CHAPTER I

-

DEATH and REMINISCING

-

(TWO YEARS IN THE PAST)

-

I held onto my mother's hand, stroking her sweaty forehead.

"Love… her… treat… her… Edward… treat… her… as… you… would… your… own."

"Of course, dear sister-in-law," my uncle Edward replied, putting a hand on my shoulder, "I will treat her like I would treat my own children; if I had any."

"Mother, please…." I grabbed her thin, almost translucent hand and rubbed it gently with my thumbs.

"Rosalie… don't… I… dear… I… love… you… so… much."

"Mother, we have to try harder! Getting some crackpot old fool of a doctor from the village is not trying. I'm sure if I could just call on Jerrold, he would certainly lend us the royal doctor! Please… we have to try!" I met my uncle's steel gray eyes and could not hold onto his gaze for long without looking down.

"We did try, Rosalie, dear. It's her time. We must respect that." Uncle Edward said, and I couldn't help but notice the brutal edge it had, "And that's final."

"Mother, you can't leave me," I said desperately, "Try harder; fight it! Just a little harder…"

"I… I… did… try… my… hardest." Mother had tears in her eyes. "I… just… I… miss… him… so… much… Don't… please… don't… hate… me."

"I couldn't if I tried, Mother," I replied, "But if you want to see father so much, then go ahead. Die. Leave me here."

"I…don't…want…to…I'm… sorry." She closed her beautiful green eyes. "I… wanted… so… much… to… see… you… when… you're… a… woman… You'll… make…. me… proud… so… proud."

I shook my head. "If you just try, you could! You can see me as a woman! It could be like the old days. Oh, mother! I'm sorry if I was bad! I never meant anything. When I ran away to see the ogres, or when I went to the palace and slid down the banisters with the prince when you told me to stay home. I'll be so good now. I'll do anything! Anything…"

Mother began to cry, her thin frame shaking. "I… don't… want… to… leave… you… darling!"

I hugged her, feeling awful about what I must have put her through. She probably felt it was her fault she was dying.

"Mother, I love you. It's not your fault. Just rest and don't worry. No matter what happens, someday I'll see you again."

"I'll… watch… over… you… always." I brushed her tawny locks away from her terrifyingly pale face, which was beginning to look peaceful.

"Just sleep, Mother, just sleep." I held back tears. Deep inside, no matter how hard I tried to hide it, I knew that when she fell asleep, she'd never wake up again.

"I… I'll… just… sleep… just… sleep…" she murmured in the gentle voice I'd heard so many times before. She closed her eyes, and smiled. "Rosalie…" Her hand went limp.

I stared at her stupidly. "Uncle Edward… she's dead, isn't she?"

"She has been graced by mercy, dear girl. She is out of her misery." He spoke of her as if she were an animal that had been hit by a carriage. I watched him spin around in his regal manner, heading for the door. I just stood over her bed dumbly staring at her lifeless body.

"They said the fever would break… I thought it would… Mother, I let you down," I soliloquized, clenching my teeth. "You trusted me to take care of you. All I could do was get some herbs from a phony miracle worker. I've… It's my fault. It's my punishment for not trying. I lost you… Why?"

I turned and pushed blindly past a servant, my vision blurred by tears. It wasn't fair. Mother was gone, father was gone; I was persuaded everyone I had ever grown to love was going to die. I could remember clearly when we heard news of my father's death. I was only six. Mother and I had been working on embroidery when our oldest and most faithful servant, Tatiana, burst in, tears in her eyes. It was then she told us. Mother was the worst I had ever seen her in my life. The strong woman who always waited patiently for her husband's return, who, upon his return, never blamed him for being months late; the woman who tended to everyone else before herself, who humbled herself to conversing with the peasants; my solitary pillar of strength, broke down into tears. I swear, for at least a week, she never left her chambers. I had never felt that awful before in my life. I had never known my father, or known him well, at least. But he was my father.

I felt ten times worse at the moment Mother died. I had no confidante that I could tell absolutely everything to. I still had Jerrold; but that was different. He wasn't there all the time, nor could he be (not that I expected that of him). I couldn't tell Tata (Tatiana's nickname) about anything. If I ever did anything remotely improper she would simply scold me for not upholding the duty to which I was born. And whom could I tell of my favorite books? I could tell Jerrold, but he wouldn't talk over the plot with me the way my mother did. The thought never even crossed my mind for Uncle Edward to be my new confidante. He was too stern.

