After stitching up the wound in Pierre’s chest and making sure he was comfortable in the back of the wagon that they dug out of one of the barns, Rose spent the rest of the early morning hours helping Margot pack up the wagon with supplies for their trip to Beaumont. Maric and Alistair were seeing to the horses and the other farm animals, many of which would need to be turned loose to fend for themselves as it was uncertain when it would be safe for Pierre and Margot to return.

It had been a late night. After Rose helped Margot tend to Pierre, she spent the rest of the night dragging the bodies of the goblins into a large pit dug out by Maric and Alistair. There they burned all the bodies, stripping them first of their armor. It was to prevent any spread of disease.

The troll’s body was burned where it fell as it was too large to move. Rose’s nostrils still stung with the acrid smell of smoke and foul stench of the burnt bodies. Afterwards, Maric and Alistair buried the remains.

They all took a quick dip in the pond to wash off the caked blood and grime and stench of smoke and death from the attack. Rose discovered new bruises along her body and her ribs were painfully sore, causing her to wince every time she raised her arms. Maric was covered in new cuts, but none deep enough to be serious, though Margot tended to him as if they were. Alistair was exhausted though unmarked. Rose did not know how Odette fared as she refused to let anyone tend to her.

Rose stood up after bundling a set of clothes for the children. The days were getting cooler and they would need their winter clothes soon. She wasn’t surprised to find Odette watching her with open dislike from the open door.

“What is it that you want?” Rose asked when Odette said nothing.

“I came to say something to you.”

“And?” Odette was cryptic around everyone except Maric. When she was with him, Rose noticed that her stern exterior melted away. She only smiled for Maric.

“You take care of him.” Rose didn’t need to ask her whom she was speaking of. Rose knew that Odette loved Maric. She didn’t know if Maric returned those feelings. But, seeing Odette here, she suspected that he did not.

“You are giving in easily,” Rose replied lightly. “I did not expect that after these past couple of days.”

“I have come to realize that it does not matter what I do,” she said, her eyes looking beyond Rose to the space around her. Rose turned to follow her gaze and saw nothing. “Fate binds you to him and him to you.”

Rose froze, she felt a trickle of fear run through her. “What do you mean?”

Odette smiled wryly. “The ties between you and Maric are strong.” She turned and left before Rose could ask her for an explanation. Fate, there it was again. Fate, Sleeping Beauty, her story, and happily ever after. But, how did Maric fit into it? He was no Prince Charming, no prince at all.

***

“The king will need to be informed of the attack,” Maric said. The group sat around the table drinking coffee that Margot brewed and ate a cold breakfast of bread and cheese. Daylight was breaking over the tops of the trees and none of them had slept. Dark circles shadowed everyone’s eyes except Odette, who seemed oddly refreshed. From personal experience, Maric knew that she was rarely tired.

“I will go. I am the king’s cousin. He will grant me an audience,” Alistair said, his lips pressed thin and white.

“Odette. Go with him.” Maric didn’t need to explain that if anything happened to Alistair, then she would be the one to carry the message to the king. Odette gave him a sharp nod.

“We will see the Bouchers safely to their kin first,” Alistair said. “If we travel swiftly, we will be in Beaumont by the end of the day.”

“Thank you.”

“And, what do you plan? Will you be haring off to cut the head off the snake? Take all the glory for yourself,” Alistair asked with a large smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Rose and I will investigate what happened in Berxley. Perhaps, we will discover enough information about where our enemy is encamped. Once we do, I promise I will not act without you,” Maric said, holding up a hand. Alistair grinned. “We will meet you in Beaumont in a day or two.”

“Agreed.” The two men shook hands sealing the promise.

***

Rose watched as the others left. Odette took the lead, followed by the wagon which Margot drove, and Alistair in the rear. They would ride in that formation for the next few hours until they reached Margot’s sister’s farm outside of Beaumont. Pierre was still unconscious with a high fever, and Lina and Hugo tended to him in the back of the wagon. Margot, with Rose’s help, had cleaned out the wound caused by the arrow the best they could and applied a poultice Margot made with herbs she found in the woods, but the wound was bright red with infection before they could apply it. Rose prayed that Pierre would survive the trip. He needed his rest, they all did.

