The Rose and the Thorn

by Kate Macdonald

  “The lake!” I scream to my companions. “Get in the lake!”

  It will be harder for Moya to find them there, I reason. She won't be able to sense their movements too much. They'll be able to hide, even if she can see through this smog as well.

  I do not need to see. This is my home. I know it in any light.

  There is a scramble in the water. Crying, shouting, flailing. I sense I only have a few minutes before the darkness begins to falter, like all of her magic. A few minutes is all I need.

  Gradually, eventually, visibility returns. My heart clenches in my chest. From my hiding place, the devastation is clear. The gardens transformed into a wasteland, a battleground. The trees lying in flaming, crumpled heaps. The statues have been chewed up. Between the ruin of the landscape and the decimation of the shore, bodies are piled. My home is barely recognisable. I pray that the bodies I see are not my friends'.

  Where are the villagers? I cannot see anything moving in the water. Not a splash, not a glimmer-

  When I lock eyes on James, I see that he and the others have been tied up in weeds, held with their heads just above water. They are completely trapped.

  “Where are you, little beauty?” Moya croons. “Come out. You cannot hide forever. I'll burn this place to the ground, eventually. Burning to death is not pleasant, so I hear. I can give you a quicker death than that. I'll even let you see your beloved beast again.”

  Thorn. How long does he have left?

  “Although, I notice he is mysteriously absent from our little soiree. Could it be that the dear old beast isn't even with us any more?”

  No. No, he is still here.

  “I tell you what, beauty. Surrender yourself to me, and I will let your friends live. I might even spare the whole village. What is one little village when the world will be mine? You still have a family, don't you?”

  I keep to my hiding place.

  “I see, I see. How about this? I will even spare him, if he still lives. I have no need of the boy's destruction now, now that I am free. You, on the other hand, you are far too troublesome. But if I can save him, I will. Fairy's promise.”

  She might be the only thing, the only thing, that can save him. But would Thorn ever forgive me, if I surrendered to her? If I left him alone? He would never hate me, I am sure of that, but if there is a life after this one, how could I bear to watch him shoulder this world -or Moya's version of it- alone? His death would destroy me, and mine would obliterate him. It is simple; we cannot live without each other. This is not a matter of saving someone's life, but saving their soul. It is mine that I am sacrificing when I leap out of the tree and plunge the shard of mirror into Moya's back.

  I am hurled into the shallows. Moya is cackling still, but blood fills her mouth. She spits it onto the stones, and then reaches round and pulls the shard from her flesh. She giggles.

  “This little shard... did you think... that this could contain me? Did you see the last prison that was built for me?”

  She tosses it into the water. I go after it, but her hand fastens around my ankle and yanks me back to the bank. Weeds wrap around my feet. She towers over me, grabs my fists in hers.

  “What a sad attempt, beauty,” she grins. “Much like your attempt to love that silly creature.”

  Thorn. Thorn, I'm sorry. I'll be with you soon-

  “No last words?”

  She releases one of my hands, moves to grab a fallen weapon. Why doesn't she finish me off with magic? Has she run out?

  “How about these ones?” she laughs. “True love will never set you free-”

  My free hand reaches into my apron pocket. Before she can turn, before she can raise her own weapon, I plunge mine into her chest.

  For one, awful minute, Moya just stands there, still, her sword in her hand... then she turns her face towards the shard of mirror resting against her heart. I can almost feel it, struggling to continue beating, with the Mirror of Truth inside it.

  “See what you really are,” I say.

  The bonds around my feet shrivel away. The villagers are dropped into the water. Her remaining supporters freeze, paralysed.

  “You are darkness, and dust, and poison,” I say, rising above her. Her white faces begins to crumple. Her whole body seems to cave in, twitches like a spider in the flame. The clouds begin to part.

  “Try surviving in the light.”

  In a flash, she is gone. Her supporters vanish into shadow. The skies open, the rain begins to pour. All fires are extinguished. I barely have time to look at see if the others are all right before I begin tearing towards the castle.

