Chapter 49
The way through the palace corridors was slowed by Mamma’s embrace; by Papà’s finger shaken in front of my nose; by Nonna Ursula and Lady Pulissena reminiscing to a spellbound crowd in the library, where the séances had been held; by Montagues, Capulets, and servants all congratulating, congregating, toasting, and thankfully proceeding to the kitchen, then spreading out to the rooms to prepare for tomorrow’s sacred event—the (second) marriage of Prince Escalus and Lady Rosaline.
In stark contrast to the gaiety, grim Marcellus guarded the door to Nonna Ursula’s suite.
When he saw Cal and me approach, he moved aside, and as I walked through, I thought he would somehow signal his dislike and disapproval.
Marcellus didn’t appreciate my forays into justice or, in his judgment, my unwomanly behavior.
Instead he bowed his head as a sign of respect.
I almost stopped and asked what he meant by that—was he mocking me?—but Lysander called in a hoarse voice, “Rosie?” and I forgot Marcellus and Cal and hurried to the bed.
When Friar Laurence moved aside, and I saw my poor Lysander …
I’d hoped my memory had exaggerated the damage, but if anything, it was worse.
On the left side of his face, his skin looked like a mashed ripe cherry, his ear blended into the side of his head, his scalp seemed to be bubbling, and his eye … it was open, but unseeing.
I dropped to my knees beside the wide couch. “Lysander, dearest friend of my heart, how can I ever thank you for your bravery and sacrifice? I was foolish not to realize the depth of Magno’s malice.”
“You were foolish, Rosie, and this is your fault.” Princess Isabella stood on the other side of the couch, holding the tray that contained the ointments and herbs that Friar Laurence and Fiametta used to ease Lysander’s pain and neutralize the burning.
I was taken aback by her angry stare and her biting words.
“Why didn’t you simply tell Cal?” she asked. “He would have believed you. He believes anything you say.”
Katherina came in with stacks of wet cloths on a platter. Hearing the tone of Isabella’s voice, she halted, as if shocked, then continued forward to offer Fiametta the platter.
Cal spoke from behind me. “She didn’t tell me, because yes, I would have believed her, but she wanted to prove beyond a doubt to everyone that Magno was the poisoner. As he continued down his murderous path, his crimes grew greater as he justified each one in his own mind.”
“Lysander should never have been on the front line. He’s an inventor, not a warrior!” The tray trembled in Isabella’s hands.
“Hey! I’m right here.” Lysander spoke while Fiametta dabbed a green ointment over his scalp, then placed a cloth over the ointment. “Other than bursting into flame, I did really well!”
I never thought I could, not here and now, but I chuckled. That was the Lysander I loved: funny, self-deprecating, charming and, of course, a man who came to the rescue when he could have honorably remained at the rear.
“You didn’t have to,” Isabella said.
“I wanted to. I asked for that position.” Lysander’s lips were swollen and blistered, and he slurred his words, but as always, he said what he meant. “Lord Magno tried to kill Lord Romeo, an excellent man I much admire. Magno threatened Rosie, whom I’ve come to love like a sister.”
Katherina stopped pacing. “Oh.” She looked at Isabella, who looked down at the tray.
The revelations were coming thick and fast, to the girls, to me, possibly to Cal, probably to Lysander.
“Look at me. This is what he would have done to Rosie.” Lysander gestured at himself.
“On the eve of her wedding, he wanted to do more than kill her. He wanted to deface her beauty, her body, and leave only horrible memories behind. He couldn’t have imagined he could do his evil deed and escape, yet he was willing to die rather than allow her, his superior, to live. ”
“I don’t know … He could imagine a lot. He imagined he was a great lover.
” I looked at Princess Isabella, trying to get her to relax, to smile, to acknowledge her moment of blinded admiration for Magno.
When she shook her head and blinked away tears, I continued, “He had a great capacity to fool himself. I believe he never conceived of failure, of defeat, of possible death.”
“Certainly he believed if he lied enough, if he cast aspersions on Rosie, he would win the day.” Cal snorted. “A witch. She doesn’t even know when she’s cast a love spell.”
I glared at him. After being accused in public of magic, I had lost all sense of humor. “What? I did not. Never. I don’t know how. On who?”
“On me, Rosie,” Cal said, patient with my irritation. “On me.”
“Oh. That. I didn’t cast a spell on you. You made it look like we—” I stopped.
Everybody waited.
“And we didn’t!” I concluded.
A general disappointed sigh swept the room.
“I used to think you were decisive, Rosie, but in this case, you seem to have dawdled.” Lysander rested with his eyes shut, so he didn’t see the glare I shot at him, but he did smile a little at the laughter he provoked. “Friar Laurence, will I get my sight back?”
All laughter ceased, and we looked to the good monk for an answer. “Perhaps in the one eye,” he said.
Lysander turned his head away.
Cal placed a gentle hand on Lysander’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of you, my friend. I owe you all, for you preserved my own darling’s life, and I can never repay you for that.”
Lysander assured him, “While I’m down, I’ll continue to contemplate how best to protect the palace from the earth’s quaking destruction.”
I blinked away tears and gathered Lysander’s fingers in mine and kissed them. “My best friend in all the world, rest and heal, so you can emerge to invent again.” I stood to depart with Cal.
Friar Laurence cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Princess Isabella. “This is a time of revelations,” he said, “and confessions. Come. We’ll speak, and justice will fill the empty spaces where anger had once lodged.”