Black Rose (28 page)

           
“I tried to take care...I sent for Garreth. I tried to…”

           
“You did everything right; everything. You got the Princess away from the
Queen. You got us out of there.” He spoke more fiercely. “You saved me.”

“I
tried. I couldn’t…I…”

“You
saved me,” he said again, brushing her hair back gently before pressing his
palm against her left cheek. “But you need to rest now. You are no good to
anyone like this. And…I need you.”

           
“I’m afraid,” she confessed. “I am afraid to dream.”

           
He moved his hand back to Mara’s arm, pulling her across the bed, causing her
to fall beside him. “If you dream, I will wake you.” He caught her gaze. “Let
me hold you, Mara.” Her heart beat against her right temple as Edward guided
her head against the uninjured side of his chest.

           
“I should be guarding you.”

           
“You have, Mara. You saved us. Now, I need you to rest. Please, mea rosa, lie
here with me.” She drew a deep breath, listening to the strong beat of his
heart. She closed her eyes as he continued to stoke her hair. It was the last
time she had ever known peace.

           
“Liza died that night,” Garreth continued, his voice filtering through the
dimly lit room as the dancing flames pushed back against the biting cold that
had begun to seep into the room. “Afterwards we…well, we…”

           
“We were never the same,” Mara finished for him. “But Edward, he,” she drew a
quick breath, “it was like he had disappeared. Everything he was, everything he
had been, vanished before our eyes. And without him, we struggled—struggled to
maintain the guard, to protect the men under our charge, to stay true to our
vows, to protect the Captain from those who would have taken advantage, to…to.”

           
“It was difficult,” Garreth added. “Edward had always been the strength of the
Guard.”

           
“Yes,” Mara agreed. “And without him we were broken, shattered, lost. And to be
perfectly honest, he was gone for a very long time. We all suffered without
him, but then after what had happened to him and to Liza no one could blame
him. None of us were truly ‘all right’ until long after and a few of us would
never be okay again.”

           
“I don’t understand though,” Nolan stated. “I know that she was killed, but I
don’t know what actually happened. How did she die?”

           
Garreth and Mara stared at each other for several moments but it was Mara who
finally answered. “They didn’t just kill the Princess; they mutilated her. They
sliced open her face into strips of split flesh, gouged out her eyes until she
was all but unrecognizable even after the blood had been cleared from her once
beautiful face. And when Edward found out, he just…he was absolutely—” The
words died upon her lips as Mara’s gaze slid towards the back of the room and
she found herself staring into Edward’s enraged eyes. She stood from the chair
in a single, fluid motion.

           
“How dare you!”

           
“Edward, please,” Mara pleaded. “You don’t understand.” 

           
“Go to Hell!”

           
“Edward,” Garreth interjected, rising to stand beside Mara. “She’s right, you
don’t understand. Please let us explain.”

           
“How dare you talk about her! How dare you speak her name to someone who was
not there!  How could you? How dare you!”

           
With those words Edward turned and stormed from the room. Mara raced after him.

           
Nolan moved to follow, but stopped when Garreth grabbed his arm. “Let them go,”
he stated as the stone door closed behind Mara’s fleeing form. “Only they can
help each other now.”

           
Mara followed Edward down the hall, being forced to break into a full-fledged
run in order to catch up to his furious pace. “Edward, stop!” she screamed as
she finally reached his side. “Stop, stop, please stop.

           
He finally acquiesced and slowly turned to face her with a mixture of pain and
anger, his hand holding tightly to the hilt of his Arius blade. “Why?” he
demanded. “Why would you?”

           
“Because,” she replied. “Once long ago, you, Phillip, Garreth and I made a
choice and we have paid for it dearly. We have, our men have, and everyone we
have ever known has. But, Edward, it was a choice. A choice we made.”

           
“So, what are you saying, Mara? That he should know because it might cost his
life?”

           
“No, Edward.” Pain filtered through her voice. “Not his life—his very soul.”
She paused, allowing the words to fully settle upon him. “We gave our souls for
something we believe in—believed in with the very fiber of our being, with ever
beat of our heart. How can we now ask this young man to offer the same
sacrifice without telling him why?” She shook her head. “If it were his life,
that would be one thing, but it is more than that.”

           
“What do you mean?”

           
She stared directly into his dark eyes. “I am not worried that he will die
Edward; I am worried that he will live. If he does this, if he joins our ranks
and chooses to attack the court into which he was born, the men he served alongside,
and the King he once swore his life to protect, he will never be the same. It
will shatter a piece of his soul that no amount of time will ever heal. 
He will be like us, broken for the rest of time. So yes, Edward, he needs to
know. He needs to know the consequences of such a choice and what it did to
us.” She drew a breath. “I cannot take responsibility for any more shattered
souls, Edward. Can you?”

           
He took a step closer before answering. “Did it, Mara? Cost your soul?”

           
Her body began to tremble as she reached forward and placed her hand gently
against his chest, pressing her fingers lightly over its center. “My soul is
where it has always been, Edward. Right here, with you.”

           
He reached to cup the side of her face with his left hand then said, “Mara,” in
a voice so fierce that her body jerked at the sound. He leaned even closer,
shutting his eyes tightly as he drew an unsteady breath before again turning
his dark eyes upon her. Then he kissed her. When he finally pulled back, it
took several moments for Mara to find her voice.

           
“What do you want, Edward? What do you…” She drew a constricted breath. “Please
tell me. I will do anything you ask.”