I ran onto the terrace swiping at tears with balled fists. I sank to my knees. She was gone. She was really gone.

----

Two days later was the day of the funeral. It was down-pouring harder than it had since the flood season three or four years back. I was actually happy it was raining. It matched my mood rather well. I could hear Uncle Edward rapping on my chamber door, but I ignored it. He had been at it half the morning, insisting I greet the guests with him. I could really have cared less about the guests. I didn't know half of them. I'm pretty sure my mother hadn't even known half of them. Uncle Edward had turned the funeral into a big social event.

I kept a steady gaze on the rain that dripped down my window. I hugged my knees to my chest and continued staring. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Why did it have to be mother? Not that I would wish it on anyone else. So I suppose I was really asking why death happened at all. So others could live? So the world didn't get too crowded? All the answers seemed stupid to me.

"Rosalie, you get out here this instant!" Tatiana screamed from the other side of the door. "The funeral starts soon, and the whole royal family is here. Why, if your mother could only see how you're disgracing the family, I'm sure she'd be turning in her coffin…"

"Well, Tata, she can't, can she? She's dead, and it's my fault. Now leave me alone. I don't-want-to-go!" I replied enunciating each syllable loudly.

"ROSALIE…"

"Let her be," Uncle Edward's voice could be heard saying, "We'll tell the guests she fell ill."

I could picture Tata getting all red in the face at my uncle's comment, and my mind's eye could see her as she responded hesitantly, "Fine, I'll let her disgrace her family name, the reputation her parents and grandparents and great-grandparents…"

I crossed my arms indignantly and looked to my mourning gown, which was laid out on a chair near the window. I had never worn it before for there was little need of a mourning gown in everyday life. I glared at it.

"Stupid gown… you know, mother wouldn't have cared if I went to her funeral? She wouldn't have wanted all these people and stupid High Chancellor Thomas to blab on for hours about the afterlife and not about her." It felt good to take out my frustrations on the frilly mourning gown. "And she wouldn't have wanted Tata and Uncle Edward to force me to go either! She would've let me stay in my room. Stupid dress… I wouldn't even have to look at you if Mother hadn't died." I was beginning to question my own sanity, but continued on.

"I hope you enjoy laying in a muddy puddle under my window!" I pushed open the window and threw it out. "Good riddance!"

"I didn't know you bombarded visitors with dresses! I would've stayed at the funeral!" A familiar voice called.

I spun and leaned out the window. "Jerrold?"

He was standing there, my black gown over his shoulder, smiling that wonderful smile of his. His light brown hair was wet and his green eyes were shining.

"You're surprised to see me?"

I blushed. I really, really hoped he hadn't heard me talking to my dress. "Yes… I mean, not that I didn't want to see you or anything! Did you just arrive?"

"No, we've been here a while," he called back up, "Mother was real worried about you. And Father feels awful. You know, after your father died on that Ogre expedition… and now your mother, too! He feels awfully guilty."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You really know what to say to cheer someone up." I turned away from the window, angry with him.

I glanced over my shoulder at him and saw as he bit his lip, the rain streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, Rosalie; I didn't mean it that way. Say, are you going to the funeral?"

"No," I called down, a little bit frustrated. "To tell you the truth I really don't want to go listen to High Chancellor Thomas II drone about the afterlife and not at all about my mother."

"Well, since you aren't going, I thought you and I could go to the old palace. We haven't gone there in forever! To cheer you up, I mean. Not as any disrespect to your mother…" He was smiling, despite his very wet condition and his attempts to remain somber.

"Fine," I replied, trying to sound as if I really didn't want to go (which I did), "Let me get ready. I'll climb down the side of the house. They'll make me go if they catch me walking through the house."

I searched my room for a dress to wear and felt a smile appear on my face for the first time since my mother's death. Jerrold was right; a trip to the old palace would do me some good. We had used to go every day after our lessons with Master Eldridge, who tutored us both in all our subjects. We would explore, slide down the banisters; do anything that children and adolescents did with their spare time. But, at age 14 for me, and 15 for him (which was two years before Mother's death), Master Eldridge retired and we continued our educations separately, but still remained best friends.

I found my blue gown and pulled it over my head. It was an everyday gown, and my favorite because it matched my eyes. I grabbed my mousy brown cloak and leaned out the window.

"If I fall while climbing, you'll catch me, won't you Jerrold?" I asked nervously.

