The Silver Rose (22 page)

“I'm in my final year of training for mastership,” Rosa insisted, knowing her future depended on success. “It's only a matter of time before I'm offered a position at Marylebone.”

“Mastership can take several lifetimes. It does not mean Marylebone will Call you. The higher you go, the harder the tests. Ascending is not easy and few achieve that status. You could grow old and die while attempting to attain it. I would not age. Are you prepared for such an eventuality?” He did not wait for her reply. “I think not.”

His presumption made her blood boil. “Don't tell me what I'm prepared for. You haven't had to face the prospect of relinquishing your magic.”

“Even though I'm immortal, the bells have not tolled for me. When they do — if they do — I will face the same decisions you do now.”

“I don't understand,” she cried in frustration. “How could you have reached your status in Marylebone without having heard the bells?”

“I was born there. It's my home. I'm a true immortal, born that way.” He shrugged, and she saw a flash of regret in his eyes. “Who knows the vagaries of the Fates? There are secrets aplenty even in the hallowed corridors of Marylebone.”

“Don't you know what's happening in your own coven? What's the point if you don't?”

“I report to Anton. Anton reports to the Supreme Council of Magical Beings. Many directives come from them. I believe this is one of them. We have to trust that all decisions made are for the good of all. A bad decision would upset the balance, and everyone who resides within its walls would suffer as a result. Your sisters' attempt to contact Marylebone is a prime example of a bad decision.”

“Trusting in a council that plays with people's lives seems unfair.” She was bitter they toyed so liberally with her life. If what he said was true, then Zelda too had known all along about Aden. How could she have not told her? She felt betrayed and so alone.

“It may seem that way to you, but no decision is made lightly, and to attain a position of such power is rare. Even the mental intent of a magical being is measured. A whiff of corruption, envy, or deceit is exposed immediately. Only souls deemed pure and evolved enough are Called to Marylebone. Those who do not measure up are banished from its halls. They become Earthbound until they can prove themselves. They can spend hundreds of years trying to regain their status. Some never succeed.

“How do you think Alanna managed to Call down Goran?” Aden reminded her. “Her intent was contaminated with deceit, and Goran was unfortunate enough to be caught up in it as he was taking leave from Marylebone. Now he's Earthbound. Until balance is restored, I have no direct apprentice to take his place.”

“It's gratifying to know not everyone at Marylebone is perfect. Not that I for one second wish Goran had been bound by my sisters' mischief.”

Aden clenched his fists in sheer frustration. “Perhaps you should consider a union with him. He'll be here for a while.”

“How can you say that to my face when it's obvious to me you hate the idea?”

“Believe me, it's not said lightly. I wish I could stay. I wish things were different, but they are not and I cannot.”

“Well, what else are you here for? Why don't you just go away and come back in twelve days' time to ensure my destiny is met. You don't need to babysit me.”

“I would not leave you alone until then,” Aden stated abruptly, but his tone softened and anguish crept into his eyes. He leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his hands clenched together. “Tell me about the rose?”

His tension and pain was palpable. She fought hard not to soften. To care. “What about it?”

“Who gave it to you?” Dark eyes flared into burning coals.

Maybe he would tell her more after all. Relieved to see genuine emotion, she responded, matching his honesty. “I told you the truth. My mother gave it to me.”

“Who gave it to your mother?”

Rosa was puzzled by his question. Surely he should know. “I would have thought someone in your position would not have to ask me these questions.”

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Are you going to tell me why you caused a display anyone this side of the southern hemisphere with magical ability would perceive?”

“I can't.”

“Or won't.”

“It's … painful.”

“I don't see why I should tell you everything.” She was not going to let him feed her any more excuses. If it was painful, she wanted to know what that pain entailed. “Especially when you're not prepared to do the same for me.” Rosa was done playing games. It was evident Aden refused to accept he was the one for her.

“I want to explain,” he confessed unexpectedly, “but I can't.”

