Page 1 of A Reign of Roses
Prologue
arwen
Thirteen Years Ago
“I’m not going in there.”
I willed the words into reality by digging my heel into a balding patch of grass beneath my feet.
Bad things happened in Powell’s work shed. Things that hurt my back and made me cry.
“Fine,” Ryder allowed, releasing my hand to cross his arms. “Suit yourself.”
Whatever “suit yourself” meant did not sound promising.
My brother didn’t wait for my response. He raced into the brisk night after Halden and the two of them picked the shed’s rusty lock with ease before slipping inside the thatched structure.
All the while, cold air licked at my face and shins. I shivered violently in place. My favorite nightdress was rife with holes and worn cotton. Too tattered to protect me from the night’s chill. I needed a coat. Or to go back inside. But if I ran home, Halden and Ryder would think I was scared.
Which I was, but…
They didn’t have to know that. My brother and his best friend were never scared. Not when they got into trouble arriving late for classes, nor when lightning struck so loud it sounded like the crack of a belt. Not when they snuck out on dark, windy nights like these.
Brave, strong, confident boys, my mother always cooed.
And…me. Chasing after them. The runt of the litter.
Why couldn’t they have just invited me to join them? When I’d heard their hushed laughter and tiptoed from my room to ask them what all the fuss was about. If they’d just invited me then, I could have uttered a politeOh, no thank youand gone back to bed armed with the knowledge that I hadn’t been excluded.
A wolf somewhere in the distant woods howled at the huge white moon above, and I ground my teeth together. I wanted to go back to bed. It was probably still warm. I could stay there, under my quilt, until the darkness was gone and it was sunny and morning and Mother was awake.
I spun on my heel, crunching a dry leaf under my slipper to do just that. They could mock me tomorrow, call me a coward—I’d let them. Or maybe the shed would swallow them whole and they wouldn’t make it home at all.
I’d only made one stride toward our cottage when a loud clatter and a yowl of pain warbled out into the night.
Owls hooted. Leaves rustled. My blood froze inside my body.
Another agonized shriek—
And I sprinted without thinking.
Not for my rumpled bed, but for that looming work shed. Like a little goblin’s house, stark and solitary in the starless night.
“What happened?” I breathed, slamming the door open. “Wolves?”
Sawdust and varnish filled my nose and my back hurt in phantom memory.
“It’s Halden…” Ryder’s voice wobbled. “We were playing soldiers. Halden grabbed the saw. His hand, it’s…”
I squinted in the darkness at the pool of blood. Slick, like oil. And above it…Halden—the boy that was always smiling—drenched in tears.
I’d never seen anyone cry like that.
“It’s all right,” I whispered, though I didn’t know why I’d said it. His hand didn’t look all right one bit. “I’m going to get Mother.”
“Are you stupid?” Ryder snapped, yanking me back by the sleeve. “She’ll wake Father, and we’ll all be punished. Just stay put while I think of something.”
Ryder’s eyes, illuminated in a shaft of moonlight, cut sidelong to Halden. Ire flickered off him like candlelight, and I thought he looked a lot like Powell when he wore that expression.
