Chapter 3 : The World Tree
The last afternoon of the year came slowly.
Pale gold sunlight spread across the garden behind the Chancellor's Mansion. Old trees stirred in the wind. Dry leaves brushed against one another, making a soft rustle like an old whisper trapped between seasons. Servants moved beneath the shade, setting down a long table, laying a white cloth over it, arranging porcelain plates, crystal glasses, and silver knives and forks. The smell of roasted meat, hot butter, and bread fresh from the oven mingled with the scent of early spring flowers. Everything was warm. Everything was clean. Everything looked as if it would remain peaceful.
Peace had always had a habit of dying the moment people began to believe in it.
Rose stood near the steps, both hands folded before her dress. She watched the garden slowly brighten beneath the lanterns that had not yet been lit. Then she lowered her eyes to the silver necklace around her neck. The pale blue stone rested against her chest, a little colder than her skin. Ever since her father had given it to her, Rose often touched it without realizing. She did not truly believe it had magic. She did not truly remember the mother she had never met. But whenever her fingertips touched that cold stone, she always felt that something was very close to her. Something very far away, yet also very near.
"My lady?"
Rose turned back. Elina stood behind her, still holding a small cloth in her hand. Mira stood beside Elina, her gaze gentler, but no less worried.
"Are you still cold?" Mira asked softly.
Rose let go of the necklace.
"No." She looked at the garden. "It is only that today feels too peaceful."
Elina froze slightly. The words should have been happy ones. But when Rose said them, they sounded like unease.
At the head of the table, the Chancellor was personally adjusting the seats. A servant had placed the glass before Rose a little crookedly. The Chancellor did not scold him. He only reached out and turned the glass back into its proper position. Then he smoothed out a very small wrinkle in the tablecloth. His movement was so light that almost no one noticed it.
Rose did. She was too used to it. Her father liked everything to remain in its proper place. A crooked glass, a fold in the cloth, a lantern hanging slightly too low, a branch of flowers facing the wrong direction. He rarely raised his voice. He only corrected things in silence, as if the order of the world were held together by small gestures like these.
When the Chancellor saw Rose, his eyes softened.
"Come sit here, child."
His voice was low and warm, like an invitation. Yet beneath that warmth was a faint firmness, like a hand already resting on the listener's shoulder. Rose nodded and walked over to sit beside him. Elina and Mira still stood behind her, proper as always. Rose looked at them for a moment.
"You two should sit as well."
Elina immediately lowered her head.
"My lady, we would not dare."
"It is the last day of the year." Rose smiled. "There is no need to keep standing."
The two maids looked at each other, then at the Chancellor. He did not object. He only curved his lips faintly.
"My lady has spoken."
Only then did Elina and Mira timidly pull out chairs and sit at the side of the table. Their posture remained painfully straight, as if they would rise at once with a single call. Rose looked at them, and her gaze softened.
The small family feast finally began. Servants brought out the food. Lanterns were lit one by one. Small flames trembled in the evening wind. Glasses touched with a quiet sound. Rose had just reached for her glass when the sound of hooves suddenly came from outside the estate gate. It was not the sound of ceremonial riding. It was not steady. It was not slow. A horse stopped too sharply before the gate.
The guards called out to stop the rider. A servant hurried out. Rose raised her head and looked toward the gate. A moment later, she saw Dago walk in.
The second prince of Dora had brought no escort. His royal cloak hung crookedly from his shoulder. His orange hair was slightly disheveled. Dust clung to his gloves. Behind him, his horse was still breathing hard. Dago walked very quickly, quickly enough to be almost improper. But when he saw Rose rise, he stopped.
"Your Highness?" Rose called softly.
Dago looked at her.
In that instant, Rose saw that his face was strangely pale. It was not the pallor of illness. It was the pallor of a man who had just seen something he should never have seen. Dago's eyes stopped on Rose. Only when he saw her still standing there did he seem certain he had not arrived too late.
Rose stepped down from her seat.
"Are you unwell?"
Dago opened his mouth, but he did not speak at once. His gaze passed over the necklace on her throat, over Elina, over Mira, over Rolan holding his bread, then stopped on the Chancellor. The Chancellor set his glass down on the table. Very slowly. The base of the glass made no sound.
