by K. M. Shea
“Perhaps, but if he is my dog, as you seem to imply, I think I would know—for I would have ordered him to bite you by now.” Briar gave the knight a playful smile to keep her words from stinging too badly.
Virgilio laughed good naturedly. “Perhaps we have taken it a bit far,” he admitted. “But usually we knights aren’t quite so personally close with royalty. Your relationship is unusual—so we tease him a bit for it.”
Briar was not at all mollified, but at least she felt a little less offended. She continued in a playful spirit as she knew making a fuss would only bring more teasing down on Isaia. “It is true that I count Sir Isaia as one of my dearest friends. If you were so jealous, Sir Virgilio, you should have approached me yourself.”
Virgilio chuckled. “Perhaps I should take you up on the offer and see what it is that makes this lad so loyal, eh?”
The smile was out of Isaia’s eyes now, and he looked almost reproachfully at Briar.
I don’t get it—why is he just now offended? Briar internally sighed. Though she had known Isaia for seven years, sometimes he was still an inexplicable mystery. Giving up on decoding his moods, she fixed her gaze on Artemio, who frowned at his fellow legendary knight.
“I was going to ask you, Sir Artemio, if it is quite impossible for me to leave the walls of Ciane with Carabosso running amok.”
Isaia stiffened, his armor whispering as he shifted in place and eyed Briar.
She ignored the look and smiled patiently at Sir Artemio—who rubbed his chin. “What is it you wanted to do?”
“I wanted to ride the circuit outside the city walls,” Briar said. “Although the palace is beautiful, I fear I’m beginning to grow stall bound.”
“I imagine it would be a shock to go from living among trees and in rolling hills to being penned up in the palace all day,” Sir Artemio said. “It is King Giuseppe’s permission you’ll have to obtain, but if you mean to ride near the walls, I do not think it will be a problem. You’ll have to take guards, of course, but I could spare several knights to ride with you if your parents are that fearful.”
“You think their fear is unwarranted?” Briar asked.
“I think it is unnecessary. We still have a few months before the deadline of your curse. I doubt Carabosso is patiently lurking in the hills outside Ciane, waiting for you.”
Briar let her breath leak out of her, taking with it some of her worries. “Thank you. You are right, of course, but I am glad to hear another say what I suspected.”
“I volunteer to ride with Her Highness,” Isaia said.
Briar wanted to smack him, for the instant he spoke up Virgilio smirked, but she was simultaneously touched. She didn’t want Isaia to be mocked for her sake, but she would be lying if she said her heart did not swell at the display of open loyalty.
“I volunteer as well,” Franco said cheerfully. “Though I don’t know how necessary it is to go if Lady Delanna is accompanying her.”
Delanna blushed pink with pride as she set her crossbow down.
Briar glanced past her lady-in-waiting and almost choked on her own spit. Lady Delanna had proven her marksmanship, not by hitting every arrow in the center, but by creating a spiral pattern with her shots.
Oh, Delanna. You must have very badly wanted to be a knight…
To their credit, Silk, Velvet, and Jewel clapped for Delanna, though Briar could tell by their expressions they didn’t exactly approve of her remarkable skill.
“Exquisitely done, Delanna,” Briar said when the lady-in-waiting joined her.
Her friend smoothed the brocade fabric of her dress. “The spiral isn’t as clean as it would be if I had kept up my practice.”
Briar rolled her eyes, then addressed Artemio. “We would gladly welcome any knights willing to escort us. I’m certain it would aid my cause when I ask my parents.”
Artemio smiled kindly. “Then feel free to use us as a bargaining chip, Your Highness. Would it please you to see the administrative buildings?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Very good. This way.”
Briar smiled at Isaia, Franco, and Virgilio before she and her ladies-in-waiting followed the older knight towards the white stone building.
Isaia watched Briar go and almost sighed.
He knew she had to be chaffing under the strict ruling she endured, and he knew a ride outside Ciane would lift her spirits…but couldn’t she wait until after she was eighteen? But she won’t be safe, even then, if Carabosso isn’t taken care of.
