“Come. It is time.
I swallow my heartbreak and listlessly allow the prince to lead me toward a fate I now accept as inevitable.
31
Killian
The road is deserted as I gallop away from the best thing that ever happened to me.
You have two choices, Kill. Take your castle and go, or die out there with the hag. I’ll even throw in a title and let you keep your balls out of respect for our friendship, you cuckolding piece of shit, provided you never darken the halls of Belterre Castle again.
I snatched the rolled-up paper and saddled my horse before Alistair could reconsider. I can’t rescue Briar if I’m dead. The thing growing beneath my scar digs deeper with each passing mile, a throb in time with my heartbeat and the horse’s hoofbeats. Twining up my arm. It hates being away from Briar.
I wanted her thorns. Now I have them embedded so deeply within me that I’ll never be able to extricate myself from the memory of Briar’s petal-soft skin. The thought of Alistair laying a single finger on her sends helpless rage scorching through me.
The fever that’s been rattling my bones dulls into a hollow ache. I’m clear-headed despite the poison seeping through my veins.
Needing Briar is a sickness. The farther away I get, the more she haunts me.
The sky swarms with fae beasts. I’m nearly thrown from my horse when we cross paths with a chimera.
They’re coming for Briar.
Alistair’s arrogance will ruin the entire country. He’s deluded himself, gone crazed with lust, and gods know Briar has that effect on men. Myself included.
I wheel my horse around and kick his flanks, chasing after the chimera.
Fuck it. As fond of my balls as I am, there’s no point in keeping them unless I’m with Briar.
When forced to stop and water my horse, I unstrap the vambrace and shove my sleeve up to inspect the aching scar. It’s turned entirely dark, with spikes protruding into the nearby veins. Worse, the magic or poison or whatever it is that’s causing it is spreading to my other scars that crisscross my torso, darkening them, too. Soon, my body will be as thorny as that thicket of vines I slashed through to get Alistair to the top of that mountain barely a fortnight ago.
Back on the road, I demand everything my horse has to give. But near midmorning, with the castle’s outline a mere speck in the distance, a cloud darkens the sky over it. My stallion fights me to a halt.
The swarm of winged things grows larger, blotting the sun when it passes overhead. Harpies. Thousands of them. I spot a handful of gryphons in the mix, followed by the dragon. I swear it swings its head down to glare at me with a baleful eye.
I hate dragons. But if I want Briar, I might have to make my peace with them.
Briar
I can’t do this.
Droning music announces my arrival, a funeral dirge. Adding to the dismal atmosphere are the cathedral’s boarded-up windows. No number of candles can substitute for the beauty of sunlight streaming through stained glass. Overhead, I can hear the scratch and screech of harpies landing on the roof, followed by the thump of something larger.
It’s my childhood nightmare come to life, yet I no longer fear the feathered, clawed beasts.
Numb, I set foot after slippered foot up the red-carpeted aisle. All eyes follow my stupid fluffy dress. A chorus of oohs and aahs trails behind me. This is the fairy-tale ending I’m supposed to want.
Who cares about a dress at a time like this?
These pampered aristocrats don’t care about the poor peasants who trekked all this way to witness history, only to be attacked by rampaging monsters. I was one of those peasants. I feel awful and helpless, and it seems the monsters are responding to my distress.
But regardless of what the prince thinks, I do not control them. I don’t know how to stop this disaster.
I suppose the layout of a cathedral is a common one, for the nave reminds me of the place where I laid in an enchanted slumber. My heart tries to strangle me by climbing into my throat. My resting place was made that way on purpose. To foreshadow this moment. A warning.
This way lies death. True death, from which I will never awaken.
Blood roars in my temples, until I realize it’s not my racing pulse, it’s a dragon roaring from the rooftop.
