Rosalind - Amby Awards 2023 TOP PICK

54- Wretched Thing

The hour before her last supper with Caspian found Rosalind outside amidst the falling snow and trees. The day wrapped its perpetual gray around her like an embrace. Rosalind lifted the hood of her gray cape and blended into the fog. The days had grown darker. Whenever sun shone was nothing more than dirty rays, every one of them tainted by the mist. Even though it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of her, Rosalind carried on further from the manor until she came across a small patch of land untouched by the snow. A spot, no larger than a fist, boasted bright green. From the green sprouted a small cluster of wildflowers. Known for their mundane colours, Rosalind had never seen a real flower in any shade other than white or some form of yellowy-beige, but the buds growing before her bore a magnificent shock of red, purple, and orange. Kneeling before them with a smile, she thought they were exquisite. Rosalind stroked the dainty petals, whispered of their beauty, then with care, plucked them from the ground and brought them to her nose. Their perfume reminded her of happiness. The sweetness lingered long after she lowered the bouquet and pulled a ribbon out of her hair to bunch the flowers together.

Rosalind's thoughts moved to Troy. Will I be able to see him tonight? Tomorrow I will be gone and I may never see him again. The fall of snow covered any track Troy may have left. There was no telltale whimper among the trees, no crunching of branches to indicate his whereabouts. The world around Rosalind stood stark and silent. Yet it was not just the thought of leaving the younger lord that brought sorrow to her, it was that she would never see Caspian again. She would not be able to speak to Clairie about the way he made her feel. No one would ever be able to know that she had fallen for the Borgo Beast in an UnGodly and unforgivable way. And it was he whom she wanted to carry back with her. 

As the sun began to lower into the ground, Rosalind returned back into the manor with a heavy heart to dine with Caspian for the last time. With every step she took, she knew the only words she would ever hear about Caspian again were of the terror he would continue to spread. Yet my family will be safe. She thought, trying to find a speckle of joy. Something good has come out of this. My father and brothers will forever be out of harm's reach. Caspian promised he would never harm them and a man's word is a man's honor. Nearing the manor, Rosalind paused. She watched a flock of magpies perch upon the roof, their black wings tucking around their bodies to keep the chill off their bones. When one arched its head towards her and glared with red eyes, Rosalind picked up a ball of snow and hurled it its way. "Flying beast!" she hollered. Though the ball of snow did not even come close to the birds, the magpies let out a caw and took to the sky where they vanished into the mist.

Rosalind grinned at the frightened birds then entered the manor.

She set her cloak on a settee in the hall and headed deeper into the home. Wearing one of her own white gowns, the snow which had followed her in was invisible everywhere except for her dark hair. As she entered the dining area, the flakes shimmered in the ivory strands.

When Rosalind heard Caspian walking down the hall, every thought of Troy and the birds faded like vapor from a kettle. Her attention turned to the entrance of the dining area where the lord entered and stood at the threshold with his gaze fixed upon her.

For one breath-stopping second, glacier-blue eyes were all Rosalind could see. She felt as if she were still in the fog and Caspian was the only beacon of light. When she blinked and shook herself back into the present, she could not help but let her own gaze fix upon him. He wore a black cape with a silver fur trim over a black ruffled shirt and black trousers that clung to him like a second skin. Crawling half-way up his calves were black leather boots with silver toes and heels. When he bowed to her, he kept his gaze raised so that his eyes never left her face.

In her own white gown, they could have been bride and groom.

"My lord." Rosalind wet her lips. "You look very handsome tonight."