White Roses a.b

chapter 16

Ashley was trembling by the time she retreated to her bedroom, dizzy with the King's visit. Mary Ann had started a fire some hours ago, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth that Ash couldn't enjoy. She sank into her vanity chair with a groan.

She was officially courting the King.

Or, rather, the King was courting her.

And soon all the kingdom would know about it.

A knock startled her, but it was only Mary Ann. She shut the door and fell against it. 'Ash!'

Ashley held up a hand before Mary Ann could say more. 'If you should dare to congratulate me, I will never speak to you again.'

Mary Ann hesitated, and Ash could see her thoughts rearranging inside her head. 'You're . . . unhappy?'

'Yes, I'm unhappy. Remember before when I said I didn't want to marry him, that I didn't want to be queen? I meant it!'

Mary Ann slumped, crestfallen.

'Oh, don't look like that. It is a great honor. I suppose.'

'Maybe the courtship will change your mind?'

'I'm hoping it will change his mind.' She rubbed her temple. 'I have no idea what I'll do if he proposes. When he proposes.'

'Oh, Ash . . .' Mary Ann crossed the room to wrap her in a sideways hug. 'It will be all right. You're not married yet. You can still say no.'

'Can I? And risk my mother's tyranny and disappointment for the rest of my life?'

'It's your life, not hers.'

Ashley sighed. 'I don't know how I've let it get this far already. I wanted to say no, but Mother and Father were right there, looking so eager, and the King looked so desperate, and I just . . . I didn't know what else to do. Now everything is more boggled up than before.'

'Yes, but nothing that can't still be made right.' Mary Ann soothed down her hair. 'Shall I bring up some tea to calm your nerves? Or – perhaps some of that bread pudding?'

Ash's heart lightened. 'Could you? Oh, but help me take down my hair first. I feel like I've had these pins in for a week.'

She turned so Mary Ann could begin pulling out the pins and her eyes alighted on the diamond-paned window. A single white rose rested on the outside sill.

She stifled a gasp.

Mary Ann was talking, but Ash didn't hear a word. Her hair cascaded, layer by layer, across her shoulders.

She averted her gaze from the flower, her heart beginning to pound. 'Do you think I'm being silly?' she asked. 'About the King?'

'We can't choose where our affections lie,' said Mary Ann. She set the hairpins on the vanity and began turning down the bed linens, careful to avoid the thorny rose branches that were still wrapped around the bedposts. Ash's mother had decided to leave it for a time, in hopes that it would keep any further dream-plants away. 'For what it's worth, though, I think the King is . . . a sweet man. And his affection for you is more than apparent.'

Ash watched Mary Ann work, though it was torture to keep her eyes away from the window. Already she was thinking she'd only imagined the rose, but she dared not look again for fear it would catch Mary Ann's attention too.

Which was peculiar, this instinct to keep it a secret. Never in her life had she hidden anything from Mary Ann. But the rose felt like a whispered message, a hushed glance across a crowded room. Something precious and not to be shared. Something that she didn't think practical Mary Ann would understand.