Isaia twitched his cape behind him, intending to leave and change out of his armor, but Sir Virgilio stopped him.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” he asked with an arch smile and a quirked eyebrow.
Isaia blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Virgilio rubbed his chin and eyed Isaia with a sly look. “The princess doesn’t know you carry a torch for her. You didn’t tell her, even though she is openly fond of you?”
“No,” Isaia said bluntly. “And I won’t, ever.”
Virgilio dropped some of his slyness and frowned. “Why not?”
Isaia glanced away from the legendary knight. “Because it wouldn’t do any good.” He was only half-surprised when Virgilio smacked him on the back.
“It’s why we’re supposed to stay detached even when we guard, pup. It only leads to heartache.” Virgilio smiled in sympathy, but Isaia could see a hint of disapproval in the set of his chin.
Though Virgilio often put on the appearance of a teasing rake, Isaia knew he cared deeply about his fellow Magic Knights. It was one of the reasons why Isaia silently put up with his nickname. (That, and he didn’t particularly care about denying the epithet as it was true, making it into something like a badge of honor.)
Franco put his bow away and cocked his head. “The Queen of Hearts married a Magic Knight.”
“Indeed,” Virgilio said. “But the position of ruler of Sole has strengthened since her times. These days, they would never entertain the thought. I’d start distancing myself if I were you, Isaia. No matter how long you wag your tail for her, Princess Rosalinda will never return your affection. Besides, she’ll have to marry whomever the king chooses—and you better believe it will be a political choice.”
Isaia brushed the back-handed warning off—though he was a little affronted by the implication that Briar cared about things like titles and pedigrees. (She didn’t, and that was the real danger.) “I’m not loyal to her because I think she will return my feelings,” Isaia said.
Virgilio rolled his eyes. “By the crest, you have it bad. Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.” He waved as he strolled off in his rolling gait.
“Are you really fine the way things are?” Franco leaned against the wooden fence and folded his arms across his chest.
Isaia removed his helm and tucked it under his arm. “Of course.”
“You’re happy to stand in the shadows and protect her—maybe die for her—without ever telling her how you feel?”
Isaia snorted. If Briar ever knew how he felt, all hell would break loose. He wasn’t an idiot. The way she looked at him with her heart in her eyes…but she was only seventeen, and she was a princess. He certainly wasn’t a suitable candidate for a woman of royal blood, and he absolutely wasn’t worthy of Briar herself. She was loyal, courageous—almost overly so—and she was probably the only woman alive who could dig in her heels, grit her teeth, and survive her curse and the requisite upheaval in her life.
“It would be better for her if she never knew,” Isaia said. “If you’ll excuse me.” He ended the conversation with a bow and made for the stable.
Isaia wasn’t Briar’s true love. She might love him, but it was the young innocent affection bred out of familiarity. After all, until recently, he had been the only eligible male she knew. No, her adoration of him was not true love, certainly, and it was not strong enough to break a curse.
But he loved her enough that each day he awoke with the dread and the hope that her true love would appea
r. Because if he didn’t…Briar wouldn’t make it.
Chapter 6
Carabosso
Briar surveyed herself in the mirror with a critical eye, searching for any defect in her dress. Under Silk and Velvet’s supervision, for they were the fussiest regarding clothes, Briar had donned a teal gown pinned over a white kirtle that had flowers embroidered on the cuffs. Thus far she had resisted wearing it—it had gems worked in the neckline, and she did not want to be held responsible should one of them come loose and fall off—but as today was the day she was going to ask her parents’ permission to ride outside the city, it would be in her best interest to appeal to them as much as possible.
Delanna, the only lady-in-waiting who was present at the moment, covered Briar’s hair with a thin gold net and pushed a jeweled pin in to keep it in place. “You look lovely, Your Highness.”
Briar raised one eyebrow and resisted snorting. The pretty clothes were complementary to her eyes and hair, but it didn’t matter. Isaia wouldn’t suddenly fall in love with her because of a pretty dress. (To be fair, that was why she loved him.)
