Rosalind did not stop until she reached the edge of the woods. She skulked towards the back of the house where her husband-to-be stood in a bare patch of land that would eventually become a little garden.

Troy's sleeves were rolled up and his feet were bare. There was a smudge of dirt across his cheek. His red hair was damp with sweat and clung to his delicate features.

Rosalind recalled the first time they became intimate. Their secret love was shared behind Lord Caspian's back. A secret she swore she would hide from Caspian to the end of her days.

Troy's beauty had stunned her then. The way he looked at her, touched her, felt inside her, captivated Rosalind. "I have never seen anyone more beautiful than you. You belong in a fairy tale, not here," she had told him. 

That night, she promised herself she would never allow Caspian to hurt him again. By sticking her Vorpal blade in the lord's chest, she made her oath a reality.

But bit by bit, that promise broke her down until there was a crumbling, love-sick woman where a fine lady once stood.

Memories were silky-fine cobwebs, Rosalind shook them away and looked to Troy. A box of pink and red blossoms rested in his hands - adolescent roses that would eventually bloom into grand bushes.

Rosalind knew he was planting them for her. Every petal would be a reminder of how he adored her and the thorns an unwelcome pain of him not being the man she still carried a torch for.

The backyard was secluded among a cluster of herculean trees. Rosalind moved deftly. The hem of her crimson dress made the faintest sound as it swished around her feet.

Like the albino stag before him, Troy was oblivious to her when she raised her bow and took aim.

The arrow flew past him with a swoosh and dug deep into the tree a foot away.

The box fell. Every pretty flower crashed below. Petals came loose and scattered in the wind.

"Who goes there?" Although Troy's voice was demanding, the wind carried the tremble.

Rosalind pulled another bow from the quiver and aimed again.

Stepping out from behind the trees, she pointed her weapon at his heart. "Do not move," she commanded.

The rise and fall of his chest was obvious. "Rosalind."

Rosalind saw how close she had come to killing him. Had he taken a few steps to the right... Finding her voice, she let it ghost to him, "Against the tree, Troy."

Troy backed up over long, skinny stems that lay broken all around. He came in contact with the trunk. Palms went flat against the bark. "Does this keep you content?" he breathed.

Her reply was an arrow slamming into the trunk a few inches from his temple, then another a thread away from his hip.

Troy closed his eyes and tried to steady his heart. There was a quake inside him keeping him from being perfectly still. "This eternal abyss of regret will take us both to hell," he uttered so softly she did not hear.

"Where are the others? The staff?" Rosalind asked as she stepped closer. She had not met any of the new workers.

"They have gone for the day."

"Everyone?"

Troy shook his head. "Agnes never leaves. You should know that by now."

"We have reason to be bound to his place. She has been granted freedom and yet she remains. Perhaps she is the most illogical one of us all."

"She stays because she cares about us. She raised me when my mother had her duties and she was my salvation when my father would beat me senseless."

Rosalind's jaw clenched but her silence was deafening.

"She cared for you too, my darling. Do not forget that. She is more than a simple maid and always will be."

Rosalind and Agnes had not had the pleasure of reuniting. She had not seen her dear maid since Caspian's death. The reunion would be bittersweet. Reminders of how Agnes knew Rosalind's secrets brought joy before ushering in anger and shame.

Though Rosalind deeply cared for the maid, there were times she wished the older woman would sink into the tapestry and stay out of her business. 

"It will be wise if she stays inside behind shutters shut tight." A memory flickered before Rosalind as she neared Troy and placed her hands on either side of him. But the memory was of Caspian and her. It whispered of the time Agnes had caught them in the throes of passion. "I do not want her to see what I am going to do. She has the habit of appearing when she should not."

Closing the distance. Rosalind briefly placed her fingertips on Troy's chest. She felt the shudder of his heart beneath. "Take off your clothes," she breathed into the crook of his neck.

Opening his eyes, Troy watched her drop first bow then quiver.

"Does this keep you content?" he asked again. His fingers moved to his trousers and the leather straps holding them up.

Ignoring his question, she uttered, "I need you now."

Troy paused. His gaze bore into her. "Answer me."

"You know the answer." Rosalind slid her hands over his. She pulled the straps loose and opened his trousers.

Troy hooked his thumbs along the waistband. He tugged down before stepping out of every stitch covering his lower half. "There is rarely any joy in your eyes and this breaks my heart."

Grabbing Rosalind, he turned and pinned her against the tree. 

Rosalind grabbed his hips. His skin was electric. She brought him closer, both roughly and needing. "At least you still have a heart. Mine lays in ruins. And I...I lay in shambles."

"Under all this ache. Your heart still beats, Rosalind. Listen to it. Hear the thuds that remind you of how much you love. I know the sacrifices you made to save us. To save me. I am there, under the shelter of your rib cage. You will find me where goodness grows. I will be waiting for you." Slipping his hands under her skirt, he tugged it up. "I know I cannot erase him from you." Gentle hands drew away any material which got in his way.

When Troy slipped inside her, it took all the strength she could manage to keep from crying out Caspian's name.

"Forgive me, my sweet prince, for I do not know what to do with this broken soul."

Troy's thrusts were a fragile desperation. His voice was an unfinished melody. "Love me too, Rosalind. Never stop."

"I do love you," her voice cracked under the weight of confession. 

Troy touched his hand to her heart. "Find me."

Above them, a solitary magpie flew into the garden and perched upon the branches of a nearby tree. The bird cawed. Her dark wings were a waterfall of black as she shook them beside her. She bowed her head. Her ruby glare locked onto the pair.

"How I wish it had been you I met. Only you. Angels and devils laugh at me now. Their scorn is poison. Why could it have not been only you?" Rosalind mourned before leaning in for a kiss. He tasted like sugar and cinnamon. How could she bear giving him up forever? 

"You are the only one I have ever loved." Taking her wrists, Troy pinned her hands above her head and pressed his lips to her neck. "There is no one else. There never will be."

Rosalind looked up. When her gaze met the bird's she froze. A gentle hush washed over the Borgo. All Rosalind heard was the beating of Troy's heart as it tried desperately to find her own.

"Find me," Troy begged.

The magpie looked away. It gave a soft cry before pushing off the branch and flying away.  

Rosalind wanted to chase after it, for she was certain it would lead her back to Lord Caspian. "Wait for me," she whispered, burying her face in the crook of Troy's neck. "Please wait." 

My sixth dedication is for up20101 who has become a super fan of Rosalind and Bellua. Their support is awesome!