16. Melancholy Mourning
“ R oses are red, my dear, violets are blue. Posies are purple and they bloom for you. Robins will sing for you, nightingales too, meadowlarks court you but not as I do.”
“Are you afraid, rosie posie?”
Rose stopped her singing and nodded, looking into the handsome face of the male kneeling in front of her as she sat on the chair. She looked at her parents’ closed bedroom door as she heard her mother scream. The deep voice of a doctor followed.
“Is she going to be alright, Leonidas?”
“She will be just fine. Childbirth is a long and painful process. Not only is your mother strong and tough, but she’s been through it before with you. I can assure you, you were much worse on her.”
“Really?”
The striking blonde male nodded, his sky-blue eyes serious on her. “Your father would never let anything happen to her. There are three healers in that room.”
They both turned toward the door again when they heard the loud cries of a baby. Rose brightened, her face lighting, especially when she heard her mother’s laughter and her father’s booming voice.
“She is beautiful! Look at her, Chryssie! She’s gorgeous!” A moment later the door opened, and his red-bearded face appeared, radiantly joyful. “Your sister is arrived, Ambrosia! Come meet her.” He held out his hand and Rose ran for it, leaving the well-muscled male in the pretty white uniform with the others in the hallway.
Comforted by her father’s strong grip, she walked with him into the crowded room. Three healers fussed over her mother where she lay glistening with sweat amid a mountain of pillows on the bed. Two doctors hovered close. Though Rose felt nervous at the sight of all the blood on the blankets the maids carried out, her mother beamed. Shooing the healers away, she opened the arm not holding the baby to her breast, and Rose ran to hop up beside her.
“Are you alright, Mother?”
She ran a hand over Rose’s hair. “I am more than alright, darling. Look.” She looked down at the baby suckling her breast, prompting Rose to do the same.
“Wow. She’s, um, pretty,” Rose said, making her parents chuckle. She reached out to touch her little sister’s arm above the blanket. She was so red and wrinkly and tiny that she looked like a naked rat. Her hair was dark, and that seemed strange to Rose too. “Is she supposed to be so small?”
“She is new. She will grow, and fast, believe me.”
“Why’s her hair dark?”
“It will lighten,” her father answered as he sat beside her, putting one arm around her and the other around her mother and the baby. “I think it will be red.”
Her mother smiled at him adoringly. “Maybe.”
“What’s her name?” Rose asked.
“Aurelia,” her mother answered.
Rose made a face. “I don’t like it. Can I call her Relly?”
Her mother and father both chuckled again and then her mother lay her head back, letting out a deep sigh as her eyes closed. “I do not like modifications. Her name means golden. ”
“But you said she’s going to have red hair—” Rose stopped talking abruptly as the castle trembled.
“Tiberius,” her mother gasped, sitting up with her eyes wide.
“My scouts said they were three days out.” Her father looked murderous as he bent to kiss her mother’s forehead. He took her face in his hands. “We will take care of it. You stay here with the girls.”
He kissed Rose’s forehead next, and she gripped his shirt tightly. “Daddy, is it the vampires?”
“How do you . . .” He shook his head. “We will talk about your spying later, little sneak.” He gave her a pointed look while caressing her cheek. “Stay here with your mother. I mean it. You must remain safe, Ambrosia.” He kissed her again before striding out of the room, calling the guards stationed at the door to follow.
Only a moment later, Leonidas came in, followed by another muscular male with light brownish hair—Theron, and a dark-haired female—Tatiana. When they noticed Rose’s mother getting out of bed, the males turned their backs. Tatiana and another female maid rushed to help her.
“My lady, you need rest! You should stay in bed and gather your strength.”
“Like hell.” Rose’s mother handed Aurelia, who stirred, to the closest maid and went to her wardrobe. “This castle is under attack. I am not going to sit idly by.” With the help of the females, she dressed and then cuddled the crying Aurelia again. Looking up, she called, “Leonidas, Theron.”
