Princess of Thorns

Ror bites his lip. “But there are other princesses. Princesses who have country and family and no price on their head. No ogre queen for an enemy.”

“Ekeeta is everyone’s enemy.”

“You know what I mean.” His head tilts to one side, studying me. “And why the rush? You’re not even eighteen. My father didn’t take his first wife until he was twenty-six. Wouldn’t you rather wait until you’ve had a few more bakers’ daughters?”

“I’ve already had my share of bakers’ daughters,” I say with a wink. “And farmers’ daughters, and noblemen’s daughters, and magicians’ daughters, and a few fairy girls I met at a carnival who taught me the most amazing trick with—”

“I understand.” Ror rolls his eyes. “You’re terribly successful at convincing girls to sleep with you. I’m sure your country is very proud.”

I laugh, but Ror doesn’t join in. He folds his arms across his chest and his studying expression becomes scrutinizing. “You haven’t answered my question. Why the rush? Why tie yourself to a princess with nothing to offer you but trouble?”

I sigh and run a hand through my damp hair. “I have my reasons.”

“What kind of reasons?”

“Reasons I’ll be happy to discuss with your sister,” I lie, knowing I’ll do no such thing. Hopefully Aurora will be of a less suspicious ilk than her nosy little brother. “Now go on and have a soak, will you? Maybe it will put you in a better temper.”

“I’m in a fine temper. I only want what’s best for Aurora.”

“As do I. I mean her no harm.” I hold out my hands, palms up, showing I have nothing to hide. At least not when it comes to treating his sister well. “I’m not a bad sort, Ror.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad sort,” Ror mumbles. “I just …”

“Just what?” I ask, growing nervous of this conversation.

If the boy backs out of our bargain I’ll be back where I started, with time ru

The woman knew who I was at once and apparently felt guilty for what she’d done to my brothers and me, but not guilty enough to give me the charm to lead me to a briar-born child free of charge. She took my armor—the only truly valuable thing I owned, a gift from an ancient king of Norvere passed down through my brothers—and made me split the skin on my palm and press it to my forehead while she whispered a spell, banishing my memory of her appearance to protect her in case I decided not to honor my promise to keep our meeting a secret from my father.

If I lose Ror, I’m up a ladder without a basket. “Come on,” I say, doing my best to keep desperation from my tone. “You can trust me.”

“Said the spider to the fly.”

“I’m not a spider.”

“No, you’re the fly, and you could be risking your life for nothing,” Ror says. “I know my sister, and there is a very, very good chance she’ll want nothing to do with you. At least, not as more than a friend and ally.”

“Very, very?” I chuckle.

“I’m not joking.”

My smile slips. “Well, that’s a chance I’m willing to take. Now go on,” I say, shooing him with both hands. “Have a soak and give the fretting a rest.”

Ror sucks in his lips, biting them before giving a terse nod. “I won’t be long.” He starts to go, but turns back again. “Thank you. I appreciate your help. And your bravery.”

Before I can respond, the prince spins and scurries into the forest. I watch him go with a sinking feeling in my stomach. There was something in his voice … almost as if he knows without a doubt that Aurora will want no part of me. But he can’t, not for sure. Not even a brother can know all the secrets of his sister’s heart.

Perhaps especially not a brother.

I certainly had no idea Haanah was carrying on with a castle guard before Father caught on and sent the man away. Greer was a decent sort but plain-faced and serious to a fault. I never imagined Haanah would give him a second thought, but she was mad for him. She spent a month mourning like an orphaned puppy when she learned he was gone.

Ror can’t know Aurora better than I know Haanah. Haanah and I are practically twins, the only two children named after my mother’s side of the family, just eighteen months apart and even closer than Usio and I were before his change. Aurora could very well surprise her brother the same way my sister surprised me.

Or so I tell myself as I start the fire and set about pulling together a meager meal from our rations. But my reasonable arguments offer little comfort. I need to know what Ror is hiding, what secret he’s keeping tucked inside that warrior’s knot of his.

I decide to get it out of the boy, one way or another, but the hour grows late—insects sing their night songs, and the world beyond the cliff is devoured by darkness—and Ror doesn’t return. I wait as long as I dare, but finally decide he must have become lost and prepare to go hunting for him.

I’ve just finished fashioning a torch from a thin log and dry moss from the limbs of the pin oaks when I hear him scream.

Chapter Seven

Aurora

I wake to darkness so complete it swallows my gasp and stuffs it deep into its pockets.

I lift my head from the stones of the bank and shift my weight on the underwater ledge, stomach lurching. I can’t believe I fell asleep—I’m lucky I didn’t slip into the water and drown—but there’s no other explanation for closing my eyes on a forest filled with moody gray light and opening them to blackness.

I pull my knees in and cross my arms over my chest beneath the water, feeling my nakedness in a new and uncomfortable way. Ever since those days in Ekeeta’s dungeon, I have loathed the darkness with a passion exceeded only by my hatred of biting beetles, roaches, and anything else black and crawly with crunchy outsides and liquid i

My mother’s fairy blessings have made me nearly fearless, but not even magic can banish my irrational terror of tiny crawling things.

The thought of chancing upon a Skittery Small electrifies my nerves as I reach out to search for my clothes on the bank. But it’s not a crawly thing racing across my hand that makes me scream, it’s the brush of my fingers against stiff feathers and the guttural hiss that follows.

I scream and the creature glock-glocks and hisses again, a warning echoed from the rocks all around me. I kick to the center of the pool, heart slamming against my ribs, staring wide-eyed into the night. After a moment, I’m able to make out hunchbacked shadows, denser concentrations of black that pitch back and forth on the rocks, stretching their wings, bobbing their bald heads up and down as they grumble and hiss.

The vultures. Ekeeta’s vultures. They have to be hers. There’s no other explanation for why the creatures have tracked me down to keep watch on my bath. Normal vultures don’t hunt people—they don’t hunt at all, preferring to scavenge for their meals—and they roost at night. I knew that even before Niklaas reminded me that—

“They don’t see well in the dark.” The pulse racing in my throat slows.

If they can’t see me clearly, that means Ekeeta can’t, either. Ekeeta’s magic allows her to see through the eyes of animals, but her spells don’t give the creatures supernatural powers. Theses vultures can’t see or hear any better than an unmagicked vulture, which means they can’t be transmitting a clear picture of my location. There’s still a chance Ekeeta doesn’t know where I am, a chance that Niklaas and I can escape.