Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

R osa could feel his hands running along her skin, hot from the sunshine above them. Sunlight flickered off the lake, sending bright spots glimmering on Balthasar's dark hair. The trees above them rustled in the warm summer wind. Dark, sincere eyes hovered above her before he bent down to kiss her neck and collarbone. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his cheekbones, his lips forming soft words of love and devotion before they were on hers—hot, moist, and all consuming…

Rosa woke with a cry of alarm, fumbling about in the dark to turn on her lamp. The details of her dream came flooding back to her, and she hid her face in shame.

Rosa knew she shouldn't have hung around to talk to the current Balthasar the previous night, but after seeing the portrait of his ancestor, and how lonely and frustrated he had looked when he came into the stables, she hadn't been able to ignore him.

After her baking session in the kitchen, she had tried searching on her phone internet for anything on the Vane family history. She desperately wanted to know if Jane and Balthasar Senior had ever gotten married. The strange thing was the Vanes.

Despite their long line of rich aristocracy, they barely had a digital footprint at all. There weren't even listings of businesses they owned, and she lacked the skill to know where to dig.

Rosa couldn't find anything in a public forum, but she knew they had a monstrous library up in the mansion. Surely, there was an old family Bible or something that would speak of the couple's fate. Getting dressed, she cut across the grounds, purposely avoided the kitchen door, and went around the back of the house to use the underground parking lot entrance.

Fluorescent sensor lights flickered on as she strode past the beautiful shining cars, being extra careful not to brush up against any of them accidentally.

The visitors' parking bay was damp unlike everywhere else, the chemical smell of strong bleach almost overpowering her as she walked over the concrete space. She hummed the Bond theme music as she stepped into the elevator, thinking that she was quite clever to sneak past everyone. Her feelings of triumph were dashed as the doors opened widely to reveal Balthasar flicking through the calendar on his phone. He looked up with a surprised smile.

Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Don't think about warm midnight conversation and the dream you had after. You are meant to be sneaking about the garage. Everything is fine .

"Morning!" she said, far too brightly.

"Miss Wylt," he replied calmly as he put his phone into his breast pocket, "should I even ask what you are up to?"

"Probably best if you didn't," Rosa said, stepping past him, his aftershave far too pleasant. He smiled in a way that said quite plainly he knew she was up to something she shouldn't be.

She whispered conspiratorially, "I'm avoiding Cecily, but don't tell anyone."

"I see. Then let me suggest that you avoid the second-floor dining room on your...adventures." The doors shut as she started to thank him. She stared at the metal doors blankly for a few moments before giving herself a shake. Balthasar equals off limits, she prompted herself before focusing back on the task at hand.

Rosa hurried up the main staircase and headed for the far end of the second floor. She could hear Eli talking on the phone in his office as she silently padded down the rich Persian carpet runners to a set of double doors. They opened easily, and after looking about to make sure nobody was watching, she ducked inside.

She had loved the library when she was a child. The entire western wall, as well as a good part of the roof, was made of tall glass panels to let in natural light. The library had rows of tall bookshelves made of carved walnut and oak wood, wrought iron staircases and ladders on rails to reach the higher shelves. Rosa had foolishly thought that all libraries in the world looked like the one at Gwaed Lyn, so it had been an awful shock to find the cold steel, florescent-lit atrocities with their hard plastic chairs and laminated desks in the boarding schools she had been forced to attend.

Being back in the library with its deep leather antique chairs and warm lamps made her feel more at home than the cottage did. The cottage had changed. The warmth that her parents had put into it to make it a home was gone. The library was exactly the way her child mind remembered it. Rosa walked up the twisted metal staircase to the higher levels and let herself get reacquainted.

Portraits of writers and philosophers hung on the walls between the shelves. She had forgotten about the paintings depicting scenes from ancient myths and legends. Theseus and the Minotaur, Odin fighting Fenrir, and King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone.

