by K. M. Shea
King Giuseppe turned around, his face once again as expressive as a wall.
“I do not detest you—though you might see me as stubborn and reckless, and though we lock horns like a pair of bucks…I love you, Grandfather.”
King Giuseppe nodded gruffly and turned his back to Briar, leaving her with great speed. Delanna, who was waiting by the doorway, dropped into a curtsey until he left. She looked around the party before stealing out to join Briar on the balcony.
“Well. What do you think that was all about?” Briar asked, still dazed by her grandfather’s words.
Delanna hesitated. “I just received word from Sir Franco.”
“Oh? Is he looking for a rematch at the archery range?”
Delanna didn’t smile. “Carabosso was witnessed in the flesh in a village not fifteen minutes away.”
Ice coated Briar’s heart. “I see.” That was what had inspired her grandfather’s impassioned speech. For a moment Briar was overwhelmed by fear, and her hands shook…but only until the kindling of anger began to burn.
Briar’s curse was inevitable, and Carabosso was using her to distract her family—he was using her to cause such inner turmoil to her grandfather as to drive him into speaking as he had.
Briar inhaled deeply.
“What are you going to do, Your Highness?” Lady Delanna asked.
“In all probability, something reckless.”
Delanna smiled. “In that case, I think I’ll begin carrying my crossbow.”
Though she knew her friend meant it as a joke, Briar humorlessly nodded. “It might be for the best if you did.”
Several days later, Briar woefully pushed a sheet of music around the table and looked around the room with curiosity. Her frazzled music teacher was nowhere to be seen, even though her lesson was supposed to have started five minutes ago, and Briar heard the tromping of boots up and down the hallway.
Briar adjusted the netting that covered her hair. “Things seem awfully active considering it is barely mid-morning.”
“Things have been far busier as of late. Carabosso…” Velvet trailed off and worriedly wrung her hands.
“I heard His Majesty ordered that the gates of Ciane would remain closed today,” Jewel said.
“But surely Carabosso would not attempt to come here,” Silk said.
“If he has any wit, he’s halfway across Sole by now,” Delanna said.
Briar tapped her fingers on the table and squinted at the ceiling. If he was aiming to tie up Sole and the Magic Knights, Briar suspected it was quite the opposite. He would likely spend the last few months before her birthday skulking around the villages and towns just outside of Ciane, inspiring terror in her family. She glanced at the door when she heard more footsteps march up the hallway. “I wonder…”
She was cut off when the door was thrown open. “Your Highness,” a soldier saluted. “We are to take you to your rooms.”
Delanna stepped in front of him, shielding Briar. “An armed escort for a short stroll through the palace?”
“It is His Majesty’s orders,” the guard said.
Jewel poked her head outside the door. “There is practically an army out here!”
Briar stood and joined Delanna. “What is the cause of all of this?”
“Please, Your Highness,” the guard said. “I cannot say.”
“I think we had better go with him,” Silk said.
“Could it be a trap?” Delanna asked.
“I doubt it—not if there’s half as many soldiers patrolling the hallways as it sounds like.” Briar smiled at Velvet, Silk, and Jewel. “It seems I will be spending my day in my rooms. You might as well go—we can reconvene tomorrow.”
“Are you certain, Your Highness?” Silk asked.
“We could read poetry or embroider in your sitting room,” Velvet suggested.
Briar managed not to shiver in horror. “No, but you are sweet to suggest it. Thank you for your company this morning.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Silk and Velvet murmured.
“We will put away your things”—Jewel glanced at the soldier who impatiently shifted and tightly gripped his weapon—“for it seems prudent for you to leave as quickly as possible. Have a pleasant day, Your Highness.”
Briar waved, attempting to put them at ease. “Thank you.” She led the way out of the room, keeping her gait unhurried.
Delanna followed her without asking.
Soldiers spread in front of and behind Briar in a protective formation. After they trod through the palace—meeting several other patrolling squads of soldiers—they reached Briar’s room. She was only partially surprised when four soldiers insisted on entering first. They searched everything from her wardrobe to the space under her bed.
