A Knight Amid Thorns
Laurel O'Donnell
Chapter Eight
Graden and Ella made it to the witch’s shack by sunrise. Everything was still and quiet. Graden recalled the first time he had been here. It had been storming. He had been soaked through to his skin. The shadows had been long and frightening from the flashes of lightning. But now, it was different. So different. There was no wind, no chirps of birds. Nothing.
He glanced back at Ella as she dismounted her mare. She had insisted on coming with him. She said she wasn’t afraid. But ever since the last time she had been here, something was different in her. She was more caring. Open. Understanding. This was the woman he had fallen in love with.
Together, they moved toward the shack and Graden called out, “Good morn!” so as not to catch the witch off guard. Who knew what she was capable of. He didn’t wait in the doorway as he had the first time. He moved into the shack.
It was dark inside, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He scanned the small room. There was no fire lit in the hearth which made it difficult to see. The rising sun cast a dim red glow that grew with each moment, its rays spreading over the room from the open doorway.
He saw a shadow sitting beside the table. “Good morn,” he said in a softer tone.
The shadow did not move, and he wondered if she had heard him. “Are you ill?”
“No.” Her voice was soft.
For a moment, Graden wasn’t certain he had heard her.
Suddenly, Ella moved past him toward the witch.
Graden’s heart lurched. He reached out to stop her, but his fingers grabbed air. “Ella!”
She knelt at the woman’s side. “What happened? Are you alright?”
The woman did not look at her. Long golden locks fell forward, obscuring her features.
Prickles danced along the nape of Graden’s neck. The witch had not asked about the rose. Had she gotten one already? It didn’t matter. He fulfilled his part of the deal.
Ella’s fingers closed over the witch’s hands. She brushed some of the hair from the woman’s cheek.
“I’ve brought it,” Graden said.
The witch looked at him with those white eyes that seemed to glow red in the rising sun. The room slowly took shape as the light spread over the world.
“I have the blue rose.” He opened a sack at his waist and carefully removed the rose. He stared down at it for a long moment. He had searched for it for so long. The moment of his freedom was finally at hand. Relief coursed through him, as well as excitement for the future. He glanced at the witch. And trepidation. He didn’t like her lack of enthusiasm. He stepped forward and carefully placed the rose in her palm.
A soft hiss escaped the witch’s lips as the petals touched her skin.
“What is it?” Ella asked kindly.
“It’s all anyone is searching for, isn’t it?” the witch whispered. “Freedom to love and be loved.”
Graden glanced uneasily at Ella. Ella bent before the witch, staring up at her with compassion, stroking her hand.
“I asked everyone who came to me for years to bring me the blue rose. Everyone.” Tears entered her white eyes. “No matter what they asked for.” She shook her head. “I would give it to them in exchange for the blue rose.” She looked up at Graden. “I would have given anything…” Her voice cracked, and she closed her fingers over the rose, crushing it.
Ella gaped.
“Do you know what it does?” the witch asked. “Do you know what the legend says about this blue rose?”
“There are many legends,” Graden answered.
Ella nodded in agreement. “Healing properties. Links to our Lord.”
The witch let out a soft breath, almost a snicker. “It turns enemies into lovers.”
