Rosie Frost, page 30
She looked away.
“You did!” he shouted. “Rosie, this isn’t right!”
“I had to get answers!” Rosie answered. “Hemlock promised…”
He began to pace. “You put everyone in danger.” He stopped and jabbed his finger at her. “I had one chance to prove I belong here. One chance! And thanks to you it’s gone. You’ve messed it up for me. For everyone!”
“But, Charlie, for my mum, and Miss Churchill—” Rosie said desperately.
“But you didn’t even think about me or Bina for a minute, did you?” Charlie shouted. “It’s always about you, your answers, your problems! What about us?”
“Charlie, I do care…”
Charlie shook his head and walked out. Rosie went to follow him, but Bina put her hand on Rosie’s arm.
“Let him cool down, Rosie. We’re allowed back to the palace tomorrow. He’ll get the project done.”
Rosie sat down heavily on the bed. “I do care.”
“Yeah, well,” sighed Bina, and she looked away. “Anyway, we’re all tired, and the fencing competition is in the morning. The whole school is coming to watch. There’s a sandwich there for you, if you want it.”
“Thanks.” Rosie groaned. “That’s really going ahead? Typical Bloodstone. What did you want to talk to me about anyway?”
Rosie picked up the sandwich. It looked a bit dry and had curled up at the edges.
“I’ve been thinking.” Bina’s voice sounded brittle. “Hitomi said something in her presentation about getting a good sample even from a bit of hair. Elizabeth was the last person to wear the Tudor Crown, so it might still have some of her DNA on it. What if someone worked that out? And tested it, matching it with your DNA? It could prove beyond doubt that you’re her direct descendant and the King’s Chair is yours.”
“Oh. The crown. I kind of accidentally stole that.”
Bina stared at her. “You what?”
“I didn’t mean to steal it!”
And now it was stuck in the loo, along with any proof the King’s Chair belonged to her.
Ada hopped up next to her, nuzzling into Rosie’s hoodie. Jackson’s hoodie, actually.
“Ada, not now.” The rabbit looked up at her with big sad eyes. Rosie pushed her away.
“Rosie,” Bina said. “She’s just trying to be nice to you.”
The rage crashed down on Rosie again in a black wave, then erupted out of her.
“No matter what I do, things just get worse and worse. You made me apologize to Hemlock and look what happened! He killed Indigo’s babies!”
“I made you? You apologized because it was the right thing to do after torturing him! How about taking responsibility for your own actions?” Bina’s face flushed. “And you can’t go round cutting people’s heads off just because you’re pissed off!”
Rosie threw down the remains of her sandwich. Ada nibbled on the crust.
“What?”
“Jackson told us that was the first thing you thought of!”
“Why would he say that? I didn’t mean it like that. I was just kidding, but yes, I want someone to pay for what they did to Mum! So Jackson’s talking about me behind my back?” Rosie clenched her fists. “And why would you listen to him anyway? You hate Cromwells. They’re power-hungry maniacs, aren’t they?” she spat.
What was she doing hanging around a Cromwell? She should never have trusted him.
“I’m worried about you. That’s why I listened to him. He wouldn’t tell us what you were doing at the Jewel Tower, so that’s another one of your secrets. Along with why you were sneaking around the science block that night I covered for you. And YOUR BIRTHDAY! You didn’t even tell us about that—just spent the evening with Jackson!”
Rosie’s stomach sank and rumbled with guilt, like Bina had just seen what was in her heart, her thoughts, about Jackson. He was a Cromwell, and could you ever trust a Cromwell?
“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” she mumbled.
“Sure you didn’t just want to get cozy with Jackson?” Bina shot back.
“No! How did you even know?” Rosie frowned. “Did Jackson tell you that too?”
“No, Hitomi told me. She saw you that night at the palace. She’s right, you think you’re too good for us now.”
“Bina! That’s not true. Whatever! I’ll be expelled anyway, now Hemlock’s in charge, even though this island belongs to me.”
Bina eyes widened. “Oh, it belongs to you, does it?”
