The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [21]
Rosette squeezed Nell tightly. ‘It’s good to be here.’
‘Where are your things?’
Rosette untangled herself from the embrace and looked into Nell’s eyes. ‘This is all I’ve got.’
‘Leave in a hurry, did you, Kalindi Rose?’
Rosette shuddered. She glanced over her shoulder then back to Nell. ‘Don’t say that name.’
Nell searched her face. ‘What’s this about?’
‘I’m…’ She blanched, her hands beginning to tremble. ‘I’m Rosette now, Rosette de Santo. You mustn’t say my birth name again.’
‘Why ever not?’
Rosette looked down at her feet, tears falling. ‘Something…something terrible’s happened.’
‘I can see that.’
Nell gathered her into her arms again and held her tight. The garden went strangely silent for a moment and Rosette felt a warmth flooding her body, chasing away the fear and hurt. When Nell let her go, the garden came back to life, abuzz with chatter.
‘Come inside, Rosette. You’re exhausted. You need to eat, and rest.’
‘Thank you, Nell. I am a bit dizzy. I don’t know if I can eat.’
‘We’ll see about that.’
Rosette took off her boots, lining them up on the porch next to Nell’s, and crossed the threshold. The smells of baking bread, cinnamon, mint and roast meat did seem inviting. They sat at the black oak table, side by side, and held hands.
‘Tell me what happened, Rosette. What are you running from?’
Rosette felt tears welling again as she reported the events, stuttering when she came to the kitchen scene. Nell didn’t speak, nor did she let go of her hands. She drew Rosette out of her chair and into her lap, rocking her gently. Rosette let her tears fall and they ran down her face, mixing with Nell’s.
‘You did right to disappear,’ Nell said, stirring a cast-iron pot.
It simmered on the hearth, making Rosette’s mouth water. They had just returned from an early-morning walk—a good night’s sleep reviving her spirits, and her appetite.
‘If someone wanted to punish John’ra that’s one thing, and it’s done, but if they wanted…something else, that’s another matter altogether.’
Rosette washed her hands in the basin, drying them with a brightly coloured kitchen towel. ‘What do you mean, something else?’
‘Just speculation.’ Nell frowned. ‘Did you speak to anyone in Dumarka?’
‘I came straight here.’
‘You remembered the way?’
‘Easy, though I’d forgotten how far it was.’
‘It’s not so easy for just anyone,’ Nell said. She opened the oven door and a wave of heat and bakery aromas poured out. ‘Did you use your family name on the ship or at the harbour in Flureon?’
‘Only de Santo, if that.’
‘You’ve done well, sweetheart.’
Nell turned to the pantry beside the stove and took butter and cheese from the cold box and set them out on the table. Rosette got out plates and cups.
‘But, Nell, why did this happen? Do you know?’
Nellion smoothed her dress before putting her hands on her hips. ‘There are enemies in the world, Rosette.’
‘Enemies?’
‘Come. Eat first. I need to think. Plenty of time for philosophy later.’
Rosette frowned. ‘Philosophy?’
‘Philosophy and speculation. That’s all anything is, second-hand.’
While Nell prepared the food, Rosette leaned back in her chair. Her face relaxed as she scanned the cottage, taking it in properly for the first time. The rows of books by the back wall had increased since she’d last visited. Leather-bound volumes of various shapes and sizes were stacked on shelves that climbed halfway to the ceiling. A four-poster bed with crimson cushions and a purple velvet quilt filled the far corner. Woven rugs covered the hardwood floor, cushions were scattered about, and various herbs hung from the beams over the kitchen, adding a mix of earthy fragrance to the cottage.
She spotted the mobiles of planets circling above in miniature orbits around bright orange suns. The broad window seat where she’d slept was covered with quilts, warm and comfortable on the far side of the hearth. Rosette had been warm and snug all night, even though the temperature dropped quickly once the sun set. The glowing coals had been a welcome heat. She studied