“Well, bully for you! Here I am, about to forfeit my magic or my life, and you're finding my questions painful. I might not have a history to speak of very soon,” she informed him flatly. “Have you considered that?”

The tension visibly increased in Aden's tall frame. “Rosa. I know this is difficult, but the bells have rung. You must choose a mate soon.”

“He's right in front of me, but he's way to stubborn to admit it.”

But Aden shook his head. “I haven't heard the bells. It can't be me.”

Was that regret she heard in his voice? “How many pass to the Otherworld without fulfilling their fate?”

“Eight that I know of personally, and more than I care to admit since the Fates instigated this rule. They will not rescind it. They're insistent no rogue witch becomes the focus of witch hunts ever again.”

Rosa collapsed into the chair. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Perhaps,” she whispered softly, “I'll be next.”

“No!” Aden moved swiftly, crouching before her and grabbing her hands in his large warm ones, the ice in his eyes gone. “No! It will not happen.”

“Only you can stop it,” she responded, unable to prevent the tide of sorrow from revealing itself in her eyes any longer.

“You're wrong. Only
you
can stop it. This is your life. These are your choices to make. Not mine.”

Rosa met his gaze and blinked away her tears. “I don't know why you're still here.” She tugged her hands from his. “And don't touch me. If you're, as you say, not for me, then it's best you leave.”

Aden shot up as if she had physically slapped him with her rejection. “If that's what you want.”

No! It's not what I want.
“I have decisions to make. As you said, it's my life and I'm in control. I think it's best you don't visit me again. Stay in Raven's Creek if you want, but leave me alone and let me get on with the decisions I need to make.”

• • •

Aden returned to Lavender Cottage and lay low, spending most of his time in his studio working on the scrying bowl for Rosa. He had failed in laying low in Raven's Creek. What a disaster.

Marylebone had also abandoned Aden. He'd received no word regarding his failure to hide his magic from Rosa and her sisters. Not a thing. The silence was profound, and any attempts he made at contacting his superior failed miserably. It appeared he was on his own.

Goran, of course, thought he was demented. “You must tell her everything.”

“It will interfere with her decision.”

“And it might not. It might be what Marylebone wants you to do.”

Aden huffed in frustration. “They asked me to shield my magic. Why would revealing everything to Rosa matter now?”

“You're denying yourself love because of what happened in the past. This is different. She has potential. Lydia didn't have an ounce of it and was never likely to.”

“What right have you to speak of Lydia?” Aden regretted the accusation the moment he uttered it. Goran had every right to speak his mortal sister's name. For four hundred years, he had avoided any mention of her in Aden's presence, and Aden finally understood how much that must have cost Goran.

Buried so deep in his own grief for so long, he had not given consideration to Goran and the rest of his family. They too, as immortals, had had to watch Lydia die while they remained young, vital, and alive.

“I take that back.” He was doing that a lot these days. “It was unkind.”

“You deny yourself the memories of the gift of her life, short though it was. The Gods bestowed her beautiful soul upon us for a short time only, and I refuse to forget her. You should thank spirit for the precious times you had with her. She would not be happy knowing you think so little of her that you have cast her aside, forgetting her memory and the love she gave to you so freely.”

Perhaps if his friend had spoken more plainly before now, Aden might not have nurtured his pain for so long. “The image of her dying in my arms is as fresh in my heart as if it were yesterday.”

“She's moved on in spirit. So must you, my friend. The bells did not toll for you then. Will you be ready for them if they do?”

“You sure know how to hit home your point.”

“And that is … ?”

“Until I give up wallowing in the past, I can have no future.”

Goran clenched his hands into fists and punched the air in success. “I thought I'd never see the day.”

“So you think there's a possible future for me with Rosa?”

Goran shrugged. “You won't know unless you try.”

But would she have him now? It would mean revealing his past, every last, ugly detail. “I need to think on it.”

