Princess of Thorns

A part of me wants to laugh away his request, but the other part …

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter,” I say, my full stomach begi

“You can’t know that for sure,” he says around a mouthful of food.

“I can.” I stare at the flickering candle, dreading revealing myself tomorrow morning more than ever. “Trust me.”

“No, you can’t.” He drops his fork to the table with a clatter that pulls my eyes from the flames. “You’re her brother, and it’s obvious you love her, but you can’t know everything about her. Just like you can’t know everything about me. Maybe I’ll surprise you. And her. And you,” he says, brow wrinkling. “I already said ‘you,’ didn’t I?”

“You did. I think maybe you’ve—”

“No, listen to me, Ror. Listen. I’m going to tell you some truth.” Niklaas shoves the now-empty bowl of potatoes away. “I know I’ve never met Aurora, but I think your sister and I will understand each other. In a way that’s special. That’s different than just boy and girl and kiss and talk and blah blah blah.”

“Is that right?” I ask, curious though Niklaas is obviously a little drunk and this entire conversation pointless.

“Listen, Ror,” he says, pointing a finger so close to my nose that my eyes cross.

“I’m listening,” I say, trying not to smile.

“My father? He’s a terrible man. Really. Terrible, terrible.” The misery in his voice banishes the urge to grin. Janin knew the Kanvasol princes would never be contenders for a marital alliance, and so my studies of Kanvasola lagged behind the rest, but I’ve heard enough of Niklaas’s childhood stories by now to know he would have been better off being raised by wild dogs than the immortal king.

“Like a devil from the pit,” Niklaas continues, “hovering over me since the day I was born, cursing every moment of my life.” He scowls before washing the words down with a long swig of beer.

“Niklaas, don’t you think you’ve—”

“Aurora knows what that’s like.” He sets his mug back on the table with a thunk. “She knows what it’s like to live in the shadow of a monster, with the beast itself lurking around the corner, ready to pounce and rip her apart. She knows and I know and I think we’ll … get along,” he says, a hopeful note in his voice that makes my heart ache for him.

“Niklaas—”

“And maybe …” He swipes a hand across the back of his mouth. “Well … maybe together we’ll prove that prophecies, and curses, and kings and queens with nothing but evil in their souls aren’t as powerful as people helping each other. People tying their hearts and minds together and telling fate to go stuff itself.”

I watch Niklaas drain his beer and think about what he said. He may be drunk, but he’s also right. I do know what it’s like to live in the shadow of a monster. I do know what it’s like to long for a co

I try to remind myself that Niklaas would never be interested in a girl like me—a girl so plain she has no trouble passing as a boy, a girl who speaks her mind and fights for what she wants and doesn’t need anyone, male or female, to protect her—but the arguments don’t feel as convincing as they once did. Niklaas likes Ror. He could come to like Aurora, to care about her and laugh with her. And isn’t caring and friendship what makes a marriage work, what makes you wake up years in the future and smile to see your friend’s graying head on the pillow next to yours?

You’ll never know. You will never know that sort of love. And if you do, all you will bring to your marriage bed are shadows and despair.

I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s true. It doesn’t matter if Niklaas could come to care for the real me. It doesn’t matter that I’m begi

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Niklaas finally asks.

I open my eyes to find him staring intently into his glass, as if it is a crystal ball that might reveal his future. “I think my mother would have liked you,” I say, knowing it’s the least painful truth I can tell.

He looks up, his eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“She believed what you believe. She thought people working together were the only hope for our world,” I say, remembering the way she held my hands and explained to me how important it was for me to choose kindness whenever I could. “She said it was the love of everyday people that worked miracles.”

“It’s nice that you remember her. I can’t remember a thing from when I was four. Or five …”

“My sister helps. She’s always told me stories.” I hate to lie to him. I know it’s only for one more night, but still … This doesn’t feel like a moment for lies.

His brow wrinkles again. “I don’t remember much of six, either, except for the time I fell asleep in the carpenter’s shed and was locked in for the night. I was so afraid. I was certain the axes would come to life and cut my head off if I went back to sleep.”

I smile. “You had quite an imagination.”

“Still do, I suppose.” He sighs and an unfamiliar lost look creeps into his eyes.

For the first time, he looks like the boy he is instead of the man he’s about to be. I see fear in him, and worry, and how desperately he wants someone to help him banish them both. And for a moment, I wish I could be that person, that I could take him in my arms and kiss his furrowed forehead and tell him that everything will be all right.

“Am I imagining things again, Ror?” he asks. “Am I imagining that you and I might be brothers in more than spirit one day?”

Brothers. It confirms what I’ve been feeling since our third day on the road, that Niklaas and I could be more than good friends, that we could be family if we chose to be. With the exception of Jor, all of my family is chosen family, people I have no relation to by blood, but who I have chosen to love and let love me in return.

I could love Niklaas. But that’s the problem. I could love Niklaas, but I could also love Niklaas. I already care too much to consider risking a kiss the way I did that evening by the hot spring. I’m too close to him now, and if I let myself, I could get even closer.

Dangerously close. At least for him.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my throat tight and an unexpected stinging in my nose. “But we will never be anything more than good friends.”

Niklaas brings his fist down on the table, making me jump and a feminine gasp escape my throat. Thankfully, he’s too drunk and/or angry to notice. “I won’t believe it,” he says. “I won’t believe it until she tells me to my face. To my face!”

“Niklaas—”

“You don’t u

“You won’t die.” I roll my eyes, his ridiculousness helping lighten the moment.

“I will. I’ll die,” he moans, burying his face in his hands. “Or as good as. And then I’ll never get Haanah away from our father.”

“You’ll be fine, and you’ll find a way to help your sister.” I dig into my vest pocket and drop a few coins on the table before pushing my chair back. “Now let’s get you to your room before you’re too drunk to climb the stairs.”

“You’re mad.” He glares at me beneath lids drooped to half-mast. “I can outdrink men twice my size. I’m not drunk.”

“You’re not sober, either.” I take his arm. “Let’s go.”

“No. I want more potatoes,” he says, jerking his arm free.

“If you eat more potatoes, you’ll explode.” I reclaim his arm and tug him out of his chair. He pulls away again, only to stumble into the empty table next to ours, sending one of the chairs tipping over.