Rosaliy

Rosaliy gathered eggs and fumed. These two activities were less than complementary seeing as she had left the house without a basket. Even Speckle clucked her annoyance when Rosaliy shoved the fluffy hen aside to check for eggs. As if she needed one more thing telling her she was being a sullen child.

Rosaliy was being irrational. When she was alone and had time to think, she could recognize this objective fact. When her mother was nosing around, judgmentally trying to control her decisions, rationality was secondary to justified rage. Sure, her parents had connections in just about every underground society that existed, and Ana seemed to know more about Drake’s background than Rosaliy did. Still, Rosaliy was not some sort of naive girl in need of guidance.

She inhaled deeply and gingerly placed a warm brown egg in her skirts instead of crushing it in her gripped fingers. She needed to be calm and ready to endure one more awkward morning. She would not let this get to her. Kat was counting on her, and that was worth the drama.

“I’m sensing some tension,” said her father as he handed her a basket.

Her bad mood half dissolved, and she coughed out a laugh.

That morning, Rosaliy had decided to put the awkward dinner behind her and see off Emilia like nothing was wrong. Certainly, she could survive a few hours.

With that mindset, Rosaliy had tried to tackle the day for about three minutes before she was derailed. Ignoring the demanding silver message, Rosaliy had flipped open the offensive book to the pages filled with double lines of handwriting to see if those had changed. They were still incomprehensible. She wished she could have asked Alexander about them the night before. Maybe they were nothing, or maybe this was a secret language between him and Lillya. They were always inventing special words. Of course, she could not ask, because the book would not let her.

Frustrated, she had tossed the controlling volume in her bag and swallowed another draft of Athena’s magic masking potion. It was ridiculous to think anything was a protection from Daniella, but at least she was taking some sort of reasonable precaution. The idea comforted her, but she had already been on edge when she heard a soft tapping at her door.

When her mother opened the door without waiting for a reply, her blood felt a bit hotter already. Funny how Rosaliy could be so patient with a dozen little girls and turn into a snarling monster at the smallest slight from her mother.

The actual conversation after that was a hot-headed blur, but there had been some gentle attempts by Ana to reason with her daughter as if she was talking to a frightened donkey, something about having open conversation and listening and seeing things with a clear head and Rosaliy behaving so unlike herself, a mother needed to intervene. The main theme seemed to be “How much do you know about him?”

The answer to that question did not help her case, so Rosaliy shot back an “As much as I need to know.”

Even she had to admit that was a terrible answer, but she would only admit it in her head. This whole situation was ridiculous.

“Rose,” Ana had chided, “I can’t let you…”

“Can’t let me?” Rosaliy exploded. Emilia would be gone after breakfast—mere hours from now. She gritted her teeth. “Can’t you just trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, Rosaliy. It’s him I’m not so sure about.”

“But that’s exactly the same thing.” Rosaliy fought back the urge to raise her voice.

Things went downhill from there. Rosaliy was not entirely sure whether she had threatened to run off and elope with Drake or if she had just thought the mean thoughts in her head. Either way, she fled the house to her mother insisting “Rose, if you’d just listen—” in a tone Rosaliy did not appreciate.

Now safe in the chicken coop, she belatedly realized she had abandoned Drake to her mother and Emilia, which was not a terribly kind thing to do. However, since she was annoyed at Drake for having a mysteriously shady past in the first place, she was not sympathetic enough to intervene. Honestly, the last thing she needed right now was a lecture. She had to sneak into a guarded city to get to a guarded palace, and somehow out think a mastermind who had kidnapped magical children.

Her father did not press the issue. “You want the cow or frying the eggs?” he offered.

“I’ll take the cow,” she said quickly, trading him the basket for a battered metal bucket. Going inside was not a good plan.

Her father planted a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t be so hard on her,” he said. “Someday you’ll have to accept your baby with twin braids grew up into a woman who gets to make big decisions all on her own.”

“And you will laugh and laugh.” She grinned. “I know how this speech goes. Love you, Papa.”

“Love you, Rose,” he replied, tromping back to the house.

Milking the cow was familiar, and rhythmic, and soothing. The confusion really was her fault. Mama was just looking out for her. If she wanted to be treated like an adult, she would have to behave like one.

When Rosaliy came in with milk, the breakfast table was overflowing with fluffy eggs and ham and bell peppers that were Papa’s greatest joy in gardening. The smell was amazing. Of all the things that could remind Rosaliy of home in an instant, smell was the most powerful. The house always smelled like delicious food mixed with a crackling fire. She poured tins of milk and took her place at the table.