"Second Prince," he said, his voice still gentle. "Your arrival is unexpected."
Dago bowed according to etiquette.
"Forgive me. I was passing nearby."
The lie was so clumsy that even Mira almost lifted her head. The Chancellor's estate did not lie on any road a prince could casually "pass by" on the last afternoon of the year. Rose knew that. But she did not ask immediately.
"Sit and rest for a while."
Dago looked at her. Something in his eyes looked as though it wanted to break. At last, he only nodded.
"All right."
A servant brought another chair. Dago sat opposite Rose. He placed his hand on the table, then withdrew it at once, as if he had only just realized his fingertips were trembling. Rose saw it. She said nothing. She only poured a cup of warm water and pushed it gently toward him.
"Drink."
Dago accepted the cup.
"Thank you."
His voice was hoarser than usual. Rose looked at him a little longer.
"Did something happen?"
Dago tightened his grip around the cup. Heat covered his fingers, but it was not enough to bring the blood back.
"I only..." He stopped. "Wanted to see you."
Rose went still for a very slight moment. A faint red touched the edge of her ear. She lowered her eyes, not knowing how to answer. Dago saw it. For one brief instant, the coldness in his chest softened.
Only a little.
Dago had looked at Rose like that for a very long time. He had looked at her when she was still younger than she was now, during royal ceremonies where she stood behind the Chancellor, so quiet she was almost swallowed by the light. As a child, Dago had not known what that feeling was. When he grew older, he knew. And the more he knew, the more carefully he hid it. Rose was the Chancellor's daughter. Rose had always been placed at a distance so clean, so far, so difficult to touch. In the royal palace of Dora, not every beautiful thing was allowed to be loved.
The Chancellor saw that moment as well. He said nothing. He only reached out and adjusted the glass before Rose. He drew it one inch away from the edge of the table, then set it back in its proper place. The movement was too small to be called a warning, and too ordinary to be called strange. A father seeing his daughter blush before a young prince and growing a little concerned was an ordinary thing. Ordinary enough to be believed.
Rolan sat beside Rose, still holding his bread. He looked at Dago. Then he looked at Rose. Then he looked at Dago again.
"Rose..."
Rose turned to him.
"What is it?"
Rolan frowned and thought for a long time. At last, he broke his bread in half and offered one half to her.
"Rose eat."
Rose let out a soft laugh.
"I am not hungry."
Rolan looked at Dago once more. Then he drew the half of bread back and held it tighter. The action made Mira lower her head to hide a smile. Elina's expression softened a little as well. Thanks to that, the air became less tense. The feast continued, even though something had quietly shifted from its original place.
After a while, Rose looked at Mira.
"The new year is almost here. Mira, do you have any wish?"
Mira was surprised.
"Me?"
"Today, you may speak honestly."
Mira placed her hands on her knees. She hesitated for a long time before saying softly, "If I could... I would like to see the World Tree once."
The table fell silent.
"The World Tree?" Rose asked.
Mira nodded. Her voice was small, but clear.
"I have only heard people speak of it. In a place very far away, farther than all kingdoms, there is a tree so great that its roots touch the memory of the earth, and its branches hold up the sky. People say that when we are in pain or sorrow, if we can see the World Tree even once, we will find hope again in our hearts."
She stopped, a little embarrassed.
"Because it exists forever. It does not need anyone to love it. It does not need anyone to protect it. It simply stands there and fears nothing. And most of all..."
Mira raised her head and looked at Rose.
"It is very beautiful."
Rose fell silent. A tree that needed no one to love it. No one to protect it. A tree that feared nothing. For some reason, those words made something in her heart grow soft. She lowered her head and looked at the blue stone on her throat. The light from the newly lit lanterns reflected on its surface, forming a very small point of light.
"If one day I grow tired..." Rose said slowly, "I would also like to see it once."
Dago looked at her. He wanted to say that he could take her there. He wanted to say that if there was a place in the world that could make her feel hope, he would find a way to bring her to it. But Rolan had already snapped his head up first.
"Find the World Tree."
