The Silver Rose: A Novel (The Dark Queen Saga)
Chapter OneThe storm hovered in the distance, the gathering clouds like a herd of  wild gray stallions about to rampage through Port Corsair and steal away  the serenity of the summer afternoon. As Miri cantered her pony into the  small harbor town, she straightened in the saddle, her nostrils flaring as  she scented the air. The storm was one, perhaps two hours away at most by  her reckoning. The rocky coast of Faire Isle usually took the brunt of the  tempests hurled from the sea, but not even the heart of the small island  would be immune to the force of this one.The brisk wind blowing leeward threatened to wreak havoc with her hair,  but her pale blond tresses were tightly bound in a braid that fell to the  small of her back. Hair so severely confined might have left another  woman’s face too harshly exposed, but it only served to emphasize the  striking mold of her cheekbones. There was something a little fey in her  expression, the reflection of a woman who kept mostly to herself, more  comfortable with the creatures of the forest than she was with her own  kind.Tall and thin, she wore a belted, ankle-length gown, the soft gray hue  adding to the ethereal illusion that she was a lady who could easily  vanish in a puff of mist. Her skirts and petticoats bunched uncomfortably  about her knees as she rode astride. The fashion for sidesaddles had never  been adopted by the practical women of Faire Isle. Miri would as soon have  dispensed with a saddle altogether and donned a comfortable pair of  masculine breeches as she had been wont to do as a child. But she feared  that she already created enough of a stir when she ventured into town  these days.As Miri slowed her pony to a walk, she braced herself for the familiar  onslaught of faces peering at her over cottage fences. Some simply stared;  others nodded their heads in uneasy recognition. An apple-cheeked woman  weeding her garden ventured to wave, but as Miri went by, the woman  immediately turned to whisper to her daughter.Miri held her head high, but the whispers, the stares thrust her back  through the years to another gloom-ridden summer day . . .The drum beat out a relentless tattoo and her heart seemed to thud in  tempo as she was dragged toward the town square by the grim-faced  witch-hunters in their black robes. The halter they had fastened about her  neck abraded her skin raw, but she tried to keep her chin up, remember who  she was, the daughter of the brave Chevalier Louis Cheney and the Lady  Evangeline, one of the wisest women Faire Isle had ever known. But she  shrank from all those staring eyes, the faces of people she’d believed  were friends and neighbors.She was a true daughter of the earth. How could they think that she was a  witch who had made an unholy pact with the devil? Why would anyone want to  hurt her? She twisted her head and directed a pleading glance toward the  youngest of the witch-hunters. Although he swallowed hard, his dark eyes  growing moist, Simon kept marching and doggedly beat the drum . . .Miri shuddered and thrust the memory back into the dark recesses of her  past where it belonged. She was no longer that frightened and bewildered  child, but a woman of six and twenty, all too familiar with the ignorance  and cruelty to be found in the world. So much had changed in her life  since that dark summer day she’d survived her arrest for witchcraft,  except perhaps for one thing. Many still suspected her of practicing  sorcery.“Filthy little witch!”Miri flinched in spite of herself at the shrill cry. She shifted in the  saddle, glancing about her for the source of the angry outcry only to  realize that the epithet had not been hurled at her.A group of some half-dozen women was clustered near the common well,  engaged in a heated conflict. Miri’s first instinct was to ride swiftly on  by. She hated altercations   of any sort and Ariane had warned Miri when she had returned to Faire Isle  six months ago. On the morning they had parted, Ariane had cupped Miri’s  face between her hands, her sister’s rich gray eyes worried and solemn.“I know how badly you need to return home, but oh, please be careful,  Miri. You were never convicted of treason and witchcraft as Gabrielle and  I were. Give them no excuse to do so now. Live quietly on Faire Isle.  Remember that even after all this time, our family still has powerful  enemies.”Enemies like Catherine de Medici, the dowager queen of France, but far  better known as the Dark Queen and a suspected sorceress, and her son,  Henry, the present king of France, an irrational and vindictive man. But  the enemy uppermost in Ariane’s mind had been the one they did not speak  of, the mere mention of his name enough to afford Miri pain. The  witch-hunter, Aristide.Just as Miri was no longer that innocent child, Simon was no longer that  tenderhearted boy, apprenticed to the terrifying Vachel Le Vis, a  fanatical witch-hunter. Over the years Simon had grown into a hardened and  dangerous adversary, far more to be dreaded than his long-dead master who  had first arrested Miri.Hugging Ariane fiercely, Miri had pledged to do her best to heed her  advice.