“Well, it does.”
Bina picked up a book from her table and threw it into Rosie’s lap. It was the little purple book, the Falcon Queen’s rules. Notes left by Queen Anne for her daughter, Elizabeth.
“Did you even bother to read this properly? Find out what it really means? The rule book Miss Churchill entrusted you with, written by your great-great-times-a-million-grandmother Anne Boleyn? Or did you just get bored?” Her whole face tightened, eyes glaring. “I read it. It’s all about service. About doing things for other people, not yourself!”
Rosie hunched her shoulders and looked at the floor.
“Bloodstone belongs to everyone,” Bina went on. “To all the people who’ve worked and studied here, who’ve cared for it and loved it. And the animals—they were here first! It doesn’t belong to some stroppy, selfish teenager who turned up a few weeks ago and just thinks about herself.” Rosie flinched. “And”—Bina continued—“who is mean to innocent rabbits! Who even are you?”
Ada shrank away from them, trembling, then hopped out of the room.
“That’s what I want to know! See how you like it when someone murders your family!” Rosie shouted. Her eyes were hot with tears. “Miss Churchill was going to tell me who I am!”
Bina got up from her chair and grabbed her bag. “Rosie, I am so, so sorry for what happened to you, I really am, but is any of your behavior going to bring your mum back? Does your revenge make the pain go away?” She shook her head. “I get it, Rosie, you’re angry, and that hate makes you feel better for a minute, but look what it’s taken from you!” She picked up the pineapple notebook. “Where is your music, your spirit?”
Rosie folded her arms and scowled.
“Yes, someone took your mum,” Bina went on, “but do they have to take you with her?” She rested her hand on the notebook. “It’s your hate that has stolen everything! What happened to the girl who wrote songs? Who inspired us all? It’s your hate that has stolen you, and your music.”
Bina straightened up and sniffed. Rosie wouldn’t look at her. “Right now I’ve got an all-nighter with my Miracles and Monsters friends. Everyone’s all shaken up. And for God’s sake, Rosie, have a shower or something. And if you’re so bothered about finding out who you really are, just take a look in the mirror.”
She stormed out, slamming the door. Rosie’s heart thumped, and the dark scab on her hand throbbed.
She went to the bathroom mirror and stared at her reflection. Maybe Bina was right. Was it selfish to want revenge? She hadn’t thought what it would cost. Charlie was miserable, Indigo’s babies were dead, the Last Tudor Crown was stuck in a toilet, and Hemlock was headmaster. Good job, role model. The name Frost was often given to those born in winter. Also to those said to be wicked, Hemlock’s words echoed in her head again.
Her heart felt black. Maybe she was wicked?
Who are you, Rosie Frost?
Chapter 48
En Garde!
Saturday, February 11th. Midday. The Emperium Palace.
Rosie sat alone on the fencing bench in the grand courtyard of the Emperium Palace, waiting for her next bout. Some of the other fencers had friends sitting just behind them.
When she’d woken up that morning, Bina had already gone. Ada wasn’t there either. Rosie pulled the note Bina had left her out of her bag and read it again.
Dear Rosie,
You’re a direct descendant. There must be a way.
I know who can help.
Bina
P.S. Still no sign of Mademoiselle.
No kisses. No good luck. All business.
The crowd applauded at the other end of the courtyard and Rosie looked up. There were four areas in the courtyard where bouts were being played simultaneously for the group stages. Hitomi had just won hers. She bowed and beamed at the audience, including her proud dad, of course. Rosie’s lips tightened with the ugliest feeling, not one she would care to admit to: jealousy. Rosie Frost was jealous, because there Hitomi was—a daughter with a dad who loved her and supported her every step of the way. Hitomi went back to her seat, looked across at Rosie, and smiled.
That morning Hitomi had turned up, cheery as ever, to pick Rosie up in a buggy and take her to the fencing tournament. The island stewards had rounded up the most dangerous animals overnight, so it was safe for the students to move around the island. The rain had subsided too, but the sky was gray and heavy, and busy with sky crackles.
