Chap 9
Penny expected punishment.
She expected anger.
At the very least, she expected the sort of disappointed lecture her mother delivered whenever Penny was caught reading instead of finishing her chores.
Instead, the king smiled.
His hand rose gently to her face once more.
Penny braced herself.
The ribbon binding their wrists loosened.
Then slipped free entirely.
The king said something softly.
Something that sounded far too kind for the disaster she was certain she had just caused.
Relief hit so suddenly it left her dizzy.
The ancient magic was over.
Whatever terrible mistake she had nearly made...
she had escaped it.
The king bent to retrieve the ties of her gown.
Penny froze.
He turned her toward the fireplace.
Then calmly began fastening the loosened laces.
One ribbon.
Then another.
The simple domestic act felt absurd after everything that had just happened.
The king seemed completely unbothered.
Penny was beginning to suspect only one of them understood the evening.
When the last tie was secure, he stepped back.
Then immediately swept her into his arms.
Penny shrieked.
The king looked startled, then he chuckled low and soft.
Penny banged both fists against his chest.
The king grinned and shook his head.
Yet he continued toward the enormous bed.
"No."
Penny shook her head furiously.
The king answered with a patient stream of words she couldn't understand.
Which somehow made the situation worse.
A moment later he lowered her onto the mattress.
The bed swallowed her whole.
Dangerously comfortable.
The king kept one hand resting lightly against her shoulder.
Not restraining.
Simply making certain she stayed put.
Then he removed his shirt.
Penny tried to sit up immediately, but his hand on her stopped any movement.
The king blinked.
Looked at her.
Looked at the bed.
Looked back at her.
Then, for what felt like the hundredth time since they had met, he appeared completely baffled by her behavior.
He climbed beneath the covers, still wearing his breeches.
Reached across her.
Drew the bed curtains closed.
Pulled her gently under the covers with him and against his chest.
Murmured something soft into her hair.
And promptly fell asleep.
Penny lay rigid in his arms.
Staring into the darkness.
The ancient vampire slept peacefully beside her.
As though he had not just terrified her half to death.
As though he had not nearly bound her to some unknowable piece of old magic.
The sound of the magic lock releasing woke her.
For a moment she didn't know where she was.
Wrapped in heavy blankets and stronger arms.
Behind her, the ancient vampire slept peacefully, his face buried against her hair.
One powerful arm remained locked around her waist as though even unconsciousness could not convince him to let her go.
Penny shifted, trying to free herself.
The attempt accomplished nothing.
The king made a soft sound in his sleep and immediately tightened his hold.
Pulling her closer.
His face pressed against her hair.
His fangs brushed the back of her neck.
Then came a sound suspiciously close to a snore.
Penny stared into the darkness.
The absurdity of it struck her all at once.
She had refused him.
Refused whatever ancient vow he had tried to place between them.
Yet he had simply tied her dress back together, carried her to bed, and gone to sleep.
No anger. No punishment. No disappointment.
The king had behaved as though there would be another chance tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And every day after that, if necessary.
The thought settled uncomfortably into her chest.
Because people who feared losing something did not usually sleep this soundly.
A pale, cold hand parted the bed curtains.
One vampire woman, with two standing behind all dressed in gray silk, moved carefully toward the bed while the sleeping king remained utterly still beneath the growing sunlight.
One gently lifted his arm from Penny's waist, as if it weighed nothing.
Another slid a velvet pillow into her vacated place with practiced ease.
The king's fingers curled instinctively around the pillow.
Penny stared.
She was lifted silently to her feet while the king continued sleeping peacefully, one arm cuddling a pillow where she had been moments before.
And despite everything she knew...
A small part of her felt guilty for leaving him.
The realization settled heavily in her chest.
This was not the first time servants had carried a flower from this bed at dawn.
Perhaps not even the hundredth.
Yet the thought that lingered was not jealousy.
The king had looked so peaceful sleeping.
So, content.
As though holding her for a single sleep had somehow eased a loneliness centuries old.
Penny frowned.
She should not feel sorry for him.
That seemed like a very dangerous thing to start doing.
The room they led her to was small and round, its pale stone walls veined with gold.
Sunlight poured through colored glass windows, turning the steam rising from the bath into ribbons of ruby and amber light.
Penny realized quickly that this was not a servant's bath.
Or a guest's.
This was the king's personal bathing room.
The vampire women undressed her with the same practiced ease as before.
One gathered the clothing she had worn the night before and quietly departed.
Another poured rosewater through her hair.
Warm honey oils followed, brushed carefully over her skin.
Then she too slipped away.
A slow comb worked patiently through the knots the night had left behind.
Until Penny found her eyes drifting shut.
When she opened them again, the last attendant was leaving.
The door clicked softly behind her.
Silence settled over the room.
For the first time since arriving in the palace, Penny was alone.
Completely.
The realization felt stranger than it should have.
She remained in the bath until her fingers wrinkled.
The water never cooled.
Not even slightly.
Penny suspected the same magic that warmed the garden baths each evening also flowed through the palace.
Eventually, she stepped out.
The attendants returned immediately.
As if they had been waiting just beyond the door.
The women wrapped her in magic towels softer than clouds and dressed her in fresh silk.
White remained the dominant color.
But delicate red roses now kissed the hem.
