Don’t fear the changes, embrace them, echoed her husband’s voice—and she listened.
Dawn wedged her boot in the stirrup and mounted Winnie astride. With a rough snap of the reins, she galloped out of the stable at breakneck speed. Was that Rafe hollering after her? She didn’t dare turn her head. She maintained tight focus on the horizon, instead, hellbent on reaching the castle ruins before … she wasn’t sure what would happen if she failed, but she was sure it would shatter her heart.
She whipped the reins again. “Faster, Winnie!”
The horse squealed, then nickered, snorting as she pounded the dirt road.
When Dawn reached the briar patch, she brought the horse to a stall and dismounted. How to get passed the thorns, though?
She surveyed the border, searching for a rift in the rolling, twisted vines, but the bramble was too dense.
“Dawn!”
Her gaze shot upward. That voice! It had come from the tower. There was someone inside. But how? And who?
“I’m coming,” shouted Dawn. “I’m almost there!”
Slipping the hood over her head, she curled an arm across her brow and headed into the barbs. Just as she was about to step through the thorns, the thicket spread apart. She paused, bewildered. Soon, though, she was marching through the shrubbery, the thistles closing in around her, swallowing her whole.
Aye, the curse. She would not emerge from the vines again. But she had to reach the tower. She had to help the rose!
Ever since she had first set eyes on the choking quills and castle ruins, she had sensed a connection with the keep. There was something inside that belonged to her, that was a part of her, and as she neared the crumbling walls, Dawn girded her muscles.
She scaled the massive foundation stones and crawled into the aging keep. Narrow shafts of light illuminated mossy boulders and ragged rocks and … a sword; it rested on the ground.
She picked up the shiny metal, about three pounds, twirling the hilt in her hand. The guard was still in place, the leather strips crisscrossing in a basket weave, the blade glinting and razor sharp.
It was a perfect impression between her palms. How could the weapon feel so right?
It mattered naught. What mattered was the rose.
Dawn started toward the turret and climbed the crooked steps. At the spire’s peak was a door, secured. She lifted the sword and with a sound slash decimated the lock, then kicked open the barrier and entered the room.
Her heart seized.
There was a woman in a bed, hedged by thorns.
She took a shaky step toward the bed and stared at the woman, her long black hair plaited, her body protected in armor.
“It’s me,” breathed Dawn. Her sword clattered to the ground. “Impossible,” she rasped, heart pounding.
She glanced at the figure beside the woman and gasped. “Rafe!”
He, too, was fast asleep, covered in mail, a sword across his chest.
Dawn dashed to the other side of the bed, shaking him. “Rafe, wake up!” But he was as still as the dead, surrounded by thorny creepers.
She snatched the sword from the ground and raised it above her head, chopping the vines at his feet, but her blows were fruitless—the vines only coiled more tightly around him.
“No,” she screamed, tears filling her eyes. “Rafe, please, wake up!”
She searched the room for a more effective weapon … instead, she spotted two more figures wrapped in brambles. Her heart dropped when she recognized the children: Edward and Elisabet. They, too, were entombed. What had happened?
Dawn staggered, vertigo gripping her. She tossed the sword aside, aching for breath. She drowned in her tears. She had lost her family. No. No. No!
She collapsed on the edge of the bed near Rafe. “I love you,” she whispered, bussing her husband’s cold lips.
She then moved in sluggish strides to the children, kissing their icy brows.
Her head still spinning, Dawn crashed against the floor and blacked out.
~ * ~
“Arise, Your Majesty!”
Dawn blinked. The room swirled for a minute more. At last, her vision cleared and she focused on the rafters aloft. “Where am I?”
“In the west tower, Your Majesty.”
Muscles sore, Dawn clenched her teeth. As soon as she lifted to her feet, Rafe dropped to one knee in his tunic and mail, hands on the quillons of his sword.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“A loyal knight.”
As ghostly images formed and memories returned, Dawn wondered in a faint voice, “And my husband?”
A pair of pale green eyes clapped on her. “Aye, Your Majesty.”
“I remember.” She glanced at the bairns. “Our children?”
“Aye, Mama,” returned Edward, smiling.
Elisabet had tears in her eyes. “You’re awake!”