  Thorn.

  Chapter Thirty-Four: The Transformation

  Through the chaos and the debris, I race through the gardens, back to the castle, back to him. The others are not far behind, stopping only to free their friends or help people up. A crowd has already gathered in the ball room, being kept at bay only by Freedom.

  Three familiar lights hover wordlessly by Thorn's side. Freedom has made a pillow for his head, and covered him with a cloak. The dark stain at his side is growing bigger, and I wonder why Freedom hasn't tried to fix him. Then I remember; this was Freedom. He always knows when an arrow has hit its mark.

  I look back at him, his face grey and grave.

  “Rose-”

  “No.”

  “I’m so-”

  “No!”

  Thorn calls out my name, and holds up his hand. I crush down on my knees, wrap my fingers around his and kiss his hand. His grip is frail, kitten-weak and shaking.

  I do not need to tell Freedom to leave, he is already moving. Somewhere in the corner of my eye I see him go towards the door, usher people away. There are faces, faces I don’t know, don’t care about, have no right to be here. Go away, I think. There is only one person I want to be with, only one face I want to see.

  “I was afraid... I would go... before you returned.”

  “Never,” I assure him. I stroke his cheek. “I defeated Moya,” I tell him. “She’s gone.”

  “I’m glad,” he says. His voice is hard and laboured, and digs into me like broken glass. “The castle, at least, will be free of her…”

  “Thorn,” I whisper.

  “Speaking of terrible relatives,” he continues, “Your brother has impeccable aim…”

  “Free-”

  “Forgive him, Rose. He did not know… what I am…”

  I lean forward, holding his hand ever-more-tightly. There are only inches between us, no space at all. “I have always known,” I say desperately. It is so important he understands this. “Always.”

  He reaches up his spare hand and strokes my hair. “Bring him here. Bring your family. The castle is yours. Use it however you will.”

  “I won’t… I can’t… not without you. This is our home, do you hear? Yours and mine…”

  “I am glad to hear you say that.”

  His grip tightens, and his body jerks. I have seen this in animals, kills of Freedom’s. I know he has seconds, seconds left. I have seconds left.

  “Thorn, you don’t have permission to die. I won’t let you. I refuse.”

  “Thank you...”

  I graze my fingers against his temple. He moves slightly under my touch. He is still here. He can feel me. He is here and so am I.

  “What for?” I ask.

  “For wanting me.”

  I open my mouth, shake my head, and my tears slide out like venom. “Wanting you? Of course you are wanted. How can you even... how can you even suggest otherwise? Do you not realise what you are? I need you, Thorn. I need you to stay with me. I just… I just got you back. We’re ready for our happy ending.”

  “Could there... ever have been... a happy ending... for us?”

  I close my eyes and swallow back my tears, leaning in a little closer. I run my thumb along his lips. “Any ending when I am with you is happy.”

  His fingers wind through my hair, his palm presses against my cheek. “I love you, Rose.” My name i
s the last thing he says. His eyes glaze over. He is falling away from me.

  I throw myself against his chest, clutching his hair in my fingers. He cannot leave. I will not let him. I wind myself tightly into his body. I will not let him go.

  “I love you, Thorn. I love you. I love...”

  I want to tell him how much. I want to explain to him just how seriously I cannot be without him, but the words are as lost to me as he is.

  There is a little flicker of something in his eyes, a little flash of recognition, acknowledgement.

  And then he goes limp, and his hand slides to the ground. I pick it up, kiss it, putting it around my neck and willing him, begging him, to wake up. To squeeze back. To say those words again, those words I have always known but never heard aloud.

  “Thorn? Did you hear me? I love you. You know that, right? You have to know that. You need to know. I love you, I love you, I...”

  I forget time. I forget the room, the faces, the battle. I forget everything but Thorn. I cling to him, hands holding fistfuls of whatever I can grab. I cannot let him go. This can't be it. This cannot be happening.