“Are you ready?” Maric asked. His brown eyes were dull and his face pale. He held out his hand to Rose and helped her up into the saddle. Daffodil pranced a little, anxious to be on their way.

“Yes,” Rose replied as she watched Maric swing up into his own saddle. They rode up the path to where they stood only the day before. Rose looked down at the farm. Yesterday, when she stood there, she felt the peace and love radiate from the land. Today, with the charred fields and buildings, blood soaked into the ground, and the stink of death still thick in the air, she felt like crying. Would the Boucher farm ever be the same again?

As if able to read her thoughts, Maric rode up alongside her and said, “Do not worry. We will return one day. It will be different then.”

Rose nodded and wiped away a single tear away. They turned and continued down the path which led to the main road that would lead into Berxley.

***

They rode quickly not knowing if the goblins were watching them from the trees. It was unlikely as goblins rarely made appearances during the day, but Maric wouldn’t count on it. Goblins rarely attacked humans outright either. They were scavengers and thieves by nature, scrounging around in the dark picking at the leftovers. They would not have attacked the night before unless they were under someone’s command. But, who would have sway over the goblins? They were mercurial at best and cowards at the very worst.

Maric rode ahead of Rose, his eyes darting into the thick growth of trees surrounding the path. It felt as if someone was watching them, but whenever he turned his head to look, all he saw were shadows. Rose sat silently in the saddle, her eyes bleary and unfocused. They needed to rest. But, as the sun rose higher in the sky and they rode closer and closer to Berxley, Maric willed himself to stay alert.

Maric had gone into Berxley plenty of times when he resided on the farm. He rode in with Pierre every Sunday to trade their excess crops for items they needed. Usually it was a bit of fabric for Margot to make new clothes for the children, or Pierre would trade a bushel of potatoes to the blacksmith to repair an axe or the plow. Every time, Maric would buy a bag of sweets for Lina and Hugo, which they all indulged in after dinner Sunday night. Some times, though not often, the whole family would join them and they would attend the small chapel in Berxley. Margot knew many of the villagers and would spend the hours after church visiting each one with the children in tow. Lina and Hugo would run around the yards with the other children playing until it was time to leave while Pierre and Maric would go to the village’s only tavern to drink ale and catch up on news. Over dinner that night, Pierre would share what he learned from the men while Margot shared the gossip she learned from the women.

Even if Maric didn’t know the way to Berxley, all he had to follow was the trail of black smoke in the sky.

They reached the outskirts of the village within the hour. Maric rode alongside the village with intent to enter through a side path instead of the main road. Though he heard nothing, he did not want to be taken by surprise by any lingering enemies. A caravan of wagons were parked just outside the main entrance in an open field.

Rose cried out and slid off of her horse and ran towards a wagon parked in the adjacent field. Maric leaped off Clover and followed her. By the time he reached her, Rose had thrown open the wagon’s door and climbed into it. She reappeared seconds later. “She’s not here.”

“Who?”

“Athena…” Rose didn’t stop to explain as she went from wagon to wagon checking the interiors. “No one is here.” Panic was rising in her eyes. Maric reached out and pulled her close to his chest. As she clutched onto him, her head buried into his chest, he heard a crossbow being cocked.

“Don’t move,” a voice called out from over his shoulder.

***

Rose pushed against Maric’s chest and ran towards the woman standing at the edge of the forest. Maric tried to grab her arm, but she slipped out of his grip.

“Oh, thank the heavens, Athena,” Rose said. The woman lowered her crossbow.

“Rose? What are you doing here?” Rose ran her eyes over Athena. Though she had not seen her in months, Athena looked older, tired. Large bags shadowed her eyes and her skin looked pale even under her dark skin.

