Rosalyn Eves - Blood Rose Rebellion
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![THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A KNOPF Text copyright 2017 by - photo 1](/uploads/posts/book/139773/images/Eves_9781101936016_epub3_001_cvi.jpg)
![THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A KNOPF Text copyright 2017 by - photo 2](/uploads/posts/book/139773/images/Eves_9781101936016_epub3_004_r1.jpg)
![THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A KNOPF Text copyright 2017 by - photo 3](/uploads/posts/book/139773/images/Eves_9781101936016_epub3_004_r1.jpg)
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF
Text copyright 2017 by Rosalyn Eves
Cover art copyright 2017 by Agent BOB
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Visit us on the Web! randomhouseteens.com
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN9781101935996 (trade) ISBN9781101936009 (lib. bdg.) ebook ISBN9781101936016
Random House Childrens Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v4.1
ep
To my sister, Jenilyn
my first reader and my first fan
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in usto know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
MATTHEW ARNOLD, THE BURIED LIFE
![London April 1847 I did not set out to ruin my sisters debut Indeed there - photo 4](/uploads/posts/book/139773/images/Eves_9781101936016_epub3_005_r1.jpg)
![London April 1847 I did not set out to ruin my sisters debut Indeed there - photo 5](/uploads/posts/book/139773/images/Eves_9781101936016_epub3_005_r1.jpg)
London, April 1847
I did not set out to ruin my sisters debut.
Indeed, there were any number of things I deliberately did not do that day.
I did not pray for rain as I knelt in the small chapel of our London town house that morning, the cold of the floor seeping into my bones. Instead, I listened to Mamas petition for successful spells and sunshine. Peeking through my lashes at Catherines smug face, I yearned to ask for disquiet, disorder, and torrential downpourscalamitous words that might have eased, a little, the restless crawling in my heart. But I swallowed the words unsaid. Even should God heed such a treacherous prayer, my father would not. Though Papas weather magic would cost him a headache, my sister would dance under clear skies.
I did not argue with Catherine when she banned me from the ballroom where she and Papa laid the final grounding for her illusions while Mama supervised the servants. Youll break my concentration and spoil my spells, she said, though it had been years since I had spoiled anyones spell, accidentally or otherwise.
But then I did not go to the schoolroom, where I was expected to improve my sketching while my brother, James, studied his Latin. Instead, I lingered (Mama would say loitered) in the lower hall, watching the servants scurry back and forth with their brooms and buckets and cleaning cloths, in feverish preparation for the ball. I did not rest, as Catherine did.
Because of those omissions, I was in the hallway when Lord Frederick Markson Worthing came calling. I heard Freddys signature knocktwo short, three longand my heart leapt.
Barton reached the door first and sent me a cross look down his long nose. He accepted a small white visiting card from Freddy, and I slipped into the open doorway.
Lord Markson Worthing! I smiled up at him, remembering just in time to use his formal name. Wont you come in?
I didnt have to look at Barton to know his brows were lowering. Our butler disapproved of forwardness in general and of me in particular.
Freddy returned my smile, his gloved hands tightening around the bouquet of roses he carried. Thank you, Miss Anna. Only for a moment. I dont want to leave my horses standing too long in this wind. In truth, Freddy had no need for horses. As a Luminate of the order Lucifera, he could compel the carriage with spells. But he preferred the aesthetic of his matched bays, which drew the eye and required less effort to maintain than magic.
Barton led us upstairs to the Green Drawing Room, so named for the ivy pattern sprawling across the wall and the deep emerald drapes. I will notify your mother, Miss Anna.
Freddy and I sat on matching high-backed chairs near the window. Freddy leaned toward me, nearly crushing the roses he held. He smelled of tobacco and cinnamon.
I hoped I might see you.
My face grew warm as I met Freddys intent gaze. I had first encountered Freddy only a few days after we arrived in town for Catherines Season, to launch her into Luminate society. As the son of an old school friend of Papas, he had come to pay his respects. But though he had talked to Catherine, he had looked at me. Two days later, our paths crossed by accident in Hyde Park, and after that, by design. My maid, Ginny, might suspect the frequency with which Freddy appeared during our errands about London, but she was the only one who knew of our involvement.
There was no one in the world I liked so well as Freddy. I admired the way his honey-colored hair curled a little above the collar of his coat. I adored his eyes, which were not really grey but a band of blue around a center of brown. And I loved him for the way the corners of his lips trembled when he was impassioned: when he spoke about his plans for a seat in the Luminate-led Parliament, or his dreams of a salon in London where Luminate could mingle freely with artists, poets, politicians, and scientists, where wit would trump magic, and ideals would matter more than money.
There was little room in the real world for people like me, but there might be room in Freddys. We would be a good match, equals in passion and intelligence. I would bring the money his family lacked; he would provide the magic I lacked.
I have something I want to say to you. Will you be at the ball tonight?
I am not yet out, I reminded him. And Mama does not trust me around magic.
Then meet me. In the herb garden, at midnight.
The heat in my cheeks deepened. I rearranged my skirts, pretending a composure I did not feel. Very well.
Good girl. Freddy stood then and adjusted his top hat. I must go. He thrust the flowers at me, roses of a red so deep their centers were almost black. The petals spilled over my fingers like blood.
I watched him walk away, admiring the straight line of his back. In the doorway, Freddy spun around to face me. The flowers are for Catherine. See that she gets them, will you?
![Anna Grandmama stood in the doorway her fingers tight around her cane Has - photo 6](/uploads/posts/book/139773/images/Eves_9781101936016_epub3_001_r1.jpg)
![Anna Grandmama stood in the doorway her fingers tight around her cane Has - photo 7](/uploads/posts/book/139773/images/Eves_9781101936016_epub3_001_r1.jpg)
Anna? Grandmama stood in the doorway, her fingers tight around her cane. Has Lord Markson Worthing gone already?
I looked up from the flowers. He couldnt stay. His horses were waiting.
And you were alone with him this entire time? Her mouth was pursed, her Hungarian accent more pronounced. First Barton, now Grandmama. At least Grandmamas disapproval stemmed from affection.
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