The Tears of the Rose by Jeffe Kennedy Page B

guiding star for those who would serve your cause.
    â€œYour very goodness burned through the womb and released your mother from the chains of evil. She died, yes, but she passed over redeemed, infused with Glorianna’s nature from contact with Her spirit via you.”
    I wanted to believe that, this idea I’d been mulling over. Maybe Glorianna had whispered it to me. That was how I’d known.
    â€œYou saved her, Princess Amelia. They named you for the love you brought to the world in her place. Now we are crying for that love. We need you to lead us. Everything that has happened has led to this moment. Do not let your mother’s death be in vain. Don’t forsake Prince Hugh, who sacrificed himself that your eyes might be opened.”
    My head swam. “I don’t feel well at all.” I missed Hugh, bitterly and profoundly. I needed to ask him what he thought of all this. He’d always known the right thing to say to comfort me. Now it seemed I was beyond comfort. How had the world changed so utterly?
    Or not changed. From Kir’s words, it had been this way all along and I had been simply too blind to see it. How Andi must have laughed at me, watching me indulge in fripperies and romance while she plotted all along to defeat me.
    â€œWhat of Ursula?”
    Kir shook his head, then slid a significant glance at Marin, whose needles flew furiously. “We should perhaps speak of such things at another time. We must do all we can to protect Glorianna’s sacred cause. High King Uorsin’s great quest.”
    Did he mean to imply that Ursula wasn’t on our side? But it was true—she had defended Andi’s actions. My head pounded and my stomach lurched. “Stop the carriage!” I cried out.
    In a flash, Marin had me around the waist, supporting me out of the halted carriage. I fell ignominiously to my knees in the half-frozen mud, retching up toast and tea. She patted my back, soothing me, murmuring that babes take their toll and I must keep peaceful.
    The cold filth soaked through my skirts and I knew the pink gown would be forever stained.

5
    W e arrived at Castle Ordnung a day later.
    The High King’s seat and my childhood home, Ordnung had been built fairly recently—completed not long after Ursula was born, in fact. It didn’t look as if it had grown out of the old volcano as Windroven did, constructed of the same dark rock, towers and wings added over time. Instead, Ordnung gleamed brilliant white, with perfect, straight lines and solid defenses. Both a monument to our father’s immense achievement in uniting the kingdoms and a fortress in case of attack, Castle Ordnung was, by definition, the finest castle in the land.
    Out of long habit, my heart rose to see it, with its uniformed soldiers standing guard and all the bright pennants flying—one for each of the twelve kingdoms—and High King Uorsin’s rampant bear above them all. I’d always thought of Ordnung as my true home.
    Oddly, though, I missed Windroven, in all her dark rock and ungainly sprawl.
    Uorsin received us in the grand audience chamber. As heir to the High Throne, Ursula preceded us and Erich escorted me on his arm. High Priest Kir and that creepy White Monk followed behind.
    The last time I was here, I’d been on Hugh’s arm and we’d been bursting with fun over our surprise visit—my first since our wedding. With a start, I realized that my wedding anniversary would be soon, when true spring came to Mohraya. We hadn’t had even a full year together.
    No doubt it would still be wintery on the cold coast of Avonlidgh, but that would be fitting. I would celebrate by myself, perhaps holding vigil at Hugh’s tomb, so he wouldn’t be alone. My stomach clenched and Old Erich patted my hand, where I dug my nails into his bony forearm.
    Uorsin glowered at us. Or, more precisely, fixed his angry gaze on Ursula.
    â€œSo you come home with your