The Amaranth Enchantment Read online

  The rushing black shock that filled my ears drowned out the roar of the fire.

  I saw in my mind my parents’ last moments. My bruised knees buckled under me.

  Coxley raised me to my feet again, a cruel mockery of gentle manners.

  “I think your end should mirror theirs,” he said. “Don’t you?”

  He took my hand and overturned it gently. With the tip of his dagger, he drew a delicate curve across my wrist.

  I could barely feel it. Beads of blood rose from the wound, and in another heartbeat, spouted out.

  I watched the dark river splashing on the stones at my feet. My blood soiled Coxley’s brass buttons. A wrinkle of irritation crossed his lips. He wiped himself and his dagger with a kerchief, sheathed the blade, and remounted his horse.

  “It won’t be long,” he said. “You’ll go to sleep. I was softer than I needed to be.”

  My knees buckled once more, and I sank to the ground. Blazing rafters from the highest roofs caved in up themselves, sending jets of orange sparks, like prayers, into the night. Soon I would be with my parents.

  Coxley placed a shiny boot into his stirrup. A sudden sound rising above the fire’s howl made us both turn, just in time to see Dog barrel both horns into Coxley’s other leg, upending him.

  “Dog!” I called. “You’re alive!”

  He ran to me and dropped something hard and wet from his mouth into my sagging skirt. I reached for him, wanting to be sure he wasn’t a ghost. His nostrils flared at the puddle of blood on the ground. Then he charged Coxley once more.

  The first crash had knocked Coxley on his back, with one leg horribly twisted and stuck in the high stirrup. A mortal man would have broken his back, but Coxley, snorting with rage, was only inconvenienced.

  The sight of Dog bounding over the frozen ground filled me with new hope. If he could survive, perhaps I could. I raised my arm high and squeezed the wound tight with my other hand.

  Dog ran underneath the stallion’s belly, which spooked him, making him rear on his hind legs. Coxley dangled like a rag doll, his yellow hair dragging in the dirt. He shrieked curses at the horse and at Dog.

  Dog rammed the horse’s hind legs, and the stallion leaped forward, dragging Coxley across the drive.

  I looked down in my skirt. Dog had brought me Beryl’s stone.

  What could I do with it? I didn’t have Beryl’s power. Could I, at least, use it to send a message?

  My bleeding had slowed. I stared at the stone. Light, I demanded it. Light for dear life. For my dear life, even if it’s only dear to me.

  The stone blazed like a beacon.

  The stallion screamed. Coxley had freed himself and was beating the horse with his whip handle. Poor beast.

  With all the effort I could muster, I quieted my mind, thought about Beryl’s world, and entered the stone.

  I opened my eyes, but saw only as I might through a dark and dirty window. I saw people in the distance, not clearly enough to make them out. “Beryl,” I called, “Beryl, where are you? Come help me!”

  A figure ran toward me but was held away by the hazy barrier. “Tell Beryl that Lucinda needs her,” I called. “Please!”

  And the vision, or illusion, if that’s what it was, ended. Coxley snatched the stone from my lap.

  Chapter 33

  I abandoned all thought of my wrist. I backed away from Coxley. He held his dagger high and scanned the firelit lawns searching for Dog.

  Run, Doggy Goat, I called to him silently. Run away!

  But Dog brayed loudly, a battle cry, and galloped once more toward Coxley.

  Coxley flung his knife.

  And the heavens opened.

  Blinding white cascaded down in a circle around me and Coxley. Shooting stars began tumbling onto the ground around us.

  They weren’t stars. They were Beryl’s people.

  And Coxley recognized them.

  He held his stone—my stone, Beryl’s stone—high in the air and began shouting strange words. The stone shone green and red. Waves of nausea and pain washed over me, and I vomited on the ground, in the presence of angels. He was using the stone as a weapon to kill me faster.

  Dozen of bright people came. Strong arms reached around me and pulled me to safety, and I looked up into Beryl’s face. She wrapped her fingers around my wrist, and I felt my flesh knit back together.

  “It’s all right,” she told me.

