Page 3 of Caroline the Cruel
“Hello, girls,” Queen Cerise greeted. “Are you excited about tonight, seeing all the guests in their finery?”
Caroline narrowed her eyes, not ignorant to the fact that the queen had saidgirls,but addressed her inquiry only to her daughter.
“Oh, Mother, do you think they’ll love my dress?” Emmy made several twirls, and the cake dress took flight, turning around her in the air.
“No one will be lovelier,” Queen Cerise praised her daughter, eyes shining with the pride only a mother could possess.
“What about Caroline?” Emmy prodded, pressing her lips into a prim smile, and gestured for Caroline to spin. Caroline didn’t want to spin. She didn’t want any more attention than necessary.
“Go on,” the queen demanded, mimicking her daughter’s circling hand gesture.
Caroline smoothed the simple grey silk that hung limply on her boyish figure and turned in a quick circle. Emmy had developed womanly curves by the time she was fourteen. Caroline had no shape to speak of and was still sprouting toward the sky. Every comparison made between her and Emmy was like a dagger twisting a little deeper into her wounded ego.
“She looks nice, doesn’t she?” Emmy pushed. “Besides the hair, of course.”
“Caroline looks...” The queen hesitated, wrinkling her brow, searching the room for an escape. “Oh, there you are, dear,” she deflected as the king joined his family on the stage.
“What do you think of your thrones, my darlings?” he asked, motioning to the two custom made wooden chairs on either side of his and the queen’s.
Emmy sashayed over to hers, surveying it. The king’s artisans had carved elaborate blooming crimson roses and thorn-covered hunter vines which appeared to be sprouting from each plank of wood. Gold leaf topped the tip of every petal and thorn. Emmy plopped down, wiggling her butt to settle in the seat, and looked out to the empty room as if she were looking over an awaiting crowd of her subjects. “It’s perfect!” She clapped her hands together excitedly.
“Caroline?” King Thom asked, eyebrows raised.
Caroline savored the texture of the smooth wood as she ran her delicate fingers across it. Her throne wasn’t as ornate as her sister’s. It was taller and narrower, like her, and it would take her years to grow into. Delicate vines crawled up the two three-sided posts, which supported a back panel that was shaped like a diamond.
Other angular shaped geometric patterns were carved into the surface reminiscent of thorns, and a single rose, painted an iridescent black, was carved into the face of the backrest. Silver trimmed the edge of the petals and the linear grooves which ran down the arms and legs of the chair.
It was less elaborate than Emmy’s, and she might have thought less effort and cost had gone into making it, but her father had taken great care to instruct the craftsman of its every detail. A tear came to her eye and her heart didn’t feel like it could fill any further. Never had she received such a gift.
“You don’t like it?” He bent down eye level with his daughter, his heavy brow furrowed in concern, misinterpreting her reaction.
She shook her head. “No, Father, it’s perf—”
“Your Majesty, something’s not right.” A voice echoed across the empty room as Torac, the head commander of Roskide entered with six heavily armed guards at his heels.
Caroline had known the stout commander since she was a child. She couldn’t remember when she’d seen Torac so rattled.
“What is it, Torac?” King Thom’s ruddy skin turned sallow, causing a chill to run up Caroline’s spine.
“The guests seem to be…missing. At first, attendants couldn’t find them in their rooms, or the gardens. They should have been getting ready for the festivities, but their belongings are gone, too. We spotted a caravan leaving the city.” Torac flexed his hand over his short sword as he paced before his liege.
“And no one noticed?!” Queen Cerise demanded. She gathered her skirts in a white knuckled grip and turned toward her husband.
Swearing under his breath, King Thom rushed over to one of the lower, narrow windows in the Great Hall of Roskide. The castle was built into and atop a sagging mountain peak overlooking a wide bay and the harbor city to the south. To the north, rolling vineyards and farmland stretched to the river which separated the kingdoms.
The Dallimore family took advantage of the strategic hilltop location, carving caves and tunnels through the mountain under Roskide in a fashion that the deeper one ventured into its belly, the more lost they might become should they not know the way. The design had kept many Everstal royals safe over the years, and the king and queen had schooled the girls on its intricate, winding layout since they were children. In Roskide, hide and seek took on a whole other level of difficulty.
Caroline peeked over the ledge around her father’s shoulder to see the dust being kicked up at the gates by a fleet of horses and carriages, leaving the city at a pace which suggested they were fleeing. How they’d been able to get outside of the sphere of the king’s power without detection, she couldn’t conceive. It had been the use of the Gift, the ability of the ruling Dallimore to seize the will of another, which had stopped the war. By King Thom’s actions alone, they had fifteen years of peace and prosperity between the kingdoms. To Caroline, her father was only second to the Gods. All powerful, undefeatable. To see him in a panic like this—
King Thom spun, grabbing Caroline by the arm, his grip wrenching a whimper from her lips. “Run, hide!” he commanded as he released her, shoving her toward Emmy.
Stomach flip flopping, Caroline followed her older sister across the room, and behind the dais toward a favorite escape tunnel they frequented during their games. A booming groan stopped them short. Caroline glanced back to see a ruby-toned dagger protruding from deep in her father’s shoulder.
Rosenwood. Any other blade could wound a Dallimore, but with a weapon crafted from rosenwood, a wound would be fatal. Even if it didn’t hit anything vital.
A chilly hand wrapped around Caroline’s wrist, tugging. “Come on, Cara,” Emmy pleaded as she ducked through the opening.
“But what about Father?” Caroline whispered as she followed Emmy into the tunnel.