Rose turned to him. Rolan pointed at her, his eyes clear.
"Find for Rose. Rolan help Rose."
It was a clumsy sentence from a fool. Yet somehow, when Dago heard it, it hurt. Some people could speak so simply of what they wished to protect. He, meanwhile, did not even dare speak a warning.
Rose smiled at Rolan.
"Then I will leave it to you."
Rolan nodded very hard.
"Help Rose."
Rose raised the cup on the table. Everyone else raised theirs as well. Dago raised his later than the rest.
"To the new year," Rose said softly. "May we all find our own hope."
The clock inside the estate began to toll. Once, then twice, the sound spread slowly through the garden, through the trees, across the white tablecloth and the lanterns trembling in the wind. By the twelfth toll, the new year had officially begun. Rose closed her eyes. Out of habit, she touched the necklace at her throat and gently held the blue stone in her palm. She prayed that everyone would be safe. She prayed that the new year would be kinder than the old one. She prayed that frightening things would not find their way into this garden.
And in that very instant, a sound rang out.
It did not come from the garden.
It did not come from the sky.
It appeared directly inside everyone's mind.
"Find..."
The glass in Mira's hand fell to the ground.
Shatter.
No one bent down to pick it up. The sound was warped and broken, as if it had been dragged across such a long distance that it had been torn apart.
"Find... zz... the one who bears light..."
A young servant stepped back, his face white. Elina sprang to her feet and stepped in front of Rose on instinct. Rolan hugged his bread tightly, eyes wide, but his gaze stayed only on Rose. Dago stood as well. Water spilled from his cup onto his hand. He did not feel the heat.
"...and darkness..."
That voice did not sound like the command of a god. Nor did it sound like a solemn prophecy. It sounded like the voice of someone very far away, very deep below, using the last remnant of his soul to cry for help from a place no one could reach.
"...and forgive..."
The sound tore apart.
"...for... destroyed the world..."
Then, smaller than everything else, and more painful than everything else:
"...please..."
Everything fell silent. The garden froze. The wind still blew. The lanterns still burned. The bread on the table was still warm. But no one in that garden remained inside the feast anymore. They had just been dragged out of the new year, thrown into an old wound of the world, then left there without explanation.
Excellent. Dora truly knew how to celebrate a new year.
Rose still stood there, her hand clenched around the blue stone. Her fingertips went cold. She did not know who she was praying to. To Light. To the mother she had never met. To her father. Or to the necklace itself. She only hoped it could protect her.
A hand gently settled on her shoulder.
Rose raised her head. The Chancellor had appeared beside her at some point. His face was still gentle. His eyes were still deep. As if even after the world had let out a torn cry, he could still stand there and keep everything in its proper place. His gaze fell on Rose's hand, which was gripping the necklace. A very faint smile passed over his lips. So faint it almost did not exist.
"Do not be afraid."
His voice was low and warm.
Dago froze.
Only those words.
Do not be afraid.
The blood in his body went cold. He had heard those words somewhere before. Not in a distant memory. Not in a dream. Only just now. In the throne hall. On the cold stone floor. Beside a very dry sound he did not want to remember.
Dago looked at the Chancellor. The Chancellor was still patting Rose's shoulder lightly. He looked like a father comforting his daughter. Nothing was unusual. Nothing was frightening. And yet Dago felt as if an invisible cord had just tightened around his neck.
Rose did not notice. She only nodded faintly.
"Yes."
The Chancellor withdrew his hand.
"Only an old fragment of sound," he said, looking at everyone. "There is no need to panic."
Elina frowned.
"But this time, it sounded exactly at the start of the year."
Mira bent down to pick up the broken glass. Her hands were still shaking.
"I do not know where it comes from," she murmured. "Every now and then, everyone hears it once. But I have never heard it sound so painful."
No one answered. The feast could not return to what it had been. The food was still hot. The fruit wine was still sweet. The new year had just arrived. But the thing that had just sounded had left a small crack in every heart. And before that crack could close, the sound of hooves came from outside the estate gate once again.
This time, the hooves were urgent.
