“Throw her in a cell and get her out of my sight,” the crown prince said, waving an arm in disgust when Briar let herself get cornered by the three of them. She hated the chains locking around her wrists even more than the painful grip on her arms as the guards marched her off. But they would go soon enough.
“Wait!”
Briar bit back an ‘oh, what now’ as the guards stopped and spun her around to face the prince. Her heart, curse it, actually beat a little harder in her throat as he walked over, pants thoroughly soaked and honestly looking embarrassing even with thunder in his sneer because as confident as she was about her chances, this was the lowest she was willing to go. It was surprising when the crown prince reached out a hand to take a strand of her hair to play with.
He actually put it in his mouth and nibbled on it. He actually stared at her while he did. Oh, she certainly wasn’t going to take any chances with him, satisfying as it would be to know he’d burnt to death slowly. Painfully.
Very painfully, she decided when her vision returned. She would have doubled up over her stomach — should have expected something like it — but with the grip the guards had on her the best she could do was try to pull her legs up and dangle in their arms. It took her everything not to try and start burning everything down then and there. She glared at the prince.
“Put that one on the lowest level,” he said. She’d have liked it if she could believe that he wasn’t looking at her because he knew to be afraid. She let the guards drag her off, trying to look like she was struggling ineffectively. It was surprisingly easy. Jewel would come to forgive her for murdering his wastrel of a brother.
Probably.
Briar’s ability to be patient and tolerant lasted roughly until she knew she was on the right level. She was intensely grateful that magic didn’t actually require her to move her hands. Even if the guards were making far more noise than she was comfortable with.
She hadn’t even set them on fire.
Much.
Briar had only burnt off their eyelashes to get them to let her go. She was down one fist, not being immune to heat herself, but the remains of the cuff in her hale hand made up for some of it. She was fairly certain she’d broken one guard’s nose. The other hadn’t been taken by as much surprise, mostly because he’d been behind Briar and the other guard and she hadn’t been able to reach him.
Narrow corridors were good for ensuring only so many opponents could reach her. They were rubbish for allowing her a lot of movement. She was a little surprised neither of them ran off for help, but if they wanted to make her work easier… Briar was not going to complain.
She dodged the guard who wasn’t clutching his nose and standing tucked against the wall, and thought, perhaps, she should be worried about the lack of attention their commotion appeared to be drawing. It wasn’t like they hadn’t screamed when she’d singed them, wasn’t like most people took a skull to the nose quietly. Wasn’t even like she’d been able to hold back her own screams, melting one of the cuffs around her wrists enough to break free.
There was, she reflected as the guard pulled a dagger on her, something to be said for patience. Briar was not usually known for it.
“Are you mad?” the guard holding his nose said, though he was a little hard to understand.
For a moment, Briar thought he was talking to her, but then his companion answered. “We’ll get the young prince to heal this one up. He won’t even know.”
“Oh, he’d know,” Briar said jumping back just in time to avoid the dagger. “I’d be sure to tell him.” She might have said more, but the floor she was on was rough-hewn and uneven and there was a bump right where her foot landed, sending her stumbling to the ground.
Briar let out a squeak, entirely undignified and unnecessary. More than a little annoyed, she summoned the heat that was never far from her, and concentrated it around the guard’s head. It was his turn to stumble backwards, hands flinging up to his face, dagger flying to the ground. Briar lunged for it, the blade cool and comforting in her hand, though she didn’t try to hide the grimace it caused. With the other, she shifted the flames away from the guard’s face before they could do worse than easily treated burns and corralled the two men together against the wall.
She tucked the dagger into her belt because she didn’t need it here, now. She held up her still-manacled hand. “The keys?”
The guard with the broken nose tossed a keyring through the flames. Just to be safe, Briar pressed the fire nearer her prisoners and made it forge-hot as she retrieved the ring and sought out the key she needed. It was troublesome with one hand hurting as it did, but doable.
“Where’s the prince?” she asked, giving the men a little more room to breathe. One guard was clearly smarter than the other, or possibly simply more attached to his life the way it was, because it was the same one who’d tossed her the keyring who answered.
“His Highness is at the far end of the hall.”
Briefly, Briar considered killing the two of them where they stood. They probably deserved it. She probably couldn’t convince Jewel it was self-defence, though. Not both of them. Besides, someone might stumble across the bodies.
Leaving the guards there she moved along the wall to find an empty cell. Surprisingly, that was the first one she came to. Briar had to find the right key, but once she did, she herded the guards into the cell. The pain in her hand meant she didn’t have quite the control or concentration she wanted, but a singed door wasn’t a burning door. Leaving them their weapons was probably a mistake, but it wasn’t like the door had a lock inside or that the guards would be able to reach through the bars to unlock it.
Just in case, she took the time to heat up the metal enough that it warped the keyhole. They weren’t getting out of that cell without a battering ram. When one of them began to yell, she moved back to where they’d be able to see her through the small window. “I’ve been very generous,” she said, keeping her voice pleasant and conversational. “But if you’re going to insist on yelling and drawing attention to yourselves while I’m down here, I’ll have reconsider my decision to let you live.” She smiled. “So be good lads and be quiet. I don’t want to explain to the young prince why this place stinks of charred pig.”
