Heart of Thorns

by Nicolette Andrews

He smiled and revealed his neat even teeth. "You are more a fool than I thought. I can tell by looking at you there is no less than three generations separating you from any form of the Fae, and then it was most likely some minor creature, something that had no true form other than a woodland creature. The Fae do not breed with humans, and even if they did, the offspring would be murdered in the cradle."

  Mary clutched at her gown, her heart hammering against her chest. "Why are you telling me this?"

  He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Because I am the ruler here, and you have come onto my territory and poached on my hunting ground. I have undone your spell on Lord Thornton, and I will do so again if you try to put a spell upon him or anyone else in this household, and then I will find you and cut out your heart."

  She stumbled backwards in a clumsy attempt to get away. He was smiling at her, revealing his even white teeth sharpened to dagger points. She flailed her arms in front of her to bat him away. Her attacks were easily dodged, and he grabbed her by the shoulder and leaned in to her neck. She sobbed and thrashed against hands that pinned her arms to her side.

  He shook her violently. "Miss Ashton?"

  She sobbed. Her eyes squeezed tight, she shouted, "Please do not kill me!"

  "Miss Ashton, I wouldn't kill you. You're a nice lady," said a slow familiar voice.

  Mary opened her eyes. She blinked a few times to confirm that the face looking back at her was that of the dim-witted Tom Bernard. He had wide-set eyes that were a flat gray and dark hair that flopped onto his forehead, in need of a haircut. His clothes were plain: slacks, a vest and a cap on his head.

  She took a few deep breaths, recollecting herself before standing on her own two feet again. Tom was peering at her with a confused look on his simple face.

  "Is anything wrong, Miss Ashton?" he asked.

  "I am fine, thank you. I just slipped on my way out of the carriage. You should have been there to help me down." She said this with a push from her own dwindling powers to convince him and erase any memory he might have of her shrieking. His face went slack as the magic went to work. She glanced around and found the blond footman waiting at the entryway for her. The man who had threatened her was gone as if he had never been.

  She hurried up the steps and the footman followed her inside. She slid out of her coat and gave her hat to the footman. Whoever he was, he has no real power. If he did, he would have proven it. He just wanted to scare me because he has designs for the Thorntons as I do. Most likely he thinks he can slip his way into Lady Thornton's bed.

  Mr. Hobbs, Edward's butler, appeared at Mary's shoulder. He came hardly to Mary's chin. He reminded her of a toad with his bulbous nose and beady eyes. She just imagined him possessing a long tongue with which to snatch flies out of the air. She amused herself with the notion and soon forgot anything about the horrifying meeting outside.

  "Miss Ashton, my mistress is out. Shall I take your card and let her know you came to call?" he said in a rumbling voice.

  "That will not be necessary. I came to see the master of the house. Is Lord Thornton about?"

  The butler's eyes flickered towards the study before nodding and saying, "Yes. He is working and asked not to be disturbed."

  "Tell him Mary Ashton has come to call. I am certain he will see me." She gave him a wave of her hand as if to hurry him along.

  He frowned but did not object. "Please wait in the parlor." He motioned to a nearby room.

  The doors were opened and Mary wandered in and took a seat on one of the couches and scanned the decor. She had not had the chance upon her previous visit. These curtains are hideous. They will need to be changed. So will these couches, they remind me of something my grandmother had in her parlor in London.

  "Miss Ashton, this is quite a surprise," Edward said as he swept into the room. He was dressed down, wearing his plain black trousers and a cream shirt that was buttoned to the collar, but he did not wear a vest or a cravat. He was handsome in his own way, but he paled in comparison to the stranger she had met.

  "Edward, I could not stay away another minute. I have something I must say, and please listen to me."

  He stopped mid-stride as he approached her and his expression faded. "I am sorry, Miss Ashton, but I would prefer if you address me as Lord Thornton. I know we are longtime companions, but I have seen little of you since we were children, and since I am now a married man..."