To her relief, Drake was present and unscathed. Ana had not tied him up or tortured him for information. Yet.

Nobody had slept as well as Emilia, who was happy to dominate the conversation with happy chatter about her to-the-minute itinerary of business to conduct and people to visit. “I’m going to stop by armory row on the way in—I think Mel and Flyda still have a forge there. And Sussy.” Her eyes lit up with the memory of all the people she had not seen in moons. “They’ll be so excited to hear the news,” she effused, squeezing Rosaliy’s hand. “Oh, they would love to meet you, Drake.”

Rosaliy’s mind spun. News? This was the opposite of what she needed. The more people who knew she was near Kianne, the more chance Daniella would take notice and disappear.

“Emilia,” she began, “you can’t tell—”

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Drake interrupted her. “I’m afraid you’ll have to tell everyone we’re already gone.” His sad, sympathetic face was very convincing. “We’re heading straight back to Crystal Palace today.”

“Oh, but you’ve hardly had time for a visit,” Emilia argued unhappily.

It took Rosaliy a second to realize what he was doing. If Emilia was under orders not to talk about Rosaliy’s visit, everyone in Kianne would know by this evening. But if Emilia told everyone they had already left, Daniella would relax. Drake was good at this deception game.

Unfortunately, Ana bought the lie as much as Emilia. She did not object, but she took in the new information silently, watchfully. A touch of color drained from her face. Rosaliy hated to guess what kind of plan might be brewing in her mother’s mind.

“Emilia, it’s been lovely to see you,” Ana said, with the excessive cheerfulness of someone overcompensating for other emotions. “You’d best get moving if you want to get all your business in town finished by the end of the day.”

It was unlike Ana to hurry away a guest, but Emilia agreed the sun was against her, and she bustled her way out the door. Rosaliy and Papa saw the friendly woman off—attaching her horses to the cart and listening to last minute stories. Rosaliy breathed a sigh of relief as Emilia’s cart disappeared into the forest. She felt lighter, ready to clear up this miscommunication.

She linked her arm with her father. “So we need to sneak into Kianne.”

“Is that all?” he teased.

“No, but I’ll explain inside,” she promised, stepping back into the house.

Her mother had Drake clearing the table.

“Drake,” called her mother, still using that too-cheerful tone, “could you bring the gravy and the biscuits into the kitchen?”

Rosaliy was too far away to do any good. If Ana was a snake and Drake was some sort of burrowing rodent, Drake would have run the other way. Instead, he complied, balancing a heavy bowl in each hand. Her bustling mother sped by him, upending the bowl of gravy. He caught the bowl before it hit the ground, but his shirt paid the price.

Rosaliy and Darrow rushed to rescue the bowls, but rescue came too late for Drake. He was was covered in hot, slimy ooze.

“I am so clumsy,” Ana fake apologized. “Quick, give me that shirt to rinse and dry.”

Drake hesitated, but this was an order, not a request or an offer. Besides, he was covered in uncomfortably warm brown sauce, and Ana looked dangerously like she might rip the shirt off if he did not comply immediately. The second he handed the shirt over, Ana grabbed his arm.

“Ah ha!” she exclaimed. “You are part of a Baysellian street gang. Which one?”

“How do you—?” he spluttered.

“Out with it,” she demanded.

Drake looked miserable. Plus half naked. On his forearm was a mark Rosaliy could not quite see from this angle. Rosaliy wanted to laugh, yell, and comfort poor Drake all at once.

“Mama,” chided Rosaliy. “First of all, Drake and I are not running away together or secretly betrothed or dating or special anythings, but he is a friend who’s given me no reason to doubt him, so you can be nicer. At least let him go.”

Ana narrowed her eyes and released Drake’s arm. He clapped a hand over the mark almost instinctively. All Rosaliy could see was black ink etched into his forearm. Ana glared from Drake to Rosaliy and back again. “What’s going on then?”

“If you go rinse out your conspiratorial gravy,” ordered Rosaliy, “and let Drake put on a shirt, we can explain.”

By the time Drake’s shirt was drying above the fire and Darrow had located one of Cade’s slightly-too-small shirts as a temporary replacement, tempers were cooler. Now that her part in the deception was out in the open, Rosaliy was mostly amused by the whole thing. Drake and Ana were less amused.

“I can’t believe you thought I brought home a boy I’d only known for a few days,” sniffed Rosaliy, planting herself on the ground by the fire.

Darrow carried over chairs for Drake and Ana, which they reluctantly sat in. Drake rubbed his arm absentmindedly, like it was burning.

“Well, mostly because you strongly implied…” her mother tried to defend herself.

