Chapter two
Rosalia sat up in bed, gasping and sweating from half remembered dreams of nightmarish faces and ghastly creatures; slowly she lay back down staring at the white cotton drapes around her bed that hid the room beyond from her view.
She could see the shape of her nurse Nicolette silhouetted through them and closed her eyes, pretending sleep until the drapes where thrown wide and she was shaken gently.
"My lady." came the urgent whisper and Rosalia opened her eyes and smiled up into the kindly face of her nurse.
Nicolette was a small, plump woman in her early forties. Her hands where calloused from days of hard work and Rosalia could feel the calluses through the thin material of her bed dress, but her smile was soft and wrinkled her face in a pleasant way. She wore always a simple spun blue dress with a white apron and a white cap over her dark brown hair.
"What time is it?" Rosalia asked.
"Nearly nine milady." Nicolette said, puling back the bed sheet and bundling it up under her arm as Rosalia wiggled her toes and shivered at the sudden cold. "And you have a visitor."
Rosalia sat up, suddenly interested and swung her legs over the bedside.
"Who?" she asked, watching as Nicolette dumped the bundle of sheeting into one corner for the washing girl to collect.
"A handsome young man who came late last night, another for your birthday." Nicolette said, opening the door to Rosalia's large oak wood wardrobe and pulling out a linen under corset.
"Handsome?" Rosalia asked, pressing for more details, fascinated. "how handsome?"
"Better looking than any a lad in this castle."
"Then I should wear a green dress today." Rosalia said decidedly, pulling her nightgown over her head and throwing it carelessly on the floor, Nicolette murmured disapprovingly and instructed Rosalia to stand up, helping to pull the under garment over her head and tightened the bodice to give the young girl a fashionable figure so that her green dress of velvet and silk fitted easily over it and was tied in the front with white ribbon.
Nicolette took a wooden comb from the night stand and brushed Rosalia's tangled red hair, twisting it into a plate and securing it with a white ribbon quite alike to the ones on her dress and patting Rosalia on the shoulder when's she finished.
Though Nicolette would never say, Rosalia's red hair had always been a worry to her, she had been employed as wet nurse to the girl and so had been close to the royal family from her first day and none of them had hair like Rosalia.
Some of the servants whispered that the queen had being having an affair with one of the yeomen guards and the princess was the result but the head cook maintained that Rosalia was a peasant born child the king had swapped for a still born as his own so the kingdom would have an heir. Nicolette thought these merely stories made up by those who had to much air in their heads but still the girl's hair was unusual.
Rosalia spun round once, the dress billowing out around her and then sat down quickly upon the bed, laughing.
Grumbling Nicolette got down upon her hands and knees to fish under the bed for a pair of shoes "Ah uh!" she crowed in triumph pulling the white cloth slippers out from where Rosalia had kicked them the last time she'd worn them.
Rosalia extended one foot and then the other for the shoes to be slipped on before jumping up.
"Where's is he waiting?" she asked excitedly, Nicolette put one hand on the bed to help her push herself up, wheezing as she did so.
"In the library."
"Thank you Nicolette."
Rosalia twirled once more happily before throwing open the door and bounding outside into the hall.
Nicolette collapsed onto the bed.
Rosalia was running so fast that she didn't have time to stop when she met Micah upon the stairwell; he was running too and they collided into each other, falling in a tangled heap upon the floor.
Micah disentangled himself first and offered a hand to help Rosalia from the floor which she accepted graciously.
Micah was unlike the other boys who lived and worked in the castle, his complexion was a scholarly pale, he was stick thin and several head taller than Rosalia whom he dwarfed. His black hair was trimmed short and mostly hidden by a brown leather cap, he wore a simple tunic and hoes with large leather boots for his enormous feet and carried on a belt around his waist a silver sickle – more for show than any work he might do in his position as apprentice alchemist but despite his oversized and awkwardly shaped body his eyes where bright sparkling blue and his smile disarmingly charming.
"Where were you off to so fast?" he asked her, pushing his hat back away from his eyes and looking at her pointedly.
"There is a guest in the library that I must go and greet." Rosalia said haughtily.
"Another one?" Micah asked grinning; he fished in his pocket and brought out two rather squashed violets. "An early birthday present, picked them last night when Bernard sent me out for more ladies fingers."
Rosalia took them from him almost reverently.
"There wonderful."
"Better when they weren't squashed." Micah said, shrugging as if it wasn't anything important that he had brought her something expressly forbidden by her mother.
Rosalia threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"Can you hide them? I have to greet this guest and you know how mother gets about flowers." she asked, shoving them back into his hand.
"Of course." Micah said looking down at his hand, but when he looked up he found he had been talking to air as Rosalia was already gone.
Rosalia stood quietly in the doorway of the library; she felt she should announce her presence to the young man pacing the room but she could not make her mouth form words and her fingers clung stubbornly to the doorframe.
He was indeed handsome, Nicolette had not lied about that, his face was like the cut marble of a statue, strong and defined. He was swathed in rich colours of purple and red which suited him well and made him look gallant
She stood for what seemed to her like ages until he finally caught sight of her and clapped his hands together delightedly.
"Princess Rosalia! Come here, I've been so anxious to meet you."