  He continued on while Mary let his words brush past her. The stranger had not lied. He had broken her spell. Edward should be in her thrall, but he seemed to recall nothing of the day before. This is terrible! What am I to do? I will not settle for anything less than Lord Thornton. A thought occurred to her and she knew she had to make a quick departure.

  "Pardon me, Lord Thornton," she pronounced his name most carefully. "I have only just returned to Thornwood, and I was caught up in a bit of nostalgia. I came only to give my regards on your recent nuptials. I am sorry I missed meeting your wife." She bowed. "I should be going."

  She headed for the door, half-hoping he would try to stop her, but he made no move to chase after her. By the time she reached the front steps, she was fuming. She waited for Tom to bring the carriage back around as she tapped her foot impatiently, not caring who saw. When Tom arrived with the carriage, she rushed down the steps, and he hardly had enough time to open the door before she clambered inside and crossed her arms.

  "Home, miss?" Tom asked.

  "No, I want to go to the cottage at the edge of the village."

  "The witch's?" Tom shivered.

  "Yes, to the witch." She turned away from him to end the discussion.

  Tom closed the door and she listened to the creak of wood as he climbed up onto the coachman's platform. He spoke to the horses, his voice low and coaxing. That was the thing with Tom; he had an uncanny knack with animals. He never used the whip and never had need of restraints. The two horses her family owned just followed the simple man around the yard like a pair of dogs. They ate from his hand, and Mary had more than once caught him asleep in their stall. Mary didn't want to think about Tom and his strange way with horses. She needed a plan to get Lady Thornton out of her way, and she needed to find out who the strange man was that threatened her.

  They pulled up outside the witch's cottage. The old woman was in her garden feeding her chickens. The chickens were squabbling over a few morsels of corn as Tom helped Mary down from the carriage. He would never dare to let her climb down on her own again, she suspected. Mathilde stood up and gained little height as she was nearly bent over with age.

  "I knew you would return," the witch said in her rasping voice.

  "Here I am."

  "Come in, I can see you have something on your mind." Mathilde turned and hobbled back inside. Her steps were tiny and she hardly lifted her feet off the ground. Mary bit back her impatience and followed the old woman into the house. "Put the kettle on," Mathilde said as she settled onto the edge of her bed with its threadbare quilt. Mary wrinkled her nose at being given such a menial task to perform. "You'll do it if you want my help."

  Mary picked up a rusted kettle out of the washtub and cast around for the water.

  "There's a pump out back," the witch said with a smile, revealing her rotten teeth.

  "I am not going to pump water. I'll have Tom do it."

  "No, you shall do it, if you want the power I can give you."

  Mary scowled at the old woman. She stared back with her rheumy eyes and her wrinkled lips pursed. Mary sighed and headed out. She fought her way through the weeds, and the chickens fled at her approach as she tromped back towards the pump. She had never done anything physical and she struggled with the mechanisms for a moment. Tom, who had been watching from the carriage, came and offered his assistance.

  "You cannot help," she said as she pushed the hair away from her eyes. All of Mrs. Kelton's work had gone to waste. The curls were falling and the strands of hair clung to her neck.

  "Miss, you're doing it wrong; you'
re supposed to push down on this lever here." He pointed to the long end of the pump.

  "I knew that," Mary spat. She pushed down on the pump with all her strength. Nothing happened. "It's broken," she lamented.

  "Just keep at it." Tom smiled in his dim-witted way.

  She wanted to shout obscenities at him and the hag inside the cottage, but she knew that she was no match for the stranger without her help, so she went to work. She pushed and pushed, the lever going up and down. Sweat was dripping down her face and rolling down her back by the time the first few spurts of water came pouring out of the faucet. She rushed forward with the rusty kettle and filled it with water from the pump. Once it was full, she waddled back to the house with the kettle between her legs and her fingers screaming from the unfamiliar weight. Thankfully, once inside there was a fire burning and Mary was saved from having to light the fire as well. She set the kettle over the flames, nearly singeing her fingers in the process.