Dago snapped his head around. His face changed. A rider wearing a cloak marked with the royal insignia stopped before the gate. Two escorting soldiers followed behind him. A servant hurried to open the gate. The rider dismounted, holding a leather tube sealed with red wax.
Dago looked at that leather tube. In that instant, his fingers clenched until they turned white.
He had arrived before the decree.
But the decree had still arrived.
The royal messenger entered the garden and bowed before the Chancellor.
"By His Majesty's decree."
He broke the wax seal. The sound of the wax cracking was very small. But in Dago's ears, it was like a sound he had heard in the throne hall and would never forget. The messenger opened the scroll and read aloud:
"On the occasion of the new year, by the will of His Majesty Dogy, king of the kingdom of Dora, Lady Rose, daughter of the Chancellor of Dora, shall be summoned to the royal palace one month from now..."
Rose stood still. Dago stood still as well.
The messenger continued.
"...to become His Majesty's future queen."
When the proclamation ended, the garden sank into silence. No one breathed. No one moved. Every gaze turned toward Rose.
Rose still stood beside the table, her hand gripping the blue necklace. She heard every word clearly. Her name. The royal palace. Future queen. His Majesty Dogy. But for one long moment, she did not understand what those words meant. Queen. Of the king. Of the man seated on the throne of Dora. A man older than her father. A man she knew only through rites, decrees, royal insignias, and portraits hanging high in the throne hall.
She did not cry. She did not scream. She did not step back. She only gripped the blue stone tighter.
Cold.
So cold.
Protect me.
The thought appeared in her mind, so small it was almost not a word. If you truly are something my mother left behind. If you truly can protect me. If there is still anything in this world that can hear my prayer.
Please. Protect me.
Elina took one step forward, her face pale.
"My lady..."
Mira covered her mouth. Rolan looked at everyone, then at Rose. He did not understand what a royal decree was. He did not understand what a queen was. But he understood that Rose was afraid. He tugged lightly at her sleeve.
"Rose..."
Rose did not answer.
Dago looked at her. He wanted to step forward. He wanted to tell her to run. He wanted to say that something irreversible had just happened in the royal palace. He wanted to say that the man who had issued this decree was more frightening than anything Rose had ever been allowed to know.
But the Chancellor spoke first.
"This servant receives the decree."
His voice was deep and steady. He did not tremble. He was not angry. He was not surprised. He bowed his head before the king's decree. His etiquette was so perfect that no one could fault it. Then he accepted the scroll from the messenger's hands. His movement was precise, as if he were receiving an object that had already been placed in its rightful position.
Dago looked at him.
The Chancellor turned to Rose.
"Rose."
Rose slowly looked at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder. It was still that warm hand. He was still the father who had raised her for eighteen years.
"Do not be afraid."
He said it again.
"If that is His Majesty's will, we will observe the proper rites."
Dago felt as if something had struck his chest.
Proper rites.
Proper order.
Proper place.
Rose looked at her father. There was a very small question in her eyes. So small no one heard it. Perhaps even she did not know what she was asking. Why? What will Father do? Will Father protect me?
The Chancellor only looked at her with gentle eyes.
Gentle to the point of cruelty.
Rose lowered her head.
Dago watched her bow before the decree. He did not know which part of him broke first in that moment. The reverence he had always held for his father. The love he had buried since childhood. Or the foolish faith that if he only ran fast enough, he could arrive in time.
The garden before him suddenly became the cold throne hall of the palace. The smell of fresh bread was replaced by the smell of cold stone, red ink on a decree, and something that had happened a few hours earlier.
A few hours earlier, in the throne hall of Dora, Hasa had been there.
The hall was so cold that even breath seemed trapped in the air. Black stone pillars rose high on both sides. Ancient sun emblems of the Order of Light were carved into their surfaces. Light fell from the tall stained-glass windows and stretched across the stone floor in long, pale lines like blades. Dago had come to see his father on the last afternoon of the year. He had prepared many words. He had thought for many nights, weighing each sentence, each possibility, each response the king might give.
He wanted to ask for permission to marry Rose.