Her favorite portrait when she was a girl had been of the fierce Celtic Queen Boudicca who had fought against the Romans. She was painted in heavy oils on a black canvas, looking more ferocious than any general with her blue woad-stained arms, wild red hair, and triumphant grin. She held a spear in one hand, a pile of heads at her feet. Being an impressionable only child, Rosa had wanted to grow up being Boudicca more than anything in the world. On her walks with Harold, she had swiped at reeds and fat toadstools with her stick sword, smiting her invisible enemies.

"Lookin' good, B," Rosa said out loud, feeling more connected to that little girl than she had in years.

Rosa kept roaming, small remembrances flooding back to her. She walked through a small iron gate to where the old leather books were kept. Keen, bright memories of beautiful pictures on old pages flickered through her mind. Rosa studied the shelves, looking for the intricate crisscrossing leather binding. It had been a book that she had loved, filled with brightly gilded illustrations.

"There you are!" she exclaimed happily and took the thick book down. She didn't remember it being so old. The cover was made of green, blue, and brown leather, stamped with interlocking Celtic knot designs. Sitting on the polished wooden floor, she placed the heavy book down in front of her. She opened the cover gently and started flicking through it, running her fingers over the thick paper pages.

What she hadn't remembered was that it was a book of Celtic fairy tales. The illustrations had been crafted in the same style as the illuminated manuscripts of medieval Bibles. When she was eight, she had found the pictures beautiful with the characters' long, expressive faces. As an adult, they were still gorgeous, but the illustrations themselves were disturbing. One picture was of a woman, a queen, on a bed of red and purple coverings. Even in the style of the time, the figure was openly suggestive, sensual, and alluring.

There were scenes of violence, of three characters tied up and being beaten and another of a dead king. The script of the book was written in a late Middle English, the romantic language of Chaucer. Rosa had loved studying medieval languages and tales of chivalry at university. She fumbled over the first few passages, her mind trying to rearrange itself to the complex rhythms.

"The three brothers, Bleddyn, Trahaearn and Gwaen...were not grown. Their kingdom fell to the...Seelie armies," she read aloud slowly. "Cool!"

A small voice in her mind prompted her that she should go and check in with Cecily. She'd forgotten all about family Bibles and finding Jane; instead, her mind was filling up with violent, epic sagas she had never read about in the Mabinogion or anywhere else.

I'm sure Eli won't mind you borrowing one book , she convinced herself as she carefully tucked the book under her arm. Eli was the one that wanted her to come back and to see Gwaed Lyn as a home. Well, in a home you were supposed to share .

Rosa was walking down the steps when Balthasar entered the library. She tried desperately not to think of him in his dressing gown and the easy conversation that she had spent most of the night wondering about. Or the sex dream. Especially the sex dream.

"Here she is again," Balthasar said, watching her make her way down the iron steps. "You sneaked through the back door so you could come and hide in the library?"

"I wouldn't say I was sneaking or hiding as such," Rosa replied as she joined him.

He looked at the book in her hand, "Are you stealing a book?"

"I'm borrowing a book. You can hardly miss one in all of this," Rosa defended. "Besides, I was going to ask Eli first." Liar, liar .

"Ask me what, Rosa?" Eli inquired as he entered the room, his green eyes shining.

"Only if I could borrow a book. I didn't think it would be a big deal, but Balthasar seems to think I'm some master thief."

"I wouldn't say a master," came his dry reply.

"Balthasar, for pity's sake, Rosa can take whatever book she likes, providing she returns it," Eli said, smiling fondly at her. "What are you choosing?"

Rosa showed him, "Just some old fairy tales."

"Very old ones. Let me know how you like them."

"It's an interesting choice. Can you even read Middle English?" Balthasar asked.

"Can't you?" she replied sweetly. "I will give you a full review once I'm done, Eli."

"I would like that, Rosa." Eli was still smiling, but she knew she was being dismissed. She returned his smile before turning to his son. "Balthasar." He frowned at her as she turned on her heel and strode confidently from the room.