  Mathilde was smiling wide, her wrinkled face stretched out across her disgusting teeth. "You've got more mettle than I would have thought. More than your fool mother, at least. Take a seat." She pointed a crabbed hand at a wooden chair that looked likely to fall apart the moment Mary sat down. She did as she was told despite the untrustworthy nature of the chair.

  "My mother is blinded by her ambition and her own confidence in her ability," Mary said, thinking the woman wanted to hear such a thing.

  "You shouldn't insult your mother. She brought a wretch like you into this world, and she has the power to take you from it."

  Mary clamped her mouth shut and looked down at her hands. This is not going how I expected. Somehow I thought it would be easy to get her assistance. I should have known.

  "You've met Ray Thorn, I take it?" the old woman said.

  Mary met the old woman's gaze. She should not have been surprised that the old woman had known. If she knows what he is, maybe she knows how to get him out of my way. "He did not give me his name but he threatened me; he said he would take out my heart if I interfered with the Thorntons."

  The old woman cackled. "Yes, he is very possessive of them. He, as do many of the Fae, believes that the Thorntons belong to them."

  "Why? What do the Fae want with them?"

  The old woman waved her hand in front of her face. "That is a story for another time. Tell me what have you come to me seeking?"

  "I should be the one who married Lord Thornton. I tried to interfere in his marriage, but the spell was removed by Mr. Thorn. I need something to get rid of Mr. Thorn."

  The witch laughed again. "You ask for so little; are you sure you do not want the moon as well?"

  Mary had the sense to look abashed. "Edward loves me, he asked me to marry him once, and I delayed in answering." The truth was she had not answered his proposal in favor of another man who had twice the yearly income and lived outside of Thornwood, but she was not going to tell Mathilde that. "This woman does not belong here. I can feel the forest rejecting her; the servants hate her. She is an abomination."

  The witch sucked on her teeth in thought. Then she rose on shaking limbs and headed for a cupboard at the back of the room. She rummaged about in it for a few minutes, muttering as she did so. She exclaimed upon presumably finding what she was looking for. Mary craned her neck for a better look. Mathilde returned to her seat, groaning and complaining about her bones. She opened her hand, revealing a vial of bright green liquid.

  "This is what you are looking for, I think." She held it up to the shaft of light spilling through the cracks in her shutters. There were flecks of gold floating about in the green liquid, and they sparkled in the light.

  "What is it?" Mary said as she reached out to take the vial.

  The witch snatched it back. "It is a potion I created. It will make Lady Thornton irresistible to the Fae, but it will also make her poisonous to them. She will need to be administered a few drops every day to increase potency. In time the Thorn Dwellers will be unable to resist taking her, they will want her heart for sacrifice, but when they do, they will die."

  "That's perfect!" Mary cried. It was everything she wanted; she would only need to get Lady Thornton out of the way and she would become the new Lady Thornton.

  "Be careful not to be seen; the Thorn Dwellers are a vicious and cunning lot. You'll need to have one of her maids perform the task lest Mr. Thorn suspect."

  "Yes, yes, I will." Mary was itching to take the vial.

  The witch held out the potion, and Mary grabbed it with undisguised glee. Just wait, Lady Thornton. Your time is coming; Edward will be mine.

  Chapter Nine

  Lady Thornton took her usual path for her morning exercise. She made a left out the front door of the manor and then passed by the small chapel that was on the west side of the property. From there she would head north towards the orchard, where she would walk for thirty minutes before returning to the manor. Ray knew this without seeing her because he had been watching her for days, memorizing her routine and marveling at her tenacity and her ability to avoid him. On a few occasions, he had put himself in her way, and she had made an abrupt turn and walked away. She even went so far as to cross over the lawns to make a beeline for the house. She never once looked at him or made any indication she had seen him. Stubborn woman, she is so different from the rest. She has to be the one.

