All for a Rose (19 page)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The voice was coming…from the wardrobe?

“Who’s there?” Maribel asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

“It’s only me.”

Said the furniture.
Maribel inched closer to the wardrobe. With every step, she firmly cemented to herself that there was no such thing as talking carpentry. “Who? Who’s in there?”

“Well… No one’s
in here.
It’s just me.”

Gathering her courage, Maribel grabbed the handle of the wardrobe and flung it open.

Empty. Nothing but clothing greeted Maribel’s gaze, and there weren’t so many gowns that it wouldn’t have been obvious if someone were hiding in there.

“That was a bit rude,” the wardrobe chastised her gently. “After all, I don’t go around flinging your arms to the sides, now do I?”

Maribel leapt back. “You… I… You…” She closed her mouth and blinked. “No, this isn’t right.”

“Well, I can’t really argue with you there,” the wardrobe admitted. “Perhaps there’s a lesson in there for magic users.”

I’m still dreaming. Dear gods, please, tell me I’m still dreaming.
Maribel closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in slow, soothing circles. “I’m talking to furniture,” she mumbled. “I’ve been alone too long.”

“Well, you’re not
alone
, are you?”

There was a certain sly tone in the wardrobe’s voice that raised Maribel’s eyebrows. “And exactly what are you insinuating?”

 “I’m not really insinuating anything. I’m only saying that you and the master have gotten very close.”

“And how would you know that?” Maribel tightened the sheet around her. “I most certainly have not entertained him in my bedroom.”

“The brownies are a gossipy bunch. Apparently the teapot was full of stories.”

“The teapot,” Maribel said flatly.

The wardrobe hummed confirmation. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she agreed. “And apparently you are quite the cook.”

Maribel averted her eyes then jerked her gaze back with a scowl.
I will not be embarrassed by furniture
. She eyed the wardrobe, its pristine white paint and expertly crafted doors far too normal for the situation. If she had any respect for her sanity, she would leave now. Get dressed, and be off on her merry way—perhaps to the kitchen or the garden.

On the other hand, it couldn’t hurt to linger a moment in this nice room Daman had been kind enough to provide her. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know for a fact that magic existed. Was it truly so much of a stretch that this wardrobe had been gifted with the ability to speak? Besides, perhaps it would be nice to have someone to confide in. Someone she could be sure wouldn’t go gallivanting about the town spouting her private business. Maribel cleared her throat, trying not to think about the fact that she was taking on an inanimate object as a confidant.

“I’m only here for my father.” She crossed her arms and stuck her chin out. “It was my fault he was here, my fault he made Daman so angry. It would have been wrong for him to be the one to stay here. Of course I would go home if I could, that’s where I belong, after all.” She looked around the room, taking in the rich furnishings and comforts that had been provided for her. Her shoulders sagged. “Not that he’s been a bad host, necessarily. The past few days have been…nice.”

The wardrobe didn’t move, but nevertheless gave the impression of listening closely.

“I…” Maribel paused, snagging her lower lip between her teeth as she stared into space, her mind flowing over the past week or so. “He’s in such a foul mood most of the time, but it almost seems…involuntary. It’s like he wants to be nice, but he’s…” Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t think of any other way to say it. He’s just in a bad mood, all the time.”

“
All
the time?”

“Well, not
all
the time.” Maribel smiled. “He’s actually quite pleasant when he sits out in the garden with me.” She glanced at the wardrobe. “I suppose you wouldn’t know, but Daman gave me a very large plot of land. He said I can plant whatever I wish. He even asked the brownies to bring me some seedlings.”

“How lovely.”

A pleasant warmth blossomed in Maribel’s heart the more she thought about it. “In the garden with me, he’s happy. Sometimes he helps me with the planting, but other times he seems content to lie there in the sun and talk with me.”

“Well, he is a reptile,” the wardrobe noted. “Sunning is what reptiles do. My memories of being a tree are old, to be sure, but I remember all manner of snakes and lizards creeping out of the brush to sun themselves on rocks on days the weather was warm like this.”