“If we hadn’t,” Rosaliy interrupted, “Emilia would have gone off telling everyone she knows we were in Kianne looking around, and Daniella would have vanished without a trace.”

Ana took a deep breath. “Explain from the beginning, and maybe I’ll understand why this necessitates you traveling with a Baysellian criminal.”

Drake winced. This was the past he would rather not talk about.

“Somebody’s attacking Queen Kat’s family,” Rosaliy explained, deciding to refocus the conversation. “Issabeth disappeared, then the children and Daniella. Even Athena is out of contact now.”

“Oh, those poor dears,” Ana gasped. “I’ve never trusted that scheming woman.”

“It gets worse,” Rosaliy assured her. “The Naxturaen ancestors are worried about the new baby, so they’ve taken Kat and Alexander up to stay safe.”

Ana sighed. “At least someone is safe.” She pointed a finger at Drake. “Explain him.”

“He’s helping me,” insisted Rosaliy. “He would have to explain the rest, but…” She tried to catch Drake’s eye, but he was sullenly memorizing the rug in front of the hearth. “If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to.”

“What do you want to know?” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I’m trying to help you out here,” she said.

One corner of his mouth lifted a little. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” Rosaliy coaxed, trying not to sound like she was attempting to get one of her students to admit she had spilled the horn-sap all over the floor. “It can’t be any worse than what we’re already thinking.”

He shifted back in his chair to cast his eyes in her direction.

“That bad?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows.

“So how are you involved?” Ana asked him.

“Wrong place, wrong time?” he muttered.

“Seems like you were in the right place at the right time,” Darrow pointed out, finally braving his way into the conversation. “Assuming finding the children requires criminal activity.”

Drake breathed out, his whole body crumpling a bit.

“All of you know something I don’t, and it’s driving me crazy,” said Rosaliy.

“Via Mar is under the control of the Escorpia faction,” Darrow explained. “At their height, they had their fingers into most of Bayselle.”

That sparked a memory. Rosaliy snapped her fingers, trying to dig it up. “I know this one…that scary lady who used to visit Crystal Palace—Mella?”

Another smile almost made its way onto Drake’s face. “Meena.”

“You know her?”

“As much as anyone did,” he admitted. “She was my grandmother. She basically raised me.”

“Oh,” backpedaled Rosaliy. “I’m sure she’s lovely.”

“No, you were right the first time,” he half chuckled.

This was progress. “I haven’t seen her since I was a kid. What happened to her?”

“She died a few years back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rosaliy said sympathetically.

“You and Bayselle both,” Drake admitted. “Her death and the collapse of the monarchy led to a big power vacuum in Bayselle, all sorts of criminal elements trying to prove themselves and take control of the region.”

“So Meena’s the reason you joined the Escorpias?” reasoned Ana.

Drake shot her half a glance. “No,” he disagreed. “She would have preferred I stay out of the family business, but when everyone you know are bandits and smugglers, life doesn’t always work out that way.”

Rosaliy had questions before, but now she had a million questions. Of course, having received an explanation that satisfied her, Ana was ready to move on.

“Do you have any contacts in Kianne?” Ana asked Drake, at ease with him now.

Not knowing Rosaliy’s parents, he was wary of this bizarre change in behavior. “I’m assuming by ‘contacts,’ you don’t mean ‘people I should keep away from at all costs,’ so no,” he countered grumpily.

“Hmm, well, I’m sure you have all sorts of skills that would be useful in this sort of scenario. Make sure you keep Rose safe,” Ana insisted.

“This is a whole new sort of horrible,” Rosaliy objected. “I’m not saying anybody couldn’t use some help in this situation, but certainly I’m resourceful enough to take care of myself.”

“Sure, Rose,” said Ana dismissively. “I’m sure you are. Oh!” Her face lit up. “It will be easy to sneak into the city under the guise of the festival. If you meet up with your brother inside, he can get you into the castle without anyone needing to throw your name around.”

“I had already made a plan to sneak into the city,” muttered Rosaliy. That was half true. She had almost made a plan.

But Ana was already busy throwing together robes and tassels to adorn the reins of the horses. “Too bad we can’t get the old group together,” she bemoaned to Darrow, “but the fewer people who know, the better, and they’re rusty anyway.”

They disappeared into the house, chatting strategy and unearthing props, leaving Drake and Rosaliy sitting by the fire.

“You ok?” Rosaliy asked for lack of something better to say. Drake looked like he lost a fight. Perhaps he had.

“I’m not sure I know what just happened,” Drake admitted quietly. “What is she doing?”

“Nothing she loves better than a covert plan,” Rosaliy sighed. “It’s just easier to play along."