Chapter 47
Nan followed the slick path, wet with morning mist, to the fountain of the Goddess Lurline in the ancient rose garden, as Bernard had instructed her.
How fortunate she was that her own brother could arrange a meeting with Rosemarie.
Such things tell one that destiny has a design.
She looked over her shoulder. Though she knew the princess would sleep well past midday, the nagging feeling of doing something forbidden did not cease.
As she rounded the stone arch crawling with roses, she saw the queen sitting in the pink morning light. Bernard stood by, stoic and regal. For a moment in his red suit, he looked so much like their father. She smiled, and the kindness she knew of his face appeared with a nod.
“Your Majesty,” Nan knelt before the queen, who rose from where she was seated. “Your Majesty, I know this is forbidden –”
“Yes, Nan.” The queen stopped her. “Bernard tells me you have the spark, and the gift of dreams.”
“It is why we have asked to speak with you. It’s about Alice,” Bernard said. “Nan has dreamt of her, before I even met her at Roseland. Many times. She has dreamed Alice’s dreams as though they were her own.”
Rosemarie motioned Nan to stand. Her eyes filled with loss and fear, but, above all, kindness. “You are an echo,” she said, studying her eyes. “The echo is an ancient gift, very rare. My mother was in fact an echo. Miraculous. Tell me of your dream.”
“I dreamed of a palace, where Alice sat upon a throne…”
“You dreamed she is to rule Oz?”
“No, in my dream…” Nan stopped and turned to her brother. Would the queen think her a fool?
“Go on,” Bernard said.
“A man, an enormous man with grey skin and silver eyes…”
“Lord Roquat,” Rosemarie whispered.
“He held her to the throne by a necklace of spikes that… She was a prisoner…he drew light from her…” Nan’s voice shook. Rosemarie took her face in her hands.
“Future premonitions of the dreamer you echo is a hallmark of your gift. I believe you are Alice’s echo.
There is no question why her path led her to Ev in the first place.
Thank you for telling me this. I trust you as I do Bernard.
” Rosemarie turned to Bernard, who had tears in his eyes.
“Prepare my writing desk, I must try again to get word to Palace North and Tattypoo.” Rosemarie turned back to Nan.
“Your gift must also be protected. You will join my staff, and I will mentor you.”
Tears came swiftly to Nan as she wrapped her arms around Rosemarie who held her tightly, as tightly as her mother once had. Sadness filled Nan, for in that embrace she could feel Rosemarie’s concern. In each other’s arms, they shared grief.
Languidere watched Nan blubber in the arms of Rosemarie as she lurked behind the rose arch, where the queen still was clueless of how easy it was to spy on her.
The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth, the result of grinding her teeth and inadvertently biting her cheek.
How could Nan possess such a rare spark?
How could she have powers? And to abandon her, running off to Rosemarie?
But what truly ignited Languidere’s fury, sending hot flushes over her face and arms, was the deception regarding the dreams. The princess destined to become queen was not Languidere, but Alice! And her supposed fate was to rule all of Oz by marrying a god?
How unjust and undeserving it seemed that such riches should be bestowed upon that insignificant nobody.
Alice was dull and foreign, for Oz’s sake!
A throne belonged to Languidere, for she was more beautiful, more regal.
If a god were to desire someone, it should be her!
What else had Nan seen in her dreams? What else had she lied about?
How much betrayal had Languidere endured?
Nan quickly made her way up the stairs to bring Languidere and the Jin breakfast. She had to calm herself, for the elation that she would be leaving Languidere to be mentored by Queen Rosemarie was likely making her radiate!
As she entered, the Jin was nowhere to be seen, and Languidere was dressed, brushing her hair while seated at the vanity.
She said nothing as Nan arranged the food.
“Has the Jin left, Your Majesty?” Nan asked, hesitant to set out his plate of fruit and poached eggs.
“I’ve sent him off for materials. He’s going to craft custom jewelry for me.” Languidere spoke in her lofty coo, which usually preceded a fit.
“How lovely,” Nan said, nearly dropping the plate as the excitement now coupled with nerves caused her hand to shake.
“Nan, would you mind running a bath for me, my dearest pet?” the princess asked sweetly, with no reprimand for Nan’s clumsy handling of dishware.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Nan said, taking a breath. The end was so close. She would be in Queen Rosemarie’s keep before long. One last demand to fulfill.
“I was thinking, dear Nan, today is a special day. Please tell Paramore to prune some rose heads from the queen’s garden.” Languidere touched her face to mime pondering, before motioning to the open terrace doors of her room.
“But, princess, it is forbidden to pluck from the…” Nan abruptly stopped, for the soft charm that the princess mimicked fell away, and for a moment it was hidden anger Nan saw. But only for a moment, for the satisfaction that the taunting act brought Languidere restored her joyful visage.