Delanna circled her, adjusting the neckline of Briar’s kirtle so the gems were better displayed. “Something has been bothering you.”
“I haven’t slept very well recently,” Briar said. Another nightmare had woken her up in the early hours of the morning and considerably soured her mood.
“You’ve been thinking about the curse.” Delanna spoke without the worry and tears that marked Princess Alessia’s voice whenever the curse was brought up, and she lacked the stiff anger of King Giuseppe, as well as Isaia’s protective edge. When her eyes met Briar’s, her forehead wrinkled with sympathy, and she pressed her lips together. “If you don’t wish to speak of it…”
“No one wants to talk about it,” Briar said darkly. “Which, it seems to me, only gives it a bigger hold over us all. The way my parents carry on, you would think I will never wake up if it does happen.”
“You aren’t worried?”
Thinking of her nightmare, of Carabosso’s dark eyes and cruel laughter, Briar shivered. “I’m afraid of what will happen to activate the curse…but I’m not afraid of the curse itself. The part about sleeping until true love’s first kiss, I mean. It’s not worrisome at all.” Briar drew her eyebrows together in a tight V. “Though maybe I should worry…” She still hadn’t worked up the confidence to tell Isaia.
“You know who your true love is?” Delanna asked.
Briar froze, caught between fury with herself and worry that Delanna would tell her parents. (She did not want Isaia learning from someone besides herself!)
Delanna placed her hand on Briar’s arm. “I apologize, I did not mean to force you to confide in me.”
“No, it’s just…”
The lady-in-waiting gently squeezed Briar’s arm. “I will not tell a soul unless you should wish it.”
It would be nice to share this burden…even if she can’t help me. Briar took a deep breath to bolster her courage. “You are right. I’m not worried about the curse because I know who my true love is. So as long as he’s on hand, I shouldn’t be asleep very long. Unless he’s stubborn about it—then my parents’ worst fear may be realized, and I’ll never wake up.”
She let go of Briar’s arm and nodded. “And your true love is?”
“Sir Isaia.”
Delanna nodded slowly. “I wondered if it was him. You do not show the typical signs of a maiden in love, but you are very fond of him.”
“Unfortunately he does not return the feeling,” Briar said. When she caught sight of Delanna’s shaking head she added, “No, it’s true. Isaia is undeniably my friend, but he does not care for me in the romantic sense. Trust me; he has made it clear to me. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s still my true love, but I haven’t yet worked up the courage to tell him so.”
“If I can do anything to aid you, please let me know.”
Briar smiled and impulsively took Delanna’s hands and squeezed them. “Thank you. For everything, I mean. Not just this.”
“It is my pleasure.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Briar shouted.
Firra and Donaigh strolled in, wearing their mage uniforms from the Veneno Conclave.
Though the finery of his clothes had increased tenfold, Donaigh still sauntered around Briar’s room with his usual unconcerned gait. “Hey there, Little Rose.”
“We decided to come with you when you ask your parents’ permission,” Firra said. “If we look serious and lurk behind you, we might make your request a little more credible.”
“Here, I thought you could write out your request and present it to them.” Donaigh pulled a brush and a vial of ink from his sleeves.
Briar squinted. “Is that red ink?”
Donaigh wore his easygoing smile. “Yes. It will make it look official.”
Firra rolled her eyes. “Or it will make it look like a letter written by a murderer.”
Donaigh brightened. “That’s actually why I bought the ink in the first place. I was thinking of spattering it across our next report to the Conclave.”
“I’ll forgo the letter, but thank you,” Briar said.
“Are you certain? It might help you collect your thoughts.”
“I’m positive. Let’s go—they should be in an excessively good mood right now. This is when my dancing instructor talks to them, and he rarely has anything bad to say about me.”
Firra laughed. “We taught you so well. Very good, let’s go!”
Briar and Delanna exchanged grins as they followed the flamboyant mages out of her bedroom. I hope they say yes…this palace is starting to feel more and more like a cage.