  “Rose,” there is a hand on my shoulder. Freedom’s. I try to swat him away, but that would mean separating myself from Thorn, which cannot happen. I tell him leave, or try to. I can't stop screaming.

  “You have to move.”

  I can’t…

  “Let go of him.”

  I won’t.

  “Rose!”

  His hands are wrenching me away. I flail against him, striking out with my fists. I scream, I beat him. I want to hurt him, to pull out his hair, to hate him. I struggle, fighting. Why can’t he just leave me?

  “Get away from me! Killer! How could you, how could you?”

  “Something’s happening…”

  I force myself to look back at Thorn. I do not want to see him dead. I just want to curl up beside him and pretend that he is holding me back.

  But I can barely see Thorn’s body. He is covered in golden mist, and his fur shimmers like moonlight. The mist spreads across the floor, vanishing into the corners of the room. When it hits the grand mirror at the edge of the hall, a sheet of light springs out onto the floor. There is a sound like a gong, and bits of light come spitting out into the room like fireworks.

  A golden figure steps out of the mirror and crosses the room to where I last saw Thorn. She has dark hair flowing down her back, and a gown of pale gold that drifts across the flagstones like smoke. Queen Eilinora.

  The mist clears, and I cry out.

  Thorn is gone.

  In his place is a young man about Freedom’s age. A beautiful young man, with a slightly crooked nose, and dark mane of hair the exact same colour as Thorn’s fur. I have seen this face before, in my dreams, in the mirrors.

  Thorn.

  The woman bows down beside him, and places her long, elegant fingers over his wound. Bright light shimmers all around, and Thorn’s chest begins to rise.

  A scream of relief escapes me, his eyes flicker open. The same, wonderful eyes. He blinks up at the woman by his side, and all my questions about who she was –and the shrine he kept to her- are immediately answered.

  “Mother?” he frowns.

  The tears falling down her face are given free passage, and her smile lights up the room. “Hello, dear,” she touches his cheek. “You’ve grown.”

  They embrace there on the floor, in the dust and the ruin, and she sobs into his hair and kisses his cheeks, over and over. He clings to her like a child, and I cannot move. Freedom's hands dig into my shoulders.

  “Mercy me...” he exclaims.

  Eventually, the two of them part. Thorn's mother turns to me, rushes forward, clasps my hands in hers. She looks at me as if I'm the miraculous one. “Thank you,” she says, “for saving my son.”

  Thorn looks up at me with his strange, wondrous face. He looks as baffled to be here as I am to see him, in his new, fleshy body.

  “Rose-” he starts.

  I do not let him finish. He barely has time to hold out his arms before I launch myself into them. My arms wrap around the back of his neck and he wraps himself around me. I breathe him in. He smells just the same, but the bare skin of his cheek touches mine in a way it never did before, and lightning shoots through me of a new and alarming kind.

  “Rose,” he says breathlessly.

  “Don't talk.”

  I inch myself back and plant my hands firmly on his face. His mouth is open, too shocked to smile. He is alive. Alive and well and more beautiful than ever.

  His fingers wind into my hair. I feel his hand cup the back of my neck. The other slides around my waist. I know he is feeling me differently too. It is as if I have gained another sense.

  Our faces slide together. Our noses touch. Our mouths collide. I am kissing Thorn, pulling him into me. My insides burn, my flesh trembles, and I feel like we will split into starlight.

  Breathless, we part, see each other, and laugh. I hold his face again.

  “I probably owe you an explanation,” he says.

  “It can wait,” I say.

  Then I kiss him again.