“Do nothing to draw undue attention to yourself,   dearest.”“I won’t, Ariane. I swear it.”Recalling that promise, Miri nudged Willow away from the square, trying to  blot out the sound of the furious, upraised voices. But out of the corner  of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the victim of this wrath, a  sandy-haired girl, who looked not much older than fourteen. She clutched  the ends of a shawl about her frail shoulders, the cloth a bright weaving  of many dyed hues like the biblical Joseph’s coat of many colors. Her  freckled face blazed defiance although she held her other hand  protectively in front of her abdomen. Miri drew rein, shocked as she  realized the reason for the gesture. The girl was heavy with child, her  thin frame appearing far too frail to bear the burden swelling beneath her  gown.Her chief opponent appeared to be an angular woman, sleeves shoved up to  reveal red, work-roughened arms. Miri recognized Josephine Alain, the  local potter’s wife. She advanced toward the girl, shrieking, “Slut! We’ve  warned you for the last time. We don’t want you showing your face in our  town ever again.”Madame Alain was reinforced by an irate chorus of agreement from her  neighbors, only timid little Madame Greves appearing to make an appeal for  calm. The girl muttered some furious retort, her face streaked with  defiant tears.Madame Alain stepped closer, spluttering more insults, shaking her finger  under the girl’s nose. The girl stumbled back a step and struck Madame  Alain’s hand away. To Miri’s horror, the woman set upon the pregnant girl,  slapping her and pulling her hair.Forgetting all she had promised her sister, Miri scrambled off of Willow.  Seizing the pony’s bridle, she peered directly into one of his large soft  eyes.“Wait,” she commanded, then raced toward the group of women.By the time Miri reached the conflict, the girl had sought refuge at the  base of the statue in the square. She curled herself in a protective ball  with her multicolored shawl drawn over her head as Madame Alain pummeled  her back. The other women crowded about, urging her on, only Madame Greves  holding back, wringing her hands in her apron.Miri charged in, shoving women out of her way. She locked her arm about  Madame Alain’s neck and hauled her back from the fallen girl.“Stop it,” Miri grated in the woman’s ear. “Have you completely lost your  mind?”Madame Alain grunted, fighting to break free of Miri’s grip. Miri spun the  woman about with a strength born of desperation and hurled her away. The  woman staggered and landed hard on her rump. Spitting furious curses, she  fought her tangled skirts in an effort to rise.Although her heart thudded hard in her chest, Miri stepped in front of the  sandy-haired girl, clenching her fists. “Stay back. All of you. The next  person who lays a hand on this child will answer to me.”Josephine Alain regained her feet, ready to launch herself at Miri but she  was restrained by two of her neighbors.“Great heaven, Josephine. Don’t you see who that is? The Cheney woman.”Miri’s name buzzed through the cluster of women, their faces reflecting  varying amounts of fear, wariness, and awe. Although Madame Alain shrugged  free of the hands restraining her, even she hung back, glaring.Miri found the sudden silence unnerving. She was relieved when Madame  Greves found enough courage to come forward to help. Taking the girl  gently by the elbow, Madame Greves aided her to her feet. As soon as the  girl had regained her balance, she thrust the woman’s hands away.“Leave me alone, damn you. I’m fine.”Madame Greves’s eyes rounded in shock and she beat a hasty retreat. The  girl looked shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Miri blew out a deep breath.  Having thrust herself into the middle of this situation, she was uncertain  what to do next. She was painfully aware of having neither Ariane’s  calming aura nor her other sister Gabrielle’s regal manner.She was more disquieted by the prospect of addressing this crowd of  hostile women than she had been battling her way through them. Folding her  arms defensively in front of herself, she demanded, in what she hoped was  an authoritative tone, “Would someone care to explain to me what is going  on here?”“It is no concern of yours, Miribelle Cheney.” Strands of gray hair  escaped from Madame A...