite the shielding cloak and hood, Rose Red recognized her immediately.

She hesitated. For a moment, she considered letting the horse trot by without speaking a word. But she’d sworn an oath, even if under duress, and must she now add oath breaker to her crimes?

The horse passed by. Rose Red slipped her veil back over her head, stepped into the road, and called out, “M’lady!”

Daylily reined in her mount. If she was frightened by that strange voice in the night, she did not show it. She turned about, her face shadowed, and it was Rose Red who trembled.

The baron’s daughter said, “I hoped to find you somewhere in these parts. My father’s men are much too cowardly to have borne you any farther.” She urged her gelding closer and put out her hand. “Come up.”

Rose Red regarded the towering height of the horse. After her first ride today, she found herself unwilling to repeat the experience, particularly seated behind Lady Daylily. “What will your father say, you bein’ out here?”