Briar wanted to holler like a rambunctious brat and spur her horse to gallop across the grassy field stretched before her. Two things kept her from doing this: One, if she did so, her parents would likely never let her ride outside Ciane again; two, the field was very obviously grass intended to become hay, and she did not want to ruin the crop for whatever farmer lived there.
“It is a shame Mage Firra and Mage Donaigh couldn’t come with us,” Delanna said.
Briar patted her horse—a gelding with a bit more spirit than the half-dead mare she had ridden before. “They’re in the surrounding villages, flushing out any possible threats so we can ride safely. It is, I suspect, the only reason why my parents agreed to this.”
“It is kind of Mage Firra and Mage Donaigh to agree to do so,” Silk said. She rode a dainty mare that minced along beside Franco’s warhorse like a kitten.
Isaia turned Valor in a tight circle as he surveyed the area. “It was King Giuseppe who asked them to.”
Briar shrugged. “The result is the same, is it not?” She glanced over her shoulder at the guards who trailed them.
“It is because you are well loved,” Franco said.
“Yes, that is certainly why.” Briar forced lightness to her voice so the sarcasm could crack the surface.
Velvet and Jewel were at the front of their little procession, giggling and waving gaily to anyone who happened to look their way. Delanna, a crossbow inconspicuously resting in her lap, dawdled behind them. When she met Briar’s gaze, she raised her eyebrows and looked meaningfully from Briar to Isaia.
Briar scowled at her but lingered near the back of the line until she rode with Isaia, the guards trailing a fair distance behind them. “Isaia,” she started.
“Yes?” Isaia prodded when she was unable to continue. He glittered in the sunlight as both he and Franco were dressed in their anti-magic armor.
Briar’s heart pounded, and she tried to make the words come. She tried to tell him she would rely on him to wake her up if the curse set in. Instead she blurted out, “Does it bother you to be called my dog?”
“No.” He responded immediately without hesitation.
“I would have told Virgilio to follow the second Donaigh family motto and shut his mouth, but I thought it would only make it
worse.”
Isaia let out a rare chuckle. “It would have.”
Briar gazed out at the open fields, enjoying the lack of walls penning her in. The air had a crisp brush to it—the promise that fall would soon arrive. “Shouldn’t we do something about it? It seems…mean.”
“Sir Virgilio means no harm.”
“But isn’t it mocking?” Smoke tickled her nose, and she sneezed.
“I take it as a compliment, Briar.”
Isaia’s green eyes were warm, and a hint of a smile settled on his lips, threatening to melt Briar to goo and turn her into a babbling idiot.
“Oh. Well. That’s good. Um…” Now! I need to tell him now! Briar bit her lip. “Isaia…about my curse.”
“Fire!” Velvet shrieked.
Briar whipped her attention to the front of their group, urging her horse forward. In moments, she and Isaia caught up with Velvet and Jewel, who babbled and pointed to a barn that leaked smoke. The front door was open, revealing insides that were lit with crackling flames.
Inside were the terrified screams of animals, and a tiny voice shouted, “Help! Help us!”
“We have to help,” Briar said.
“You cannot, Your Highness. It is too dangerous,” Franco said. His warhorse angrily snorted and pawed the ground.
“Then send in our escort soldiers,” Briar snapped.
“But they cannot leave you, Your Highness,” Jewel said. She clung to her horse with wide eyes, and Velvet trembled like a leaf.
Desperate, Briar wheeled her horse to face Isaia.
His expression was grim, but Briar saw it in his eyes. If she ran for the barn, he would follow her—and help. “I am your dog, Your Highness,” he said.
Briar’s heart thumped as she turned towards the barn. Her mother would swoon if she knew what she was thinking, and King Giuseppe would lock her in her room. But she couldn’t stand by when there were lives at stake.
“Go, Your Highness,” Delanna murmured, her voice barely audible over the shouts of confusion. She was already loading an arrow into her crossbow. “If there is a threat, I will cover you.”
