The Tears of the Rose by Jeffe Kennedy Page A

had Glorianna not wanted me to hear that story, She would have warned me somehow. A sense of wrongness should have alerted me. But it had felt so good, so right, tucked under the covers, listening to Marin’s story. Knitting couldn’t be blasphemous, could it?
    â€œOh, yes.” Kir looked gravely concerned. “Be wary of those tempting you from Her path, Your Highness. Especially in these turbulent times.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYes. The dark forces rise up against Glorianna’s champions. You have already been tested—far beyond what any fair young damsel should be expected to bear. We grieve with you, Princess. The people of the Twelve Kingdoms feel your pain.”
    My heart flooded with emotion to hear this. I wasn’t alone. They shared this terrible time with me. It meant everything.
    â€œThere are demons lurking among us, however,” Kir broke into my thoughts.
    Inadvertently, my gaze flew to the White Monk. He did not raise his bowed head, but he cocked it, ever so slightly. As if he might be laughing at me. How dare he? I was a Princess of the Realm, daughter of the High King, and future Queen of Avonlidgh. Not to mention Glorianna’s avatar upon this earth. He should be kissing the hem of my gown.
    â€œPrincess Amelia, do you heed my words?”
    â€œYes.” At least I thought so. Demons and lurking. Sharing my pain. Oh, Hugh.
    â€œThey seek to divert you from your holy mission, Your Highness. By telling tales to distract you, so you won’t hear Glorianna’s voice.”
    My breakfast turned over in my stomach. Had I already failed as Glorianna’s avatar by listening to Marin’s stories?
    â€œAs your spiritual guide, I feel I must warn you. I cannot put it strongly enough, Princess Amelia. Whoever is whispering such tales in your ear is turning your mind and heart away from Glorianna and the purity of the path She’s laid out for you.”
    I wished that Hugh were here. I’d likely spend the rest of my life—however long that might be—wishing for that. He’d know what to do. I chewed my lip against the rising sick. I should have put one of Marin’s mints in my pocket. Surely Marin was no demon, seeking to sway me from fulfilling Glorianna’s plans for me?
    â€œWho was it, Your Highness?” Kir’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “At least give me a name, so I can investigate.”
    My mind warred with my heart. I turned my eyes to Glorianna’s rose window, this the greatest of the three, here in Her stronghold, the High Temple. Surely no harm would come to Marin, should I say so. If she had told me the story in all innocence, then all would be well. If she’d spoken due to some demonic influence, then Kir would help her be free of it.
    â€œMy midwife, Marin.” I said it quietly, so none other could overhear.
    Kir relaxed and cast a reverent gaze to the heavens, murmuring the standard phrase thanking Glorianna for Her benevolent protection. Instead of echoing it, I found myself watching the White Monk. He wasn’t praying, either, but stayed still, a snake coiled in the grass.
    â€œShe told me the tale last night. She meant to comfort me.”
    Kir’s nostrils fluttered, his lips pinched, and he made the sign of Glorianna over my belly. “Glorianna grant us peace,” he murmured. “I shall see to this, Your Highness. You did right to tell me.”
    I wanted to feel I did right.
    â€œHigh Priest Kir!” One of Uorsin’s valets approached with urgent footsteps. “The High King calls for your attendance immediately. Your Highness,” he said to me, bowing belatedly, but the naked admiration in his gaze did much to bring up my spirits.
    â€œOf course. At once!” Kir dashed out—with priestly dignity, but with clear excitement—after a flurry of excuses and promises.
    I watched after him. He hadn’t answered any of my questions. I