She wondered why this pattern had appeared on her gown.
But once again had no one to ask.
Last came the ribbon.
One servant lifted her hair.
Another wrapped the crimson silk carefully around her throat.
The bow was tied small and perfect.
The long tails drifted down her back like fresh blood across snow once again.
The attendants stepped back.
Satisfied.
They led her out of the King's rooms through the palace and in front of the large wood door with no handle.
It opened easily for them and Penny walked behind back into the garden.
When the servants finally returned her to her crystal room, Penny waited until they were gone.
Silence settled around her once more.
Her eyes immediately found the vases beside the bed.
Fresh flowers overflowed from crystal and silver.
Yesterday's blooms were gone.
Along with her spell.
Penny frowned.
Then slowly smiled.
Living roots made stronger magic than cut stems.
Outside, sunlight flooded the garden.
The place looked different during the day.
A pale pink rose bush climbed up a trellis beside her room had opened dozens of new blossoms overnight.
Penny stepped into the sunlight.
Warmth wrapped around her immediately.
Her hand slipping around a stem.
Then sang.
Petal soft and petal true,
carry words in morning dew,
let no tongue stand in the way,
let my meaning find its stay.
The garden listened.
Penny felt the spell sink downward.
Deeper than moonlight magic had ever traveled.
Into dark soil.
Into hidden water.
Into the sleeping heart of the garden itself.
A single petal drifted free.
Penny tucked it beneath her tongue.
Warmth bloomed through her chest.
The world sharpened.
Voices untangled just in time.
"No I swear a song."
"Are you sure?"
"Why would she be in the garden?"
Words emerged from the noise.
And beneath a nearby gazebo,
Penny heard the flowers running to her.
"The king has not claimed a flower like that in centuries..."
"Not since the queen..."
"Vexen was allowed to let me go home with him because she sang."
"Perhaps this one will replace her, too."
"I made Tarquin apologize for feeding her cake with this new bracelet."
"I want to see Sable"
"Ooh so pretty I want one too."
"Too bad she doesn't understand us, or we could get all sorts of stuff out of her."
Penny opened her mouth to surprise them with words.
Then closed it again as the group found her the black-haired flower from the night before, who was showing off her bracelet.
Penny tucked Sable's name away in her memory.
The flowers talked far too freely around a mute girl.
She wasn't foolish enough to give that up.
They surrounded and kept up their chatter, not including her in the conversation, but walking with her through the garden, pointing out fruit trees to her. One she recognized as the dark-haired girl that the officer had been with.
Penny nibbled fruit as they walked, content to be ignored for once.
Another group passed nearby.
At their center, a tall, willowy flower with a swollen belly walked.
The pregnant woman glanced at Penny.
The look was anything but friendly.
"That's her," the curly brown-haired girl whispered to the pregnant flower.
One of the girls locked arms with Penny, and they turned and went a different path.
One of the girls suddenly locked arms with Penny and steered her down a different path.
"Ooohh, we go this way now." Sable groaned as she steered Penny.
One of the other girls, a short brunette, whispered, "Good call, Sable. Celeste had planned to smother Songbird in her sleep if she had come back from the ball."
Sable looked over her shoulder at the other group of girls and sighed, "Not over my jewelry box, are we losing our songbird!"
The other girls giggled at the comment.
Servants emerged carrying trays of breakfast pastries, jugs of juice, and pitchers of milk.
The girls immediately scattered beneath the trees to eat.
Sable waved Penny over, but she made a motion that she wanted to get another drink and wandered away.
Eventually, she wandered far enough that the voices faded into the background, replaced by birdsong and moving water.
A small lake shimmered beneath the morning sun.
Beside it grew a wild, untended rose bush, unlike the others.
Its scent wrapped around her like summer and old magic.
Penny stopped.
Then slowly knelt.
Her fingers trembled against the petals.
Penny lowered her voice so it wouldn't be heard where the other girls ate.
Then sang.
Little rose, wild rose, keeper of the thorn,
hold what should not quicken,
guard what should not form.
Root and stem remember
what the body forgets,
close the door to morning
before the sun has set.
By the green and growing,
by the seed unspent,
let no life take holding
that was never meant.
Wild rose, little rose,
I tend you and you tend me,
keep this between us,
as women have always kept.
The roses listened.
Penny felt the magic sink downward.
Through generations of women who had whispered the same spell before her.
When she finally plucked a petal and placed it beneath her tongue, the taste was bittersweet.
Like sunlight on a day too hot to enjoy.
She sat beside the lake afterward.
Knees drawn to her chest, enjoying the peace and quiet.
The king's crimson ribbon spilled across her white skirts.
The lake had been quiet while she sang.
Penny was certain of it.
Now ripples crossed the surface.
Small at first.
Then larger.
Spreading outward in widening circles.
There was no wind.
Another ripple.
As though something beneath the water had finally decided to move.
Penny rose carefully to her feet.
The garden seemed suddenly quieter than before.
Even the birds had fallen silent.
Then enormous, curious dark eyes popped up from the depths.
Watching her.
For one suspended heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Penny had the strange feeling the creature was waiting.
Then it vanished.
The water closed over it without a splash.
Without a sound.
Leaving only widening ripples behind.
And laughter.
Soft.
Distant.
Rising from somewhere deep beneath the lake.