Princess of Thorns

“I will. And so will you.” He sets me back on my feet, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. He’s so much taller than he was last winter. He’s still a beanpole, but he only needs a few inches to be as tall as Niklaas.

Niklaas. I was so frightened and worried that I didn’t stop to think when he starting issuing orders, but now …

My arms go limp, sliding from Jor’s neck as I turn, slowly, cautiously, afraid to hope. But as soon as I see Niklaas standing with his arms crossed and that brooding, relieved, enraged expression on his face, I know.

“You’re back,” I breathe, tears springing to my eyes.

At this rate, I may never stop crying, but that’s all right. My brother is alive, the Fey have taken the castle, and Niklaas is himself.

“Yes,” he says, the word forced through a jaw so tense I can see the muscles twitch at either side of his face. “But I remember everything. Every flaming thing.”

“I’ll keep watch for the Fey and let them know the ogres are bound for the boats,” Jor says, obviously sensing that Niklaas and I should have a moment alone.

As much as I hate to let my brother venture an inch from my side, I know he’s right. Niklaas should be able to lash out at me with the full strength of his fury, without worrying about offending the i

“M-my fairy blessings are gone,” I stammer as Jor hurries away, my eyes darting from Niklaas’s feet to his shoulders, finding it impossible to meet his staring-through-my-skin look head-on. “They left me when I. …I … killed her.” My face crumples, no matter how hard I try to fight it, and I know it will be a long time before I can speak of the terrible thing I did without weeping.

“I saw,” Niklaas says. “I watched you beg for your brother’s life, and all I could think about was how lost I’d be if you weren’t alive to tell me what to do.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to stop blubbering. “I’m sorry, I—”

“You knew what would happen if I kissed you,” he says. “That’s what happened to that fairy boy, isn’t it? He kissed you and it stole his damn mind away.”

I bite my lip and nod, heart sinking as Niklaas curses beneath his breath and lifts his eyes to the ceiling. “I am sorry,” I whisper. “You have no idea how sorry.”

“I have an idea,” he snaps, shooting me a look so sharp it makes me flinch. “If you weren’t sorry, you wouldn’t have made me hurt you on the way here, would you?”

“I just wanted to make sure we were convincing.”

“No, you were punishing yourself, and using me to do it. When I think of all the …” He runs a shaking hand over his mouth and lets out a jagged breath. “That’s what I hate most. You made me brutalize a girl half my size, a girl I … cared about.” He shakes his bowed his head. “You turned me into a monster.”

“No, Niklaas,” I say, knowing I can’t let him live with guilt that is all mine. “It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t in control, you—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He props his hands on his hips, but keeps his head bowed, as if he can’t stand to look at me. “I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be my father, and with one flaming kiss you made me as bad as he ever was. I would have killed you if you told me to. Killed you. Or worse.”

“No, Niklaas,” I say, remembering his moment of gentleness on the aqueduct. “You would never have—”

“Oh, I would have. If I believed it would have made you happy.” His lip curls. “It almost makes me glad I won’t be human much longer. I won’t have to look at that new scar on your cheek and remember I was the one who put it there.”

“Please, Niklaas …” I press my lips together, fighting tears as I realize the meaning behind what he’s said. “You don’t have to do this. You have your free will again. We can … we can be married.”

He sighs as he turns to walk away.

“Please!” I cry out, stopping him. “I know you hate me, but don’t throw yourself away because of it. I want to help you, I want to marry you. I—I love you.”

I lose the battle against the tears shoving at the backs of my eyes, but I don’t feel as bad about it this time, because when Niklaas turns back to me there are tears on his cheeks, too.

“No, you don’t,” he says “If you did, you wouldn’t have lied to me again and again, and you never would have used me the way you did.”

“Niklaas, I didn’t—”

My plea is cut short as a shout rises from the hall outside, a cry of celebration and thanksgiving so loud it shakes the walls. Moments later, fairy warriors stream through the throne room door, Jor carried along at the center of a group of mountain Fey hugging him too tightly for his feet to touch the ground. I see faces familiar from my visits to the mountains and then even more familiar island faces, men and women as dear as family, who rush to gather me in their arms, passing me from one hug to the next until I end in a soft, familiar embrace that sets me to weeping like a baby all over again.

“Janin!” I wrap my arms around her and cling tight. “I can’t believe you’re here. You must have been outnumbered ten to one. How did you ever—”

“Your letter came with a note from the witch woman who helped you in Frysk. She said there was a growing resistance movement within Mercar and gave instructions on how to find them. I sent spies to meet with their leaders yesterday,” Janin says, rocking me back and forth the way she did when I was little and needing a long hug. “They sabotaged the gates and fought with us. Hundreds of them. And some of the ogre soldiers fought for us, as well. The other ogres weren’t expecting an attack from the inside. They didn’t last an hour.”

“I’m so glad you weren’t hurt,” I mumble against her shoulder, never wanting to let her go. “Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Janin whispers into my hair. “You did what you thought was right. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to keep you from trying to save your brother,” she says, pulling in a breath and swiping tears from her cheeks. They are more wrinkled than I remember, but her silver hair is pulled back in the same tidy braid and her face glows with a happiness I haven’t seen there in a long time. “You should have been able to use your fairy blessings as you saw fit.”

A hopeful cry leaps from deep inside me. “My gifts are gone,” I say, able to view the loss with excitement now that Niklaas is free. “Thyne should be himself again.”

“Thyne is himself again.”

I blink. That voice. Thyne’s real voice. It’s like a piece of my i

I shift my gaze to find Thyne standing behind his mother, his chestnut hair bound in a warrior’s knot and new armor sitting on his slim shoulders, and cry out with joy. He is himself! His green eyes shine with mischief, and his smile is as arrogant as ever.

Janin steps away and I fall into Thyne’s arms, shocked by how slight he feels after growing accustomed to Niklaas’s hugs.

“Glad to see you alive, scrapper.” Thyne presses a sloppy kiss to my forehead. “Guess it’s safe to kiss you now, right?”

“I’m so sorry, Thyne, I didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t. It’s all right.” He laughs. “But I confess I’m glad to go back to being your brother.”

I smile up at him, relieved that he feels the same way I do. Our kiss was a mistake. We were never meant to be more than friends, but we will always be family. He is so many things to me—a brother and teacher and friend and first hero all in one—but he was never the boy I love.

That boy is slipping out of the throne room with a group of Fey soldiers, no doubt bound for the docks and a fight with any ogres who remain there.

I move from Thyne’s arms, intending to follow Niklaas, but Janin stops me with her fingers at my elbow.