  “What are you going to do?” I whispered.

  “Watch.”

  I was outside of the circle now. It tightened around Coxley like a noose, several people deep. Each wore a stone around their necks, and they glowed yellow, sending a golden halo of light up into the sky.

  Still Coxley held his angry red stone high and screamed and howled his strange words. With each one I felt crippling jabs of pain in my belly. Hurry, I prayed.

  The halo condensed itself around Coxley. A tourniquet of light.

  With an agonizing scream, Coxley let go of Beryl’s stone. It flew high in the air and landed in Beryl’s hand.

  The band of light became a cylinder around him. He thrashed and clawed against it. It solidified and took shape.

  It became a well of stones.

  Coxley’s cool blue eyes became torches of fury. He slashed with his fingernails at his black clothing until it fell off in shreds. The well held his legs and his trunk, but his chalk-white arms pounded against the sides.

  A woman in the circle spoke a question. I didn’t know the words, but it became clear from how they all looked around at each other that she had asked for a volunteer.

  No one spoke.

  Coxley laughed.

  I remembered what Beryl had said. “It takes another to go with them, to force them down the well, making sure their banishment succeeds.” A horrible, sick feeling came over me. Why would any of these majestic people do such a thing?

  Why should they?

  Beryl stepped forward. “I brought the stone here,” she cried. “I’m the reason Lucinda is in danger. I’ll go.” No!

  Murmurs ran through the circle. I recognized her family members, protesting.

  Coxley flexed his arms and laughed.

  Beryl fell to her knees and pleaded with them. “For Lucinda’s sake, I beg you, let me go.”

  No, no, no. Oh, Beryl, go home. Don’t sacrifice yourself for me after waiting so long, after seeing their loving faces. There must be some other way.

  “This burden is mine,” Beryl insisted. “Send me now.”

  Her parents and sisters steeled their devastated faces. Beryl approached Coxley and locked her arms around him, still clutching her stone. His muscles quivered with effort as he pushed against her.

  “Quickly!” she gasped.

  “No!” I cried.

  All the stones flashed gold and orange, like the fire behind them. Without any pause, Beryl vaulted the wall of the narrow well, still gripping her writhing prisoner. They disappeared.

  Crying aloud in anguish, Beryl’s family and all the rest vanished like popping soap bubbles.

  It was over.

  My body shuddered. It was over. And Beryl was gone. My eyes flooded with tears.

  So I almost didn’t notice when a hand appeared over the lip of the well. A broad, long-fingered white hand, followed by another.

  I was paralyzed. I could only watch as Coxley pulled his head up and leered at me. No more was he the precise, urbane Lord Minister of Justice. Now he was truly diabolical. Such malice, such triumph in his eyes, and now all my help was gone.

  A clatter of hoofbeats rang out from the drive, and a rider galloped into view through the clouds of smoke. It was Gregor. He reigned in his horse, surveying the wreckage. “Lucinda!”

  Coxley had both arms over the edge and was hoisting his body up with difficulty. Beryl, I saw, still clung to his side, her arms around his chest.

  I ran to the well. Coxley snarled and hissed at Beryl.

  Then, from nowhere, a small brown billy goat sprang from h
is hind legs and butted Coxley hard on the side of his head.

  It made a marvelous cracking sound.

  Coxley fell with a scream, catching himself only by his fingertips.

  Dog, standing on two legs, trampled upon his hands. The wail of someone falling echoed up from far, far down into the well.

  Dog trotted over to me and hunkered down at my feet. “Meh-heh-heh!”

  Chapter 34

  Gregor slid off his saddle and ran to me.

  I blinked at him, swaying.

  He turned me by the shoulders so I faced the fire and used its light to inspect me. “You’re hurt!” He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped my face. Then he discovered the blood soaked into my dress. “We have to get you to a doctor,” he cried, and he picked me up like a sack of oats.

  “Put me down,” I said. I realized how harsh I sounded. “I was bleeding, but I’m not anymore.” That’s when I saw the red flower that dangled from his hand.