"Sir," Rosalia said, tugging her fingers from the doorframe and curtsying "I have not had the pleasure of being introduced."
The man smiled and crossed the room till he stood with her in the doorway; he took both her hands and led her into the middle of the room, admiring her.
"I am Adriel, Prince Adriel." the man said, as if it had completely slipped his mind "Turn around that I might see you properly."
Amused and perplexed Rosalia turned round slowly and laughing while Adriel looked her up and down, nodding appreciatively.
Finally he took her hands, again smiling.
"You are sixteen?" he asked her to which she smiled and shook her head.
"Soon, in a few days in fact."
"Very good, you will do well."
"Do well for what?"
Adriel's brow furrowed slightly, marring his otherwise perfect features.
"Has no one told you? We are to be married, you are my betrothed."
Rosalia pulled her hands away from his, her face drained completely of colour.
"Betrothed?" she spat the word as if it was acid on her tongue and it hurt to speak it "But I don't know you."
"You shall have time to learn more of me after our wedding; you shall come to my kingdom with me." Adriel smiled and made to retake her hand but Rosalia backed further away.
"Leave my home? I would not! I will not!" her face flushed a hot red and her mouth twisted into an ugly frown "and I will not marry you!"
Adriel laughed and Rosalia knew then that however handsome and charming he might appear she despised him.
"It's not as if either of us has a choice; our parents decided this years ago, I am just trying to make the best of the situation." and with that he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, his mouth firm against her unyielding one.
Rosalia tensed, shocked and angry; she raised her foot and stamped down hard on his toes, Adriel let out a howl of pain and pushed her away.
Not waiting for him to recover from the surprise or the pain, Rosalia ran from the room and up, for if she'd run downstairs she'd have met with the kitchens and servants to hinder her escape but if she ran up there was no end to where she could hide.
She reached the alchemists tower, her feet leading her there automatically and she thought about alerting Micah to her plight but as she touched the wooden door that lead to his master's laboratory something caught her eye.
The worn tapestry that hung upon the far wall was dislodged slightly and the wall behind it was showing, but there was more than just bare wall there.
There was a door.
A half open door.
Her mind worked fast, setting out the plan. If she hide in wherever that staircase went and pulled the tapestry so it covered the door then no one; especially Prince Adriel would know where she'd gone.
A few minuets later Micah opened the door of the alchemist's room to see a perfectly blank far wall with a slightly dislodged tapestry.
Rosalia climbed the twisting staircase one hand on the stone wall for balance and the other holding her skirts bundled up in case she trip over them. She wondered how soon the staircase would end; it felt like the climb to the battlements that went on and on with the captain of the guard's continuous prattle about what his men where doing to protect the royal family.
Memories of those boring long afternoons spent with the smell of leather polish and the wind whipping about her painfully made Rosalia stomp up the next few steps, so lost in memories was she that Rosalia stopped counting steps and the ending of the staircase took her quiet by surprise.
There was no door, just a doorway that lead to a Spartan room with only a large wood table, two little wooden chairs and an old hunched man sitting in one, the one facing away from her.
Rosalia didn't hesitate her, her feet lead her inside and she took the seat across from the old man.
"Princess." the man said in a voice like gravel.
"Sir." Rosalia nodded a greeting to him; she did not feel in anyway afraid of the strange man or the unexplained room even though she knew she should be.
The old man reached out one knurled hand to touch hers, smiling as he did so and Rosalia took his hand in hers smiling back at him softly.
"I have often hoped to meet you again," the man said quietly, "you've grown quite lovely since the last time I saw you." he drew his hand away from hers, and leaned forward studying her face. "It is you're birthday is soon?"
Rosalia smiled happily "Yes, I'll be sixteen."
The old man sat back chuckling softly to himself "A full grown lady. I have something for you." His hand reached into the ragged coat he wore and drew out a wrapped package from within which he pushed across the table towards her, Rosalia took it and unwrapped it slowly, feeling the paper crackle beneath her fingers as she pushed it aside.
A beautiful flower lay in the nest of paper – it had a blood red bloom that smelt sweet and strong even though she had not buried her nose in its petals, a long green stem with tiny leaves curling up already even though the flower could only have been picked a few hours ago.
"What kind of flower is this?" Rosalia asked awed.
"It's a rose," the old man said, watching her hands reach out but stop just short of touching. "pick it up."
Rosalia's hand reached around it and she gave a yelp, pulling her hand back.
"It has thorns." she whispered as her vision began to swim and she swooned forward, hitting the table and before the darkness came over her she thought she saw the old man changed to some horned creature that smiled in a way that reminded her of her nightmarish dreams and made her welcome the darkness.
Danica put down the book upon courtly etiquette she had been reading, having finished it and stood up.
"I'm going to lie down Anna." she instructed her ladies maid who bobbed to her as she swept past with a hushed "yes ma'm" on her lips.
Danica walked quickly through the passageway and pushed open the door to her solar, bathing it in shadowy light from the hallway.
When she saw what was inside her room she let out a muffled cry of shock.
A thin, child-like creature was sitting at her bedside table, watching her reflection in the large mirror with interest; one palm pressed against the glass. She did not turn to look at Danica's cry but fixed the queen's reflection with a steely gaze.
"Zea!"