“Don't think too long. The festival starts in less than a week. By the end of it, Rosa's fate will be sealed with or without you.”

In the early hours of the morning when most of the mortals in Raven's Creek slept, Zelda Mortiboy paid an unscheduled visit to Marylebone. As Prime Wizardess, she did not need to wait to be Called. Something had to be done. Those two foolish children — that was how she saw them — were headed for disaster.

She knocked on the giant oak doors of Marylebone House. Sculpted with intricate patterns and symbols of magic, they appeared ordinary, plain, and unadorned to mortals as they walked past on a daily basis. Those who were magical knew instantly what those doors signified otherwise the general public didn't even register they were there.

“Who knocks at Marylebone?” A sleepy eye in one of the wooden, pictorial carvings in the door opened and peered at Zelda.

“Zelda Mortiboy, Wizardess of Raven's Creek, Prime Wizardess of the Supreme Magical Council, wishes to speak with Grand Dragon Anton. It's of the utmost urgency.”

The sleepy eye widened, and the body belonging to it sat upright in its carved chair, suddenly alert. “Prime Wizardess!” One of the wide doors swished open. “Come and wait in the lobby. I will announce you immediately.”

Zelda entered and stood on the black-and-white slate tiles in the great hall. The message of her untimely arrival was sent via one wood panel to the next. As the message was relayed, other inhabitants of Marylebone were alerted of their visitor. The hall was long and wide and the ceilings high and ornate. The woodwork was polished to a lustrous gleam.

Doors opened and curious faces looked out. Zelda Mortiboy's fame preceded her. She arched her eyebrows and gave an imperious nod to those who dared to greet her. She said nothing but looked about with interest. Having never entered Marylebone through the front door, this was a new experience, and she relished the opportunity to inspect Marylebone's security at ground level. Usually she came invited and translocated directly into the Dragons' Lair.

The slam of a door in another hallway resounded through the building. Something banged on the hard floor, and a scurry of feet drew closer. She had surprised them all with her arrival. Not good. Did that mean they were not watching what was happening between Aden and Rosa?

Anton, his robe hastily placed over his shoulders, strode down the hallway, his familiar at his side. What was his name? She would remember in a minute. She never forgot a name. It was something to do with Christmas. Ah, yes, that was it. Mistletoe. She rolled her eyes. Witches and warlocks were a funny lot even if she loved three particular ones dearly.

“Anton,” she said when he stopped before her, a worried expression on his face. “All is not going as planned.”

“There's still time,” Anton uttered in hushed tones. He peered over his shoulder, and the more curious faces disappeared back behind their doors. “Come with me to my private sitting room. An old friend has returned after a very long absence. He will be interested to hear what you have to say, and we can talk without being overheard.”

He took her elbow and ushered her swiftly down the great hall and then up an enormous winding staircase that seemed to go on forever. Up and up she went, until, breathless, they reached the uppermost floor and entered Anton's private sitting room. It was small, but large enough for two couches, a wall of ancient books, a large desk, and an old, frayed, half-charred chair where his dragon, Mistletoe, perched.

But there was another in the room, and his presence warmed Zelda's heart. “Leonardo!” Zelda charged forward, her face wreathed in an enormous smile, her hands outstretched in welcome. “I've never been so happy to see a familiar face.”

Anton huffed as Zelda embraced Leonardo. “You didn't say that about me!”

“You, you old reprobate. I see you all the time at Council meetings.”

Zelda stood back, her hands still on Leonardo's upper arms. She was so much shorter, and she angled her chin upwards, her smile crinkling her already creased eyes. “How long has it been? Four hundred years?”

“Four hundred and thirty-eight, to be exact.” Leonardo tugged Zelda back into his embrace, almost smothering her against his enormous chest. “You were a much younger woman then. I thought you would be young forever. What happened to change your appearance and what brings you to Marylebone's front door, no less?”