"Are you sure that was wise?" Balthasar asked once Rosa was gone. She was the most unpredictable girl he had met in a long time. He liked her despite the lectures he had given himself the night before.

"What harm can it do? Relax, Bal," Eli said before adding, "She always loved the pictures, even the violent ones that she didn't understand. She reminds me a lot of another Wylt I knew long ago. He had the same mischievous look in his eyes."

"What if she recognizes you?"

"I hardly look like the young Unseelie prince anymore. Don't concern yourself with Rosa. She's bound to know the truth one day. All the Wylts do. Let her enjoy the illusion of normality for a little while longer."

"I'm starting to regret not being here when she was young. The way you talk about her... I can't imagine you letting a little girl terrorize you so much."

"She was an odd, wild thing with old eyes. I suppose she still is. You seem to be warming to her, though if you keep teasing her, I'm sure you'll live to regret it."

"She certainly is different. I thought that growing up in institutions would have made her sullen, but she is quite friendly," Balthasar said before adding, "and I've hardly teased her at all."

"If you say so, son. The Wylts have remarkable abilities when it comes to adaptation."

"I wonder how well she will adapt once she learns the truth." Or how friendly she will stay .

"Rosa will accept us. She did when she was a girl, so there is no reason why she wouldn't now."

Rosa thought about the book to pass the time as she cleaned rooms, made up spare beds, and wiped dusty bathrooms. She let the three J's gossip away, garnering how they had all been on the receiving end of Pearl's sharp tongue, Julie who had enjoyed Saul's tongue the night before, and how all three wondered what Balthasar's tongue would be like. By noon, Rosa was so exhausted by their giggling chatter that she used the Wylt keys to open the door to the northwestern tower and let herself out onto the roof access. It was a cold day, but it had stopped raining long enough to let bright sunshine through. She leaned against the battlements and looked out over the grounds, the wind battering away all the crowding voices in her mind.

On the other side of the stretch of forest, the sun reflected bright diamonds on the lake's choppy surface. Maybe staying for a while won't be so bad after all. Where else would you get a view like this?

She turned to the east and saw someone standing on the roof of the tower. She couldn't make out a clear face, but it was a woman with long, loose black hair. She was wearing a white dress that looked far too thin for the weather. Rosa waved at her, two people sharing the same hiding spot, but the woman didn't return the greeting.

"Great...another friendly sort," Rosa said. When she looked at her again, the woman was gone. A thrill of fear went through her before she laughed loudly at herself. You are far too old to believe in ghosts, Rosamund Wylt .

Nevertheless, she lingered only a moment more before heading back inside.

That night, as the storm and wind raged outside, Rosa made a pot of tea and sat down at the kitchen table. She had a notebook and pen with her, both a little floury and stained from writing recipe ideas. Digging through her suitcases, she had found an old Middle English dictionary from university and her copy of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight that had helpful appendixes in the back. She needed to give Balthasar and Jane's letters a break, the younger Balthasar's presence making her feel uncomfortable for reasons she couldn't exactly identify. Couldn't be that he's smoking hot with all that Lord of the Manor haughtiness going on. Nope, nothing to do with it .

Cradling a cup of hot tea, Rosa blocked all thoughts of both Balthasar Vanes and opened her borrowed book, letting herself get lost in the story.

During the beginning of the world, the Great Creator God of the Aos Si fashioned night with a moon and stars to brighten the dark sky, forming the Guardians of the Night and naming them the Unseelie. All things must balance, so Day was created, and the sun was born with a brightness and warmth to illuminate and nourish all of the Aos Si, and the Guardians of the Light were called Seelie. In Day, the Creator also crafted shade, dark places that could hold the balance.

It was foretold the world would move in four great seasons and that the rule of these seasons would fall to the Guardians accordingly. Summer would be ruled by the warm light of the Seelie, and the dark, cold winter would be ruled by the Unseelie. During the time of the autumn, the Seelie would slowly relinquish its power to the rule of the Unseelie, just as with the coming of the spring, the Unseelie would relinquish its power back to the Seelie.