“A farm nearby was attacked by goblins last night. We came to investigate.” Rose nodded towards Maric. Athena stilled, raising her crossbow and pointing it at his chest. Maric raised his arms in surrender.

Rose put her hand on Athena’s crossbow and pushed it down. “He’s a friend. His name is Maric.” Rose turned to Maric. “This is Athena Alarie.” Maric nodded in greeting. Athena narrowed her eyes at Maric, but lowered the crossbow and smiled tentatively at Rose.

“Then he is a friend of mine.” She turned and placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. People began walking out of the trees. Many of them were women clutching sleeping children in their arms. Rose recognized many of her old friends.

“What happened here last night?” Maric asked as he approached Athena. She turned a wary eye to Maric.

“Much like yourself, we were attacked. It started early in the evening. The goblins came from the woods, surrounding the village.” She shuddered. “Many were killed in the first few minutes.” She looked to the village behind her, most of the buildings gone or burned black from the fire. “We fought as many as we could before taking the survivors and retreating into the forest.”

“How many survived?” Maric asked.

“Not enough.” Athena’s lips thinned. “It was a slaughter.” She turned to Rose. “We lost Sebastian, Roberta, and Lily.” Rose stifled a cry. “The villagers lost many more. They caught us completely unawares. Most of our troupe survived only because we were awake, planning our next performance. The villagers, though, were all abed. Many did not even wake from their slumber.”

“Do you know where they came from?”

“It seems to be from farther down south. I sent Matthias to scout the area and he followed the goblins’ trail down to the river. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

Maric nodded. “We will help you clear the village.” He turned to Rose. “Then, we will go and locate their encampment.”

Athena shook her head. “No, you both need rest and a hot meal. Come with me.” Maric hesitated, perhaps taken aback by Athena’s commanding tone, but Rose pulled at his hand until he began following her. Athena pushed past the people who were grouping together. Women brought out pots and began to cook soup over an open fire. Bread and cheese was being passed around. Buckets of clean water were brought to each group as people sat down on the grass to eat.

Rose thought it looked much like a picnic if not for the weary and heartbroken looks on their faces. It was silent except for the occasional wail or cry from a child.

Athena led them to her covered wagon and opened the door and ushered them inside. It was a tight space, especially with all three of them, but it was exactly how Rose remembered it. When she was with the troupe, she spent many nights sitting by the small hearth in the wagon drinking tea with Athena. They would spend the nights talking about anything on their mind. For her part, Athena never asked Rose where she came from or who she really was, and she even helped craft her false backstory. She was the one that decided to dress Rose as a young man, cutting her blond hair close and dying it red with beetroot. She was the one that taught Rose to play the lute, though after Rose began, she seemed to take to it naturally. And, most importantly, she was the one that put a roof over her head and hot food in her belly for the past five years.

Rose owed her much, and as she watched Athena fill a basin with warm water and leave only to return with two bowls of hot soup and a loaf of bread and cheese, Rose knew she owed her again. Much as she didn’t want to admit it for herself, Rose was on her last legs. She needed rest. And, by the look of the dark shadows under Maric’s eyes, he did as well.

Athena drew back the covers of the narrow bed and left them to eat and wash up. She told them to take their time to rest. Before she left she said she will be helping the villagers bury their dead.

Maric sat down on one of the small chairs at the table while Rose sat down across from him. She slowly began to eat and didn’t realize how hungry she was until she was dredging up the last bit of the soup with her bread.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Maric said, as he finished his own meal. Rose broke off another large piece of bread from the loaf and gave it to him. He nodded in thanks.

“We need our rest. Athena is right.”

“How long have you known her? I imagine this is the troupe you spoke of.”

“For nearly five years,” Rose replied, chewing her piece of bread slowly. “She was the one that taught me how to play the lute.”

“And, more I suspect,” Maric said, his eyes falling to the knives at Rose’s sides.