As they searched her sitting room, Briar strolled into her bedroom and towards the window. Jagged bolts of red magic flashed across the sky, and her lungs collapsed. “What is that?”
A soldier lunged into her bedroom, leaned out the window, slammed the shutters, and tied them together with a cord of leather. “It isn’t safe, Your Highness,” was all he said.
“That was Carabosso’s magic, wasn’t it?” Briar asked. Her courage failed her, and for a moment she wanted to run and hide under her thoroughly inspected bed.
The man hesitated and glanced at the closed window. “You’ll be safe here,” he finally said. “Ciane is buttoned up—he can’t reach you. If you’ll excuse us, Your Highness.” He bowed deeply, then rejoined his cohorts in Briar’s sitting room to briefly confer if the footstool was a threat.
After assuring themselves it was not, the soldiers left as swiftly as they arrived, closing the door behind them.
Delanna, listening at the door, whispered, “They haven’t all left.”
“No, I suppose they wouldn’t,” Briar said as she paced back and forth in her room. “What do we do, Delanna?”
“Nothing,” Delanna said. “Neither of us are Magic Knights or magic users, so there is nothing we can do.”
“But there has to be.” Briar impatiently untangled her hair from the braid Velvet had wrapped it up in that morning. “We can’t just sit here when Carabosso is, is….is carrying on!”
“I know you must feel helpless, Your Highness,” Delanna said.
“I don’t feel helpless. I feel enraged!” Briar scowled at her bed and considered kicking it, but she suspected the act would make her feel more childish than anything. Now, if she took her dagger to it… “Carabosso’s posturing is clearly aimed at me, but the only thing I can do is sit in my room and wait for the curse to hit me while the rest of Sole uselessly scrambles from my grandfather’s fear!” The words had poured so passionately out of Briar she had to stop and catch her breath.
Delanna pressed her lips together but did not disagree.
Briar turned to face her shuttered window and impulsively removed the cord and pushed them open.
Carabosso’s magic crackled in the sky, appearing and disappearing in flickers. From her viewpoint on the third floor, she could see mounted knights already charging past on their warhorses, and squadrons of guards and foot soldiers as they moved into defensive positions. And there they would stay under Carabosso’s shadow until her dreaded curse finally hit.
Her words to Delanna rang true. The only thing she could do was wait for her curse to hit—for her body to rebel and move without her permission to grasp a spindle. …But do I really have to wait? A crazy, half-mad idea surfaced in Briar’s mind.
What if she activated the curse on purpose? If she sent word to Isaia, he could wake her up immediately. Once her grandfather and parents saw no harm had been done, wouldn’t they act?
She turned away from the window. “Delanna, I need you to get something for me.”
“What do you want?”
Briar swallowed. “A spindle from a spinning wheel.”
Delanna stared long and hard at her. “You’re not going to…”
“I have to. It’s the only way to b
reak this cycle—and it will only get worse from here,” Briar said.
“It’s still dangerous,” Delanna said.
“Not as long as Isaia knows.”
“But he doesn’t know—you haven’t told him!”
“Yes, I’ll have to go fix that now. I’ll meet you at the base of the east tower on the palace wall—bring the spindle,” Briar said.
“The soldiers will never let you out of here,” Delanna said.
Briar shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I can climb out my window.”
Delanna, for the first time since Briar befriended her, looked shocked. “We’re on the third floor!”
“I’ve climbed taller trees.” She started to heft herself onto the narrow window sill.
“Wait!” Delanna rushed to Briar’s wardrobe and dug out a black cloak. It was finely made, though it lacked the flashy embroidery and trim that decorated most of Briar’s clothes. “If you go out like that, someone will recognize you and toss you back inside before you reach the ground floor.”
“Thank you.”
“You are mad.” Delanna scowled as she arranged the cloak on Briar’s shoulders and pulled up the hood so it covered her hair.
