Caspian’s violet-flecked eyes widen. “Now, why would you say something like that?”
“Because I can feel them.” I started to piece it together when the princes were away, when it was just Castletree and me. These briars aren’t the source of its sickness; they’re like a second layer of foundation keeping everything standing.
The Prince of Thorns only lowers his hand from the briars, swallows, stays silent.
“I’m right, I know I am. From my first day in this place, I always knew these briars weren’t evil. So why are you letting everyone believe you’re taking the magic? If anything, it’s taking your magic.”
I study him. He’s still stupidly gorgeous, of course. But there are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s got a limp he’s been trying to hide. Not to mention the way he’d disappeared on the Autumn Realm’s battlefield, hacking up blackness; I haven’t puzzled that out. “Caspian, why are you letting everyone believe you’re the villain?”
“Who says I’m not?” he snarls.
“Because!” I spread my arms wide. “These thorns—you—are the only thing stopping Castletree from falling.”
The flash in his eyes confirms my suspicions. The briars aren’t evil, yet he attacked the Autumn Realm. But then he was fighting in disguise to help it. Or at least help me.
“Maybe there are things within these walls even a monster from the Below can’t stand to lose.”
I touch his arm. “I’m not sure what happened between you and the other princes, between you and Kel, but if you were to just tell them then—”
He pulls his arm away and snarls, “If you want me to keep my thorns here, you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Do you understand?” And it’s not anger flashing in his eyes …
“Caspian,” I say, cupping his cheek, and this time, he lets me touch him, “what are you afraid of?”
Something sharp cuts across my vision, and a ringing reverberates in my ears. I’m no longer seeing the world through my own eyes. Flashes of moments tear through my mind. There’s a torturous sting along my back, my arms, the crack of a whip and a scream. A scream that sounds like Caspian. Then a haunting woman’s voice: My darling boy. Tall pillars of green gems, her kneeling before them, long dark hair blowing as emerald flames erupt around her.
I gasp, pulling away from Caspian. And for a second, it isn’t flecks of purple dancing in his eyes, but flames of green. Did he see the same vision I did?
My heart beats wildly, and I realize this is the first time I’ve felt fear since Caspian has come into my room. Even when I awoke to him prowling around, the only emotion I’d felt was mild annoyance. And … other things I wish I hadn’t.
“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.”