It was not because of a beautiful meeting in the Royal Library. It was not because of a bloodrose given in a moment of impulse. It was not because she had just turned eighteen and had suddenly become someone who could be asked for in marriage. Dago had loved Rose for a very long time. Long enough that the feeling had once taken the shape of a child's game. Long enough that he had not understood why he always searched for her in crowded ceremonies. When Rose grew up and became a young woman who made the whole kingdom turn its head, Dago learned how to stand still, smile, and hide that love beneath the etiquette of a prince.
He did not want Rose the way Hasa wanted her. He did not want to lock her in a golden cage to prove that he had the right. He only wanted to stand beside her openly. He wanted to become someone who could protect her without needing an excuse. He wanted her to be able to turn back, if she was ever sad, and see that he was still there.
Dago approached the door of the throne hall.
Then he heard Hasa's voice.
"Lady Rose, the Chancellor's daughter, has turned eighteen."
Dago stopped.
Inside the hall, Hasa was standing before the throne. The crown prince of Dora wore dark red formal robes, with gemstones set into his collar. Hasa was handsome in the way of a man raised inside power, but his eyes ruined every trace of nobility. He licked his lips when he spoke Rose's name.
"I wish to ask Father for a favor."
On the throne, Dogy silently looked down. The king of Dora looked just as he had eighteen years ago in the ancient forest. Old. Cold. Powerful. His silver hair was combed neatly back. His back was straight. His hand rested on the arm of the throne, dry and steady, making one think of a blade even though he held no sword. Dogy did not need to raise his voice. By merely sitting there, he seemed like part of the hall itself. Something set in the highest position, allowing no one to move it.
"Speak."
Hasa bowed. His eyes still did not know how to hide themselves.
"I want to take her as my wife."
Dago felt his hand go cold. Hasa wanted to marry Rose. Hasa had come before him. And Hasa had spoken with a voice like he was asking for a beautiful bird to lock inside a golden cage. Dago wanted to walk in. He wanted to tell Hasa to shut his mouth. He wanted to tell his father that Rose was not a thing for someone like Hasa to name with lips like that.
But the throne hall had already gone silent.
Dogy looked at Hasa for a long time.
Then the king laughed.
Only once.
Low. Short. Cold.
Dogy slowly rose.
"Hasa."
It was one of the rare times the king called his son by name, and there was no anger in his voice. There was no love either. There was only precision. Like someone naming an object that had been placed in the wrong position.
Hasa froze.
"Father?"
Dogy descended the steps one by one. He did not move quickly. He did not move slowly. Every footstep rang clearly through the hall.
"Do you know what it means to be a dog?"
Hasa forced a laugh.
"What are you saying, Father? I only..."
An invisible force closed around his throat. Hasa's smile twisted. His entire body was lifted off the ground and dragged hard toward the throne. Dogy reached out, seized him by the collar, and pulled him close before him.
"It means what you are now."
Dogy's voice was very low.
"Cowering and trembling when it sees its master."
Hasa gasped for breath.
"Fa... Father..."
Dago knew what kind of man his father was. Dogy did not get drunk and beat his children. Dogy did not lose control in the middle of dinner. Dogy did not curse his own blood with vulgar words. He taught his children to wake at the proper hour, bow at the proper angle, hold a sword with the proper hand, speak the proper words, and keep silent at the proper time. When Hasa won his first sword practice, Dogy only nodded. When Dago fell and broke his arm, Dogy only called the royal physician, then told him to fall properly next time. That was the way Dogy was a father. It was not warm. It was not soft. It was not love as ordinary people understood it. But it followed the rules. And to Dogy, following the rules was the greatest mercy a child could receive.
He had lived his whole life that way. When the Order of Light told him to bow, he bowed. When the Order of Light told him to bite, he bit. When the Order of Light told him to offer up his parents, his wife, his children, his blood and flesh, he would offer them. Not because he had no heart. But because that heart had long ago been placed in someone else's hands, stamped, sealed, and returned to him in the shape of duty. Duty. Order. Position. Those three things had raised Dogy. And he had used those same three things to raise his children.
"For decades, I was the Order of Light's dog." Dogy looked at Hasa. "A dog does not choose what it wants. It only keeps its proper place."
His hand tightened a little.
"You are the crown prince. Your place is to inherit the throne, not to reach for something that does not belong to you."