This was the Great Accord, and during the First Cycle of Summer, the Seelie thrived, becoming stronger, more beautiful and their magic powerful. But with power also came corruption, and as the summer began to wane, the Seelie Court started to despair at the weakening of their magic. It was not long before their voices were shouting their distrust and discontentment at having to relinquish their rule to their Unseelie brethren.

Autumn began to move through the lands, the green that the Seelie cherished so dearly began to turn to gold, red, and brown. Furious that the Unseelie were taking their power, a great war ensued, breaking the land and soaking it in the blood of both sides of the Fae.

In the final days of the Last Battle, with both sides nearing extinction, the Seelie queen created a spell that would have the power to hold the remaining power in her court forever. She convinced her king to hold a court with the Unseelie with the promise of a peaceful discussion to try and come to a new accord. Then, as the two kings sat down together, the Queen of the Seelie took her husband's sword and slew them.

The queen knew that all things must be balanced and mixing the power of the two kings, she cast her curse over all of the Aos Si. The seasons within the lands would move no longer, sealing it into an eternal autumn, making it so she would never have to relinquish her power to the Unseelie kind.

The Unseelie king was survived by three sons—Bleddyn the eldest and the heir to the title of Seren Du, the Black Star, Trahaearn, and Gwaen. Taken by the Seelie, they were made hostage slaves to the Autumn Queen. Unlike the other Unseelie kindred, the princes were fair to look upon, and as they grew, their pale white skin, soft black hair, and bright eyes became admired by the court and the Autumn Queen.

To all, the three seemed compliant and content in their situation. They never flinched at the sneers and insults dealt to them by their enemies or fought back when they were abused by the queen's consort, Ryn Eurion.

Deep in their hearts, the princes were dreaming of escape and none more so than the eldest, Bleddyn Seren Du. In their chambers at night, he would tell his young brothers stories of their kingdom and the great land through the portals, a land where there was no war against them, where the Autumn Queen had no power or influence. Bleddyn practiced his father's magic in secret, teaching his younger brothers the powers of their kind, how best to fight the Seelie, and all the while, he planned their escape.

Knowing that the only way to protect his brothers was to be above suspicion, Bleddyn set about earning the favor of the Autumn Queen. There had long been whispers around the court that the queen's appetites had become insatiable and distorted in her proclivities since the death of the king, many fearing to become the object of her desire. Bleddyn began to pay the queen attention until at a ball, Ryn had men hold him down, and they beat him. Through the heavy blows, Bleddyn continued to watch the queen, his eyes burning with an unspoken promise.

"Why do you not look away though you are beaten for it, insolent slave?" she asked on the fourth day.

"My glorious queen, how could my eyes look at anything else?" he replied. That night, instead of being dragged back to a cell, Bleddyn was taken to the queen's chambers. Dismissing her attendants, the Autumn Queen took the Unseelie prince into her milk baths and gently tended to his wounds. He watched her silently with the same intensity that he wore during his beatings.

"You do not fear me," she said. "You do not fear pain or retribution."

"No, my lady," he answered as she ladled the healing milk over his battered body.

Her white fingers dug into the bruises on his arms. His breath sucked in sharply, but he didn't flinch or pull away from her. Her red lips curled.

"Do you find the pain exciting, Unseelie?" she asked lifting herself up so that he could see the beads of milk dripping down the sloping curves of her breasts. Bleddyn grabbed the queen by her long, white neck, pinning her to the stone wall of the bath.

"Do you?" he demanded.

The Autumn Queen's eyes flashed in anger, and she struck him, her nails opening his pale skin. He did not move as the crimson drops of blood fell to mar the white milk. Bleddyn watched her, his body towering over hers and the anger in her eyes melted under the heat of her own desire. She kissed him, biting his lips in her eagerness. Bleddyn allowed it only a few moments until he held her back firmly.

"No."

The Queen was shocked, her fury growing inside of her. "I am your queen. I own the very breath in your body."