           
“I have no right to ask anything of you. I have no…”

           
“You have the only right! My soul, my heart, my life—they belong to you. They
always have. Please, my Lord, tell me how to help you.”

           
He reached forward, forcing her back against the wall of the corridor. He
grabbed both her wrists with a single hand, drawing her arms above her,
trapping her against the cold stone. He kissed her again, molding her lips
against his own, as the world began to spiral. Mara had no concept of time as
he held her there, equally unwilling and unable to resist as he possessed her.
When he finally drew back, Mara stared into his familiar dark eyes and
recognized a mixture of emotions she knew all too well: fear and desire, horror
and desperation, anger and love—all blended into one, singular moment.

           
“Six hundred years,” she said without thought. “I’ve waited six hundred years.
And now you…you.”

           
“I know,” he replied, refusing to loosen his iron grip on her slender wrists
which he still held above her. “I know I never do right by you. I know I have
hurt you and that you hate me for it.  I know this isn’t right. I know
that…”

           
“It’s the only thing that
is
right! And I never hated you. Not when you
left, not when you told me you loved Liza, not when you fell apart and not even
when we crossed…” Her words faltered. She could almost hear the sound of blades
clashing, could see the glint of steel that seemed to shimmer even in the dying
light of the setting sun; the sharp, sudden pain. “Even then I could not bring
myself to hate you, mi amor. I love you.” She shook her head. “I did not want
to tell him what happened. I did not want…I did not. But he has to know.”

           
Edward jerked her from the wall and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around
her, creating the only stability in her crumbling world. “I am sorry,” he said
softly. “When I saw the blade lying on the bed, I knew what it must have cost
you. I thought you were gone, that I had lost you all over again. ignosce mihi.
I was so…” He could not bring himself to say the words, and instead buried his
face against the side of Mara’s neck.

           
She remained silent for several minutes, allowing him to cling to her, before
finally forcing herself to speak. “Edward,” she said softly. “I need to help
Garreth finish the story.  I need to tell him about the battle of the Muir
Court.  Garreth, he…he can’t do it alone.”

           
Edward dropped his arms from around her and stepped back enough to nod. “Okay,
Mara. I will go with you and we will finish the tale.”

           
“You don’t have to do that.”

           
“Yes, I do,” he replied. “You asked me what I want?”

           
Mara nodded.

           
“I don’t ever want you to be alone again. I want…” He searched her gaze. “I
want to save you.”

           
His words threatened to bring fresh tears to her eyes. “You can’t. I was damned
a long, long time ago. But Nolan, and this young woman they have taken, we
still might be able to save them. Please, Edward. Help me save them.”

           
“How? Tell me how.”

           
“Stand by my side.” She paused. “Stand by my side, until I ask you to step
aside. Then allow me to do what must be done.”

           
“We took turns running the Guard—Garreth, Phillip and I—revolving constantly
around Edward’s chambers to maintain the appearance that he was still the one
giving the commands. Eventually he came out of his room, but as little more
than a silent guardsman. We protected him from challenges only by the basic
principle that to become the Captain, challengers first had to defeat the
Sub-Captains, and as you are aware, Nolan, with a blade we had few equals.

           
“We tried to protect the youngest of the Guard from the Queen, but were not
always successful. When we failed, we paid the price with flesh and with blood.
Some say our screams still echo down those dark halls.”

           
Her words trailed, prompting Nolan to gently ask, “Do they?”

           
Mara drew a slow breath. “The screams…are not mine.” She could almost hear the
sound of the whip crashing down upon exposed flesh. “Never mine.” The smell of
blood that faded long ago permeated the air; the metallic taste of it. 
She could feel the weight of the leather that she gripped firmly in her hand as
she again brought the metal tips down upon Philip’s exposed back, dragged the
jagged metal down along both sides of his spine with practiced precision. He
screamed as the teeth big deep into his skin. She jerked her arm back and could
hear the sound of ripping flesh as the metal fought to remain firmly embedded.
Then she again moved the whip down, drawing a fresh set of screams.

           
“Phillip,” she said, exhausted. “I think…”

           
“Finish it,” he commanded through a harsh breath. 

           
“I…”

           
“Damnit, Mara!”

           
She nodded reluctantly and continued the session, tearing again and again
through the layers of Phillip’s skin until it was stripped away enough to bite
into the exposed muscle beneath. Forty long, careful strokes with a
three-pronged whip for a sin he had never committed. When she finally stopped,
she moved to the stone slab upon which Phillip lay and sank to the ground
beside him. She tightened her grip upon the handle of the whip and threw it
across the room with what little strength remained. Then she buried her face
into the palm of her hands and let out a muffled scream.

           
“Mara.” Phillip tried to reassure her, but his voice was hoarse and he was too
injured to even reach out a hand to comfort her. After several moments of
suppressed sobs, Mara turned and reached for Phillip’s hand, touching the tips
of her fingers to his. “I…” She shook her head.  “Phillip, I can’t do this
for much longer.” His hand was trembling in hers from the intensity of the
pain. She leaned down and placed her face against his hand as though a child
seeking comfort. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Philip, I am so sorry.”

           
“Shh,” he shushed her through a shallow breath. He moved his fingers to brush a
strand of hair from her left cheek. “You did only what was required, Mara.
Nothing more.”

           
“Forgive me.”

           
“Freely,” he replied. “This is not your fault, Mara. You—” A sharp intake of
breath showed his continuous level of pain.

           
“Why does she do this?” Mara asked, the words muffled. “I can’t do this much
longer. I am not the Captain, I am not supposed to be. I cannot keep pretending
that I am.”