“Wow, you’re in the semifinal! Congratulations!” Tilly said, sitting down on the bench behind Rosie with Gilly. “What are you reading?”
Rosie tucked the note into her bag. “Nothing. How’s your ankle?”
“Sore,” Tilly said with her usual smile.
“Another win for the Cromwells,” said Gilly, his face glum. Jackson was in the far corner, waving at the crowd. “He’s up against Hitomi next.”
“Yes, and Mr. Hemlock looks very pleased with himself,” said Tilly.
Hemlock was at the back of the courtyard, sipping tea and watching everyone. Some of the kids who’d been with Tilly and Gilly last night were clustered round Jackson, staring up at him, wide eyed and smiling.
“They’re all madly in love with Jackson after he saved us from the frogerraptors,” Tilly said with a sigh.
“But Rosie helped too,” grunted Gilly. He elbowed Tilly, who handed Rosie a water bottle.
“We’re reclaiming the mural,” she said.
Rosie looked at the water bottle; it had a picture on it. Of her. It was the cartoon of her from the wall in the Sovereign Hall, but this one was smiling. It was quite nice. No nosebleed, no stocks, just the cartoonish red hair and the Falcon Queen champion’s crown. It said Team Rosie on it in big orange letters.
“Gilly did it. Do you like it? He’s going to add a sword if you win today.”
“Thank you, it’s really cool,” Rosie said.
Gilly blushed and peered across the courtyard.
He saw Ed too. Should I tell him that Ed’s a ghost? No, probably just freak him out.
“Looks like both Cromwells are at large,” he said. “Tommy Cromwell has won too.”
“Okay, best hydrate!” said Tilly. “Jackson will fight Hitomi, and you will be up against Tommy Cromwell. Then it’s the final.” She scrunched up her nose. “This is so exciting!”
Rosie had fought her first bouts on automatic pilot. She’d had a lucky draw, she knew that, but this next one, the semifinal, was going to be harder. Tommy Cromwell was really strong, with quick reflexes.
Rosie strode out to meet her opponent. Tommy looked her up and down.
“I’m looking forward to cutting you down to size, Frost,” he growled as he put on his mask.
“Wow,” Rosie said in a bored voice. “You think of that line all by yourself?”
She pulled on her mesh mask and breathed deeply. Ouch. She was still sore from last night. The referee nodded to them, then stood back as they assumed their en garde positions.
Rosie, focus. Tommy is bigger than you, he’s going to try and use his reach.
“Begin!” the referee shouted.
Tommy lurched forward, going straight for Rosie’s breastplate. Rosie danced backward.
Don’t overthink it. Faster, Rosie.
Tommy slashed at her again. She parried and twisted away, like a wisp of silk.
Tommy pushed forward, slashing at her with a surge of power. The blade almost skimmed her mask, but she arched backward and bent her knees. He overbalanced and lost his footing.
Rosie leaped forward, and her blade swept right and left.
“Touch!” the referee called. Her point.
Tommy grunted with rage, heaving through the mask. He staggered and flung himself toward her, lost in his reckless red mist.
Rosie took two more points.
He tore off his mask and threw it onto the mat.
The referee held up his hand to stop them. “Are you conceding, Mr. Cromwell?”
“Yes, fine, I concede,” Tommy said. “The girl’s a witch!”
The referee smiled and lifted Rosie’s arm into the air. Tilly and Gilly applauded, and Tilly pointed to the other side of the courtyard. Rosie turned. Jackson was bowing to Hitomi and she was grinning. He lost?
“Bad news for the Cromwells, and girls are on top again,” said the referee. “The final will begin in ten minutes.”
Hitomi and Jackson walked toward her, and the countdown to the next bout appeared on a giant clock projected on the palace wall.
“So, you smashed it with Tommy!” said Jackson. “He won’t deal with that too well.” He smiled with his usual cool swagger. Her heart tightened. Had he betrayed her again, repeating what she’d said to Bina?
“Thanks.” She gave him a small smile.
“And Hitomi’s on fire today. I couldn’t get anywhere near her.”
