Chapter 30

T he days passed in a whirlwind. After her father reconciled with King Reginald, wedding preparations began at an accelerated pace. Royal decrees went out announcing the upcoming nuptials to both Woodhaven and Myst inviting the nobility and the gentry. There was some debate on whether to invite the Fae royals, but Rosamund had decided she’d had enough faery magic in her life and so the matter was dropped.

Much to her dismay, she hadn’t seen much of Phillip in the preparation days. Only a few moments in passing. She missed him. She wanted to tell him everything and nothing and she wondered what he was doing while she was off having wedding gown fittings and brunches and meetings with the royal baker about the wedding cake.

Her mother kept her busy with other engagements with the ladies of the nobility including Queen Adele. Rosamund suspected it was her clever way of keeping her away from Phillip before the wedding.

Rosamund wasn’t interested in the wedding cake or what food would be served at the reception afterward. She was only interested in marrying Phillip.

Apparently, there was also a lively debate about where the newlyweds would live. Her father wanted to build a small cottage for them near Myst Hall. King Reginald wanted to commission a castle for them near Haven Castle. Neither agreed on the final destination.

When Rosamund heard of the great debate, she asked, “Why not both? We can split our time between kingdoms.”

The solution was agreed upon by both kings. Immediately, plans were drawn up for each home to begin the building process.

Initially, the wedding was to take place inside the royal chapel, but the list of attendees grew exponentially daily. There was simply not enough room inside the small Myst Hall chapel for the entire congregation who wanted to witness the marriage. So, it was decided they would move the ceremony outside to the royal gardens where there was an abundance of spring flowers in bloom allowing for the perfect backdrop.

An arbor was erected at the far end of the garden. The lattice was covered with greenery and flowers climbing up and over the top. Gossamer curtains were attached to each side, giving it a romantic look and feel. Her mother had the last say in the décor including flowers and approved the arbor with a wistful smile.

Everything was coming together. It was all perfection.

Guests began to arrive. Too many to house them all in the castle save for a few of the highest nobles which included King Reginald’s brother who was a duke. Rosamund caught bits and pieces of conversation about where to house them all and how many more chairs they would need for the outdoor affair. There was even talk about who would attend the post-wedding reception and limiting the guest list to only the highest ranking in both kingdoms.

Rosamund was not interested in any of that detail. She left it in her mother’s capable hands.

The night before the wedding, she was banished to her bedchamber, forbidden to see Phillip. Her mother felt it was bad luck for her to see him before the wedding. She spent her time roaming the area of her rooms, trying to find something to occupy her mind. She was too restless to sleep. Butterflies were in her stomach with the excitement of the coming day.

She paused a moment to stare at the gown on the dress form, her heart ramming hard in her throat. It was the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. It was a deep shade of green damask silk and the softest material she had ever touched with bell sleeves and a three-foot train. She had never seen so much beautiful material on one dress in her life. Across the neckline of the bodice was intricate beadwork that sparkled and must have taken hours for someone to sew in place.

Her mother’s eyes pooled with tears when she put it on for her final fitting. She said the gown brought out the color of her eyes.

She ran a hand down the length of the gown and sighed with appreciation. As she stood there staring at it, imagining wearing it, there was a knock on her door. Startled, she stared at it in shock for a long moment. The knock sounded again. She hurried to it, wondering who would be visiting her so late in the evening. Who would the guards allow to visit her?

When she cracked open the door, a man in a hooded cloak stood on the other side in the hallway. His hands were clasped behind his back as though he held something.

“Yes?” Suspicion lanced through her.

He pushed the hood up a bit to keep the guards on either side from seeing his face. But she saw who it was. A grin erupted.

“Can I help you?” she added, trying to sound official and not alert the guards.

Jeffrey brought his hand from behind his back. He held one single white rose. She gasped.

“For you, your highness, and a message,” he said. “A rose for a Rose. I was asked to make sure you received it.”

Her heart thundered as she took it, wondering where he had managed to find a single white rose. There were no rosebushes in the castle gardens nor anywhere near the castle. She made a note to ask him when they were alone.