Dawn stumbled toward the window. The vines had shriveled and wasted yet remained scattered across the kingdom yonder.
The land was hushed. “How long have I been asleep.”
“A year. At most,” said Rafe, rising to his feet. “We have all slumbered until now.”
A sleep of the dead. An enchanted sleep. A curse.
“Liam,” she seethed.
“He cast a spell over us.”
“The vile toad,” grumbled the princess.
“A toad, indeed.” Dawn stalked toward the door, sword in hand. “Secure the children.”
“Wait!”
But she ignored her husband and entered the passageway, searching for Liam.
Though the walls were charred from conflict and the stones had endured several catapult blows, the ramparts stood tall, the castle strong. The ruins had been a ruse. A dream. The last year of her life; it had all been a dream.
She gripped the sword hilt with ever growing vim, her armor chinking as she thundered through the keep in search of the evil one.
Mayhap he was on the other side of the castle? But he lurked somewhere between its walls: she felt it in her gut.
Dawn started across the battlement—and froze.
There was Liam. He stood between the parapets, the wind swirling and lifting his regal robe, overlooking the devastation he had caused with a gratifying grin.
Her blood burned. “Witch!”
He cocked his head. “Why if it isn’t The Rose of Briar Wood?”
At his sneer, she advanced. “I am The Rose of Briar Wood, and you will never take me or my kingdom.”
His bravado fell. A sword appeared from beneath his robe. “If I cannot have you—”
“You can not have me,” she asserted, and with a roar, raised her blade.
Metal clashed.
Dawn chopped. Liam parried.
The two danced in swordplay across the narrow ledge, the wind gaining force, growing more violent with their every lunge and fade.
As Dawn deflected a blow, she turned to the side just as Rafe rushed the battlement, shouting, “Look out!”
She spotted the short dagger glinting in Liam’s other hand and quickly sloped, ducking and evading the thrust, before she raised her boot and slammed it into Liam’s belly.
The sorcerer staggered, striking the parapet’s corner. His fingernails raked the stone, but he lost his balance and plunged over the edge with a shrill scream.
A breathless Dawn approached the ledge, glaring downward. It was only after she saw Liam’s broken body staked on his cursed thorns that her steely posture loosened and she sighed.
Free.
At last.
Rafe reached her, curled his hand behind her neck, and pressed his brow over hers. “Are you all right, wife?”
“Aye, I’m fine.” She bussed his palm. “The children?”
“Secure, Your Majesty.”
He glanced over the edge, too. “It is finished.”
“It is finished,” she echoed.
He next gazed across the ravished land as drowsy knights and simple folk arose and stumble
d over the rotting vines. “The kingdom?”
“We will burn the thorns and rebuild our world.” Dawn caressed his hand, digging her fingers into his palm, bringing his beautiful eyes back to her. “Do you think the enchanted land we dreamed about truly exists?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
“But you found me and the children in that land, Rafe. How?”
“I could never forget a woman like you, curse be damned.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you for helping me remember my true self?”
He kissed her. Hard. “I love you, wife.”
“And I love you. Forever. In any land.” She laughed. “Come. Let us assure our people the war is over.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
THE END
MORE ROMANCES BY ALEXANDRA BENEDICT
CASTLES IN THE SKY
Ashes
Her Lord Cinder
The Winter Rose
Briar Rose
THE HAWKINS BROTHERS SERIES
Mistress of Paradise
The Infamous Rogue
The Notorious Scoundrel
How to Seduce a Pirate
How to Steal a Pirate’s Heart (includes:
All I Want for Christmas is a Pirate)
THE TOO SERIES/WESTMORE BROTHERS
Too Great a Temptation
Too Scandalous to Wed
Too Dangerous to Desire
THE FALLEN LADIES SOCIETY
The Princess and the Pauper
STAND ALONE ROMANCE
A Forbidden Love
ANTHOLOGY
Tales of Forbidden Love
YOUNG ADULT FICTION
So Down I Fall
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alexandra Benedict is the author of several historical romances published by Avon Books. She also writes fiction as an Indie Author. Her work has received critical acclaim from Booklist and a starred review from Publishers Weekly. All of her books are translated into various languages. For more information visit: www.AlexandraBenedict.ca. Or friend her on FACEBOOK.
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