He scratched the back of his neck uneasily. "It depends on how far up you are…"

"Jerrold!"

"Umm, kidding… I guess. Just try not to fall, okay?"

I laughed. "No, I'm going to try to fall."

"I swear to you, a girl just might," he said haughtily, "They all want to play damsel in distress. You know I can't be knight in shining armor for every girl in Kyrria!" He shook his head, musing at his own popularity.

I rolled my eyes. "Get over yourself, Jerrold. I'm going to make sure I don't fall just so I can prove I definitely am not a damsel in distress. Especially not to you." I kicked my leg over the sill of the window and the other followed, and I slowly made my way down the wall, grabbing onto the trellis as I climbed shakily down.

"I'm impressed," Jerrold said, smiling as he helped me down the last few feet, "I suppose I never should have doubted your status as an independent damsel."

I laughed. "You're right. Now we better hurry. You're going to catch cold and I swear if you fall ill I'll never talk to you again."

He sighed. "Fine, I'll get a cloak from our carriage. Or better yet, we could ride in it! What do you say to that?"

"That sounds nice," I said, taking the arm he offered to me.

He looked at my dress that was still perched on his shoulder. "I'm not even going to ask," he said before brushing it off. I suppressed a laugh, and we made our way to his carriage.

I looked around the old palace, hugging my cloak tighter around me. I wasn't sure whether it was the cold or all the buried memories that were sending chills down my spine. I hadn't been here for years. Everything was still as I remembered, though.

"It's all the same," I ruminated to Jerrold, "I'm sure I can come here when I'm an old woman and it all will be as it was when we were children. I suppose that's a good thing. It's like… like an eternal fountain of youth!"

Jerrold looked around as well as we climbed up the large staircase.

"I don't feel any younger," he joked.

"No? Being here doesn't seem to bring back all the memories of childhood, the mischief, the adventures; none of it?"

Jerrold smiled. "I was kidding. Of course it does. Like how angry Master Eldridge was we skipped lessons that one time… I can't remember when…"

"When I was ten and you were eleven," I supplied, "In November, I think." I surveyed the view of the old palace from the top of the stairs.

"Yes it was wasn't it?" He ran his fingers along the banister, the same roguish glint in his eyes as when we were kids. "Do you remember what we did?"

"Of course! We came here and… Jerrold! You're not serious, are you?" He nodded and kicked a leg over the banister.

"I'm going down… I'll wait for you at the bottom." He slid down the handrail.

"You're kidding me!" I called after, him laughing at his childish behavior. He flew off the end of the banister and right onto his bottom, but he was smiling nonetheless.

"Of course not," he yelled in reply, as he dusted himself off, "You're not afraid, are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not, Jerrold, I'm just older now and sliding down banisters is…" I stopped myself. I was beginning to sound like Tata. The thought horrified me.

"Childish?" His tone was disappointed as he stood expectantly at the bottom of the stairs.

"Fine, I'm coming," I said quickly. Repeating what Jerrold had done, I kicked my leg over and allowed myself to slide down. I had been crazy to deny it. The feeling of whizzing down the railing was a wonderful one. I flew off the end and right into Jerrold's arms. We were both laughing hysterically for at least five minutes. (Don't ask me why, you had to be there)

"Tell me that wasn't fun," he insisted after our little fit of hilarity.

"I suppose so…. And I guess, if you really want to, we could go down again…"

"Good, I'll race you to the top." He bounded up the steps, and despite my better judgment (and Tata's nagging voice that had over the years become my conscience) I chased after him.

Breathlessly, we reached the top.

"You… first…" he laughed, gasping for breath.

"You want me to go first? And catch you?" I laughed, "Last time we tried that we both fell down!"

"Yes, I do remember that," Jerrold recalled a grin spreading on his freckled face.

"How my mother laughed when…" I stopped there and stared at my feet.

Jerrold put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry if I tried to force you to forget… I didn't mean to. I thought getting your mind off it would help…"

I shook my head. Nothing would come out of my mouth, so I kept shaking my head.

"You can cry; I wouldn't think any less of you, you know," he said, standing a little awkwardly with his hands behind his back.

I nodded and struggled to find my voice. "I've cried a lot… too much, in fact. For two days straight. I just want to forget, okay? I'll go first, but if I drop you, don't say I didn't tell you so!" I forced a smile.

He made a lopsided attempt at a smile and nodded.

I kicked my leg over and yelled as I slid, "Meet you at the bottom!"