Chapter Twenty Four- That of Poison and Roses

Rose.

Rose.

“Rose,” I hear Casimir’s voice behind me. After the burial ceremony, people had begun to disperse. Some went to visit other graves, while others headed back for the castle. I couldn’t stand being around my father’s grave, nor the other Aldridges.

Of course, Casimir didn’t seem to notice that I wanted to get away. His footsteps sped to catch up with me as I walk through the gardens. The bright colors of tulips, roses, daisies, and forget-me-nots had brought me a small sense of peace- that is, until Casimir had to come and ruin everything.

“What is it now, Aldridge?” I call over my shoulder.

“I’m here to be your savior, Thorne.”

“Yeah,” I scoff. “Like you’d be capable of saving anything but your own sorry ass.”

He runs forward, then turns around, so he’s facing me as he jogs backwards. “Call it what you’d like, but you and I both know you need a distraction right about now.”

“A distraction to end this conversation? Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Y’know, there’s only one reason you’d be trying to stay away from the guy helping you solve your father’s murder.”

“Is that so?” We’ve come to a stop near a patch of tulips, and I cross my arms. “Enlighten me, sir.”

He takes a step closer to me, a cocky smile playing across his lips. “I’m just irresistible. You don’t want to be around me because you can’t control yourself.”

My cheeks heat, and I stumble to find a comeback to his ridiculous accusation. “Damn, you’re cocky,” I eventually settle on. “And why exactly should anyone find you irresistible?”

“I don’t know, Rose. You tell me.”

“That’s a shame,” I say, my voice icy. “I can’t think of a single reason.”

“Damn,” he fakes being wounded, “That’s cold. But I’m a man of my word, so the reason I came to talk to you in the first place still stands. I seem to recall suggesting we visit the palace library to look for answers. You in?”

“I don’t get much of a choice, now do I?”

“Trust me, Aily,” his eyes shift out of focus, as if he’s remembering something far away. “There’s always a choice. And following my lead is rarely the right one. Yet, here we are.”

Unsure of how to answer, my gaze falls to the stone path. As I let my eyes trace the perfectly even squares of gray, Casimir clears his throat. “Well?”

“I’m in,” I sigh. “I suppose anything beats talking to you out here-including reading.”

“That’s the spirit,” he claps his hands together.

“I’ll meet you there.” My gaze shifts back to the flowers.

“How exactly were you planning on doing that? Last I checked you were pretty great at getting lost in the palace.”

“I-”

“Don’t worry, Rose. I’d be happy to be your escort… again.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” I roll my eyes.

“What, not even a thank you?”

I pick a flower from the next bush over, a bush full of pink roses. “Here,” I throw it at him, hoping one of the thorns sticks. “It even matches that stupid nickname you have for me.”

He catches it before tucking it into the pocket of his silver suit coat to look like a boutonniere. “Then it’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.”

With that, I follow his lead into Aldridge Palace. We turn down three identical hallways before reaching a grand foyer, which gave way to libraries on both sides. Walnut wood shelves line the walls, filled with thousands of books and scrolls. Small tealight candles illuminated every volume, while a chestnut-colored sofa and chairs sit around a scarlet rug. I was never one for reading, but this place was undeniably cozy.

“Well, Thorne? Where do you say we start?”

I think for a moment, trying to conjure the words from my father’s letter in my brain. “I say we start with the Great War. That’s what the letter said, right?”

“Right,” he confirms. “And it’s not like we can go back any further than that. Might as well start at the beginning.”

“Exactly.” It’s common knowledge that no matter where you live, there’s scarce records of before the Great War. It’s said that people just didn’t write things down back then, as there was no reason to. Oral traditions were passed on, and no one ever believed it would be important to create records. That is, until the Great War, where two lands supposedly had two entirely different recollections of the event.

Casimir leads me to the far end of the room, pulling a worn tome from the shelf. He sets it on the floor, where we both lean over it. Taped to the inside cover is a small sheet of new-looking parchment, scrawled with tiny symbols. I look up at Casimir, who also seems to have no clue what it means. Nonetheless, we flip to the first page, which is written in fine calligraphy.

