They were so full of fear she could almost taste it.
The
woman stepped away from Sandra and walked toward the bed. “Remember,” she
whispered, “fight me, and I will personally slice her to bits.”
The
woman leaned down towards the bed and slid her blade down the center of
Edward’s chest. She sliced deeply into the muscle under his skin before
proceeding to thrust the blade between the bones of his ribcage. “No!” Sandra
screamed as she opened her eyes.
She
was lying on the ground, her head cradled in Regald’s arms. “Sandra!” he said
breathlessly.
Sandra
screamed scrambling to her feet away from Regald. Tears plastered her cheeks
and her hands shook uncontrollably. “Edward!” she called out as she struggled
to her feet. Where moments ago Edward’s body had lain, there now stood only a
cluster of blood red roses.
“You
fell,” Regald informed her. “You tripped over the rose vines.”
She
looked down at her arms and saw they were covered with scratches from the
thorns on the rose bushes she had fallen upon. They didn’t hurt, but Sandra
assumed that they would later on. She took several slow breaths, her eyes
readjusting to the darkness.
“Whose
chambers are these?”
“The
Queen’s, my Lady.”
“The
Queen’s?” He nodded. “She tortured him.” Sandra maneuvered around the vines
until she reached the red roses. “She tortured him, sliced into him with a
silver blade. His own Queen. And she forced the woman he loved to watch her do
it.”
Regald’s
voice took on as serious a tone as Sandra had ever heard. “And do you know the
name of that woman?”
Sandra
nodded slowly then turned to meet Regald’s gaze. “Liza.”
Regald’s
expression went slack and they stared at each other, his eyes revealing
nothing. Then he turned away from her back toward the stone door to the
chamber and realized that the roses lining it were no longer black—they were
violet. “By the Gods,” he whispered turning back to stare at the young woman by
his side. “I will take you to Edward.”
Chapter XV
The
first time Mara had met Edward, she was five years old. He had come to visit
her father, a high-ranking lord among the Dark Court. Mara’s mother, Princess
Mellissa, had been alive then, a tall pale-skinned woman with long dark hair
and violet eyes. Mara remembered her as a soft spoken woman with a kind, gentle
touch. However, there was little else she could recall of her mother. Both of
her parents had died when she was still a child, even by mortal standards.
It
was at this young age when Mara declared bravely to the already famous
Sub-Captain that someday, she too would be one of his knights. Her father had
responded to hush her, calling for her mother to escort her from the room. Yet
when her mother approached, Edward had knelt down beside the young girl.
“Tell
me your name, child,” the Knight had said to her.
“Mara,”
she had replied shyly.
“Well,
Lady Mara. Do you know the first rule of being a Knight?”
She
shook her head, and Edward offered her the full weight of his dark eyes. “A
knight must honor the realm and above all else, always keep their word. Do you
think you could do that, my Lady?”
Mara
stared up into his eyes and gave a slow nod. “Well then,” the Knight said and
smiled, “I would say that you may one day make a great knight indeed. I shall
look for you, when you come of age. If knighthood is still the path you
desire, I will teach you more.”
A
cold gust of wind filtered into the room of the tower Mara had called home for
centuries, pulling her from the recesses of her memories. She slowly slipped
the sheets from her thin frame and grabbed a black satin robe that hung on the
back of the closet door. Donning the robe, she moved to the dresser on the far
side of the room. A tall silver mirror sat atop the dresser. Mara sat in the
chair in front of the mirror and picked up a small white brush and began to run
it through the stands of her long
The
woman stepped away from Sandra and walked toward the bed. “Remember,” she
whispered, “fight me, and I will personally slice her to bits.”
The
woman leaned down towards the bed and slid her blade down the center of
Edward’s chest. She sliced deeply into the muscle under his skin before
proceeding to thrust the blade between the bones of his ribcage. “No!” Sandra
screamed as she opened her eyes.
She
was lying on the ground, her head cradled in Regald’s arms. “Sandra!” he said
breathlessly.
Sandra
screamed scrambling to her feet away from Regald. Tears plastered her cheeks
and her hands shook uncontrollably. “Edward!” she called out as she struggled
to her feet. Where moments ago Edward’s body had lain, there now stood only a
cluster of blood red roses.
“You
fell,” Regald informed her. “You tripped over the rose vines.”
She
looked down at her arms and saw they were covered with scratches from the
thorns on the rose bushes she had fallen upon. They didn’t hurt, but Sandra
assumed that they would later on. She took several slow breaths, her eyes
readjusting to the darkness.
“Whose
chambers are these?”
“The
Queen’s, my Lady.”
“The
Queen’s?” He nodded. “She tortured him.” Sandra maneuvered around the vines
until she reached the red roses. “She tortured him, sliced into him with a
silver blade. His own Queen. And she forced the woman he loved to watch her do
it.”
Regald’s
voice took on as serious a tone as Sandra had ever heard. “And do you know the
name of that woman?”
Sandra
nodded slowly then turned to meet Regald’s gaze. “Liza.”
Regald’s
expression went slack and they stared at each other, his eyes revealing
nothing. Then he turned away from her back toward the stone door to the
chamber and realized that the roses lining it were no longer black—they were
violet. “By the Gods,” he whispered turning back to stare at the young woman by
his side. “I will take you to Edward.”
Chapter XV
The
first time Mara had met Edward, she was five years old. He had come to visit
her father, a high-ranking lord among the Dark Court. Mara’s mother, Princess
Mellissa, had been alive then, a tall pale-skinned woman with long dark hair
and violet eyes. Mara remembered her as a soft spoken woman with a kind, gentle
touch. However, there was little else she could recall of her mother. Both of
her parents had died when she was still a child, even by mortal standards.
It
was at this young age when Mara declared bravely to the already famous
Sub-Captain that someday, she too would be one of his knights. Her father had
responded to hush her, calling for her mother to escort her from the room. Yet
when her mother approached, Edward had knelt down beside the young girl.
“Tell
me your name, child,” the Knight had said to her.
“Mara,”
she had replied shyly.
“Well,
Lady Mara. Do you know the first rule of being a Knight?”
She
shook her head, and Edward offered her the full weight of his dark eyes. “A
knight must honor the realm and above all else, always keep their word. Do you
think you could do that, my Lady?”
Mara
stared up into his eyes and gave a slow nod. “Well then,” the Knight said and
smiled, “I would say that you may one day make a great knight indeed. I shall
look for you, when you come of age. If knighthood is still the path you
desire, I will teach you more.”
A
cold gust of wind filtered into the room of the tower Mara had called home for
centuries, pulling her from the recesses of her memories. She slowly slipped
the sheets from her thin frame and grabbed a black satin robe that hung on the
back of the closet door. Donning the robe, she moved to the dresser on the far
side of the room. A tall silver mirror sat atop the dresser. Mara sat in the
chair in front of the mirror and picked up a small white brush and began to run
it through the stands of her long
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