  Mine, from the ball. A thousand years ago.

  He set me down. “Are you all right?” He threw his coat around my shoulders.

  My dress was in tatters. I pulled the coat tight.

  His anxious eyes scanned my face, probably covered with blood and ashes. “What happened here?” he said. “Who did this to you?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t tell the tale. Not now.

  His eyes swept the wreckage. I followed his gaze to where Coxley had vanished.

  I saw only Dog standing on a patch of undisturbed gravel, nosing the ground.

  “Lucinda,” he said, “who did this? Where are they now?”

  What I’d have given to cling to his arm. I could barely stand. “It was the same person who tried to rob you last night,” I said. “He’s gone now, forever.”

  “Dead?”

  I shook my head. “Gone.” And so was Beryl. “Why are you here?” The words blurted out before I could stop them.

  Gregor looked deflated. “I wanted to speak with you.”

  My body felt heavy and stiff, each bruise making its presence known. “I’m sorry about coming to the ball,” I said. “It wasn’t my idea.” And that was only half a lie.

  He waved this away. “No matter.”

  Indeed. What did it matter now?

  I pulled his coat closer around me and watched the fire. One corner of the stone structure still stood as before, but most of the walls had collapsed.

  The flames burned low.

  “I’ve come to take you home,” Gregor said.

  “I am home.” I felt a bitter laugh rise in my dry throat. Gregor kicked at a smoking piece of charred wood. “Peter told me where you’d be.”

  It felt as though he spoke from miles away. Only a fragment of his voice could find me; only a fragment of my mind could hear.

  “So he didn’t escape the palace, I take it,” I said. I couldn’t worry about Peter. But perhaps some ladylike gratitude was called for. “It was kind of him to think of me.”

  “It wasn’t him, it was me,” Gregor said, indignant. “And no, he certainly didn’t ‘escape,’ as you put it. I asked him where you were. I drove out to find you, and when I saw the flames, I took one of the horses and rode on ahead.”

  Something told the numb part of my mind that this ought to impress me. “Oh?”

  Gregor seemed dissatisfied with my lack of feeling.

  I was so bone-weary, each word was torturous. “It’s all right, Gregor. It was kind of you to rescue me, but you can go back now. I’ll give you no more worry. I know that’s what you came to ask of me. I won’t come near you or the princess again.”

  Gregor was vexed now. “What does this have to do with the princess?” He swept his arm across what had been the Palisades. “You’re stunned by what’s happened. When the carriage comes, I’m taking you home.”

  His good heart would be gallant to the end, but I needed to end this. I couldn’t, after all I’d gone through, let my heart be broken again.

  I slipped off the coat and handed it back to him. “Prince Gregor,” I said, “there’s no place for me in your world. I won’t try to create one.”

  Firelight wavered over his face. His lips moved, as though he couldn’t choose his words.

  “You won’t?”

  I shook my head. Smoke filled my eyes. “We saw tonight what a disaster it is every time I try.”

  Gregor’s face contorted with some emotion that I could not read. My own emotions were more than I could manage as it was.

  The royal coach swept into view around the curve of the driveway and halted with a jingle of harnesses and livery. The driver jumped down and ran toward us, his face full of alarm. Gregor nodded to reassure him, and he led Gregor’s horse back to the team.

  Gregor turned to me, his face tight. “You need, at the least, a change of clothes, some rest, and food. I can avoid you completely once we’re there.”

  Rest. Food. Avoid you. How was it that I still had room for more pain?

  “Perhaps that would be best.”

  I let him escort me to the carriage. As we drove away I pressed my face to the glass and stared at the ruin of my hopes.

  Gregor jumped out when we arrived and handed me off to a housekeeper, instructing her to see to my needs. Then he bowed, turned on his heel, and strode off in the other direction.

  Mercifully, the good woman said little as she helped me out of my silk rags, washed me, and bundled me into a nightgown. She didn’t even allow her face to comment. Another servant kindled a fire while she led me to bed, and I accepted their ministrations without question. The blankets were heavy, the pillows deep, the darkness soft and protective. I went straightaway to sleep.