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Two Hearts

  “When my son little more than a babe, my sister placed a powerful curse on him, transforming him into a beast.” Eilinora explains. “She hoped, I've no doubt, that I would slay him myself, not seeing him for what he was. But, much like you, I saw him from the start. Despite how wild he was. A mindless creature, at first. Her magic was so strong, that I could not undo it. I managed to soften the curse, bringing back his mind, save for one night every month when dark magic was at its peak. I searched desperately for a cure and finally, Moya gave me one: my son would be restored when a young woman, fierce in soul and fair of heart, could love him for who he truly was. However, if he loved her, and she left him and broke his heart, he would surely perish.”

  “And that would be the end of every drop of good magic here,” Thorn adds. His voice is ever-so-slightly different now, less rough. Still his. “Any magic containing Moya would snap. She would be free again.”

  “It would have broken my heart, too,” the Queen says softly, gazing at her son. “I could not have kept her away from a world without you in it.”

  I stare at this new Thorn, a little lost for words. “But.. I did leave you,” I murmur guiltily.

  “It took a little while for me to lose all hope,” he explains. “I saw you in the mirror. I dreamt of you, and dared to dream that you desired to return. That hope kept me alive for a little longer, but it could never have lasted until the next solstice.”

  “But…” I continue, “It says you just have to find someone who loves you. I have loved you for a long time!”

  Thorn smiles, and I can tell he had not known that this was the case. “Apparently, you had to say it.”

  “I did say them!” I retort. “Just not… to you. Or in so few words. And in any case, you didn’t say them either!”

  “I did! Just in more words than you!”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to say them first!”

  “I asked you to marry me, Rose!”

  “You didn’t say it was because you loved me!”

  “It was implied!”

  “You should say you love someone before you marry them. It’s rather integral to the whole business.”

  Behind Thorn, next to Freedom, I see Ariel, not as a sprite, but as a full, whole person. She nods approvingly. Margaret and Ophelia join her. All whole. Ophelia's wings flicker with nervous energy. A minute later, Bramble comes splintering down the stairs. He crashes into Thorn licks us fervently. We squeeze him between the two of us, the three of us together again. Bramble, Rose and Thorn.

  “What's your real name?” I ask him. It is about time that I knew it.

  He grins sheepishly. “Keane,” he admits. “Not that anyone other than Mother ever really used it. It never quite suited.”

  “It means handsome, in our language,” the Queen explains.

>   “Of course it does.”

  “But I really do prefer Thorn.”

  I look up at the man beside me. I am still not quite used to his appearance, but there is still the beast I loved in his eyes, in the bump in his nose, in the colour of his hair. “Why did you not tell me who –what- you really were?”

  “It would not have helped. If I had told you the truth-”

  “I would have-” I would have told you a lot sooner.

  “You would have pitied me. You cannot love through pity. I have told others, before. They tried, oh, they tried so hard, but knowing what they knew, they were trying to love me for who I could be, and not who I was.” He places a hand against my cheek. “I could not risk that with you.”

  “This is your secret, I take it?” I ask. “Just to be sure. There's nothing else?”

  He laughs. “No, this is it. No more secrets, I assure you.”

  His mother touches his shoulder. “There are a few things you and I need to discuss.”

  I sense that the two of them need some time alone, and even though being away from his side is the last place I want to be right now, I let her lead him away. They deserve this time more than I do. Thorn glances in my direction as he disappears, smiling nervously. We have a lot to discuss too.

  I walk back to the meadow with Freedom and the rest of his party. Bramble accompanies us. Dawn is spreading across the castle, and the sudden burst of magic has quietly brought life back into the garden. It sleeps, softly, like the day before the first snowdrops of spring. Closed buds hum in the bushes.

  Everything is so perfectly still, that the gentle trickle of the stream seems voluminous. A delicate silver bridge arches over the widest part. Freedom stops, half-shrugging, half-laughing. Everyone else totters over, as if in a dream. Nothing else can surprise them today.

  “I imagine this means you are remaining put, for the present,” he says, one hand on the railing. He gazes out onto the mountains. “I need to go,” he continues, as if I didn't expect this. “The rest of the village should be told- wouldn't want them to worry, or do something stupid. You know, like I did.”