“Yes, the enchanted roses. Tell Paramore to fetch them. You may abide by Rosemarie’s rules once you join her court, but until then, you serve me, and I would like the so-called enchanted roses—now.” The princess knew! How did she know? How much did she know?
Nan would have to comply with her wish to destroy something the queen treasured. It was the payment for the queen stealing her maid.
Nan nodded and hoped the queen would understand it was a necessity so that she could escape. She hoped the roses and those that whispered through them would understand, as well.
Nan sat upon the stool beside the tub, gently laying the flowers on the steaming water. The breeze from the garden flooded the soaking chamber from the open terrace doors. It was so lovely here. A lovely palace where a dragon lived.
The princess entered the bedroom, concealed from Nan by the screen. The locking of the chamber doors clanked before the princess’ footsteps approached. Nan knew in that moment that the princess had requested the soak so that she could inflict punishment on Nan for leaving.
One final act to endure, she thought, trying not to predict the act the princess had in mind.
“I’m sure your heart is as heavy as mine today,” Languidere cooed over the screen. “I had thought we’d have always been together.”
“I, as well, Your Majesty.” Through the rattan partition, Nan watched Languidere slinking. She appeared on the opposite side, leaning her head against it coyly.
“More rose petals, I think,” Languidere said romantically, her eyes glimmering as they looked over the basket Nan drew petals from. Nan’s heart sank. Shining in the basket, like a beacon, were the golden pruning shears. Why had Paramore not left them in the greenhouse?
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Nan took the entire basket and lay the shears flat before picking up another scoop of petals. The princess circled behind her like a cat as Nan sprinkled petals from her stool.
“Such beautiful hair,” the princess said behind Nan, her fingers stroking Nan’s hair and then her neck.
She leaned close to Nan’s ear. “More petals.” Nan did as requested.
“Why do you tremble, sweet pet?” the princess said as she ran her fingers over Nan’s arms. Nan tried to quell the trembling.
The princess kneeled, taking Nan’s hands.
“I wish to feel your warmth against my skin but one more time before you are no longer mine,” she said, and, as a mother coaxes a dangerous object from a child’s hands, she took the basket from Nan’s lap.
She watched Languidere place it on the floor beside her.
The shears were within a finger’s distance.
“Let us disrobe and bathe together,” Languidere said, standing.
She did not look to the basket. Perhaps Nan could satisfy the princess’ body and spare her own.
Nan did not resist, while the princess turned her to unhinge her corset and skirts.
Gently, as a maid would, the princess disrobed Nan.
She touched her back gently with wispy swirls of her fingertips.
“Now, into the tub,” she said. Nan stepped into the scalding water, which sent her trembling skin into goosebumps. Languidere kneeled to stroke the water as Nan seated herself. “Let yourself recline,” she whispered, luring her into the warmth of the gilded tub. “Lay your head back.”
Nan scooted toward the back of the tub as the princess ran her fingers over Nan’s exposed skin.
Deeper her touch became and lower upon her body.
The princess’ hand found its way to Nan’s inner thighs.
Fear gave way to surrender. It was there, beneath the forbidden enchanted petals, with Languidere’s hand firmly pressed to Nan’s private sex, that she knew she was caught in a trap.
Nan closed her eyes as Languidere hushed into her ear.
And softly, at first, Nan felt the tip of the rose shears at her throat.
“You lied. You said the dream was of me. I was the princess to be queen.” Nan did not fight.
“What else have you lied about, Nan? If Nan even is your name, you witch!” The violence that came from resistance would prolong what was to transpire.
“Guinevere, my name is Guinevere, my mother called me Nan,” she whispered, hoping that giving Languidere some information would stop this.
Languidere let out a tiny gasp. “Guinevere is such a lovely name! It doesn’t even sound poor.
I shall call you Guinevere.” Slowly, tenderly, the metal blade bluntly pressed against Nan’s skin, until the skin itself surrendered, and the shears ruptured the tender flesh at the base of her neck.
Nan clenched her jaw and fists as the pain caused a jolting pressure in her neck.
Then, as the metal reached tendons, her body reflexively seized on the site of the wound.
“You’re doing so well, Guinevere,” the princess whispered.
She could not get leverage on the blade handle as the blades struck deep in Nan’s throat.
Nan’s body twitched wildly. The princess removed her arm that braced Nan’s head and allowed Nan’s body to slump and tremble against the side of the tub.
“I will see you in dreams, Guinevere,” Languidere hissed, and then, with force, pushed her entire weight against the shears.
Nan watched the water run red as gushing warmth ran from her neck.
As it did, the side of her body inflicted with the wound tremored one final time, then ceased all movement.
Nan no longer had feeling on one side of her body as she slipped further into the water and her head submerged.
In the blackness Nan drifted, and then, as though her very soul hid itself there, she slipped away from the wild stabbing and cutting that took place through the thrashing blood-red waters of enchanted rose petals.