“Yes, she taught me to fight as well. It is not always safe to travel the roads, even in a group. We were attacked by wild animals, bandits, and monsters enough to know that we also needed to know how to defend ourselves. Also, Athena believed that if you did not work, whether performing with the troupe or defending the caravan or both, you did not deserve to stay.”

“That’s a little cold.”

Rose shrugged. “We all needed to play our part. And, we all understood it. She is a businesswoman above all.” Rose never made the mistake of thinking Athena did anything out of the pure goodness of her heart. She was out to make money, and more importantly, to take care of her family of ragtag performers. She loved them, but if there ever was a bad seed, they would find themselves out in the cold. And, the troupe loved Athena. Everyone was willing to work hard for her, for the others. Athena and the others felt more like family to Rose than her own father and mother.

Maric nodded and yawned widely. He eyed the bed behind Rose. “If we are going to stay, we might as well take advantage of the bed.” Rose flushed at what Maric was suggesting as he began to peel away his armor until he wore only his tunic and trousers. Rose pulled off her boots and washed up in the basin of warm water that Athena left behind. Then she climbed into the bed, pushing up closely against the wall so Maric would have enough room. He followed her and pulled her close, until Rose rested her head on his shoulder and her body tucked tightly along his right side. Maric stroked Rose gently down her back until she felt the weight of exhaustion overcome her and succumbed to sleep.

***

Maric felt Rose slip into sleep, her breath even and deep against his neck. He brushed his lips against her forehead and she murmured sleepily. It was coming to an end, whatever this was, Maric thought. His headaches were getting stronger. And, he knew that he was getting closer to discovering what happened to him and who he truly was. His arm tightened around Rose and she slipped an arm free to wrap around his chest.

That was the problem. Did he want to know who he really was? What if he was already attached to someone else? What if he was someone that Rose would despise? It would be better than to never know, to have Rose here with him now. To stay in this moment forever.

Rose sighed contentedly and Maric felt the pin prick of tears in his eyes. Yes, he loved her and he feared what was coming next. He feared losing her forever.

***

Maric stood at the edge of the tower room. His eyes blinking hard adjusting to the green light that seemed to emit from the corner of the room. Whenever he turned his head towards it, his eyes clenched shut unwillingly as if he could not bear to see what laid within the light.

“You have been my guest for these past three months,” a voice called out from the shadows. Maric shuddered. It was deep and sensual and familiar. It was the voice that haunted his dreams, that called out to him in the middle of the night. It caressed his skin until he was left in a fine sheen of sweat. Or, it was cold and his body tensed in pain.

“Where is the girl?”

Maric gritted his teeth together. He knew what would come next. There were no whips here, the witch didn’t need them.

“I do not know who you are speaking of. As I told you, I know no girl.” The witch cackled and Maric felt a shiver of fear run down his body. The witch stepped out of the shadows and Maric had to suppress the scream on his lips. She was dressed in a large black cape and whenever she spread out her arms, it looked like large bat wings. She wore a large horned crown on her head which made her face appear sharp and narrow. Her yellow eyes watched Maric carefully, though they were sparking with anger and impatience. This was not their first meeting. This was not the first time the witch had interrogated Maric until he bled and sweat and was too weak to stand, only to be dragged back to his cell and torture to continue at the end of the whip. But, being in the witch’s presence was much worse than the lash of the whip. Maric could close his mind to any physical pain. He could not close his mind to her.

As if on cue, he felt the ground below him begin to shift. The goblins holding him quickly jumped out of the way as thick thorny vines appeared out of the ground and began to circle his legs. They wrapped up his body and Maric flinched away from the thorns. They would leave no mark on his body, unlike the whip. If his skin is pierced, there will be no scars. But, he will bleed until there is no more blood to give. And, he would scream until his voice was sore and gasping.

The vines crawled their way up to his head, the sharp, black thorns digging into his body, until he was entirely entombed in them. They pulsed with dark energy and he felt a sharp, white pain digging into his head. He screamed.

Maric did not know how much time had passed before the thorns pulled away and he collapsed onto the ground heaving in pain.

