The Silver Rose

07 | A Forgotten Offer

Five months ago.

Rosaline, uncaring of what Jina or anyone might say, stood in front of the Crown Prince's chambers. She tried to reason with the guards, but they seemed intent on keeping her outside, far away from the only person who had actually bothered to see her as an individual and not just some random courtier.

     He needed to know.

     Her dream had been a cursed one, tainted with crimson and steel alongside screams of pain, a vision of immense sorrow and darkness.

     The guards—who were usually very kind to her—didn't budge. "We're under the order of His Majesty, Miss Myracle. I insist you to return today."

     Rosaline reluctantly looked over her shoulder. In an hour of so, the night would set and she'd be forced to return to her chambers, obviously under Jina's orders, only allowed to come out an hour after dawn.

     She gulped, "I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't necessary, Sir. Please." Her eyes creased with tension. "I need to have an audience with His Royal Highness immediately."

     She didn't know when the reality of her dreams would strike. But they were to turn true, she was certain, for three nights in a row she'd seen the same dream, and now a vision had graced her too. She'd already wasted too much time being at court all day.

     "Forgive us, Miss Myracle." The guard's eyes turned soft. "I must ask you to return."

     That was all.

     They wouldn't let her meet him.

     And Jina wouldn't let her meet him either.

     She knew why they were so against her, but she worked for the Queen now. She lived in a palace and she spoke like they did and she ate like they did. She even dressed like they did, despite the fact that she found the corsets tight and the long skirts absolutely hideous. She'd stopped her training too, hidden her arrows in the secret passages, just to fit in.

     Why did it even matter where she came from and who her father was?

     Rosaline dejectedly nodded, her lips twisted into a sad frown and turned on her feet, beginning her extremely horrible journey back to a chamber most girls her age called a cage.

     But those young girls had prospects, dowries and inheritance.

     All Rosaline had was herself and she was trying terribly hard to build a life in the palace just so she could have a future that wasn't pitch black, and alone.

     She took a turn towards her quarters, nestled at the very end of the Queen's palace.

     "Rosaline," a voice called. "Stop."

     She paused, her heart skipping a beat at the voice as she turned and noticed Julek hastily walking towards her, as if resisting the urge to run.

     Wind blew in from the balcony behind her, pushing stray strands of gold from her braid to her face, the evening sun casting a warm glow on her. She looked to the side, worried that she barely had time before her maid would come looking for her.

     "Your Highness," she curtsied elegantly, sending ripples across her chiffon gown.

     He paused in front of her, drinking her appearance. "There you are," he muttered, his face alight with the same sunlight. "I heard you."

     She nodded. "I must tell you something. It's urgent."

     Julek looked over his shoulder carefully. His guards weren't in sight, but likely they were close by.