Part 5 - The Prince: Diamond Dust And Crimson Reign

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Part Five

The Prince: Diamond Dust And Crimson Reign

"We meet at dusk outside the Manse Du Mirroir." Laurence said. I already knew that, but it was good to have it confirmed.

So I nodded once, resuming the posture I knew I should be holding as the prince's right-hand man. He smirked at me, knowing I wasn't a fan of all the fakery, but I kept my face impassive; now was not the time to lose my temper.

That being said, I found it hard to do so when I saw Rosie stripped to her undergarments and tied to a frame in the infamous gardens of the Manse Du Mirroir.

The straight male in me immediately picked up on the curves highlighted by her simple black undergarments, but the boy who'd looked upon her with such adoration only saw the shivering body and desperate eyes of a woman I knew couldn't take much more.

From the whip marks on her ribs, I could tell she'd tried to escape again.

From the blood soaking the floor below her, I could tell the guards had tried to break her.

From the way she was standing tall on her own two feet, chin tipped up proudly, I could tell they hadn't succeeded.

I smiled, my own pride filling my chest.

She was my Rosie.

She was still so strong.

That being said, 'Rosie' was probably not the name she would answer too nowadays:

"Amaryllis Thorn." I murmured in Laurence's ear. He nodded, and then stepped into the light, just as his brother was about to take the rope that was attached to Rosie's wrists.

"Actually, I do believe it's my turn for a breeder." he announced clearly over the gardens.

Considering that Laurence had never chosen a breeder before: this caused quite a stir. But the King couldn't be prouder.

His heir apparent was choosing a woman to make his own heir with.

How thrilling.

"...What?" snapped Laurence's younger brother.

The spare prince, as I liked to call him.

"It's my turn to choose a breeder. And I want her." Laurence said coolly, waving a dismissive hand at Rosie. I'd have punched him if I knew it wasn't an act.

And damn, was it a good one.

I owed Laurence a huge favour some day.

I'd give anything to have met Rosie some other day than when I had...in something other place other than world than in Grandomina's grey-dominated streets. I'd tell her as such given half a chance. And for that, the act needed to continue for at least a little while longer.

Happily, I recalled how as children we'd play-fought in the streets: letting out vengeful war cries in the matt-black shadows we were bound to. Dancing our dance.

But then it ended: in ways I couldn't bear thinking off.

Causing the fight that had left her bleeding and unconscious in a back-alley, bleeding from the back of her head and thinking she was dead.

Now, though, my plan was working.

The King was smiling, the Cardinal was nodding like it was the best idea he'd ever heard, and the spare prince was in a state of silent shock.

Rosie was almost safe.

She was even being led over to where Laurence and I were standing, her face as impassive as mine and Laurence's were. Nothing was given away.

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