“Will you tell me now where Aurora hides?” The witch said, crouching low to his head. She wiped beads of sweat off her brow and Maric relished that she looked tired from her exertions.

“I do not know who you speak of,” Maric ground out between gasps. In a fury, she clutched her hand into a fist and Maric flew across the room slamming up against the wall of the tower. Even though she did not touch him, he could feel her hand clutching his neck, squeezing every breath out of his lungs.

He dug his fingers against his neck futilely as he watched her fly towards him, her eyes flashing with fury. “You stupid man. If you say you do not remember then you will not remember anything ever again. You will live the rest of your short, pathetic life never knowing who you really are. You will be no one. And, you will die never knowing, never remembering. You will die alone in your own mind.” She flung her hand and Maric crashed down onto the ground. The witch turned to the two goblins who cowered in the doorway. “Take him back to the dungeon. Leave him there to die.”

Maric felt the two goblins lift him under the arm and drag him out of the room. He did not know where he was, but he knew he was in pain and in danger. As they began the journey down the tower, a breath of fresh air filled his lungs and he took in deep, rejuvenating breaths. He eyed the window as the goblins dragged him closer and closer to it. With his last drop of strength, Maric wrenched himself away from the goblins, causing them to cry out in surprise, and he threw himself out the window.

He was free, he thought as he flew towards the rapidly approaching ground.

***

Rose woke to the sun streaming in the small window above the bed. It was quiet outside the wagon and she gently removed Maric’s arm from her shoulder and slipped out of the bed. Maric slept on while Rose dressed and stepped out of Athena’s wagon.

Though it was quiet out, Rose saw that many were awake. Several women hunched over open fires cooking breakfast. When she passed one, an old woman pressed a bowl of cooked oats into her hands. Rose took it gratefully and ate while keeping her eye out for Athena.

She walked into Berxley and saw that many of the villagers were packing what little possessions escaped the fires. Horses and wagons were rounded up and filled with goods from several households. She saw Athena’s dark head bobbing next to one of the wagons.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Athena said as Rose approached. “You and the man have been asleep for over a day.”

Rose’s eyes widened in alarm. “Then, we must leave immediately. There are people waiting for us in Beaumont.”

“There will be time,” Athena reassured her. “You both needed your rest.” Athena was right, as usual. Rose felt much better, energized even. Athena looked at her from the corner of her eye and hesitated before speaking. “How much do you know about the man you are traveling with?”

“Maric? We met a few days ago. He is a mercenary, a monster hunter.”

Athena nodded slowly. “And, you have never seen him before?”

“No, but I heard of him. He is well known in the area.”

“I’ve seen him,” Athena said. Rose looked up in interest. Athena had never mentioned meeting a monster hunter before. Someone like that would have been invited back to the camp to tell their stories. Athena collected stories and songs as much as she did people.

“Though he looks much different now than he did then. When you first came to us five years ago, when we were performing outside Whiteridge,” Rose nodded, she remembered the time. It was a few days after Athena had found her wandering around the woods lost. It was at Whiteridge that she took up the new identity of Jacques Rossignol. “There was a man hanging around the camp. He was younger then, no beard, no scars, but I am certain he and Maric are one in the same.”

Rose froze. “What do you mean?”

“It appeared that he was looking for someone.” Athena eyed her. “Perhaps, looking for you. He left soon after and I hadn’t set eyes on him again until yesterday when you both arrived. So, I ask you again, what do you know of him?”

“Nothing besides what I told you. Except, he lost his memory about five years back as well. He was attacked, tortured, and was found not too far from here. He does not remember who he was. He does not even remember what happened to him.”

“Are you certain he is not lying?”

“Yes,” Rose replied. “I am certain he is not.”

Athena bit her lip, her face filled with concern. “Then, be careful. There is something much larger at work here. I cannot help but feel as if the attack on Berxley, you, and Maric are not all intertwined in some way.”

Fate, Rose thought. Was this all fated to happen?