“Yes, my lady.” Both males stepped forward, dipping their heads.
“I need you to guard my girls and keep them safe.”
“On our lives,” both said, setting fists to their hearts.
“Mother, I want to stay with you.” Rose took her mother’s hand with scared tears in her eyes. “Please. You’re going to the tower to fight the vampires with magic. I know you are. I can fight too. My magic is strong—”
“No, my baby.”
Rose sobbed as her mother kneeled in front of her. But she also stomped her foot. “I’m not a baby !”
“Ambrosia, you are so smart, so very smart and strong, and you simply radiate the brightness in you.” Tears glimmered in her mother’s eyes. “But you are the future, my darling, and you must be protected.” Standing again, she nodded to Leonidas, who picked Rose up, and then to Theron, who nodded.
Last she turned to Tatiana. Her shoulders lightly shook as she handed over Aurelia. After kissing the baby’s head, she ran a hand over Rose’s hair, kissing her cheek on Leonidas’s shoulder.
“Take them to the safe room. Protect them at all costs,” her mother ordered in her no-nonsense voice. The males pounded their fists to their hearts again. “I love you, my babies, my precious, precious daughters. May the Sun God watch over you all.”
After one last kiss on each head, she took a deep breath, and her face hardened. Nodding to the others in the room, she swept out, leaving Rose screaming after her from Leonidas’s arms.
Rose woke with a start, sitting upright in bed, her chest heaving as she struggled for breath. Fear made her heart race, and though sweat ran down her spine, she shivered. A terrible thing had been about to happen. She didn’t know what, but the foreboding was wicked, even as the dream was fading.
It had started so joyful with the baby’s birth. It had been beautiful, meeting the infant, and the happiness radiating off of everyone. She didn’t know what was coming for the dream family, but whatever it was would be traumatizing.
In the dreams, she was Ambrosia.
In reality, she didn’t know her identity. She wondered why the dreams plagued her, why they were so vivid. It was almost as if they were memories.
But that was ridiculous, and she didn’t want to be crazy. It had to be her imagination, only her subconscious telling stories in sleep. She needed to stay firmly rooted in what was real.
And what was real now was cleaning the Crimson Palace, working for her Prince, and earning coin. With luck, she could continue tucking the coppers away to fund her travels. The year would eventually end, and next spring she’d set off.
Those plans took over as her heart calmed, the sweat evaporated, and the dream faded as it always did. Knowing she’d never get back to sleep, she rose from bed. Cordelia, her roommate, breathed deeply from just a step away. Trying to be quiet, Rose gathered her uniform and went to the washroom across the hall.
Though tempted to go downstairs and haul up a couple of warm buckets of water to bathe, it didn’t seem worth it when there was perfectly good water already there, cold as it was. Looking at the chart on the door, she realized tomorrow it was her turn to fetch the water for this room. Again. The following day was cleaning day, and that was her responsibility again as well .
She sighed. Mildred, who was two rooms down and had seniority, made the chart. Rose’s name popped up more frequently than anyone else. It wasn’t fair, but Cordelia said it always happened to new hires.
Rose had a feeling it also had to do with her reputation as being favored by their Prince.
Being a pushover didn’t help.
No longer being a slave, she could grow a backbone. She had the right to defend herself.
Word was going around that Prince Adrian’s favor for her was waning, which struck a chord with her since she hadn’t seen him for over two weeks. According to gossip, he was busy with meetings, busy with dinners, socializing with the nobility, and spending his evenings with the higher maid Lucinda .
As part of the regular staff, though everyone aside from Cordelia made it clear she remained an outcast, she heard all the juicy goings-on. Lucinda was on the overnight shift, and Rose had learned she was one of her Prince’s favorites.
She wondered how many gifts her Prince had given Lucinda , how many kisses he’d shared with her. The other maid was prettier than Rose, sweeter, too, and flirtier. Easier . The Prince likely got everything he wanted from her without complaint.
Unlike Rose, who was difficult.