“Do you know the significance of a white rose, your highness?” he asked. When she shook her head, he continued. “It means everlasting love and devotion.”

Hearing that made her knees go weak. She gripped the door jamb with her free hand as the blood whooshed out of her head. She glanced down at the single rose, the perfect petals, and her heart swelled.

“I will wear it tomorrow,” she said. She vowed to find a glass of water or something to put it in so it wouldn’t wilt before the morning.

“His highness the prince hoped you would.” He granted her a smile and a quick bow of his head. “Any return message for his highness?”

She thought about that for a moment until finally she nodded. “Yes. Tell him I look forward to our next adventure together.”

“As the lady commands.” He bowed once again and then hurried away.

Rosamund closed the door and leaned against it, smelling the sweet scent of the rose. As she held it, she noticed one thing in particular.

There were no thorns.

She laid awake for several hours until at some point, she drifted off into exhaustion. It seemed she had just closed her eyes when there was a commotion in her bedchamber and someone was shaking her awake.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the white rose in the glass of water by her bedside. She smiled as soon as she saw it.

One of the maids bustled in to rouse her and help her dress for the day. She made a note to come back and retrieve the rose before she left her bedchamber.

The gown was perfection. She stood before the long mirror and gaped, hardly recognizing herself. Her mother bustled in, her reflection behind Rosamund in the mirror. Her mother wore a gown in a deep blue with a full skirt and sleeves that came to a point on her hands. Her hair was pulled up in an elaborate style on her head with a small spray of flowers over one ear. Rosamund couldn’t help but think how radiant her mother looked.

The queen pressed her fingertips to her lips, a dreamy look of admiration on her face.

“I knew that color would be stunning on you,” she said.

“I don’t think stunning is the right word,” Queen Adele said, pausing behind her mother in a swish of skirts.

Queen Adele was dressed in a gown of violet. Like her mother, her hair was coiled around her head, curls piled high, and a sprig of flowers behind her ear. She gave her an appreciative smile as she looked at Rosamund.

“The gown is beautiful, Mother.” She turned to face her. “I love it.”

Queen Adele handed her the bouquet with a mixture of flowers. “We’re here to escort you to your father.”

Rosamund remembered the white flower beside her bed. “One moment, please.”

She hurried back into her chamber. Relief washed over her when she saw it still in the glass. She took it, placing it in the center of her bouquet to make sure Phillip would see it. Smiling, she returned to the waiting queens. Together, the three of them left behind her bedchamber and headed for the castle gardens.

Her father, as well as King Reginald, flanked the exit to the gardens. They were both dressed in their finest attire. Her father in indigo to match her mother. Reginald in violet to match his wife. A smile crossed her father’s face as she paused next to him.

“You look lovely,” he said.

Reginald said, “More than lovely. She’s a stunning beauty! My son is a lucky man.” He reached for her, kissed her on each cheek. His face was lit with delighted joy.

“Thank you,” Rosamund said.

Her father held his arm out to her. She wrapped her hand in the crook of his elbow trying to ignore the nerves erupting through her stomach. Queen Adele took her husband’s arm. Together, they started down the long aisle to the altar where the High Bishop and Phillip waited. Her mother gave them once last glance as she followed the other two. She and her father stepped up to the doorway. Rosamund got a first glance of the assemblage and stifled a gasp.

There were so many people filled in every chair from the front to the back. All rose to their feet and turned toward the door, waiting for her. Near the front of the altar, she was certain she spied the four Fae Royals. Two kings, two queens.

“Are you ready?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

“There are so many people,” she whispered. “The Fae royals came? I thought they weren’t invited.”

“I had a change of heart. Honestly, I was surprised they came.”

Her gut suddenly clenched. “What about Queen Rowena?”

“She was invited but declined,” he said.

Something about that seemed off to her, but she refrained from saying so. If Rowena didn’t know she was alive and well, she certainly did now. What would stop her from coming after her again? She tried to put that out of her mind as she stared at the large congregation. Her stomach clenched into a tighter knot.

“I knew there were going to be a lot but I didn’t expect…this.”

He patted her hand. “You only need to concern yourself with one person.” When she cut him a glance, he smiled and said, “Phillip.”