"But you do not own my heart or soul," Bleddyn whispered in her ear. "And if you take me unwillingly, you will never know the secret to the greatest pleasure that only the Unseelie can give you. It is dark magic, and it has never been given to a Seelie before. It is not something you can take like you took our lands. It must be given."

Bleddyn walked from the pool, leaving the queen wondering what the secret magic could be, for the only thing she loved was power.

From that night the Autumn Queen forbade any of the Court from touching the Unseelie princes. They no longer had to wear the chains and slave collars around their necks and hands in the ballrooms. Bleddyn acted no differently from this special allowance only to bow to her in silent thanks on behalf of his brothers.

This act sparked malcontent in many subjects for the Unseelie princes were beautiful, unusual creatures that they had enjoyed using for whatever pleasure they saw fit. All were afraid of the older prince, but the queen's edict had robbed them of their treasured entertainment.

As he knew she would, the queen summoned Bleddyn two nights later. She was wearing a fine gossamer shift that accentuated, rather than hid the nakedness underneath it. Her attendants were dismissed, leaving her alone with him once more. "Come sit beside me," the queen commanded.

"I would rather stand, my queen," Bleddyn answered politely.

The queen's eyes flared. "You would deny me this one small thing after the great favor I have shown you?"

"I am grateful, my queen, but the chambers that Lord Ryn has locked us in are very cramped. We enjoy being able to stand properly when we can."

The queen's red brows furrowed as she got to her feet and walked slowly to him. She snapped her fingers, and his threadbare shirt melted away. Bleddyn did not move as she scraped her long nails down his back.

"Why do you resist me so much, dark one? Why do you hold yourself back from the pleasure I offer you?"

"I mean no disrespect, but it is my awe of you the reason I must control myself. The Unseelie lovemaking is far more passionate than the Seelie, and I would not wish to harm the queen for fear her wrath would turn to my brothers. It is a far better thing to resist what you offer."

"I will not harm your brothers if you lie with me," she said as she put her hand in his long, black hair, pulling it hard as she kissed him.

His hands gripped her hips roughly, lifting her up. He carried her over to her bed of red silks, pushing her down onto it. Gripping the front of her shift, hetore it in half. He bit her breast hard enough for her to cry out in sudden pain. Bleddyn let her go and got back to his feet. A bruise was already blossoming like a purple autumn flower on her pale skin.

"I am sorry, my queen, but I cannot come to you as I am. You are the greatest queen in the entire world. I will not touch you with my soiled hands and body. It would be insulting to you."

"You insult me by denying me," the queen said, touching the bruise, "but this last request I will grant you."

The Unseelie princes were moved that very night to one of the finest chambers in her court. There they had servants bring them hot water for baths and new clothes of the finest silks and velvets. An elaborate meal was brought to them, and the princes ate well before hiding their knives in the folds of their clothes, listening as Bleddyn laid out his plans to them.

The next night, they went to the ball, the younger princes given free rights to roam where they pleased. Bleddyn danced with the Autumn Queen and made her laugh with his observances of the dour-faced courtiers. When she retired, she took Bleddyn's hand openly in front of her advisors and led him to her chambers.

"I have given what you asked for, Unseelie. Now give yourself to me as promised," the Autumn Queen demanded.

Bleddyn took the knife he had stolen from the banquet dinner and held it against her chest. The queen gasped as he ran the flat side of the cool blade down her skin.

"You mean to kill me, Unseelie?" the queen asked, laughter bubbling out of her.

With a steady hand, he slid the blade down the front of her jeweled bodice and cut the ties one by one until her body spilled free from it. She tried to move, but he held the blade to her throat, stilling her as he kissed her breast through her thin undergarment. Two quick flicks of his hand and the shoulders of her gown tore away. A thin line of blood welled up where the blade had caught her, and he quickly put his mouth over it, drinking a drop of her blood before it healed. The queen kissed him, viciously.

"Tell me what the Unseelie magic is," she demanded breathlessly.