  He leaned back against the trunk of the tree he was resting in. He sat perched on a large limb. His leg hung down and he swung it back and forth as he brought his flute to his lips. He played a note. It rang out crisp and clear, reverberating across the still of the morning fog. His fingers glided across the flute as his lungs filled the instrument, and a song escaped from it and carried across the lawn, past orderly garden beds and around the chapel to the orchard where Lady Thornton was enjoying her exercise. Though he could not see her, he could imagine the look upon her face as his music reached her. She would hesitate and look about, expecting attack from some unknown quarter. She would pull her shawl tighter against her small shoulders and try to walk away, but she would find that quite impossible.

  The music was like a beacon, none could resist, not even Lady Thornton. Ray swayed with the music and closed his eyes, preparing for the meeting. The forest around him stirred; the music had awoken more than he had intended. It did not matter, only the small folk would be roused from their hidey holes, and even then they would be silent watchers. Ray opened his eyes. A pair of foxes came out of their den and sat down at the base of the tree. They sat back on their hind legs, their bushy tails wrapped around them, clever eyes focused just beyond the forest. A deer ambled out from the forest and kept hidden in the brush. He spotted her ears flickering from side to side, large liquid eyes watching the rise as did the other birds, badgers, and other forest creatures that joined her.

  The song reached its height and with it brought Lady Thornton over the rise. Her hair was braided down her back. A few wisps had come loose to frame her face. Her large dark eyes searched the horizon, looking for the source of the music. Knowing her fear of him, Ray remained hidden as he called her to him with the music. I'll wait, just for a moment longer. Once she enters the forest, she will not be able to run. Lady Thornton could not fight the pull, and she took small deliberate steps towards the forest, her gaze intent on the woods. She looked prepared to run like a startled rabbit.

  She stopped at the pathway that marked the end of the walkway and the human domain. Her pink gown was a bright spot against the gray mist that swirled about her. She looked ethereal and haunting standing there watching the woods. She's stronger than I could have imagined. For her to resist at all is a wonder. He increased the tempo to end her hesitation. He could see her conflicted look as she fought the impulse and her better judgment. She has heard the stories the villagers tell. It is fueling her caution. She clutched her black shawl tighter just as he had seen in his imagination. She seemed to make up her mind as she came closer.

  Catherine glanced over her shoulder. Is she being
followed? He lowered the flute from his lips and focused on the gray mist behind her. The momentary lapse of the song weakened the spell, and she took a step back. The small folk he had summoned with his song whispered, excited and curious. The song lost effect on them and they were losing patience. I may lose control if I do not do something soon. He could not shake the feeling that she was being followed, and he dared not let anyone else cross over.

  The wind blew around her hair, and the tassels at the edge of her shawl whipped about her waist. She did not move in one direction or the other. The small folk were hopping about the shadows. They dared not leave the protection of the trees, but they wanted her. Ray could taste their want. They were creatures of impulse and instinct. They could sense what she was, and they knew she had no defense. Patience or you will frighten her away. She saw them moving about, he knew from the widening of her eyes. He put the flute to his lips, prepared to begin the song anew, when something flew out from the forest. He cursed his lack of foresight. One of the small folk had taken matters in hand.

  A bird shrieked and Lady Thornton twirled in place. She stumbled back as the shadow of the bird fell over her. She turned to run but stumbled and fell to her knees. Ray jumped down to give pursuit until he saw the owl settle upon the branch of a tree just above Lady Thornton. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. This is better than I could have planned.

  Lady Thornton laughed at herself upon seeing the owl that had perched itself upon a branch at the edge of the garden path. It blinked large liquid eyes and hooted softly.

  She pressed her palms to her chest. "A bit late for you, is it not, Miss Owl?"

  The owl hooted back, "Careful, missus."

  Ray frowned and wondered who had sent the owl. He had assumed because she came from the forest she was an ally, but in times like these you could never be certain. He hesitated to interrupt and frighten Lady Thornton. He decided to instead wait and watch. Lady Thornton shook herself. She was visibly shocked to be conversing with an owl.