Dago rushed into the throne hall.
"Father!"
Dogy did not turn his head.
Hasa saw Dago. A warped spark of hope immediately flashed in his eyes.
"Dago..." He could hardly breathe. "Save... save me..."
Dago knelt below the steps.
"Please spare my elder brother."
Dogy still held Hasa in his hand.
"You plead for him?"
"Yes." Dago lowered his head, both hands pressed against the cold stone floor. "He was foolish. He was disrespectful. But he is your son."
The throne hall fell silent. At last, Dogy turned his head and looked at Dago. That gaze made Dago feel as if he were no longer a prince. As if he were no longer a son. He was only something kneeling in a position below the king, waiting for the king to decide whether he needed correction.
"Dago."
"Yes..."
"Watch carefully."
Dago raised his head.
Dogy's hand tightened. A soft crack sounded. It was not loud. It was not violent. There was no scream of agony. It was only a very small, very dry sound, like a young branch snapping in the middle of winter. Hasa's body went limp. His eyes remained open. His mouth hung slightly ajar, as if he still wanted to call Dago's name one more time.
But no sound remained.
Dogy released his hand.
The crown prince's body fell onto the stone floor.
Thud.
Dago looked at Hasa's corpse. His mind emptied. He had hated Hasa. He had despised Hasa. He had wanted to punch that face that always licked its lips whenever it spoke of Rose. But he had never wanted Hasa to die. He had especially never imagined that the one to kill Hasa would be their father.
Dogy lowered his head. For an instant, Dago thought he would look at his son's corpse. But Dogy only adjusted the cuff that Hasa had crumpled. He smoothed the small wrinkle in the black fabric. Slowly. Carefully. As if that were the thing that needed to be dealt with first. Then he looked at Dago.
"Do not be afraid."
Dago raised his head.
Dogy said, very calmly, "I only kill those who try to break my order."
Dago could not breathe.
Dogy stepped over Hasa's body and returned to the throne.
"And you?"
Dago stiffened.
"What did you come to see me for?"
All the words Dago had prepared died in his throat. I wish to marry Rose. I want Father to give me a chance. I want to marry the Chancellor's daughter. He could not say them anymore. Hasa had just died for that sentence.
Dago lowered his head further.
"I came to wish Father a happy new year."
Dogy looked at him. The air in the throne hall stretched taut like a thin wire.
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"I hear you have been going to the Royal Library often."
Dago remained silent.
"I also hear that you often meet the Chancellor's daughter there."
Dago's hand tightened against the stone floor. His voice still tried to remain calm.
"Lady Rose is the daughter of the highest minister of the court. She often goes to the library. It is not improper for me to meet her there."
Dogy smiled.
"Not improper."
He repeated the phrase, as if weighing whether it sat in its proper place. After a while, he said, "You will remain in the palace tonight."
Dago froze.
"Father?"
"You have just witnessed something you should not have seen." Dogy sat back on the throne. "Before the new year's bell has rung all twelve times, you are not to leave the palace."
It was not a request.
Dago lowered his head.
"Yes."
Dogy looked toward the guard waiting in the shadows.
"Guard."
A figure stepped out and knelt on one knee.
"At your command."
Dogy took a scroll that had already been placed beside the throne at some unknown time. The red wax on it was fresh, dark as blood newly clotted.
"Deliver this decree to the Chancellor's estate."
Dago snapped his head up.
The Chancellor's estate.
Rose.
Dogy glanced at him. Dago immediately lowered his head. Perhaps Dogy had seen. Perhaps not. The king only said, "Withdraw."
Dago stood. His legs had almost no feeling left. When he left the throne hall, the guards began to deal with Hasa's body. No one wept. No one called the royal physician. No one screamed. The death of the crown prince lay there, cold and silent, as if he had never been heir to this kingdom.
Dago walked through the long corridor. Outside, the last light of the year was dying. He stopped at a turn in the passage and dug his hand into the stone wall.
The Chancellor's estate. The decree. Rose.
Hasa had just asked to marry Rose and had been killed. Now his father was sending a decree to the Chancellor's estate. Dago did not need to know what it said. He understood that Rose was in danger.