For good measure, she set some small flames raining down the ceiling and soon it was eerily quiet in the hall and she was free. Now she was going to find Jewel, get out and away, and then she was going to murder his brother because some creatures shouldn’t live, least of all with power.
Jewel, it turned out, was chained to a wall. Oh, he could walk around the little cell, and the bed was fine one with thick eiderdown, but he was still in chains. Briar, having already promised herself to give his brother the slowest death she could manage, cursed herself for her inability to come up with anything worse.
“Briar?” the young prince croaked — croaked! — and Briar flew to his side, sorting through the guard’s keys with trembling hands.
“I’m here,” she said, trying key after key until she decided that everything was taking too long and focused on melting one of the links. “Hold still. What —” She stopped herself before she could ask him in a way that would push him away from her. “What happened?”
She listened as Jewel explained, sending every scrap of anger into the magic burning away the damned chains because the alternative was that she scared him rather than the flames and she suspected that he was more than terrified enough. When her anger had burned hot and strong and long enough to feel like something she could contain, she flung her arms around Jewel and pressed him close.
He trembled in her arms and she buried her nose in his hair. Jewel smelled of damp and sweat and blood. He was supposed to smell of apples and roses and sunshine. Briar tried, so hard, to be a rock for him, let him lean against her until the fear had gone.
All she wanted to do was hold him close where no one could ever harm him again. She’d never forgive herself, but oh she wanted. The most terrifying part of i
t all was that Jewel didn’t cry. He held her. He shook, and some of that she knew was bound to be shock, but he was so calm beyond that.
“I’ll kill him,” she snarled when she felt Jewel’s hand reach up for her hair, to stroke it or comb it she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t meant to say anything, was so keenly aware of his hand pulling away from her, of him pulling away from her.
“He di—”
“Don’t tell me he didn’t mean it,” Briar snapped, and told herself that the hurt and pain in his eyes, the quirk of his lips, couldn’t touch her. She didn’t want to hurt him, but this… “He did. You don’t put chains on people by accident.” Her voice was rough, hard, smooth as half-polished granite, but she looked at him. Not sure what else to do she let her own hurt show, let the tear drops threatening escape long enough to realise they were there.
Briar held up her hand, the one she’d hurt. “He did that,” she said, forcing her voice even, smoothing the stone in it even more. She felt a twinge of remorse at lying to Jewel, but it wasn’t entirely a lie. She’d never have burnt herself this way if he’d not existed. And the effect on Jewel was worth it. Given something else to focus on, someone else to heal, he steadied. He didn’t answer her, didn’t look at her. That was all right. Briar had seen it before, knew how hard understanding could be.
She pulled him up when he let go of her hand, and walked to the door. His hand slipped from hers and Briar stopped in the doorway, moved to keep both rooms in her sight.
“I can’t,” Jewel said and took a step back.
Briar supposed she could leave him here. No one with any sense would hurt a healer. But she knew Jewel, and she knew people like his brother. “What?” she asked, gently because this wasn’t anger. This was pure and simple pain. “Jewel? What did he do?”
She made herself stand still as she watched Jewel fold in on himself, collapse onto the bed and hug himself. She made herself give him space because he needed it, even if he didn’t realise it, didn’t understand it.
“River had puppies.” His voice was scarce more than a whisper and he looked so small, so vulnerable.
“I’ll find the dog,” she said, belatedly realising she had to include the puppies as well because Jewel needed that reassurance, that promise. “But you have to come with me.” He didn’t, not really, but she’d feel better and he’d be safe.
“I c—”
“Yes, you can.” Briar glanced out towards the door, wondering how long the guards would remain quiet and how much time they’d have before someone found her. “He won’t touch you.” For good measure she added, “And he can’t hurt any of the dogs quicker than I can stop him.”
She might have overstated her speed a little. Her magic wouldn’t be faster than a thrown dagger, and she had the scar to prove it, but it got Jewel moving. Hesitantly, but she could understand that. His hand slipped into hers and held on with a death grip that she would have complained about in other circumstances.
He only had one foot left in the torture room when he said, “Wait.” Briar could make out the groans she’d tuned out now.
“We can’t do anything,” she said, tugging him forward but he wouldn’t budge. “We need to go.” She did, at least. The crown prince wouldn’t take kindly to her escape, and he had something she didn’t, not here. He had power, and terror.
“I can help.”
Briar knew where this was headed and squeezed Jewel’s wrist before he could slip away again. She asked, as soothingly as she could because there was no good way to ask someone like Jewel this, “Did your brother make you hurt him?” Almost, she gave the question the weight it deserved, the weight that would make her precious Jewel crumble into nothing more than rock dust. He’d have to deal with that eventually, but not now. All gods above and below, he could not face that now.
She didn’t need Jewel to answer to watch him shut down. Didn’t need to hear his voice to know the answer was ‘yes’, that he was pulling away and into himself, but it was what she needed. Briar dug a knife out of her boot, relieved the guards hadn’t seemed to want to search her before throwing her into a cell, and strode over to the prisoner in the corner. She’d let go of Jewel’s hand, left him standing unmoving near the door.
