Princess of Thorns

Aurora’s eyes drop to the bed and she releases my hand. “Yes, but I … I’m a unique case.”

“And why is that?”

She catches a lock of her hair and twines it around and around one small finger. “I ruined a fairy boy I loved once. I just … ruined him.” She blinks faster, and I can feel how hard she’s trying not to cry. “After that, I knew I’d never be able to marry. I don’t even allow myself to consider it.”

“How did you ruin him?” I ask, heart going out to her. She’s so hard on herself, even when there’s no reason for it.

“I just … I broke him.”

I catch her chin in my hand. “You can’t break someone who doesn’t want to be broken,” I say, willing her to believe it. “If he decides to recover, he will.”

“No.” Her gray eyes are as sad as storm clouds. “He won’t. And it’s my fault.”

“Well, not every boy is like him,” I say, realizing her stubborn mind is made up when it comes to her fairy boy. “The rest of us get broken and get right up, put ourselves back together, and go looking for someone to break us all over again.”

“But I—”

“And sometimes we’re the ones who do the breaking,” I say, cutting off her protest. “But that’s what searching for love is like. You keep pushing on, breaking and being broken, until you find the person you want to hold safe, the only one who knows how to keep you in one piece.”

She sighs, studying me before she whispers, “I usually hate your advice.”

I grin. “Usually?”

“You’re so flaming smug,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But that …” Her lips quirk on one side. “That was beautiful.”

“I’m a beauty, inside and out,” I say, fluttering my lashes. But Aurora doesn’t smile, or laugh. She simply stares up at me, into me, for a long moment in which I become aware of her leg warm against mine and only the covers between us, of her hair smelling like lavender and honey, and for a second, I wonder …

And then she says—

“I will marry you, Niklaas, but only if you swear never to kiss me.”

—and I can’t help but laugh, no matter how serious her expression.

“The thought is that repulsive, eh?” I laugh away her attempt to explain. “Don’t worry, runt, I feel the same way. But thanks.” I ruffle her hair the way I did when she was Ror and it feels good. Normal. The way things are supposed to be between Aurora and me. “It’s good of you to offer, but we wouldn’t work in that way.”

“No?” she asks, a chilly note in her voice. “Why not? I’m still first in line to Norvere’s throne.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, still laughing. “You’re not upset I turned down your romantic proposal, are you?”

“Of course not,” she says, spine stiffening. “It’s flattering to know you’d rather die than marry me.”

“I’m not going to die. I’m going to be turned into a swan, a lovely white bird with a great long neck and—”

“Oh, shut up and get out of my bed.” She shoves at my shoulder, wincing as she puts stress on her injured arm. “You’re even stupider than I thought!”

Now it’s my turn to stiffen. “You’re right, I am stupid.” I stand, brushing my hair from my face with a clawed hand. “And you’re about as convincing as a member of the gentler sex as I am a sea cow!”

She glares up at me, her cheeks pale but for two bright spots of pink above her dimples. “It is stupid to give up when you still have time to find some ignorant girl to marry you.”

“So she’ll have to be ignorant, too!”

“And it’s stupid not to consider my offer!” she shouts over me. “People get married for reasons other than love all the time, and saving a life is better than—”

“So the incredibly tempting offer still stands?” I ask, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from my tone. “You’d still marry the big stupid oaf to save his poor, dumb life?”

“Yes, you insufferable brat,” she says through clenched teeth, her hands balling into fists. “And believe me, I have absolutely no desire to wed you or anyone else.”

“Good, because I don’t want your pity or your—”

“But I would do it!” she shouts. “Despite the fact that you are ridiculous and—”

“Ridiculous? Well, isn’t that the donkey calling the ass a—”

“What’s going on?” Gettel opens the door and hurries in, sloshing milk from the glass in her hand onto the floor in her haste. “What are you two shouting about?”

“Nothing,” Aurora and I say at the same moment, earning me another glare from my would-be bride.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.” Gettel casts a stern look in my direction. “Really, Niklaas. Aurora is in no shape for a lovers’ quarrel. You know how ill she’s been.”

At the words lovers’ quarrel, I see red. Red with pointy black daggers dancing about and battle horns blaring in the background. I hurry to excuse myself, aiming my body out the sickroom door before I wring Aurora’s scrawny little neck or say something I’ll regret to the woman who saved her life.

At the moment I’d be happy to ride away from Aurora and never look back, but I happen to like Gettel.

“That’s right, run away!” Aurora shouts after me. “That’s what cowards do!”

I want to spin around, storm back into the room, and demand to know how I went from being brave and clever to an infuriating coward in the span of ten minutes, but I don’t. I pound down the stairs and through the kitchen, where Gettel’s assistant is stirring sharp-smelling medicine on the stove, and out into the end-of-summer day.

There is a hint of autumn in the air, a bite to the breeze that carries the sour scent of leaves ready to change through the valley. I break into a run toward the barn, focusing on the sun on my face and the hills still green with summer grass, refusing to think about Aurora or autumn or the fact that the fifteenth of Nonstyne is only eight days away.

Chapter Twenty

Aurora

“I’m sorry.” I glance at Gettel as she unlaces my nightgown to take a look at my arm. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

Gettel laughs. “Don’t worry, pet. I just didn’t want you hurt. I understand what it’s like to be young and in love. Things don’t always run smoothly, do they?”

I feel my cheeks heat and am glad it’s only Gettel in the room. “Niklaas and I aren’t … We’re friends.”

“Of course you are,” she says, unrolling the bandages covering my wound. “All the best lovers are friends.”

My cheeks burn even hotter. “No, I mean …” I clear my throat. “He thought I was a boy until a few days ago. He doesn’t … It’s not like that.”

“Ah … well then … that’s interesting …” She hums beneath her breath as she probes the skin around the place where the arrow punctured my flesh. It aches a bit, but the pain isn’t nearly what it was. “You heal too quickly, my girl. What exactly are you fairy-blessed with? If you don’t my asking?”

“With enhanced strength, among other things. It aids in healing.” I crane my neck to get a look at my wound, wrinkling my nose at the jagged black scab marking the skin on my arm. “That looks awful.”

“It should look much, much worse, my doll.” She pats my back before pulling my sleeve up and over my shoulder. “I don’t even need to re-dress it. If you keep mending so sweetly, we should get you moving tomorrow, start bringing some strength back to your muscles after the weakening effects of the poison.”

She passes the milk over, and I drink it down greedily. It’s so fresh it’s still warm. After three days with almost nothing to eat, it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.