And just like that, the fuzzy feeling was gone. Maribel retreated to the bed and slumped down on the decadently deep mattress.
He is a reptile, isn’t he?
She clasped her hands firmly in her lap and studied the dirt permanently embedded beneath her fingernails.
Does it matter?

“I had heard that in order to break the curse upon him, he must learn to love and trust another, and earn their love and trust in return.”

What if Mother Briar was right? What if Daman’s curse could be broken if Maribel would… Would what? Let these warm feelings bloom into something more? Into what? And what if Mother Briar was wrong? What if Daman would stay as he was forever no matter what feelings she held for him?

Does that matter?

Maribel bit her lip again, thinking of Daman. Silver eyes that glittered with every emotion, pale bluish skin that gave him the appearance of carved marble during those times he held so inhumanly still. Strong muscles that were as intriguing as they were frightening…

“You look asss though you’re thinking very hard about sssomething.”

Maribel shrieked and clutched the sheet to her again. The little silver snake she’d spoken to the other day was peering out at her from under her covers, its beady black eyes blinking sleepily.

“How long have you been in there?” she demanded.

The snake snuggled farther into the blankets. “It’sss very warm in here. Very niccce. And you ssslept in late.”

“How. Long?”

“You ssseem to be getting along well with Daman. Are you content here?”

Maribel opened her mouth, then closed it. “I— What do you care?”

The serpent curled into a tighter coil, tucking its head into the center as though it intended to have a nice nap. “Jussst trying to keep up. Want to make sssure you’re both getting along. The
naga
lord hasss a temper, he isss not easssy to be around. Wouldn’t want you to get upssset and leave prematurely.”

“Prematurely?” Maribel leaned forward, struggling to read any emotion in the serpentine intruder’s face. Excitement crackled along her nerves, urging her heart to beat faster in burgeoning expectation. “You make it sound as though I should be waiting for something. As if something is going to happen?”

The serpent’s eyelids drooped, its tongue flicking out. “Yesss.”

Maribel waited, but the creature didn’t offer anything more.

“Well?” she prodded, annoyance sharpening her tone.

The serpent opened one eye all the way, the other remaining closed. “Well what?”

“What is it I’m supposed to be waiting for? What’s supposed to happen?”

“I’m sssure I don’t know. It doesssn’t matter asss long asss it happensss.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well,” the wardrobe broke in, “what do you expect to get from a conversation with a
cuelebre
? They aren’t the most helpful creatures.”

The
cuelebre
raised its head and eyed the wardrobe. “You ssshouldn’t be talking. You’re wood. Dead wood,” he added.

“I’ve as much right to talk as you do.” The wardrobe sniffed, a neat trick since it had no nose. “I’m sure I’m more helpful than you.”

“Do you know what’s supposed to happen?” Maribel turned a hopeful face to the wardrobe, wishing it had eyes so she knew where to look.

The wardrobe hesitated. “No. The master wants the witch to change him back, but I don’t know what that has to do with you. Or why you’re here.”

“You know who cursed him?” Maribel held her breath, her heart pounding as she fought the urge to shake the wardrobe.

“Of course, everyone knows that.”

“Who?” Maribel’s voice came out a whisper, the sheer magnitude of what she was about to learn threatening to steal her voice. If she could find out who had cursed Daman, perhaps she could find a way to make them undo it. And then…

“That isss not for you to tell her,” the
cuelebre
hissed. “Let her asssk Daman.”

The wardrobe creaked as though shifting to face the snake. “What difference does it make who tells her?”

“It makesss a differenccce.”

The wardrobe fluttered its doors. “Very well.”

“No!” Maribel glared at the
cuelebre
as if she could set the pest on fire with the strength of her fury. “Tell me now.”

“I won’t tell you, and neither will the wood,” the
cuelebre
said calmly.

Maribel whirled back to the wardrobe. “Tell me. Please,” she begged.

“It won’t tell you. It’sss too afraid I’ll burn it to assshesss if it doesss.”