  Chapter 35

  Squealing hinges woke me. I sat up in bed in a panic.

  Morning sun streamed through ice-edged windows, illuminating a magnificent room bedecked with gold—gold curtains, tapestries, covers.

  I searched for the source of the noise. The door to the room hovered open, and poking inside like a snapping turtle’s was the priceless face of Princess Beatrix.

  “Oh good! You’re up.” She opened the door and pranced in with two of her ladies in tow.

  I yanked the covers up to my chin and rubbed a hand over my face. Had I washed it last night? I couldn’t remember.

  “We’re here to see about gowns,” she informed me, perching on the edge of my bed. “Marie, here, is probably about your size, or if not, then possibly Celeste.” She gestured to the two blushing girls, obviously sisters, who towered behind her. Marie was nearly six feet tall, and Celeste, definitely an inch or two over that.

  “Ah, um, that’s more than kind of you,” I said, inching backward on my buttocks.

  Princess Beatrix flopped forward until she was lying beside me, her face propped on her hands. “You certainly look different without that ridiculous mask,” she said. “Not a pox mark to be seen. Such vanity!”

  “Sorry,” I said lamely.

  She popped upright and snatched my covers off me. “Up with you, morning’s wasting. You’ve already missed breakfast.” She pulled me bodily from the bed.

  My feet froze on the flagstones. My knees wobbled, my muscles moaned.

  Princess Beatrix stood with both hands on her hips. “This won’t do,” she said, frowning. “Marie’s half a head taller than you. Both of you, run and fetch Louise.” The blushing girls were quick to oblige.

  I collapsed backward onto the bed.

  Beatrix located an armoire and wrestled it open, flicking through the clothing inside.

  “Ugh! What is this? Cobwebs and rags.” She paused to glance over at me.

  “Gregor’s told me what a special friend you are to him,” she said. “So I’m sure you and I will get on famously. Gregor’s such a dear soul.”

  I bit my tongue. So she’d come to flaunt her intimacy with Gregor. I could withstand it for one morning. I had no need to bare my feelings to her.

  Beatrix dropped a few wads of fabric on the bed beside me. “Tr
y these on. Bit stiff, don’t you think?”

  I poked at the petticoat she’d given me, confused. “I don’t think so, do you?”

  Her laugh trilled up to the ceiling. “I don’t mean that, I mean Gregor!”

  This was so unexpected, I had no clever response. “Stiff?”

  “As a log. What kind of husband will that make him, I wonder?” She waggled her eyebrows mischievously.

  So much for my self-control. My face grew hot.

  “Here’s Louise,” she said as the door opened. I was made to stand next to Louise, and after Beatrix declared that we could have been twins, and several runs back to Louise’s trunks were made, I was outfitted in a handsome green velvet dress. Her ladies attacked me with hairbrushes and hand creams and stockings until I was deemed presentable.

  “You really have no need for a mask,” Beatrix said generously.

  I curtsyed.

  “I must fly,” she said, shooing her ladies out the door. “So glad you’ll be here to help with the wedding, now that it’s been moved up to Christmas Eve.”

  Self-control. “It has?”

  “My prince could hardly wait another day,” she said. “Who can blame him” I said.

  I sat in my room, leafing through the pages of a book I found without seeing any of the words. Images of burning rubble scrolled endlessly before my eyes.

  Only the faintest scar remained on my wrist. I was glad it was there. A lifelong reminder.

  A servant knocked at my door to tell me luncheon was being served in the dining room, and I was invited to join the royal family. This horrifying notion banished any thoughts of food. I sat for another hour and listened to my stomach growl, wondering what would become of Beryl.

  The more I tried not to think of food, the more desperately hungry I became.

  At last I decided that the danger must be past, and I ventured out the door and down the corridor toward the stairs. From the savory smells, the dining room wasn’t hard to locate. I crossed the threshold into the opulent room and stopped in my tracks. Gregor sat alone at one end of a long table, fiddling with the handle of a teacup. At the sight of me, he stood, bowed, and left the room another way.