Chapter 25 The Rose Quarter
The Rose Quarter
The Rose Quarter lived up to its name.
It smelled like a flower shop had exploded.
Petals drifted down from balconies, seemingly limitless in their quantities but never piling up on the floor.
Every surface—walls, windowsills, door frames—was carved or encrusted with roses, thorns, vines, or some sort of combination of the three.
It should’ve been overwhelming, and it was a little, but a part of me was also able to admit it was stunning.
The streets were cobbled with pale pink stone that sparkled faintly when the light hit it. Each building seemed to compete with the next for how elegant it could be. Spiraling towers, sweeping staircases, gilded balconies—not a single speck of dust or dirt in sight.
“It’s like a fairy tale threw up,” I muttered.
Carl-One gasped. “It’s divine!”
Tarran spun in a slow circle, arms stretched as she stared up at the fluttering flower petals, a bright smile on her face. “I could get used to this.”
Our guide led us down the winding lanes like he was unveiling a sacred treasure. His smile never faltered, even when I asked if we’d be assigned rooms with our without talking mirrors.
“The Rose Quarter is reserved for honored guests,” he said, waving his hand toward a white stone manor covered in climbing red blooms. “You will find your quarters prepared with fresh attire, refreshments, and whatever comforts your heart might desire. The ladies will bring in the rest of the items you requested,” he said, nodding the two girls, who scurried into the house ahead of us.
“What if my heart desires a flame thrower?” I asked.
Relick’s smile twitched. “We specialize in more traditional luxuries. And there are no weapons allowed in the Kingdom of Radiance.”
She ushered us into the manor. The foyer alone was bigger than our entire apartment back home. White marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. A staircase that looked like it had been grown instead of built, intricately painted woodwork stretching to the floor above.
Each of us was given our own room. Mine had a four-poster bed draped in silks the color of a sunrise, a vanity lined with multicolored bottles of things I couldn’t pronounce, and a closet that clicked open the moment I looked at it.
Inside were gowns, discarded shopping bags folded neatly on the bottom.
Not just pretty dresses—works of art. Layers of gauze and satin, beads and embroidery, things that looked far too expensive to have my grimy hands on them. Each one looked to be about my size, and somehow, I knew they would fit me like a glove.
I didn’t know whether to be impressed or deeply unsettled.
“A welcome gift from the King,” Relick said, appearing at my elbow like a ghost with perfect posture. “He wishes you to feel cherished.”
I swallowed back the gag I almost let slip. I already didn’t like this pompous king, and I couldn’t wait to tell him that to his face. “Thanks,” I settled on instead, not managing to keep the sarcasm from my tone.
Relick only smiled.
Later, we regrouped in a sun-drenched sitting room with a view of a courtyard filled with sculpted hedges and floating lanterns.
Carl-One was attempting to balance candied figs on a spoon, and every time he dropped them, he’d pop them in his mouth like a prize.
Carl-Two had already fallen asleep, spread out on a small loveseat, his floppy hat covering his face from the sun as he softly snored away.
Tarran sat along a windowsill, legs drawn up, watching the petals as they floated by. She looked almost peaceful.
Almost.
“You think this is part of the test?” I asked her. I was right to be on edge, given how we’d immediately walked into the test in the Kingdom of Torment. One thing I’d learned since being here was that sometimes, these kings lied.
She didn’t look at me. “It’s always part of the test.”
I sighed as I sat beside her. “Any idea what the challenge actually is?”
She tilted her head. “No. This place feels a little familiar, so I must have been here before, but I don’t remember anything.” She seemed sad as she said it, and I almost regretted asking her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I wasn’t referring to the challenge anymore.
Her head whipped to me, her eyes soft but cautious.
In times like these, when she looked directly, I could tell she was all there.
She was completely with me, not wherever she sometimes went when the madness took hold.
I cleared my throat. “For earlier. That was very inconsiderate of me. I just…I just want you to be happy.”
She sat with that for a second then smiled softly.
“Thank you. I would very much like to be happy too.” She reached a hand out hesitantly toward me, and I held my breath as her fingertips brushed my cheek before catching a strand of my messy hair and twirling it around a finger absently.
Heat bloomed in my chest, and I could feel the flush already creeping up my neck into my face.
“Hey, Liss?”
“Yeah?” It took me two tries to get out the word, my mouth full of cotton and my throat dry.
“You won’t forget me, right? I really don’t want to forget you, but you might need to remember me for the both of us.” My eyes locked on hers in shock, my heart aching at her words as I saw what was really bothering her.
I didn’t wait. I closed the space between us in a heartbeat, grabbed the back of her neck, and kissed her the way I had been burning to since yesterday.
Her lips met mine with equal heat, no hesitation, no second-guessing.
She wanted it just as much as I did, and if I had the capacity to think in that moment, it might have terrified me. It should have.
But instead, it thrilled me. Her hands found my waist and pulled me closer, like we couldn’t stand even an inch of space between us.
The kiss deepened, all fire and feelings.
Her fingers found my hair, my pule hammering as I kissed her harder, desperate to memorize the shape of her mouth and the way she tasted in case I never got the opportunity again.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless. Her forehead rested against mine, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes hooded and unreadable.
And all I could think was that I wanted more.