Chapter 5
Five
Rose
Rose stared down at the book in her hands, a little shocked at the information it revealed.
"Are you saying that the elves were able to tell the future, and that's why they left?" she asked as she wandered through the stone halls.
At some point in her teachings, Rhydian had decided he would no longer meet with her in a field.
Understandable, she supposed. He brought her books to read all the time, and even though they weren't real, he was still vehemently opposed to even the imaginary risk of damaging them.
He had insisted they go to his tower, where they were all held.
It was strange what her mind could conjure.
Rose had never seen a tower like the spiraling one they were in now.
It was a series of rooms stacked on top of each other, all accessed by a staircase that wrapped around the outside, not the inside.
She had gotten used to the brisk breeze that always made her feel a little wobbly as she made her way from room to room.
The library was nearly at the very top, one of the most precarious to get to.
The room itself was rather beautiful, though. The books were stacked haphazardly in towers of their own, some on the many shelves that dotted throughout the space in no rhyme or reason. Others balanced in spirals that could fall if someone brushed carelessly against them.
Rhydian himself stood by one of those tall stacks, precariously choosing a book that was halfway down the middle. He'd never knocked over a single book. She was convinced it was magic, but he told her it was because elves were more graceful than humans.
Rose wasn't sure what to believe.
He looked up at her, his eyes a little glassy as they always were when he was researching anything. "What are we speaking of again?"
"The elves," she reminded him. "Your people. This claims they were able to see the future, and that is why they left this realm. They saw not just a time of turmoil but... but..."
Rose had been working on learning the elven language. Most of the books here weren't translated into any human language she could read. So she'd decided to learn their language, which had taken years. Nearly three, if she remembered right.
She'd been spending more and more time in here.
It wasn't as if she sought experiences that would give her a break from the real world, but.
.. Well, she perhaps had been a little careless lately.
The past year had been harder as the king's demands worsened.
And she had wanted to be here with Rhydian.
Learning new skills, discovering strange realities that she had never even considered.
All of it was so much better than the life she led otherwise.
"Give it here," Rhydian said, striding toward her with his hand outstretched. "The translation shouldn't have made you pause like this. I'm certain you can read it, if you just give yourself the time to think about it."
She wanted to try, but her mind kept fracturing today. She was pulled between here and the other reality, the one who was doing gods knew what with a man she had never met before.
It was like the magic in her kept tugging her back to the real world, and that simply wouldn't do. She had work here. Important work that was the only reason she was still alive.
Rhydian had given her hope. He'd given her safety. He was an elf who cared very little for her people, but he was giving her a chance to learn. Why? She still hadn't gotten it out of him.
Frankly, she knew very little about the elf who stood before her with a frown on his face.
"This translation is tricky," he muttered, thumbing through the pages as though context would give him a better clue at what the author meant.
"I have seen it before, but I cannot remember what they were saying.
It's almost as though they slipped into a local dialect, but I cannot hazard a guess where this author was located. "
"Oh!" She stepped closer, trying to lean around his shoulder so she could point him to the correct page. "I saw that in the beginning, actually. If you just turn the page—"
Something tugged hard at her spirit. She was suddenly thrust back into the real world, staring up at the ceiling that had started to chip.
King James might have wanted the room to look opulent, but she'd been in here for years.
The paint they used had started to fleck, and she'd counted the pieces that were falling so many times.
Why was she back here?
Sitting up, the wild tangle of her blonde hair fell around her shoulders like a cloak. She hadn't cut it in all the years that she'd been here, and it was almost like a shroud that covered her naked body.
The man who had been with her backed away from her. His tall form was too lean, all of his bones knobby as he tried to cover himself and pick up the clothes that were still crumpled on the floor. He shook his head, refusing to even look at her as he desperately tugged on his pants.
"What are you doing?" she asked, anger a little evident in her words. "Why did you stop?"
There wasn't even an ache between her legs. It didn't feel like he had done anything to her at all. She'd slipped out of this world and into the one she really wanted to be in, and now she was back. How dare he? He was supposed to do what all the other men did so she could get out of here.
"I-I can't," the man was stammering. "I can't. You... You were almost dead."
"I'm not dead. I just disappear. Most people like that about me." She tugged the blankets up to her chest, but then some rebellious part of her burst to life.
Rose had performed for years. She'd been trapped in this room, never leaving it, never seeing the sun.
The only way she even got a glimpse of the outside realm was through what the men told her before they all started to grope and grab and touch.
Her life was predictable. Patterns that she had gotten used to.
But she couldn't escape from here if they didn't do their job. He had to keep his side of the bargain.
Rage burned in her chest. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so angry at anyone. Rose had been afraid in this realm for such a long time, and then just numb. It was easier for that to be how she felt rather than raging at the world. She'd only get punished more.
Now she wanted to be punished.
"You're supposed to enjoy me," she said as she crawled out of the bed. Her limbs felt shaky and wrong, like she wasn't meant to be in this body, anyway. What did it matter if this form hurt? "The king will be angry with you if you don't."
"I'll tell the king that the deal is still on. He made his point," the man grumbled as he pulled his shirt on. "I'm not this. He gave you to me as a gift and I thought... I thought it would be different. I thought you'd at least want it."
Was the man an idiot? He’d thought any woman would want this?
But she needed him angry. Or at the very least, prepared to do what all the other men did.
She wanted to go back to the realm with her books and the tower that looked out over a meadow that perpetually had the prettiest flowers she'd ever seen.
Rose couldn't stay here for another second without feeling her mind fracturing.
