The Rose
A short story prequel to my book in progress Monster.
"I promise you. I will come back to you," he tells her. "And we'll be married within the hour of my return."
Arabella stares up tearfully into Rowan's eyes. "How long will this war last?"
Rowan shrugs. "Not too long, I'm sure. We just have to reclaim one of our ports that has been taken. I'd imagine a few months at the most."
"But you're just a blacksmith, not a soldier. You make swords, not use them! Why must you even go?"
"The King needs more men to fight. It would seem the kingdom is a bit short on soldiers since the last few attacks on the castle."
"Rowan, men are being killed out there! I can't bear to live if you die too."
He touches his hands to either side of her warm cheeks where her tears spill over his fingers. "Try to have some faith in me, my love. I will be careful. And I will do my best to return. How could I not when I have such a lovely woman waiting at home for me?" Rowan kisses her forehead. "Never lose faith. I will return for you."
Arabella was counting on those words.
Rowan was coming home today. It had been three years since she had last seen him. Arabella could hardly contain her excitement as she ran to the castle courtyard to await the arrival of the returning soldiers. There was a chill in the air, causing her to tighten her wool cape around her slender shoulders. Already the streets were filled with crowds eager to welcome home their loved ones.
Small children danced around their mothers, all with the hope of seeing their fathers again. Young girls stood by wearing their finest dresses and holding freshly picked bundles of the last flowers of the season from a nearby field in hopes of catching the eye of a young man returning from battle. Every face beamed with joy except for the faces of the mothers which were pinched in anxiety. They knew better than to celebrate now. The truth was, not everyone returns from war. Not all husbands return home to their wives. Not all fathers return to their children. And not all sons return to their mothers.
Regardless of any doubts or worries, every face lit up and turned eagerly to face the sound of a trumpet. Their men had returned. Arabella spotted Rowan's dark curly hair almost the instant the men appeared. When she saw him, she suddenly felt foolish for ever having entertained the thought for a second that he might not return. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs just at the sight of him. There were new lines on his face and his skin was much darker, but he appeared otherwise unchanged.
Then she noticed a wisp of a golden curl fall on his shoulder. Then a flutter of pink silk behind his left leg. And a young pale face that suddenly came into view behind his— a girl's. Who was this girl sitting smugly behind him? Why would Rowan even let her on his horse? It wasn't for lack of horses; there were plenty extra returning with the men.
As Rowan passed her, their eyes met. But not in the way she had imagined every day since he had left. He didn't leap off his horse to shower her with passionate kisses; he remained seated on his horse with no intention of going to her at all. He didn't light up with excitement at seeing her again; he turned his face away in shame. Arabella suddenly felt sick. She had to get out of here. Now. Away from people and away from the joy surrounding her.
Looking at her distraught appearance, anyone around her would assume her friend or loved one had not returned. But the truth was far worse. He had returned. Just not for her. She wanted to believe this was a misunderstanding. Perhaps he had not actually seen her. She knew the truth, but she needed to hear it from his lips before allowing herself to get too upset. Shoving her way through the mass of excited people, Arabella rushed to Rowan's home at the edge of the woods outside the city walls where she decided she would wait for him to return.
