“In war, you react. There is no noble act. Let me ask you something. Why are you helping me look for the blue rose?”
“The woman in the woods wants it.”
“Woman in the woods?” Graden echoed.
“The witch.”
Tremors of unease snaked their way down his spine. Her payment. He reached across the blanket to grasp her hand. “Don’t do it, Ella. No matter what she offered you. Don’t make a deal with her.”
Ella clutched his hand. She opened her mouth and then closed it.
“Nothing good can come of it.”
“She said she could help me if I bring her the rose.”
Trepidation tightened his chest. Lord, no! Not Ella! Graden squeezed her hand, nodding. “She plays off your morals. Off what you want. I want to have a family, a life. I want to be free. But this hangs over me like chains. It has consumed me because I can’t find the rose.”
Ella hesitated, her gaze sweeping over his face. “You agreed to that to save your father.”
He didn’t want to, but he released her hand. “Yes. I would have done anything to save my father.”
She leaned forward and cupped his cheek. He looked up at her, startled at the kindness, at the warmth of her hand against his skin.
“How long ago did he pass?”
“Thirteen years ago.” He couldn’t look away from her eyes; they were a deep blue in the darkness. He had gotten used to being alone, to depending only on himself. He very rarely had companionship. People showed him respect, but not love.
Ella sat back on her heels.
Graden missed her touch immediately.
“When your father died, did you feel betrayed by the woman, er witch?”
“No,” Graden said, confused. “She had given me those two years with him. I was grateful.”
Ella nodded. “You were lucky to have that time. I wish I had extra time with Edwin. Just a day.”
“I wish I could give you what you want. I wish I could go back to that night.”
“Do you think if I bring the blue rose to the woman –”
“Did someone say blue rose?”
Graden shot to his feet and stepped protectively in front of Ella as a small child emerged from the cover of the forest. The boy was slender and could not have been more than eight summers. His clothing was tattered. He swiped a lock of dark hair from his forehead. “Are you looking for a blue rose?”
Ella climbed to her feet. “We are.”
“No,” Graden said at the same time.
The boy’s gaze moved between them. “I only ask because I have one!”