But Dogy had ordered him not to leave the palace.
In his entire life, Dago had never truly defied his father's command. He had slipped around a few minor rules. He had stayed in the library longer than he was allowed. He had given Rose a bloodrose without asking anyone's permission. But to defy Dogy?
Never.
Dago closed his eyes. Rose's face appeared in his mind beneath the library light. She had pulled Elina to her feet and said that no one had to kneel. Then Hasa's face appeared, eyes wide open against the stone floor. Then Dogy's voice returned.
Do not be afraid. I only kill those who try to break my order.
Dago opened his eyes.
For the first time in his life, he turned his back on his father's command.
He did not run from the palace like a foolish rebel. Dago was still a prince of Dora. He knew which gate changed guards at dusk. He knew which passage servants used to carry wine to the side hall. He knew which patrols were more loyal to the royal seal than to their own questions. He removed the prince's insignia from his cloak and took the side passage down to the rear gate.
One guard recognized him.
"Your Highness... His Majesty ordered..."
Dago looked at him. He did not shout. He did not threaten. He only said very softly, "If Father asks, tell him you did not see me."
The guard's face went pale.
"But..."
Dago stepped closer.
"Do you wish to tell His Majesty that you saw me, knew I wanted to leave, and stopped me?"
The guard fell silent.
"Or do you wish to have seen nothing at all?"
The rear gate opened. Dago rode out of the palace before the decree departed. He did not know whether he would make it in time. He only knew that if he did not go, he would never forgive himself.
When Dago arrived at the Chancellor's estate, the decree had not yet come. Rose was still standing in the lantern-lit garden. She was still safe. She still knew nothing. She could still look at him with gentle eyes and ask whether he was all right. That was precisely why Dago could not speak. He could not drag her away from the feast and say that his elder brother had just died for daring to ask for her hand. He could not say that his father had sent a decree here. He could not say that he did not know what was written in that decree, but that he feared it more than anything in the world. He could only sit down before her, accept the cup of warm water from her hand, and say one useless sentence.
"Thank you."
Then the prophecy rang out.
Then the Chancellor said: Do not be afraid.
Then the decree came.
And Dago understood that he had arrived before the piece of paper, but he had still not arrived in time to save Rose.
The garden behind the Chancellor's Mansion remained bright with lanternlight. The new year's feast still lay on the table. The bread was still warm. Rose's glass of fruit wine had not yet been drunk. But everything had changed. The royal messenger rolled up the decree and offered it with both hands to the Chancellor. The Chancellor received it. His movement was precise. The etiquette did not miss a single measure.
Rose stood beside him. She did not cry. She did not resist. She only looked silently at the broken red wax on the leather tube. Dago looked at her. He wanted to call her name, but his throat felt as if an invisible hand had closed around it.
Rolan tugged at Rose's sleeve again.
"Rose..."
This time, Rose lowered her head and looked at him. Rolan frowned. He did not understand why everyone had gone silent. He did not understand why Dago was looking at Rose like that. He did not understand why Rose's hand was so cold that even touching it made him uneasy. He only knew that Rose was unhappy.
So he said very quietly, "Rolan find the World Tree for Rose."
Rose froze. In that instant, she remembered what she had just said. If one day I grow tired... I would also like to see it once.
She smiled. The smile was very faint, so faint it was almost not a smile.
"Yes."
She said it softly.
"Thank you, Rolan."
Dago lowered his head. He did not dare look any longer. Between him and Rose, there was no longer only a bloodrose. Nor was there only a question that had never been spoken aloud. Between them now stood a decree sealed in red wax, Hasa's death on a cold stone floor, Dogy's voice inside the throne hall, and the Chancellor's hand on Rose's shoulder.
The lanterns in the garden swayed faintly. The wind of the new year moved through the old trees. Far away, in a place no one at this feast had ever seen, the World Tree still stood between heaven and earth like a beautiful rumor. But here, on the very first night of the new year, Rose had been called by the royal palace.
Dago understood.
What had just been delivered to the Chancellor's estate was not a marriage.
It was a cage.
A cage written in black ink, sealed with red wax, and delivered in the name of the king.
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