As the day neared its end, they had not yet reached the edge of Middlecrescent. But the men hauled her from her horse. They were under orders, so they did not kill her, but there was no gentleness in them. When she stumbled to the ground, they aimed kicks at her back, and Rose Red curled up in a ball and took the blows. She did not feel them. Those steel-toed boots would have broken the ribs of anyone else, but they could not physically harm her. Instead, humiliation slapped her with every strike.
“I think we’ve made our point,” one of them said at last, backing up and signaling for his fellows to do the same. “Follow the road before you and leave the baron’s land. If you remain anywhere within his boundaries, you will not find us merciful.”
“Shouldn’t we take her to the bridge?” another soldier asked.
“And be out here after nightfall?” The first man shook his head. “Be my guest.”
The other did not reply. They mounted their horses again and left Rose Red where she lay, still bound at the wrists, in the dirt of the road. She did not look up until long after the hoofbeats faded away. By then, night was falling.
Rose Red sat up and snapped the thick cords on her wrists without a thought. The pieces fell into her lap, and she looked at them idly. “What am I goin’ to do?” she whispered into the falling darkness. But there was no one to answer her. Not Beana, not her old dad, not even . . . not even Leo, who had promised to care for her. She was truly alone.
Her veil stank of dragon smoke. The stench of nightmares. “It’s my fault,” she whispered, as expressionless as stone. “I should never have left the mountain. I brought him down upon us.” Then she tore the veil away, flinging it to the ground. “What have I done?”
The wood thrush sang.
Silver and lovely in that gathering gloom, its voice reached out to her. And with it, she remembered.
“Let me give you something. . . . Because I might be unable to protect you once we’ve gone to the low country, let me give you something with which you may protect yourself.”
The Name.
The Name, which had nestled deep in near-forgotten places of her mind, slipped to her lips, resting there, ready to be spoken. Just the feel of it there gave her comfort, and her breathing eased. Then Rose Red swallowed, forcing the word back inside.
“I ain’t goin’ to be so foolish,” she muttered, rising to her feet. She did not replace the veil but clutched it in her left hand as she began the long march down the road. All was dark by now, but still she saw well enough to avoid every rut in her path, walking smoothly, like a gliding spirit. “I ain’t goin’ to depend on Faerie stories. I promised Leo I’d care for his family, and that’s just what I’m goin’ to do . . . just as soon as I can get back to the House.”
The House where the Dragon waited for her.
Well, that wasn’t going to stop her either. Had Rose Red not faced that Dragon in her dreams nearly every night throughout her childhood? Granted, he’d been incorporeal. But really, if one took the time to reason with oneself, why must it be so much more frightening for one’s monsters to be incarnate and huge rather than disembodied? The fear was all the same. True, disembodied frights rarely swallowed a person in one gulp . . . details like that did add up. Rose Red licked her lips but maintained her rapid pace.
And she did not speak the Name.
Rose Red walked for hours across the silent landscape, feeling as though she made no progress. Not a soul met her on that lonely road. How long would it take her to reach the Eldest’s House at this rate? What would she find when she got there? She’d promised Leo to care for his family, but how could she hope to fulfill that promise? The Baron of Middlecrescent had heard the prince’s orders and still disregarded them. Could she possibly convince anyone else to aid her if the baron himself would not?
The silence broke with the sound of hooves on the road behind her. Rose Red immediately slipped from the road into the still darker shadows on its edge, vanishing from any searching eyes. A horse and rider appeared, the rider sitting stiffly upright. Despite the shielding cloak and hood, Rose Red recognized her immediately.
She hesitated. For a moment, she considered letting the horse trot by without speaking a word. But she’d sworn an oath, even if under duress, and must she now add oath breaker to her crimes?
The horse passed by. Rose Red slipped her veil back over her head, stepped into the road, and called out, “M’lady!”
Daylily reined in her mount. If she was frightened by that strange voice in the night, she did not show it. She turned about, her face shadowed, and it was Rose Red who trembled.
The baron’s daughter said, “I hoped to find you somewhere in these parts. My father’s men are much too cowardly to have borne you any farther.” She urged her gelding closer and put out her hand. “Come up.”
Rose Red regarded the towering height of the horse. After her first ride today, she found herself unwilling to repeat the experience, particularly seated behind Lady Daylily. “What will your father say, you bein’ out here?”
Daylily shrugged, her hand still extended.
“He’ll throttle you!” Rose Red shook her head and stepped back. “You’ve got to go home, m’lady.”