“I know.”
“Your idea had better work,” Delanna added. “Or I’ll stab you with the spindle myself!”
“I’m very lucky to have a friend such as you.”
“Stop being thankful and listen!” Delanna barked. Her pretty features were twisted with worry and concern. “Make certain you clearly tell Sir Isaia of your feelings. You must explain it to him plainly—you cannot let your embarrassment hold you back. And…please, be careful, Your Highness.”
Briar winked. “Of course.” She slipped out of the window, climbing down the wall with even more ease than she would a tree thanks to the ornate carvings and columns that seemed to cover every block of stone.
Her greatest fear was that someone would notice the oddity of a woman in a black cloak climbing down a palace wall in the middle of the attack. But no one seemed to see—or if they did, they did not stop to question her.
When she reached the ground, she fussed with the hood of the cloak—she needed to make sure it shaded her eyes. She grinned recklessly, feeling more like herself than she had in weeks. She was not a delicate, wilted flower; she was a briar rose. And Carabosso was about to be stuck with the biggest thorn ever.
She walked—with confidence and poise—edging around the perimeter of the palace and working her way towards the Magic Knights’ training grounds. Briar strolled past the stained-glass windows of Aeternum Hall and was about to saunter on when she spotted her father up ahead, leading a line of soldiers.
He was talking to one of them and rested his hand on his sword as he strode towards her. Briar feared, even with his obvious focus, he would catch sight of her and recognize her instantly. So she turned around and again walked past Aeternum Hall’s stained-glass windows. She darted behind a stone column and, using it as a block, hastily climbed through an open window that plopped her into an empty salon.
She intended to stay in the salon—preferably hiding behind a piece of furniture until her father had passed—but something yanked Briar out of the salon and down the hall. Before she could comprehend her actions, she realized she was opening one of the doors to Aeternum Hall.
Sunlight lit the empty room and painted itself into pictures as it streamed through the beautiful windows.
Briar heard voices in the hallway behind her, so she darted into the room and closed the door behind her.
What am I doing here? I need to find Isaia and get to the tower! Even so, Briar wandered up to the line of legendary weapons, stopping short of the two-handed sword.
Its hilt was a beautiful combination of golden metal and royal blue leather and gems. The guard was curved slightly, and the gold of the hilt jutted down, giving the blade a core of gold that stopped just short of the tip. Magic runes were etched into the blade and gilded blue. Briar could almost hear them hum.
Faro.
The word was uncomfortably whispered into the back of her mind.
Briar blinked. “Faro?”
The gold of the sword seemed to sparkle in response. Faro.
“Nope!” Briar announced. She rapidly began backing out of the hall, unwilling to turn her back on the magic weapon. “Nope. Nope. Nope! Sorry, I don’t do talking swords. Have a lovely day!”
Briar could feel the pull of the sword even after she closed the door on it and hurried back to the empty salon. It pulled on her as she hefted herself through the window, and scuttled outside—giving the stained-glass windows a wide berth. It tried to beckon her—the way it had when she hid from her father, but Briar was too focused and—frankly—terrified to fall for its siren call. She shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Sorry, sword. Not today!”
Carabosso’s magic crackled overhead like lightning, and Briar grimaced. I have to find Isaia—immediately!
In the end, Briar found it was easier to locate Valor than Isaia. The dapple-gray mare was tacked up, wearing her own set of anti-magic armor, and a young groom uneasily held the reins, yelping whenever she snapped at him or tossed her head.
Just as Briar started strolling towards them nonchalantly, the mare screamed and reared, pulling the little boy off his feet.
“Easy, Valor, easy!” Briar approached the mare with a soothing voice.
Valor did not calm down, but at least she didn’t pin her ears at Briar as she did with the boy.
“I’ll take this one,” Briar said. “You see to the next horse.”
The weary stable boy saluted her and hurried off, eager to leave the ornery beast behind.