"You're meant to touch me," she said, drawing close enough to grab his hand. She pressed his palm to her breast, already feeling the flicker of that other realm.
Yes, this was good enough. If she could get him to mold his hand around her breast, then she'd disappear. She'd go back to safety and the reality she much preferred over this nightmare.
But his hand didn't curve around her. Instead, she swore tears welled in his eyes.
"You are so thin," he whispered. "I can see the hollows of your ribs and your collarbone. Are they not feeding you?"
No kindness. No concern. This wasn't what she wanted.
She slid closer, pressing herself to his bare chest even though she hated it.
The man's lank blond hair nearly matched her own.
He wasn't the same kind of nobleman she was used to seeing.
They were all fat and sweaty and pawed at her skin.
And he certainly wasn't a gladiator. He didn't have an ounce of muscle on his body.
"Touch me," she said. "And I think you'll find I'm not too thin at all. Many people have enjoyed me."
The man’s eyes widened. "How many? How long has he kept you in this room?"
Something snapped in her head. She wanted to scream and cry and rage at the world because she didn't know the answer to that. She didn't care to know it either.
Another part of her whispered this was close. She didn't want to have this conversation, and that alone could get her back into the realm with an elf and flowers that called out to her. There were translations waiting for her. All she had to do was push herself to breaking.
"I've been here for years," she replied. "The king brought me here when I was eighteen. I was the prettiest acolyte he'd ever seen, and he said my magic helped. I don't fight. I don't argue. I don't cry."
"Unbreakable," the man muttered.
"Exactly." Rose pressed his hand harder to her breast. "So you can do whatever you want to me."
He shook his head and then backed away from her. "No, I don't want to do anything to you. You shouldn't be here."
Oh, this wasn't working. This was just making her sad. And sad meant she had to deal with all these feelings right where she was. In this dark room with crumbling paint and all the old clothing that was starting to show its wear because she'd been in here alone for such a long time.
Forgotten. Used. Left to her own devices with only food and terrible men coming to her door.
No, no, these weren't the kind of thoughts she could run from. They were the kind of thoughts that pinned her to the floor, forcing her to stay right where she was and relive every horrible moment that she was currently running from.
Swallowing hard, she tried one more time. "I'm here whether you think I should be or not. So shouldn't you at least have a taste of what all the others have been getting?"
He shook his head, and he looked so pale that she feared he might throw up. "No. No, I don't think I will. And don't you worry—I'm going to tell the king exactly what I think of this whole situation."
He'd only make it worse if he did that. And the rage boiled ever hotter inside her.
Why did this man think he could fix this?
Why couldn't he just be like all the other bad men who had at least given her a chance to hide in her own mind, without trying to be some kind of fucking hero?
She'd saved herself! She had a realm in her mind where she could go and speak with someone who wanted to help her, to make her better, to give her a chance to live beyond these four walls.
She didn't think. She just picked up a vase in the corner which once had been filled with brightly colored flowers every single day and now only held the wilted remains of a time when the king had once favored her.
And she chucked it at his head.
The sound that came after froze her blood in her veins. He made a choked sound and fell. And then he was just... there.
Not moving while a pool of blood spread around his still form.
"Shit," she muttered. "Shit, you're fine. You'll get up."
But he didn't. All he did was lie there, and she knew that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
What had she done? This would only make everything worse. She couldn't fix what she had done, and now she was trapped in this room with a dead man who had promised to help her. She had been so terrified of what that help had meant that she'd killed him.
Rose scampered back onto the bed, her breathing so ragged she could hear it.
The world was too much, and violence had never sent her into the other realm.
She was forced to stare at her biggest mistake, forced to remain right where she was because her body wasn't at risk. Her own life wasn't at risk.
She pulled the blanket up over her head, trying to hide from the world.
She heard the door open eventually, and the hissing sound of disapproval from whichever servant had been forced to come into this room.
The door closed again for a time. And then more people entered.
She heard him being moved. Heard the footsteps of more people coming in, and then the wet slosh of a mop on the floor.
Maybe they'd leave her alone.
Maybe the blanket protected her from what was to come.
Until a strong, sturdy hand grabbed a fistful of the blanket and pulled it away from her form. Icy air dragged claws down her sides as she looked into the disappointed and enraged face of King James himself.
"You have always played nice," the king scolded. "And now you decide to fight? After all this time?"
Rose trembled. She could feel the bed shaking beneath her with the force of it. "He planned to deny your wishes. I was trying to get him to come back, to use me as you had gifted me to be used. I was just... just trying to follow your wishes."
"Were you now?" He leaned down to stare into her eyes, looming over her as a dark shadow that maybe, maybe, could send her into that other realm.
But he never touched her. Not once. That young, naive girl who had been so confident before seeing him, trying to tempt a king, shriveled underneath that blank stare.
She'd wanted him to love her so much and romanticized what her life would be like with this king who had seemed larger than life.
She had thought she would become a queen with all the power of the realm at her fingertips.
And now look at her.
"You know," King James said quietly, his hand soft and gentle as he brushed his fingers through the locks of her hair.
"I have found your use to be less and less these days.
Now you're killing the people I send to you? Little Rose. You were so much fun for such a long time, but I think my toy has finally broken. You should have been grateful for all the kindness I’ve shown you for these long years.
Now you're going to see what life is like when you are no longer in my favor. "
Her heart stuttered in her chest, but then maybe... maybe this was good. The worse her life was, the more likely she was to hide from all of this.
If she survived.