Taming the Thorny Rose novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Not Yet

Aldric tells her to kill him, but not yet; her wine is poisoned and he drinks the rest to prove it was meant for him.

The dagger stopped an inch above his skin.

His chest was bare and pale, with an old scar under the left collarbone.

I could feel it under my knuckles, a slow heartbeat that came only once every few seconds.

It was the heartbeat of something that should have been dead.

"You said go on," I said.

"I did."

"Why aren't you afraid?"

"I was afraid for three hundred years," said Aldric.

"I'm tired of it."

I didn't move.

I wanted to put the blade through him and walk out.

I wanted it so badly my wrist ached.

I also wanted to know why he was lying so still.

"If I kill you tonight," I said slowly, "the treaty breaks."

"Yes."

"Ashby Cross burns."

"Yes."

"So you knew I couldn't."

"I knew you wouldn't," he said.

"That is different, and I'd like you to know I can tell the difference."

I hated how steady his voice was.

"Do you know what's at the other side of that door?" he said.

"My uncle's men.

"Eight of them, on the stair.

"If I die in this room, Osric will say the Thorn murdered the king on their wedding night."

"That's what I did."

"That's what you tried.

"By our law, a queen who kills a king without the Rite is hanged in the courtyard at dawn."

My stomach turned.

"The Rite," I said.

"What Rite?"

"Another night," said Aldric.

"I'll tell you everything.

"Not tonight."

I lowered the dagger a few inches.

"Why not tonight?"

"Because you're holding a silver knife and you've known me one day."

He looked tired.

That was the thing I couldn't forgive.

He looked so tired and patient that I wanted to hit him.

"Kill me if you like," he said.

"But not yet.

"Not on the first night, and not in this room."

I climbed off him and threw the dagger at the bedpost.

It stuck there humming.

"I'm not sleeping in that bed with you," I said.

"I didn't ask you to."

He stood and went to the big chair by the fire.

He sat and stretched his long legs out.

"I sleep very little.

"I'll watch the door."

"Who watches you?"

"You do," he said.

"Don't look so surprised.

"I married the best hunter in the Northmarch.

"I assume you'll keep one eye open."

I did.

I lay on the bed in my gown with my boots on and my hand on the dagger's hilt.

Neither of us said anything for an hour.

Then, out of the dark, I said, "You didn't pick the bride."

"What makes you say that?"

"You looked surprised when I walked in at the signing.

"Not at the throw.

"At me."

He was quiet.

"I was surprised," he said finally, "by how young you were."

"Twenty-four isn't young."

"For me it is."

"You're four hundred and twelve," I said.

"Is that what the roll says?"

"Yes."

"Then the roll is correct."

I almost laughed.

I turned my face into the pillow so he wouldn't hear it.

I fell asleep with the dagger under my hand, and for the first time in nine weeks I slept all night.

When I woke the fire was low and grey light filtered in through the shutters.

Aldric was gone from the chair.

On the table by the bed a tray of food sat under a silver cover.

There was bread, cold meat, and a jug of red wine with two cups.

A note lay beside it in a slanting black hand.

I drink only at night.

Eat.

I'm not asking you to trust the food.

I'm asking you to be alive for the Rite.

I tore the note in half.

Then I ate the bread, because I was hungry and I was a hunter, and hunters eat.

Astrid came in with a brush for my hair and a face like thunder.

"Did you kill him?" she whispered.

"No."

"Did he touch you?"

"No."

She looked almost disappointed.

"Then he's better than most husbands."

That night there was a feast.

I sat beside the king at the high table with my back straight and my knife near my plate.

Servants poured wine.

Osric lifted his glass at me from three seats down.

A young vampire servant brought my cup, set it in front of me and stepped back.

I lifted it.

It smelled of cherries and cold stone.

Under that, so faint only a hunter could catch it, it smelled of silver.

I put it down.

Aldric's hand closed over mine on the stem.

"Don't," I said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't drink it.

"It's poisoned."

"I know," said Aldric.

He picked up my cup before I could stop him.

The whole table watched him.

He drank every drop.

His jaw tightened and a grey line ran up his neck.

His eyes never left Osric's face.

He set the cup down empty.

"A fine vintage," he said.

"Silver-water, I think.

"Meant for my wife, to be found in my bed in the morning."

Osric's smile did not move.

But the servant behind my chair let out a small, terrified breath and began to back away.

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