Briar loosely held the mare’s reins, and though Valor stamped and swished her thick tail, she did not try to rear again. Instead, it was Briar who grew more and more uptight.
Carabosso’s magic crashed in the sky with thunderous booms. Minutes ticked by, and Isaia did not appear.
Where is he? He wouldn’t have Valor tacked up if he didn’t mean to come for her!
Delanna had to be waiting at the tower, and Briar didn’t know how long it would be until someone noticed her—the sole female in a sea of Magic Knights and grooms. Sir Artemio was present, and he gave her the occasional odd glance every few minutes. She had almost given up hope when she saw Isaia edging through a crowd of knights.
Pretending she meant to draw Valor into a less populated area so he could mount up easier, Briar led the mare away from the stables.
Isaia reached for Valor’s reins. “Thank you…Briar?”
“Shh!” Briar hissed.
He furrowed his brow, and his green eyes turned stormy. “You’re supposed to be in your room.”
“Yes, I’m sure I’ll be there soon enough,” she started.
“What are you doing here?”
“Trying to talk to you, but you took so long, Delanna must be waiting—” Briar cut herself off when she noticed Artemio was unabashedly watching them. “It’s about my curse,” she spat out.
Isaia eyed her warily—much the same way the stable boy had eyed Valor. “What about it?”
Briar almost screamed when Artemio began marching in their direction. “I need you to wake me up when the curse hits—thank you, bye!”
“Wait, Briar!”
She ignored his shouts and threw herself into the swirl of activity just outside the stables.
It was a horrible way to tell him, but she didn’t have any choice. Artemio had nearly been within hearing range, and she was certain he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Isaia to drag her back to her room. (And Isaia knew her well enough to predict she would climb out the windows if she had the chance.)
She popped out on the other side of the crowd and ran for the tower, tripping on her thick skirts several times.
Delanna was there, tense with worry and holding a leather satchel. “Did you tell him?”
“Yes, but if it didn’t sink in, could you remind him?” she asked.
“Of course.” Delanna glanced at the top of the tower. “Are you sure you want to trigger your curse up there?”
“Yes.” Briar stubbornly tucked her head. “Carabosso has to see it. He has to see we will not be cowed.”
Delanna reached for her side—probably looking for the crossbow that wasn’t there. “Do you want me to come up with you?”
She shook her head. “No. You need to leave—or you might be blamed for what will happen next.”
Delanna impulsively hugged her, squeezing her tight. “You really are a princess—you do Sole proud.”
Briar returned the hug and inhaled a shaky breath. “You give me too much credit. It’s not so bad—the curse. I love Isaia; he can wake me up in a moment. Now go!”
Delanna ran, fleeing like a frightened deer.
Briar, still gripping the satchel, slipped inside the empty tower. She hustled up the first flight of stairs, barely winded. The second set of stairs gave her a little more trouble, but it was the third that made her pause. The stairs were smaller than Briar’s foot and lacked a railing in some spots. She had chosen this particular tower because it was open to the public—or at least it was open to those who stayed at the palace—and was unlikely to contain soldiers. “The viewing tower? They expect me to believe ladies in their heavy skirts climb these rickety things? Hah!”
As Briar hiked up the stairs, her doubts and worries began to plague her. What if this didn’t work? What if her grandfather continued to defend against Carabosso? Was it really the best choice to activate her curse? Shouldn’t she wait for backup from the Veneno Conclave?
Her heart stumbled, and she made the dizzying mistake of glancing down.
The sight of the stairs snaking far below her made her vision swim. Briar pressed herself against the wall and gulped, too frightened to continue.
Who am I to think I could make a difference? I’m a poor excuse for a princess. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m blindly running into an impulsive, reckless plan.
Even over the pounding of her heart and her ringing ears, Briar heard the clash of Carabosso’s magic.
But I have to try. It’s better than doing nothing!
Though she moved on, doubts and worries continued to plague her. They grew more insistent the higher she climbed. The last flight of stairs creaked alarmingly, and more than once, Briar’s fear froze her in place.