“I’ll make this quick,” she muttered as she knelt beside the battered body. If she hadn’t heard the breath rattling beside her, she might have thought he’d died. Without Jewel’s magic, she assumed he would be. She wasn’t sure if Jewel’s magic would interfere, slow it down, stop it at all, but she made it as quick as she could. She hoped latent magic couldn’t cope with multiple fatal wounds simultaneously, but she didn’t stay to check.
“Stay away from me!” Jewel shouted when Briar walked towards him, red as blood. She was cleaning a blade as she approached and he flew in the one direction away from her: out into the hallway.
He’d watched her. He’d done nothing. Let her —
And she was looking at him so incredibly sadly. He could’ve healed the spy. They could’ve let him come along. Could’ve left him, he supposed, if Briar was adamant. But with a chance. Not… this.
“You killed him.”
“More humanely than your family would have.”
Jewel opened his mouth to respond, but. She had a point. He could not deny that. He would not. He knew Briar was capable of violence. She’d never pretended otherwise. If he were honest, he’d done worse. ‘Because Henry had made him’ wasn’t an excuse. He’d done that. No one else. If he’d been stronger, braver. He could’ve —
He couldn’t have. It wasn’t even because of him, Jewel realised, because he’d hurt people before. He’d hurt Henry before. He’d been so little and his brother so, so angry.
The hand on his shoulder startled him, but it was only Briar, and the touch gentle. “Come on.” And so he did. Followed Briar through the door, the hall, up the stairs, all the way up to the doors. There, Briar stopped and said, “Jewel.”
And he knew what she was about to say. Do. “I can do it,” he said and he didn’t know what to do with the look she shot him. “I can put them to sleep.” At the clarification, Briar’s brows relaxed and Jewel breathed out deeply, hadn’t know how much had been bothering him until that moment. When she nodded and slipped into a patch of shadow, he just caught the glint of steel.
He ignored it. Took a deep breath and reminded himself that, whatever else, he was a prince, and raised to behave like one.
He opened the door. The guards standing beside it didn’t seem surprised until they saw his face and they sprang to attention. Jewel ignored their stammers and simply reached out to touch them both and send them into a deep slumber. They’d wake, refreshed and ready, but not until the next day. He’d done it often enough for children, restless in sickness and a distraction to their families.
Briar darted past him, but the hallway was empty. He followed. “Where are you going?” he asked when she ducked behind a carefully placed statue and into what Jewel assumed was the nearest servant’s passage. He never used these. He never came here.
“Away.”
That, Jewel couldn’t help but point out, was exceptionally helpful.
Briar only laughed. Softly but good, like he’d said something funny. It made the nerve in his stomach flutter even more, but it felt good. He followed her. Stopped when she did, hid when she did, though he was worse at it. He put more people to sleep for her, helped her carry them somewhere they would be less likely to be found, positioned them gently and comfortably, apparently to Briar’s amusement, but she shook her head with a smile when he asked her about it.
They made it all the way to the wall he scaled to sneak out, and went past it. Jewel didn’t know how they remained unseen. It was, after all, an open courtyard. Just an infrequently used one. He’d always wanted to dig it up. Get rid of the stones and make a garden. Grow all the plants he needed to buy from others.
He’d never dared ask. Briar stopped at an enormous curtain of ivy. For a moment, Jewel wondered, then gasped as she sho
uldered the ivy aside and revealed a door. It wasn’t locked and led to outside. All this time, and he could have just walked through a door.
“How did you—” he began, but Briar interrupted him, her voice low.
“Girls talk. Go and wait for me by the grove. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Jewel hesitated. “River’s litter is too big for one person,” he said, tucking all his feelings back under stone and ice because he didn’t know what else to do with them. He’d dreamed of Briar offering him freedom. It’d been a dream, pleasant and safely out of reach.
This wasn’t.
And he didn’t know what to do.
“I’ll figure something out,” Briar answered. “But it’ll be harder if I’m also worrying about you.” She cupped a hand — the one he’d just healed — around his cheek and smiled. “It’s okay.”
Jewel wasn’t sure why she said it, but combined with the nudge he found himself stepping through the door. He stopped and turned back before she could close it on him, though, and looked at her. “Don’t hurt —”
“Don’t,” she cut in, again, but this time Jewel didn’t heed her. He knew the set to her shoulders too well and he didn’t know how to stop her when she got like that.
“Haven,” he finished. “Or anyone else.”
For a moment, Briar didn’t answer and he thought she’d let the door fall closed in his face, but she did not. “I’ll do my best,” she said, sounding resigned. “Go. If I’m not there by nightfall, just run. Get away.”
Jewel didn’t know if he could do that, but he nodded anyway. He leaned forward enough to kiss Briar on the nose, not surprised when she countered him by moving forward and brushing her lips lower, past his own. She pulled away enough to look him in the eye, then, rather than speaking, she kissed him on the forehead and gave him another nudge.
Sweetness Bled and Brindled Page 4