Yes, Phillip. She turned her gaze back to the aisle and saw him waiting for her at the end of the altar. He wore dark pants and shiny knee-high black boots. His violet waistcoat was the same color as his parent’s wedding clothing. His sword was strapped to his side. From the distance, she could see the gold buttons gleaming in the late morning sun. He even wore white gloves to complete the formal attire. Her heart skipped a beat.

She took a deep breath, expelled it. “I’m ready.”

They started down the aisle together. It was only as she took her first step, she realized there was lute and harp music. Had there been music decided in the planning? She didn’t recall. All eyes were on her as she and her father made their way toward the altar awash in morning sun.

But as they continued, a shadow passed over the gardens, momentarily blotting out the light. Her breath caught in her throat as she stole a glance upward. But there was nothing in the sky.

Then she heard it. The whump, whump of wings as the shadow once again passed over them. She glanced upward and saw the black leathery beast gliding through the sky, circling the gardens as though it were a predator stalking its prey.

She came to a jarring halt halfway down the aisle, her gaze fixed on the sky as she watched the great black dragon. When others caught sight of it, a ripple of gasps went through the crowd.

“What is it?” her father asked.

“Dragon,” she whispered.

“Nonsense. There are no dragons here,” he said.

“But there are.”

She never looked away as the dragon—Rowena—landed on the outer wall with a resounding boom. Rocks crumbled to the ground in her wake.

“What a lovely gathering you have, King Stephan,” the great beast said in a deep, raspy voice. “Such a glittering affair.”

Her serpentine eyes landed on Stephan as she lowered her head to look closer to the king. Rosamund moved to stand in front of her father, clutching her bouquet tight in one hand and wishing she had a weapon in the other. Phillip moved to stand by her side, pushing the king behind him. The two of them formed a human wall between the king and the dragon.

Most of the crowd had scattered back into the castle, leaving only a few remaining. The four Fae royals stood front and center. Both Fae kings, Atlas and Draco, wielded their swords. Elara and Titania flanked them. Titania’s hands glowed with a bright white light. King Reginald took his wife by the hand and rushed away from the front of the altar as quickly as possible. Adele cut them a glance, fear etched on her face.

“I see my fellow Fae have also joined the celebration. A pity I will have to roast them alive as well.”

The dragon’s throat burned white hot as she opened her snout and prepared to release a stream of fire. Titania jumped in front of them, holding her hands aloft and forming a glittering shield around them all.

This did nothing but infuriate the dragon more. She growled, low in her throat, making the wall in which she sat rumble. More loose rocks fell to the ground.

“Be gone, Rowena!” Titania said. “You are not wanted here.”

The dragon beast lifted straight and tall, her short stubby front leg clutching her heart as though she were offended.

“Not wanted?” Then she laughed and steam trickled from her snout. “My dear queen, I was invited as an honored guest.”

“Not you.” Stephan pushed around Rosamund and Phillip and stood his ground between them and the dragon. “The Queen of the Eternal Court, Rowena, was invited.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I am the Queen of the Eternal Court.”

She made to breathe another jet of fire toward her father. Rosamund cried out just as Phillip shoved the king out of the way, then spun and tackled her to the ground. The bouquet flew out of her hand as the blaze went over their heads, setting a few chairs on fire.

Titania was at their side in an instant, helping Rosmund to her feet. Phillip helped the king up. The other three Fae stood their ground, facing the dragon.

“What do you want?” Stephan asked.

“Want? Why…I want the princess dead . She should be dead!”

“I changed the curse,” Elara said, stepping forward.

Seeing that act of bravery made Rosamund’s gut clench into a tight knot. She wanted to cry out to her, tell her to step away from the beast, but Titania shook her head, urging her to keep quiet.

“Oh, of course, the Celestial Queen would be the one to foil all my plans. You will pay. ” She readied another burst of dragon fire.

Elara, though, stood her ground, raising her hands to the sky and chanting something in the Fae language under her breath. Rosamund couldn’t hear what it was. Suddenly, the sun was blotted out by a swath of clouds. What appeared to be stardust rained down from the sky in slashes of bright white and yellow light. It pounded Rowena’s dragon form. Each time a beam hit her scaly skin, it left a sizzle behind.