“Great.” She shrugged.
Whatever, he’s just a Cromwell. Messing with my head.
“Oh, you!” Hitomi said, gently shoving his shoulder. “You just let me win to make me happy, bae. You’re a total sweetie.” She giggled.
Jackson frowned at her, but Hitomi was staring at Rosie, her head on one side.
“We’ll put on a good show, won’t we, Rosie? For the girls.” She winked.
“I don’t think I’ll stand a chance against you,” Rosie said.
“So modest! Special girl. Anyway, best get ready,” Hitomi said, and sauntered off, waving at the crowd.
“Oh, just let me through, will you?” said Bina, who was pushing through the tightly packed crowd behind Tilly and Gilly.
“Bina,” said Rosie, walking over to her.
“Hey.”
“Thanks for coming,” said Rosie.
Silence.
Rosie scanned Bina’s face. What should I say?
“Bina, I’m sorry about last night.”
“Rosie…it’s fine.” Bina held up her hand. “I know you don’t like apologies. We can talk later, but we have reliable help now. It’s getting figured out. Just do your match,” she said, then walked off and took a seat a few rows back.
“Okay, thank you.”
So it was still “all business” and she was still mad. No seven-second hug, and no Charlie.
Why even bother? None of this even matters! Ms. Parr has been fired; the world is not just. People get away with murder.
She flicked her sword.
“ ‘The readiness is all,’ ” Tilly said.
“What?” Rosie had almost forgotten Tilly and Gilly were there.
“It’s a quote. Hamlet.”
Hamlet, the volume that opened the secret door.
“Hamlet died by a poison-tipped sword in a fencing match,” said Gilly. “They murdered his dad, and they got away with it for a bit.”
Hmm, maybe she’d get away with stealing the crown? Rosie frowned.
Why not? There wasn’t any proof she’d even been in the Jewel Tower.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“I think it means, you can’t change what’s destined for you, so you just better get on with it,” said Tilly. “Where’s your fencing cord? They’re doing the finals with the electronic buzzing thing, not chalk, to record strikes. More precise.”
Hitomi started walking out toward the strip.
Rosie reached into her bag for the cable. Oh God! Her blood ran cold. It wasn’t there. It was in the Jewel Tower. She bit her lip.
“You’ve forgotten it?” Tilly asked. “No probs, grab a spare, Gilly!” Gilly bounded off. “Gosh, Rosie, don’t look so glum! Look, he’s coming back already.”
How could I have been such an idiot! They’ll find it, but maybe they won’t know it’s mine?
“You okay, Rosie?” Tilly frowned.
Rosie took the borrowed cord and threaded it through her clothes.
“Yes, like you said, the readiness is all.” She smiled. “Thanks, guys.”
“Ladies, gentlemen, everyone!” The overhead speaker broke into the chatter. “Please welcome our finalists back to the center.”
The countdown on the wall reached zero, and Rosie started walking toward the strip. Everything hurt again. Her ribs, the bruises from yesterday. Her heart. And why had Bina bothered to come when she was still in a mood? What was the “reliable help”?
She put her helmet on. “Now for the Saviolo round,” the smooth voice announced.
Saviolo…What’s that?
Hitomi approached the strip, then removed her mesh helmet and passed it to her helper. She smiled and bowed. The crowd roared, she nodded to her dad, and Rosie stood, waiting. Tilly came running out to her.
“Take it off,” she whispered, blinking and pointing to Rosie’s helmet. “It’s the Vincentio Saviolo way. The greatest fencing master back in the day. Real sabers, and helmets and gloves are off.”
Rosie slowly lifted her helmet and handed it to Tilly. Two adjudicators handed Hitomi and Rosie each a saber, long and sharp with intricately carved exquisite handles. This was similar to what Hitomi had been using when she’d cut her. Rosie gulped. No helmet? And real blades? Of course, this was Bloodstone. Dark thunderclouds loomed overhead and the sky crackled. She looked around. This was different. Her hair whipped across her face as a cold wind began to blow like a warning.
