Princess of Thorns

Why is she sad? I don’t know, but I’m certain it doesn’t bode well.

“She is as kind as a queen should be,” Nippa says, a note of censure in her tone. “If you’re finished, Herro, you may attend to your other duties. I can manage the princess alone now that she’s awake.”

“Happy to leave you to her.” Herro jabs a pin into the bandage at my wrist before rising and departing the room in a rustle of skirts.

“Never mind her,” Nippa whispers. “She’s unpleasant at times but an excellent nurse. Your stitches are as small and even as any I’ve seen.” She pins her linen in place and smiles. “Are you ready for something to eat?” She motions to a table near the window behind her, where a feast has been laid out. Meats, cheeses, fresh bread, and fruit vie for space on the blue tablecloth, while outside, two castle towers glow pinkish orange in the fading light.

Sunset. “How long have I been asleep?” I ask. If it’s been more than a day, Niklaas won’t know what to do. We were supposed to free Jor the first night we spent in the castle!

“Six hours, give or take,” Nippa says, making me sag back into the pillow with relief. “You took tea with herbs for the pain when we first laid you down. They calm the appetite, but I’m sure you’re hungry by now. Shall I help you to the table?”

“No thank you, I can walk,” I say, though it still feels mad to be having a polite conversation with a creature that consumes human souls for nourishment. I toss off the covers, glancing down at my far-too-long nightgown as I slide to the floor. “Did you …”

“We bathed and dressed you. We knew your wrists and cheek needed tending, but we wanted to be sure we didn’t miss any wounds beneath your clothes. We attended to your bites as well.” Nippa hovers close as I walk to the table, apparently determined to catch me if I swoon. “You slept like a babe the entire time, poor little thing.”

Poor little thing? What in the Flaming Pit …

I settle into the chair Nippa pulls out for me, eyes darting around the room. It’s magnificent, as big as five fairy cots put together with a bed the size of a small ship at the center and warm wood armoires stationed against the walls like fussing na

It is cold enough for a fire. Does that mean …

“Is my brother still alive?” I won’t be able to stomach a bite of food until I know, no matter how famished I am.

Nippa hesitates, making my pulse race beneath my skin.

“Is he?” I ask, voice breaking.

“I’m not to speak of such things, Princess,” Nippa whispers, “but yes.”

“Where is he? Is he in the dungeon or—”

“Not another word,” Nippa says in a no-nonsense voice that assures me I won’t be getting any more information from her. “You must eat. Start with the broth. Your body will put it to use more quickly than the rest.” She plucks the porcelain top off a bowl decorated with pink flowers like the ones I saw in the garden and sets it before me.

I pick it up and drink the broth straight from the bowl, not bothering with the soup spoon lined up beside the rest of the utensils. I don’t have time for sipping from a spoon. I have to get rid of this nurse and out of this room, and the fastest way to accomplish both seems to be to honor Nippa’s requests.

I finish the broth and reach for the bread, tearing off hunks that I stuff into my mouth and chew as quickly as I can. I follow the bread with slices of cold chicken and cheese and a glass of mixed juices so sweet it makes my tongue curl, but I refuse to touch the cake. I will eat to revive my body, but I won’t waste a moment enjoying myself, not when every second is precious and both Jor and Niklaas depending on me.

Niklaas bribed a fisherman in Nume—using our horses as payment for a boat to be moored near the wall walks after dark tonight, promising the man another fistful of gold when we take possession of the craft—but the boat will do us no good if I can’t find Jor. I assumed I would end up in the dungeon within shouting distance of my brother, and it would only be a matter of sorting out how to get us both out of our cells, but now …

“If you’re finished, I can help you dress,” Nippa says.

“I can dress myself,” I say, pushing my chair back.

“Of course.” Nippa nods. “Your clothes are being washed, but we’ve found something in your size. It’s laid out on the dressing bench.”

I keep one eye on my nurse as I circle around the bed, still wary no matter how kind she seems, but when I see what the ogres have found for me to wear, I find it hard to focus on anything else. Instead of the gown I was expecting, there on the pale blue cushions of the dressing bench lie a black linen shirt, black cloak, and black riding pants that actually look small enough to fit me. They must be a boy’s pants, and the boots settled on the carpet must be boy’s boots as well.

“What is this?” I ask, brow furrowing as I rub the coarse fabric of the shirt between my fingers.

“They are clothes for a night flight,” comes a voice from behind me, a voice as airy as a reed flute that casts a net of barbed wire around my heart.

The queen. The queen.

I drop the shirt, desperately wishing I had my staff in hand as I turn to face the woman who took everything I love away, who killed my mother and stole my brother, who cursed my life and haunts my nightmares and looms so large and terrible in my mind that I know I will always fear and hate her, always, even if by some miracle I am lucky enough to walk out of this castle and live to a doddering old age.

My hands shake and my mouth fills with a taste as sour as nutshells as my eyes alight on the cool white column that is the ogre queen. Ekeeta is only eight hands away, close enough to smell her perfume, an exotic scent like poppy and sea foam with a top note of grilled meat that makes my stomach churn.

She is as beautiful as ever, tall and thin, but with generous curves visible beneath her white gown with the silver trim. Her wig is more elaborate than the one I remember from when I was little—intricate braids coil around her head, creating a crown from which curls cascade down her back in a tumble of gold—but her face is the same. Her skin as smooth, her cheekbones as high and delicate, her eyes as …

Her eyes …

“Forgive us.” She falls to her knees, sending the tears pooled in her eyes spilling down her cheeks.

Nippa rushes to her side: I back away, more startled by her tears than if she’d hurled a knife at my chest.

“We do not deserve forgiveness,” she continues, breath hitching. “But still, we ask for it, if only to prove we see how wrong we have been. We have been deceived. Our brother convinced us the souls we consumed would be delivered into paradise, but there is no excuse for the evils we have committed. We should have questioned our brother years ago. We should have sought the truth before so many died in vain.”

I shake my head, hands trembling at my sides, itching for a weapon.

A weapon. The knife on the table! If I move quickly …

I turn and run, holding up my long gown as I dash to the table to fetch the knife and turn back to Ekeeta, the sharp point aimed at her heart.

But even with half a room and the bed still between us, I know I won’t be able to make use of the weapon. Already, my arm wavers, my muscles threatening to turn to stone if I attempt to kill a defenseless woman kneeling on the ground before me.

Damn my mother’s curse! Damn fairy magic and all the misery it has brought to my family since the day Mother was blessed in her cradle!

“What do you want?” I sob, gripping the knife so tightly my hand begins to sweat, gritting my teeth as I fight to be stronger than the magic, to take the vengeance that is rightly mine. “Where is Jor? Where is my brother?”