to force herself not to dart forward and grab it.
“I’m glad to see you’ve recovered,” Ombrine told her, but irritation and frustration rose off her in waves. Ombrine wasn’t glad. She sat in stony silence while Rose seated herself and began nibbling at a piece of cheese and a bit of bread.
“One needs a plate and cutlery,” Ombrine said tightly. “Unless one is a peasant.”
Rose was too dizzy to move, so she swallowed down the last of the bread and cheese.
“Well, then, we see what she is,” Desirée declared.
Ombrine pushed back her chair.
“Clean up,” she said as she swept out of the room.
After Rose had cleared and washed the dishes, Ombrine glided into the kitchen with Rose’s gathering basket against her chest. She held it out to her and said, “We’re quite low on food. Go out into the woods and see what you can find. Some mushrooms, perhaps. Or berries.”
As Rose took the basket, her fingers brushed against her stepmother’s stone-cold hand. In her mind’s eye, the forest shadows slithered together, forming the dark silhouette of a man. His eyes glowed red and he carried a knife.
A knife meant for her.
“Rose?” Ombrine snapped.
“
Oui
, Stepmother,” Rose managed, with a curtsy.She began trembling from head to toe. Was she seeing her own future? Was it a warning?
“Don’t come back until you have found something,” Ombrine told her.
“
Oui
, Stepmother,” Rose said again.
Shaking, she walked out of the
château
as calmly as she could. Then she ran to the stable to hop on Douce and gallop to the village. Or past the village. To leave the Forested Land, and find somewhere safe.
But Ombrine’s stable boy was there, mucking out the stable of the dray mare. He gazed up at Rose through the grime on his face, then leaned saucily on his pitchfork as he looked her up and down.
As steadily as she could manage it, she walked past him to Douce’s stall. It was empty. Her stomach clenched hard and she caught her balance by holding onto a post.
“Where is my horse?” she asked.
‘Ain’t got one,
ma’amselle
,” he replied. “Mistress sold her at market last week.”
Rose jerked as if she had been slapped.
“Said you had no more need of her.”
Tears welled in her eyes; bile rose in the back of her mouth. She kept her wits about her and bobbed her head at the stable boy, her knuckles white as she unpeeled her fingers off the post and clutched the basket with both hands.
“Then I will take the dray mare,” she announced.
“No one touches her but me and your lady,” hesaid, shaking his head. “If
madame
gives you her leave, you can do as you like.”
“Very well,” she replied. “I—I shall go ask her.”
Keeping to the shadows, she crept past the
château
.
Then she hurried into her garden. In her mind’s eye, the lush, wondrous flower grotto rippled like a stained glass window over the brown-and-green vegetable vines and sturdy beanstalks. She could see again the statue of Artemis and the fountain and the silvery stream. Gone, but still cherished.
She fell to her knees before the faceless scarecrow, where the goddess’s statue had stood.
“Artemis,” she said aloud. “Please, help me now I believe I am at the door of death itself and I no longer wish to open it. Please,
je vous en prie
. I am yours, and I beg you to save me.”
The blank-faced scarecrow stared down at her. Rose’s hands trembled hard. Just as she began to panic, a small voice whispered,
“You are loved.”
She looked down.
Another tiny purple bud had pushed through the surface of the rows of cabbages.
Little brown hooves moved into her field of vision; as she looked up, a small brown doe blinked its enormous eyes at her; then glowed with white light as its eyes turned blue. As Rose watched, it moved toward her. Then it carefully opened its mouth around the little bud, pulled it from the earth, and dropped it at Rose’s knees.
Slowly Rose reached down and picked it up. Thedeer
“I’m glad to see you’ve recovered,” Ombrine told her, but irritation and frustration rose off her in waves. Ombrine wasn’t glad. She sat in stony silence while Rose seated herself and began nibbling at a piece of cheese and a bit of bread.
“One needs a plate and cutlery,” Ombrine said tightly. “Unless one is a peasant.”
Rose was too dizzy to move, so she swallowed down the last of the bread and cheese.
“Well, then, we see what she is,” Desirée declared.
Ombrine pushed back her chair.
“Clean up,” she said as she swept out of the room.
After Rose had cleared and washed the dishes, Ombrine glided into the kitchen with Rose’s gathering basket against her chest. She held it out to her and said, “We’re quite low on food. Go out into the woods and see what you can find. Some mushrooms, perhaps. Or berries.”
As Rose took the basket, her fingers brushed against her stepmother’s stone-cold hand. In her mind’s eye, the forest shadows slithered together, forming the dark silhouette of a man. His eyes glowed red and he carried a knife.
A knife meant for her.
“Rose?” Ombrine snapped.
“
Oui
, Stepmother,” Rose managed, with a curtsy.She began trembling from head to toe. Was she seeing her own future? Was it a warning?
“Don’t come back until you have found something,” Ombrine told her.
“
Oui
, Stepmother,” Rose said again.
Shaking, she walked out of the
château
as calmly as she could. Then she ran to the stable to hop on Douce and gallop to the village. Or past the village. To leave the Forested Land, and find somewhere safe.
But Ombrine’s stable boy was there, mucking out the stable of the dray mare. He gazed up at Rose through the grime on his face, then leaned saucily on his pitchfork as he looked her up and down.
As steadily as she could manage it, she walked past him to Douce’s stall. It was empty. Her stomach clenched hard and she caught her balance by holding onto a post.
“Where is my horse?” she asked.
‘Ain’t got one,
ma’amselle
,” he replied. “Mistress sold her at market last week.”
Rose jerked as if she had been slapped.
“Said you had no more need of her.”
Tears welled in her eyes; bile rose in the back of her mouth. She kept her wits about her and bobbed her head at the stable boy, her knuckles white as she unpeeled her fingers off the post and clutched the basket with both hands.
“Then I will take the dray mare,” she announced.
“No one touches her but me and your lady,” hesaid, shaking his head. “If
madame
gives you her leave, you can do as you like.”
“Very well,” she replied. “I—I shall go ask her.”
Keeping to the shadows, she crept past the
château
.
Then she hurried into her garden. In her mind’s eye, the lush, wondrous flower grotto rippled like a stained glass window over the brown-and-green vegetable vines and sturdy beanstalks. She could see again the statue of Artemis and the fountain and the silvery stream. Gone, but still cherished.
She fell to her knees before the faceless scarecrow, where the goddess’s statue had stood.
“Artemis,” she said aloud. “Please, help me now I believe I am at the door of death itself and I no longer wish to open it. Please,
je vous en prie
. I am yours, and I beg you to save me.”
The blank-faced scarecrow stared down at her. Rose’s hands trembled hard. Just as she began to panic, a small voice whispered,
“You are loved.”
She looked down.
Another tiny purple bud had pushed through the surface of the rows of cabbages.
Little brown hooves moved into her field of vision; as she looked up, a small brown doe blinked its enormous eyes at her; then glowed with white light as its eyes turned blue. As Rose watched, it moved toward her. Then it carefully opened its mouth around the little bud, pulled it from the earth, and dropped it at Rose’s knees.
Slowly Rose reached down and picked it up. Thedeer
Similar Books
