A Knight Amid Thorns
Laurel O'Donnell
Chapter Seven
Graden whirled on the boy, fury burning through his veins. He tossed the flower aside. “What trick is this?”
The boy’s eyes grew wide in fear. He held up his hands. “Please, m’lord! It was me father’s idea. He knew you were searching fer it. He made me do it! He…” The boy spun and fled through the thicket.
Graden took a step to go after him but stopped. He was used to this kind of deceit, but Ella was not. He turned to her.
She was staring at the rose cushioned in the weeds on the ground. “It’s fake,” she whispered brokenly.
“I’m sorry,” Graden said softly.
She slowly walked over to the flower and stared down at it.
“Come, Ella,” Graden called, holding out his hand to her. “We should return to the horses.”
Ella bent and picked the rose up. She looked at it with such a crestfallen look, such a hopeless look, that Graden’s heart twisted. He was used to the disappointment, the chronic failure. He was used to having his hopes crushed. But to see that despair in Ella made him want to protect her from such devastation. “We’ll find it, Ella.”
“How can this be?” she asked, staring at the smudge of red on the blue rose. “How can someone do this?”
“For coin. For a meal.” Graden shrugged. He reached for the rose but stopped. The rising moon glistened on Ella’s wet cheeks. “Ella.”
She shook her head. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll escort you back to the castle and search the farmhouse myself. You are not tied to the rose, yet. You can still be free.”
“Free?” she asked, her voice catching. She looked at him with tears glistening in her large eyes. “I’ll never be free. I thought this would buy… I thought this would give me hope. And yet, all I feel is more sadness. More misery.”
Graden stood, stunned for a moment. Did he do this to her? Cause her this misery? “Is it me?”
“I don’t know anymore. I just know that I miss Edwin. And his death took happiness from me. A happiness I don’t know if I’ll ever find again.”
“I’ll take you back.” Graden eased the rose from her hand.
She winced and looked down at her hand. One of the thorns had cut her finger. A drop of red blood, as red as a rose, formed on her index finger. She looked up at him with innocence and desperation.
Graden felt desire for her swirl inside him. He felt a need to take her in his arms and kiss away her sadness. He framed her face in his hands, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. Her sadness overwhelmed him. His gaze dropped to her full lips. He would do anything to stop her pain. Anything.
She nodded and looked down at the blood on her finger.
Graden dropped his hands, although every instinct was to protect her and cherish her. She would never want the man who had killed her brother. And he could never ask her to be a part of his unending search for the blue rose. Unable to resist, he took her hand into his and led her back to the horses.
As they rode slowly back into town, the weight of disappointment and despair settled on Ella’s shoulders. They drooped in response. Her head hung, and she watched the steps of her mare on the dirt road.
“Are you alright?” Graden asked, positioning his horse beside hers.
She lifted her gaze to him. He sat tall in the saddle, his hair hanging to his shoulders. “You knew. You knew it would not be the real rose.”
Graden inhaled deeply. “I’ve been chasing it for a long time.”
“This was not the first time you’ve discovered a fake rose.” She peered closer at him, her heart twisting with remorse. “How do you do it? How do you keep going?”
“I have no choice.”
She reined her horse to a stop. Moonlight washed over his head and shoulders casting him in a surreal glow.