She cried out in pain and then took to the skies, flying up and away. Elara dropped her hands and turned to the couple, the king, and Titania. She rushed over and gripped Rosamund by the upper arms.

“You must leave this place at once,” she urged.

“And go where?” Rosamund asked. “There is no place she will not find me.”

“The girl is quite right,” Titania said, turning to her fellow queen. “We must find a way to stop her.”

Overhead, Rowena circled, made another pass, and headed for the castle once more.

“What can we do?” Phillip asked.

The dragon landed again, this time crushing the altar and destroying the once-beautiful arbor with a swish of her tail. Flowers flew in all directions.

“We must fight back.”

Even as Titania said it, Atlas and Draco went into action. But there was no stopping the dragon. One swipe of her massive tail and King Atlas went flying across the garden. He landed on the ground, skidding to a halt at the base of a tree. Draco tried to fight her next, but he met a similar fate.

Phillip unsheathed his sword. He turned to her. “Rose, get back inside the castle. Get to safety.”

“I can’t leave you—”

“GO.”

Titania grabbed her by the hand and led her back up the aisle the way she’d come. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Phillip and her father, who had also wielded his sword, charge toward Rowena. When the great dragon readied another fire burst, she skidded to a halt, trying desperately to pull her hand free from the Fae queen’s grasp. She held tight.

“No, princess!” the queen warned.

“My father!”

A burst of fire from the dragon. King Stephan saw it in time, though, and dove out of the way, dropped to the ground and rolled. But the action cost him. He lost his sword. It was on the ground too far for him to reach.

Phillip shouted something and suddenly Jeffrey and Charles were at his side, also armed with swords. Rosamund wasn’t sure where the brothers were sitting, but it was clear they were not going to let the prince fight the dragon alone.

Jeffrey and Charles ran between the back legs of the dragon, swinging their swords and slicing the back of her legs as they went. She lifted her head to the heavens and bellowed a loud roar. The great beast stumbled backward, crashing into the wall. It crumbled under her weight.

Rowena rolled to one side, her huge body crushing flowers and felling trees. She came back up on her back legs but that gave Phillip enough time to charge.

The Fae queen took Rosamund by the hand again and tugged her away from the fight. But as she did so, her father stumbled into sight. There was a large gash on the side of his head. Blood streamed down his face as he hobbled toward them.

“Papa!”

Rosamund jerked free of the queen and ran toward her father. He stumbled as he reached her. She caught him in her arms keeping him on his feet. He leaned into her, accepting her help.

“I’ll be fine,” he said when he saw her concerned expression.

“We have to get you to a healer,” she said, clutching him tight.

“I need to help Phillip.” He tried to return to the fight, but Rosamund held fast.

“No—”

“Listen, both of you,” the queen interrupted. “There is a weakness under her wing, near the joint.”

“A weakness?” Stephan asked, his brows pinched together.

“You mean like a soft spot? The only place her scales aren’t,” Rosamund said.

She nodded. “Stabbing her there should subdue her.”

“But it won’t kill her,” Rosamund said.

“I don’t think so. Once she is subdued, we will be able to capture her and return her to Faery,” Titania said.

“Phillip needs to know,” the princess said. She watched as he, Jeffrey, Charles and the two Fae kings fought the dragon. Rowena destroyed everything in her path.

“What’s stopping her from burning down the castle?” Stephan asked.

Titania’s cobalt gaze stared down at the dragon who stumbled back and forth, as though she were drunk.

“Her power is fading. She must not have enough fire power to do more damage.”

“Then I need to get a message to Phillip,” her father said.

He started to go, but Rosamund caught him by the arm. “No. You’re injured.” She paused, gazing down at the melee. “I’ll go.”

“Rosamund, I will not allow it—”

“She won’t expect me to be there,” she interrupted. She turned to the Fae queen. “Please protect my father.”

Her gaze flickered from her to Stephan and back again. Finally, she gave a nod. “As you wish, princess. But be warned. Her breath is like poison and can render you immobile.”

Nodding and without waiting for any more objections, Rosamund ran up the aisle.