Lauren Fairrose's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Lauren Fairrose stopped beneath the twisted tree and pulled the torn paper from a low branch. The faded ink was Prince Jeffery's hand. It was a love note to Rosalind, lost to the wind before it ever reached her. Lauren read it twice. Rosalind never knew. That meant the prince's heart was still in play, and Lauren meant to take it. She dragged a ladder across the grass to the tall wooden tower where the prince kept his candles and his framed picture of Rosalind. Her arms shook. The ladder was too heavy. She could not climb. So she did the next thing. She softened her voice until it matched the voice he loved, and she called up to him. She asked him to meet her by the waterfall near the stone castle on the hill. Prince Jeffery came to the window. He did not see her. He only heard the voice. "I will come," he said. Short. Certain. He did not know it was Lauren below. Frocklin the cold stood behind a hedge, listening. Her mouth curled. She filed every word away like a coin in a purse. Lauren waited at the edge of the path, the letter still warm in her hand. She heard his boots on the stair. She opened her mouth to call again, to say her own name, to claim the moment. Then she hesitated. What if he turned and left the second he saw her face? What if the voice was all she had? The pause stretched. His boots passed the turn in the path and faded toward the falls, expecting Rosalind. Lauren stood alone under the gnarled branches. The torn letter slipped from her fingers and caught again on the bark, exactly where she had found it. She walked the long way back to the vine-covered cabin at court and shut the door. The chance was gone, and Frocklin had heard every word.