All for a Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

book?”
    Corrine stared at Maribel as if she’d grown a second head and Mother Briar’s stern features pinched in confusion.
    “Yes, take the book,” she said finally. “Study it and return it when next we meet.”
    “Thank you!”
    Maribel barely remembered her sister’s injured hand in time to keep from grabbing it and dragging her sister off. She glanced down at Corrine’s palm, impressed to find it covered in shiny pink skin, all traces of blood and blackened flesh gone. The fingers of the hand were curled into a half-claw, but the improvement was undeniable. She snatched up Corrine’s good hand and hauled her sister off Mother Briar’s front porch.
    “Come on!”
    “Maribel, slow down,” Corrine wheezed, yanking her arm from Maribel’s grip. She stopped with her hands on her hips, her chest heaving as she fought to regain her breathing. Her dark hair fell in wild disarray around her shoulders, the natural curl doing its best to survive against the tugging fingers of the wind. “Why are you in such a hurry? Is missing one afternoon of chores really such a setback?”
    Maribel bit off the urge to point out that she was, in fact, doing the chores of two people and that an afternoon made an incredible difference. Just get the rose. Everything will be fine if you can get the rose. “I don’t want Father to worry about us,” she said instead. She waited for Corrine to catch her breath, shifting from foot to foot as her nerves urged her to run ahead. The picture of the rose hung in her mind, whispering promises of how much better life could be if she found it.
    “Father will be in the field until dark,” Corrine pointed out. She waved at the sky, still gloriously bright. “We have plenty of time.”
    “But I left that book in the field, the tomatoes still haven’t been weeded, and I need to get dinner started if it’s going to be ready to eat by the time Father comes in.”
    “If you keep running like this, we’re going to relive your little trip down from the well when you were eight. Remember that?”
    Maribel winced, slowing down to wait for Corrine. “How could I forget? That stupid duke’s son, what was his name? Jack? I never should have let him goad me into that race down the hill.”
    Corrine grinned. “You did win.”
    “Technically, neither of us won since neither of us had any water left in our buckets after the tumble down the hill. Though I suppose since Jack ended up with his scalp split open and I just had a few bruises, I did come out better off.”
    “Maybe someday I’ll race down a hill. On purpose, I mean, not falling down because I had an episode on a steep slope.”
    There was a wistfulness in Corrine’s voice that tugged at Maribel’s heart. She opened her mouth to respond, though she had no idea what to say. It hadn’t really occurred to her that Corrine wanted to do those sorts of things. Corrine hated to run.
    Awkwardness swelled between them and Corrine put on a burst of speed, as if the pressure was too much. Her gait was uneven, hindered as she tried to run with her injured arm still cradled against her stomach, but though she tilted a bit, she didn’t fall.
    As they rounded the top of the hill that marked the northern boundary of their land, both girls came to a sudden halt. A strange man was riding away from the farmhouse, his stern features and plain clothes unfamiliar. Their father stood on the path to their front door, rooted to the spot, his graying brown hair tousled by the wind and his gaze locked on a crisp parchment he held open in front of him. If he hadn’t blinked, Maribel would have worried he was suffering one of Corrine’s episodes. It was eerily similar to Corrine’s posture when her sickness held her prisoner in its grasp.
    “Father, what is it?” Corrine scurried the rest of the way to their father’s side, injured hand scrabbling at her skirts to try and hold them up as she went. Her eyes widened as she abandoned the skirt to point at the