"Can you not feel the spell beginning to move through you?" Bleddyn asked as he ran the blade between her breasts, shredding the fabric and leaving a line of welling blood. Her back arched as he licked it, her eyes clouding, unseeing of the small cuts he was making in her. He cut the skirt of her dress to shreds, the queen trembling with fear and excitement to be in the hands of her armed enemy. Wherever she felt the cold touch of the blade was followed by the sensation of his tongue until she was dizzy with need.

Bleddyn felt strength returning to his limbs, the magic in the blood filling him. With every cut, he grew stronger, and the queen, caught up in her own desire, grew weaker.

Every moment he spent with her, his brothers were making their way to their agreed meeting place. Taking strips of her ruined dress, he tied her arms above her head, her legs to the posts of her bed.

"You mean to make a prisoner of me, Unseelie? I could burn these bonds with a thought," she mocked.

"I would never want to imprison you, my queen. My power is no match for yours," he said as he ran his long body along hers, making her shudder with anticipation. He gripped her hair in his hands, lifting her pale white neck up toward him.

"Do you want to know the secret magic of the Unseelie, my queen?" he whispered against her skin.

"Yes...yes, my prince, tell me," she whispered, her eyes gleaming.

"Then you shall have it." Bleddyn watched her face change in fear as his teeth lengthened. Before she could cry out, he bit hard into her exposed throat, sucking the scream from it.

In her blood, he saw all the wards, the guards, and the ways to escape their underground prison. He saw the spells she had cast, felt her magic in every drop. He saw memories and drew the one of the night of his father's death to him. He saw how Ryn Eurion had killed his mother and delivered the heart to the queen. He watched as she ate it, stealing all of his mother's magic into her.

He bit harder, his urge to kill more potent than anything he felt before, but he saw the magical ties she had within the palace itself. If she died, it would turn against them, and he and his brothers would never escape.

He drained her until all the youth shriveled out of her, and her true age was revealed. Red hair turned to white, her plump lips and body shriveling underneath him. A single drop of blood he left in her before he let the body go.

Upon the wall hung the sword of this dead father, and Bleddyn held out his hands, whispered a word, and Widows Fury flew from its bonds and into his hand. He heard it call out to him for Seelie blood, but he silenced it and placed a glamor spell upon it so none of his enemies could see it. He did not spare the queen a glance as he left her chambers.

"The queen asked not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening," he instructed her guards, and they shared a knowing smile.

Under the gaze of the Seelie courtiers and warriors, Bleddyn walked through the halls of the court, and he and his brothers escaped through the supply tunnels. Using the queen's magic, he passed through the wards until they ran out into the crystal night. They were so overwhelmed to see the sky and stars again that they stood in awe.

"Come, my brothers, our new world awaits," Bleddyn said, and they ran through forests to a doorway between the worlds. Not knowing where they were going or what lay before them, the three brothers took each other's hands and walked through the spaces of the world until they found the land of the creatures called Man.

They were free from the rule of the Autumn Queen, but she did not die as Bleddyn had hoped. She recovered her strength and sent warriors in between the worlds to hunt and kill the Unseelie that evaded her and the prince that tricked her.

She hunts them to this day in her relentless pursuit to try to reclaim what was stolen from her: her pride, her dignity, and her heart.

It was late when Rosa finished reading, her eyes burning and her throat dry. She touched the final page, an illustration of Prince Bleddyn holding a large black sword high, before shutting the book.

"Well, that's certainly a story I've never heard before," she whispered as she clutched it to her and carried it upstairs. She climbed into bed, the story twisting about inside of her, its roots hooking into her heart and soul and mind.

That night, she did not dream of the woman calling out to her, but of the Autumn Queen deep underground, surrounded by her vicious faerie warriors, her demented tinkling laughter haunting her.

Prince Bleddyn moved through her dreams, his eyes looking down at her, reminding her of someone as he took her in his arms and whispered, "He's dead, Rosa. I'm sorry, he's dead."