Chapter Two: Rose

Princess Rose Valhart was used to having eyes on her.

The palace guards were never far away, the gold buttons on their uniforms flashing in the sunlight. The servants watched her just as keenly, often anticipating her needs before she voiced them. Then there was Chapman, the palace steward, who was always flittering around her like a moth. He knew where she was every moment of every day, and made sure Rose was never late, despite her tendency to dawdle and daydream.

Her subjects watched her, too, of course. On the rare occasions she ventured into the capital city of Eshlinn, they would line the streets to catch a glimpse of her. She was their beloved princess, after all, as fair as the flower after which she was named, and as sweet and pure as its scent.

At least Rose assumed that was what they thought of her. She wasn’t allowed to speak to any of them, only flutter her lashes and waggle her fingers from afar. But that would all change when she became Queen. She was determined to visit the far-flung lands of her kingdom, and to meet the people who lived there. To speak to them and know them … to let them know her.

Sometimes Rose swore that even the starcrest birds watched her more closely than they should. But then, she’d always had a fanciful imagination. Chapman blamed Rose’s best friend, Celeste, for that. They enjoyed trading silly tales, making each one more outlandish than the last, until they collapsed into laughter. Sometimes, they would write their deepest desires on a piece of parchment and burn it by candlelight, casting the ashes of their wishes out into the night sky.

Rose always wished for love, while Celeste chose adventure. Sometimes, Rose wondered if she could have both. But a life of adventure was not fit for a queen. She would have to make do with the thrill of her daydreams and the wild beauty of her gardens. She smiled as she plucked a pink rose from her flower bed and cut it neatly at its stem. She reached for another … and then froze.

She suddenly had the distinctly unsettling feeling that someone was watching her. Someone new. She snapped her chin up, straining to see past the guards at the golden gates and into the shadowy woods beyond, where the setting sun had set the canopies ablaze.

An ache bloomed in her chest. She pressed her palm against it. Had she indulged in too many sugar buns this afternoon? Or perhaps it was simply nerves. With her coronation just around the corner, she did have quite a lot coming up.

‘Rose!’ A familiar voice cut through the quiet garden, startling her. ‘What are you doing out here all by yourself?’

Of all the people in her life, nobody watched Rose more carefully than the Kingsbreath. Willem Rathborne, the man who had saved her life when she was only minutes old, had been her guardian for almost eighteen years, and he certainly had enough grey hairs to show for it. He scowled as he stalked towards her now, his grimace so deep, it aged him awfully.

Rose dipped into a perfect curtsy on instinct, her pink dress billowing around her. ‘I was just collecting some fresh flowers for my bedroom.’

Willem’s sigh whistled through his nose. ‘That’s a servant’s job. You shouldn’t be out here in the dark.’

Rose laughed lightly, to set him at ease. ‘The sun has only just begun to set. And I’m hardly off gallivanting in the streets of Eshlinn. I’m perfectly safe in my gardens.’

Despite Willem being the closest thing she had to a father, there had always been a distance between them. All her life, Rose had craved his approval, and now more than ever, she wanted to show him that she was ready to be Queen. That she could be trusted with the kingdom, the future.

She reached for another flower. ‘You worry too much, dear Willem.’

The Kingsbreath regarded her sternly. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to pull your head from the clouds, Rose? You must be alert at all times. Danger is lurking—’

‘Everywhere, and nobody can be trusted,’ Rose finished the sentence for him, with a sigh. Willem had been obsessive about her safety her entire life but now that her coronation was looming, he’d become positively paranoid.

She reminded herself it was only because he cared about her that he worried so much. She rested a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Willem, you know no harm can come to Anadawn under the Great Protector’s eye.’

They were standing under his statue, after all, the marbled gaze of Rose’s noble ancestor silently watching over the palace. Watching over her. Privately, Rose had always found the sculpture a bit overbearing. It blocked the light in her gardens, and the roses in its shadow never grew as tall as the others, but she would rather have it close by than not have it at all. It reminded her that she was blessed, that—

‘Come. Now.’ Willem curled his fingers around her wrist. ‘I’ll have flowers sent to your room.’

Rose wilted as she trailed after him, away from the heady evening air and all thoughts of romance and adventure, and into the reaching shadows of the palace.

When I am Queen, everything will be better, she promised herself as she climbed the stairs in her tower, winding round and round and round. I will dance all night if I want to, and no one will tell me what to do.

She smiled at the guard in the stairwell as she pushed open the door to her bedroom. It was only when she glimpsed the blood on the doorknob that she realized she had pricked her fingers on the thorns.

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