Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 4

The Garnetti capitol, Roche, was positioned much closer to the border than Verenice. I remembered from my lessons that most of their northern regions were nearly uninhabitable due to the long, cold Garnetti winters.

They had large main cities dotted across the border, with a few smaller mining towns close to the mountains. It was where most workers stayed for months at a time before returning home for only a few days.

I had been bored out of my mind with Governess Bernadette learning about Garnette's mining industry in our lessons, but now, seeing everything firsthand, I found them all coming back to me.

Short squat houses that were said to house up to a hundred people per building, the living quarters cramped. Gaunt men trudged up and down the streets, going to and from their shifts, barely even pausing to eat. Garnette's mining industry was a relentless one, but they had the richest coffers in all of Magierre to show for it, exporting the precious gems to all those who could afford it. Aristocrats across Magierre paid handsomely for each jewel on their fingers, wrists and throats.

But replaying Garnette's history of mining could only hold my thoughts for so long.

I smiled, trying to ignore how unpleasant the last few hours had been. My neck ached, the weight of my pinned hair taking its toll. The coning in my bodice dug into my ribs, despite supposedly wearing "traveling clothes." Still, of all my irritants, it was Jourdon wearing me thin.

Talking to Jourdon was like beating against a solid brick wall. I knew it wasn't going to make a difference, and it was likely causing me more injury if anything. All the while he barely looked at me. Instead, he fidgeted in his seat, the space in the carriage appearing cramped around his large frame. He barely ever tore his gaze from the carriage window.

"You were running a bit late today; I was wondering what it was that held you up?" I asked. An edge had slipped into my voice, but I was growing too weary to care much.

Sometime during our travels, the sun had disappeared, a dreary gray taking its place, the muddy farmlands and rocky hills nearly blending altogether.

We hardly passed anyone on the road, only a few wagons full of big yellow and orange squashes sharing the road with us. All the people we had passed barely acknowledged the royal carriage in its wake. Once, as we had passed a wagon full of miners, the gray soot of the mines so heavy it appeared ingrained in their skin, I had even sensed hostility, their gazes sharp and hungry like wolves.

Jourdon tilted his head, but other than that I wouldn't have even known if he had heard me. His expression had hardly changed since we sat across from one another. I knew of his military roots, but it had manifested differently in him than what I was used to. Darren was stoic and fierce when needed, but there was still warmth to him. Something about the cool set of Jourdon's dark eyes made me wonder what he had seen in his life.

What he had done.

Eventually, he answered, flicking his gaze towards me, "I guess an explanation is in order, my apologies, Your Highness. The timing of our meeting turned out to be ill-fated, and I have been much preoccupied." He let out a soft sigh, returning his gaze to the window.

I furrowed my brows, my hands clasped in my lap. His tone sounded sincere enough. I allowed myself to soften ever so slightly.

"Please, you may call me Ophelia, we are to be wed. No need to be so formal."

Jourdon glanced at me again, then ran a hand through his hair, adding further dishevelment to his appearance. He nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is right." He paused. "It was my mother, she is quite ill. I have been by her bed for days on end, and because of that, I lost track of time. She only just woke this morning."

My eyes widened. How judgemental I had been! Of course, anyone would be a mess had they been going through what Jourdon must have been these last few days. Shame raced through me. Marriage was likely the farthest thing from his mind.

"I am so sorry, I did not know." I clasped my hands tighter in my lap. Governess Bernadette had informed me of the Queen's sickly disposition, but I had not known it was this bad.

Jourdon nodded, but his voice remained stiff. "It is quite alright, Ophelia. She was doing much better when I left. I am just eager to return to her side. Please forgive me at this time. Once you are settled, hopefully, I will be in better spirits to spend time with you."

His tone still remained distant and formal, and his gaze appeared to be looking beyond, deep in his own thoughts. I did wonder if there was something else he was not telling me, but I didn't wish to push it. We would have well enough time once he saw his mother.

Silence returned to the carriage. I searched my mind for a new topic to discuss, hoping to lighten the mood. Anything to try and distract Jourdon and hopefully warm him to me. Nothing came to mind. Even though he had apologized, something close to hostility radiated from him, like he was simply tolerating my presence because he had to.

I bit my lip. I had to try to show him I wasn't his enemy.

"Well, perhaps you can tell me more about Court life in Garnette? To help me know what to expect. I hear theater is quite popular."

I immediately knew I had chosen the wrong topic. Jourdon's darkened further, his jaw tensing. "Theater. No, I can't say I have ever enjoyed it that much." His voice was edged with disapproval. "That is more of my brother's area of expertise."

Remembering his younger brother—who was a year or two younger than me, if I recalled correctly, I forced a smile. Jourdon's family. I knew a little about them, despite the poor communication between our families. "Oh yes. Prince Pierre, right? What is he like? I know very little of him."

Another mistake.

Jourdon's brows narrowed; his eyes darkened. His hand clenched at his hip,looking again for his sword. Curious.

"Pierre and I unfortunately aren't close. We enjoy different things."

My palms were slick with sweat under my gloves from my nerves. I nervously tugged at the necklace Blanche had given me, running the rosebud charm over the links of the gold chain. What was I to expect from this other prince if this was Jourdon's reaction to him? "Well, then. What do you like, Jourdon?"

Jourdon's hand loosened at his side. He was quiet so long I was starting to think he wasn't going to answer me. How disastrous this was, and it was all my fault! I was trying to think if I should even continue to try and repair this or just give into the silence and let Jourdon be.

His jaw flickered, then he sighed, some of the tension loosening in his body. Mercifully, he answered me, "I like reading. Writing too. I have books of poetry I have written hidden under the floorboards of my room. If my father knew, he would be furious. I even keep books of poetry together on a shelf in the palace library so that I can find them easily."

I was taken aback. It was the most I had gotten out of him all day.

"Writing? A poet?" I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. That had been the last thing I expected from him.

The first true smile I had seen on him flickered across his lips, but I knew it wasn't directed toward me. "Yes. It has been an indulgence of mine since I was young."

I smiled in response. "I suppose that is lucky for me then, for the ladies of my Court very much appreciate a man that can recite her poetry. Perhaps you will read me some of your poetry sometime?"

The smile slipped from Jourdon's lips. He fixed his gaze on me and he inclined his head as if submitting to a demand in a high-stakes negotiation.

In a way, I suppose that's what this marriage was. A political negotiation. Only through Jourdon and I finding common ground, would there be peace for our nations.

"Perhaps I will," he replied quietly. Somehow it came out more like a threat.

A chill ran down my spine, and for a moment, a whisper of laughter played at the edges of my mind.

Like the Angels were mocking me, watching as I failed the one task they had given me.