The bouncing echoes of their same voice back and forth unsettled Thorn.
Rose delicately stepped closer, gaze going past Thorn to the cottage and garden. “So youdon’tactually know who I am. Who we are to each other.”
Thorn swallowed, wondering if Rose was someone terribly important, like a queen or a princess, and Thorn had offended her deeply with her searing ignorance. “I only know your name is Rose, that Sebastien is your prince and not mine, and that you’re a powerful oneiromancer.” The bitterness of that envy left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I understand you are also a powerful oneiromancer, Lily,” Rose said.
“I don’t know about powerful. I don’t know how to do much of anything. And why do you keep calling me ‘Lily’?”
Rose’s full attention returned to Thorn, her deep-brown eyes sharp. “Isn’t that your name?”
“No?”
Rose frowned, seeming confused. “Then whatisyour name?”
“Thorn.”
“Thorn.”
“Yes?”
“Thorn isn’t a name; it’s a part of a plant.”
“Well, so is a rose and I know certain people who are named that.”
Rose gazed at her curiously. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?”
“What is your family name?” Rose asked with the air of someone not about to answer a fool’s questions.
“I… don’t have one.”
She didn’t seem surprised by that one, instead annoyed again. “Where do you believe you came from? Did you think you sprang full-grown from this garden? Budded, perhaps, off of one of the rosebushes?”
“Why are you so angry with me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s see.” Rose glided closer, the velvet hem of her skirts swaying to reveal she wore matching black slippers tipped with jeweled roses. She ticked the points off on her elegant fingers, no dirt under her nails, no sign she’d done any gardening, dishes, or any kind of housework at all. “I’m just guessing here, but you pretend to bemewhile pretending to have no idea who I am, attempt to stealmylover, lose control ofyourdreams, destroy property, consign Sebastien’s beloved hound to an eternity in the Dream, and cause potentially irreparable damage tomyreputation. Probably as part of a plot someone concocted.” She planted fists on her hips. “Why would I be pissed off aboutthat?”
Put that way, it sounded terrible indeed. “I didn’t do any of it on purpose.” She sounded like a guilty, naughty little girl compared to the worldly, righteously angry Rose. “I feel terrible about Nina. She was a good dog. Innocent.”
Rose glared daggers at her. “Is that supposed to excuse any of it?”
“No,” Thorn answered softly. “I’m not asking to be excused, for anything.”
“Are you working with Clotaire?” Rose demanded.
“I don’t know who that is.”
Rose studied her. “I don’t know if I believe you. You’re sosweet and innocent and ignorant that it seems impossible. If you’re putting on an act, I—”
“I’m not!” she protested. “I’ve lived my entire life in this cottage and you’re only the fourth person I’ve ever had a conversation with—well, fifth counting Moriah—and I only wanted to escape. And then I met Sebastien and he was so kind and sweet to me and he said let me take you away to a castle and I thought he was my prince so what was I supposed to say? No? I was supposed to say, oh no, I’m not who you think I am, so he’d be angry and leave me there when I had no coat and my magic was exhausted and I had no idea what to do next? Well, I amsorry. Believe me, I am sorry for all of it, but what was I supposed to do?” To her embarrassed horror, a sob broke out of her, more tears pouring down her face. She’d cried enough to fill the pond. “I don’t… know… what I’m… supposed to… do,” she gasped out against the sobs, chest aching, each breath a stabbing pain that choked off her words.
Rose was no Sebastien. She didn’t embrace Thorn and wipe away her tears. But she also wasn’t Jada. She didn’t chastise Thorn for weeping or offer scorn. Instead she sighed, her mouth twisted in that wry half smile. “You are overwrought. I’m not exactly calm and rational at the moment either, which is my only excuse for being so unkind. How about we go inside? Sit down and have a cup of tea.”
Unable to speak, Thorn nodded, then turned toward the cottage. Pausing, she looked back. “Ah, what about your, ah, bird?”
“Adsila. And she is her own bird. If she wants in, we won’t be able to keep her out.” At Thorn’s startled glance at the innocuous-looking bird, Rose added, “She’ll be fine.”
