“I’ve seen her, those flames, before,” I stammer. “When I tried to break Lucas’s crown. But we shattered it, and Perth’s too. Is he back—”
“Perth was nothing but a pawn.” Caspian coughs, then wipes his mouth to reveal a line of black. He gives a little sigh, then stares at me. His eyes have returned to the deep purple.
Thorns twine around his hands and form … a bow. Twisting briars curve to create a delicate bow with a taut string.
He holds it out. “Yes, I’m afraid of the green flames. And you should be, too.”
Gingerly, I accept the bow, never once shifting my gaze from his.
And with that, the briars rise around the Prince of Thorns and take him back to the Below.
8
Rosalina
The sinewy string of the bow Caspian created pulls back with ease, and the thorn arrow sails through the air, striking the cherry blossom tree in my room. This thing is certainly easier to shoot. Or am I able to control the arrow because it’s made of thorns?
I stare down at the bow. The thorns entwine and overlap with each other in an almost delicate beauty.
My traitorous body still heats from his visit. I wish I could hate him, but a part of me knows there’s so much more to the Prince of Thorns. The most unpleasant aspect of him is the secrets he’s making me keep from the people I love. First our bargain, the book I stole, and now the truth of the briars weaving through Castletree.
Guilt simmers in my stomach. I have to tell my princes. At least about my bargain and the book. The last one doesn’t exactly feel like my secret to tell. But now they’ve all gone back to their own realms. Except for Dayton.
“Waffles and fresh strawberry syrup this morning,” Marigold says, pushing a cart into my room. “Prince Dayton brought home a basket from Summer.”
I give a long sigh, then raise my bow and craft a thorn arrow from my bracelet on to my waiting fingers. It had been tricky to figure out how to create the shape at first, but I’d laid a normal arrow beside it and practiced sculpting a thorn, a little like molding clay in your mind. The arrow flies, this time going wide and shattering a vial of oil on my dresser.
“Girl!” Marigold starts, hands on her hips. “Are you even listening? What did I say about using weapons in here?”
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly, lowering the bow. “I just don’t want to suck at this anymore.”
“You can’t get better if you’re not bad at something first,” Astrid says from my armoire, wrinkling her nose at the haphazard mess inside. Last night, I’d scrambled to put back everything Caspian had strewn about.
My eyes flick to the side of my room. There’s a tangle of thorns, my own grown from the bracelet. Hidden within is Caspian’s book. I’m eager to read it again. Why is he so interested in the Queen?
“Come now,” Marigold says. “Breakfast is getting cold.”
I slink over to sit on the edge of my bed and pull the tray closer. The waffles are still steaming, and juicy red syrup slides down the sides. I stab the fluffy cakes with my fork and sigh as they melt on my tongue.
“And don’t forget about the tea,” Marigold says. “Especially after yesterday in the library.”
“How do you know about that?” I ask, flushing.
“Nothing stays secret in this castle.” Astrid laughs.
“Ugh.” I grab the tea and take a sip. It smells like a field of wildflowers, with an almost nutty aftertaste. Marigold said a cup of this a week prevents me from being able to conceive. I know Farron’s been drinking it, too.
One day, we’d both like to have a family. He mentioned as much the other night as we sat before the library’s fireplace, adding to the memory book in honor of his mother. His childhood stories filled my heart with such warmth. But our future is a discussion for after curses are broken and Castletree is healthy.
“Knock, knock,” Dayton says, peering into my room.
My heart skips, and I quickly wipe my mouth of strawberry syrup. “Hey.”
“I’m heading to the training grounds if you want to meet me after breakfast.”
“Sure.”
He nods then pauses. “You still have that?”
I follow his gaze to where a stuffed lion with wings sits on my pillow. I giggle and grab it. “Of course, I do.”
Dayton waltzes into my room, and from the corner of my eye, I catch Astrid leading Marigold out, who has a devious expression on her face.
“I haven’t decided on a name for him, though,” I say, holding the soft toy in my lap. It might be silly to have this as an adult woman, but it’s special to me.