“War is the quintessential manifestation of all conflict,” Casimir reads aloud, “It’s to no astonishment, then, that it has befallen our land as well. After King Theseus Aldridge of Eldoria was beguiled into taking the late Queen Halia Thorne of Briarwood into his luxurious abode, he was perfidiously deceived by this same woman. In the dead of night, she threatened his throat with a stolen blade. The Royal Guard sprung to the King’s aid, arresting Thorne for her heinous crimes. The next sunrise, it was discovered that the woman had fallen on her own sword. Mere days later, her husband, King Lewis Thorne of Briarwood led the charge-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Aside from the formal wording, this book merely repeats Casimir’s earlier sentiment: Halia Thorne was the guilty one.

And… maybe that was true.

But my father’s letter had said “our past is not what it seems,” making it sound as though neither land was entirely accurate.

Casimir fingers through the pages, which are filled with further explanations of battles, the tactics used, and the motivations as seen from Eldoria’s perspective. Pictures of fallen solders littered the book, and I forced myself to look away. The memory of the Burial Ceremony was still all too fresh in my mind.

“Let’s grab another book,” Casimir says carefully, noticing my hesitancy to look at the painted pages. We spend the next few hours like that, hunched on the floor of the library. We open a book, read a few pages, and grab a new one. The old fashioned wording makes me want to scream, or cry, or run away, or do just about anything else. Nonetheless, I’m still here.

“Alright Rose,” Casimir says with a sigh, throwing another large book down. “Shall we?”

“Remember when I said that doing this would be less aggravating than talking to you?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, I lied. This sucks.”

He laughs. “Not much of a reader, are you, Thorne?”

“And you are?”

“Yeah.” I raise an eyebrow, and he continues, “I mean, I don’t generally gravitate towards this kind of stuff, but I’d say I like reading in general.”

“Weird.” I crack open the worn olive green color, ruffling my thumb through the pages. “Tell me when to stop,” I tell Casimir, continuing to ruffle through the pages.

“Stop?”

I open to that page, then run my hand over the lines, “Tell me to stop again.”

He waits another moment, before saying, “Okay, stop.”

My finger halts, and I read the line aloud: “In times of war and destruction such as these, there’s hardly right or wrong- death is death. That’s deep, Aldridge.”

A curious look flits across his features, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The line on which you stop is your future. It’s a game I used to play with-” Miriam’s face flashes in my mind, and my voice falls slightly quieter, “It’s a game I used to play back home.”

Casimir clearly catches my slip-up, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes the book into his own hands. “Tell me when to stop, then.”

“Sto- wait, go back.”

“That’s not how it works, Thorne.”

“No, I’m serious,” I take the book back into my hands, “I saw something.” I flip between the pages near the front-to-middle of the book, where I’d sworn I’d seen something. I turn the book on it’s side, and I see the tiny bump between the pages. Opening the book there, a small envelope is nestled between the pages.

Casimir’s eyes widen, slightly impressed. My fingers work their way beneath the envelope’s careful seal before pulling out a weathered paper.

My mouth drops slightly agape as my eyes dance over the greeting: Dearest Queen Halia Thorne. But my shock grows more prominent as my gaze falls to the end of the letter: Yours, King Theseus Aldridge of Eldoria.

This time, I read the letter aloud. “Dearest Queen Halia, I do apologize that this is the only way I may reach you. I’m aware this is an unusual correspondence, and how I would’ve loved to see you in person. Despite all this, as I’m sure you’re aware, our business has been completed. Therefore, we shan’t speak of it any longer. It would come as a great shock to the kingdom, and it is truly unwise for common folk to learn the ways and inside doings of royals. This letter is to thank you, though specifics won’t be shared, as you are aware that cross-kingdom letters are quite well-monitored. To the guard reading this, we have nothing against you. Simply that kingdom to kingdom deals and doings are not to be shared with any one, no matter of what position. I do hope to see you in person soon, Madame Halia, for obvious reasons. Yours, King Theseus Aldridge of Eldoria.”

I look to Casimir, who smiles in a state of dazed shock.

“Well, Rose,” he says after a minute, “That’s what I’d call a lead.”