“Well, actually, I hadn’t even considered that you’d do such a barbaric thing,” the wardrobe grumbled. It creaked again as though sagging in resignation. “But as that is the case… I’m sorry, Maribel, I can’t tell you. But I’m sure the master would share the information if you asked him.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The words floated back to her from the dream, the man’s voice sliding over her skin like a phantom caress. Maribel shivered.

“It’s someone you trust. Only when that trust is broken will we be free.”

“Do you know
why
the witch cursed him?” she asked, leaning closer.

The snake tilted its head. “Yesss. But ssso do you. He told you, didn’t he?”

Maribel bit her lip. “And what he told me was the truth? The witch wanted to marry him and he rejected her?”

“You doubt hisss ssstory?”

“I only want the truth,” Maribel moaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “Someone isn’t being completely honest with me. Mother Briar told me that Daman was cursed by a witch that he scorned. The witch wanted to teach him a lesson about kindness and helping others. Mother Briar believed the fact that Daman fed and sheltered my father was some sign that Daman was changing, learning from his mistakes. She said to break the curse, Daman would have to prove he’d changed by falling in love and earning the love of someone else in return, that love was the most selfless act possible and only that would break the spell.”

“Interesssting.”

“But Daman contradicts that story.” Maribel shoved herself off the bed and paced back and forth between the bed and the wardrobe. “He says it was the witch who was selfish, that the witch wanted his money and land and tried to seduce him to get it. He says she cursed him for rejecting her, and the only way to break the curse is for the witch to lift it herself.”

“Two different ssstories.”

“Exactly.” Maribel paused, drumming the fingers of one hand against the opposite arm. Words continued to bubble up inside her, flowing from her mouth in an unstoppable stream. It seemed like ages since she’d had someone to talk to, someone that didn’t…that wasn’t…Daman.

“I don’t like Mother Briar. She’s arrogant and condescending. However, I can’t deny that she’s been a savior to my family. She fed us when we were starving, and she always takes time out of her day to help Corrine with her magic and me with studying all sorts of plants and herbs.”

“Why don’t you ssstudy magic?”

Maribel shook her head. “I don’t have the gift for it like Corrine does. The only time I seem to be able to do anything extraordinary is if I’m working with plants and the land. Mother Briar says I speak to the earth and it listens to me.” She shrugged. She’d long ago given up childish dreams of doing grand magic.

“Do you trussst thisss witch?”

“I have no reason not to. Besides, Corrine spoke about the rumors before Mother Briar did, so I don’t think Mother Briar just made it all up.”

“And your sssissster?”

The snake’s tone didn’t change, but there was an inherent accusation in the words nonetheless. Maribel eyed the
cuelebre
. “Why would she make something like that up?”

“That’sss for you to tell me.”

“She wouldn’t.” Maribel paused. “Well, I suppose she really didn’t want me to leave,” she admitted hesitantly. “I guess it’s possible that she was trying to scare me away from coming. But that wouldn’t explain why Mother Briar would agree with her. Even if she was only agreeing to help Corrine keep me home, she ruined all that when she encouraged me to go. She’s the one who thought I could break Daman’s curse.”

“By falling in love with him?”

Maribel’s traitorous mind flew back to the feeling of being in Daman’s arms. In moments like those, he wasn’t strange or monstrous. He was a man. A strong, handsome man who loved her cooking and enjoyed sitting outside with her in the garden. She cleared her throat. “I suppose that’s what she meant.”

“Ssso if you don’t think your sssissster isss lying, then do you think that Daman isss the liar?”

Was it her imagination, or did the
cuelebre
give the wardrobe a pointed look as it asked that last question? “I don’t know.” Maribel paused as she realized she was twisting the sheet in her hands, the nervous gesture betraying her inner conflict to the room. She marched behind the dressing screen, snagging a discarded gown on the way.

“I’ve enjoyed my time here with Daman,” she admitted, finding it somewhat easier to voice her feelings now that she was behind the screen and protected from the snake’s unnerving stare. “But I haven’t known him long. How can I trust him more than my own sister?”

“Good quessstion.”

“It’s someone you trust. Only when that trust is broken will we be free.”

Did she trust Daman? If the dream referred to Daman, then what did that mean?

“Do you trussst your sssissster?”