“I ain’t never goin’ to let you kiss me.” But her voice was a whisper, barely audible.
“You think not,” said the Dragon. “However, I won the game.” He leaned down. He was so tall that he had to bend nearly double to bring his face level with hers. Rose Red found herself desperately wishing for even the slim protection of her veil between them, and she twisted it in both hands.
“My darling,” said he, “you are in my world now. I warned you, didn’t I? ‘Return to me, or I will come for you,’ I said. Well, I’ve come for you now, and you are mine.”
Rose Red stared into his black eyes, into the fires deep inside. She would scorch in them, she knew. With an effort, she turned away.
And the Name sprang to her mouth. She did not speak it, but it rested there on her tongue, ready. Its presence, even unspoken, filled her heart, relieved her spirit, and she breathed fresh air once more.
When she opened her eyes, the Dragon was gone.
She stood in the smoke of the hallway. The queen was dead. The House was haunted. The moment of peace was come and gone. But the memory of it lingered. Even as Rose Red knelt and covered her face with the veil to hide her weeping, she clung to that moment. She would not let herself think of her failure. She would not allow herself to imagine Leo’s sorrow when he returned and learned of his mother’s fate. There were others who still needed her—the Eldest, Foxbrush, Daylily, and the other sad captives waiting for her in the kitchen. She could not lead them out of the House. The Dragon would kill them; she knew that now. But she could care for them and feed them and do her best to relieve their suffering. For the Dragon’s poison had no effect on her, at least, none that she could feel. So she would care for the prisoners, as much a prisoner as they, and wait for Leo’s return.
For he would return and slay the Dragon. She knew he would.
At last Rose Red dried her tears and started back for the kitchen. At least she would not yet have to explain the queen’s death to the others. In their poisoned state they would not comprehend.
The half-light never altered. When Rose Red entered the kitchen, it looked exactly as she had left it, dim and melancholy. The despair on the prisoners’ faces was increased by the shadows settling into the hollows of their cheeks. She went to the Eldest first, gently taking his hand. He did not notice her. The tears had dried on his face, once so stern and strong, now withered into that of an old man. His eyes sought the window, though the smoke swirled too heavily against the glass to allow any view of the outside world. They were cut off from other worlds entirely, floating somewhere in a dark limbo.
Rose Red shuddered at this thought. She murmured comforting words to King Hawkeye that she did not think he heard, then moved on to the next prisoner. She came at length to Foxbrush, who sat bolt upright in his chair near the large kitchen fireplace. He looked strange to Rose Red with his hair unoiled and sticking up about his face. He bore a strong resemblance to his cousin, especially at this moment with his normally squinting eyes opened as wide as they would go, staring, staring. . . .
Staring at what? Rose Red turned to follow his gaze. One of the kitchen doors stood ajar, revealing a narrow passage that, Rose Red knew, eventually took one to a small breakfast room where the queen had liked to sit most mornings. Foxbrush stared at it with something between terror and rapt fascination.
“Sir Foxbrush,” Rose Red whispered, touching his cheek with one finger. “You all right, there?”
He did not move. Rose Red poked him again and waved her hand before his eyes. Not even a blink. Rose Red gulped and turned back to the door. Perhaps he stood just beyond. Terrorizing these poor prisoners with his presence. As though his poisons weren’t torment enough! She set her jaw and marched to the door, flinging it wide.
A half-lit passage, empty, lay beyond.
Rose Red narrowed her eyes at Foxbrush. “There ain’t nothin’ here, Sir Foxbrush,” she said. “You’re safe with me—Silent Lady!” She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest, whirling back to look down the hall.
For she realized that Daylily was not in the kitchen.