It shouldn’t matter, she reminded herself as she washed, dressed, and silently put her night dress away and headed downstairs. Cordelia hadn’t stirred, for which she was grateful. Her roommate was always full of eager questions that Rose did not wish to answer.
It was ironic because Rose had always longed for a friend, and now that someone wanted the same, their zealousness was off-putting.
Larkin was better anyway .
Her shift didn’t start for some time, so she headed to her favorite garden since it was one the maids were allowed in during free time. She briefly contemplated going to the library but chose instead the lily ponds. There was something calming about the out-of-doors.
Exiting the palace, it was still dark, but the sky wasn’t black velvet. Breathing deeply, Rose stared at the stars still shining in the deep blue. The birds were quiet as she walked to the closest pond, where she sat on the damp ground and dipped her fingers into the cold water.
Tracing swirls with her fingertips, the fish surfaced to follow. It was almost like a dance. They’d come close enough for their slippery bodies to just brush her fingertips before darting away, only to return.
“Roses are red, my dear,” she sang soft and gentle in the hushed stillness of predawn, “violets are blue. Posies are purple and they bloom for you. Robins will sing for you, nightingales too, meadowlarks court you but not as I do.”
There was more to the song, but she couldn’t recall it, so she simply hummed the tune while she watched the bright fish in the black water. She’d stopped teasing them, setting both hands in her lap, but they kept on, moving sinuously near the surface.
Her song brought back visions of the woman from her dreams. The image wasn’t clear, but there was the impression of a stately figure with long blonde hair and a bright aura. Closing her eyes, she tried to bring the image into focus, concentrating as her heart accelerated at the possibility of what would happen next.
Somber as she recalled parts of her dream, her throat burned, her chest constricting.
“Get it together, Rose,” she whispered. “They’re just dreams.”
The fish had disappeared deeper into the water where she couldn’t see them, so she stood and walked to the stone bench near the farthest pond. Sitting, she took in the sight of the lily of the valley whose fragrance would be sweet once they bloomed. The daffodils were in full bloom, their buttery color coordinating well with the striking yellow of the forsythia. The grape hyacinth were in full bloom, too, and more hellebore. Miniature irises were clustered here and there, and white tulips.
There were so many beautiful colors. And it would only be more striking when the sun rose and added its brightness. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine it, and something else entirely filled her mind.
“What are these, Mother?” Rose asked of the tall red flowers they were planting.
“Daylilies.” Her mother packed the soil around the base of the flower she’d just planted. She helped Rose plant the one in her hands and then they planted another together, the last of the bunch, before they moved on to a different purplish-pink flower spaced between the lilies.
“What’s this one?”
“Coneflower, dear.”
“And what’s next?”
“We are going to toss yarrow seeds, so they come up next year, and then plant some butterfly bushes along the border.”
Rose looked to the side, where the gardeners continued to bring plants from the greenhouses. One of the lower gardeners worked in a different section.
“What’s going over there?”
“That’s going to be bleeding heart and lily of the valley, some torch lily, some daisy, maybe some black-eyed Susan if Val feels like it.”
“Why don’t we just mix them all together?”
“They will spread over time.”
“Like in the meadow?”
“Sort of. Come now, back to planting or we’ll never get finished.”
Rose grumbled that she liked the meadow better but stopped because she knew the gardens were one of her mother’s passions.
Why did they need another one, though? They already had a rose garden and a lavender garden near the bedrooms, and there was the orchard that was kind of like a garden when it bloomed. She loved to play there on windy days during the bloom, dancing in the falling petals with the bees buzzing, out collecting nectar and pollen. Sometimes she’d lay on the ground in the soft drifts, letting the velvety softness fall and kiss her cheeks . . .
“Are you alright, Rose?”
Rose started and opened her eyes to Prince Adrian standing just in front of her, a file in his hands. She started to rise, but he motioned for her not to, instead squatting down and reaching out to gently wipe away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed.