by K. M. Shea
Briar whirled around.
Carabosso had walked out of her nightmares and stood between her and the way she had come—the way back to the knights and mages. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He might have been handsome with his dark hair, fine robes, and fair complexion, if not for the wrongness that enveloped him like a cloud. His disturbing black eyes were empty—any humanity in him had long been broken—and the red mark branded into his forehead seemed to glow for a moment. He was worse in reality than in her dreams, for the nightmares hadn’t conveyed the depth of the darkness in which he was content to dwell.
Briar swallowed. “Carabosso.” Her voice shook.
He smiled. “What great luck. Here I thought I would have to introduce myself, and that would be terribly awkward.” He tilted his head. “You’ve been a pest, you know. You’re worse than a spider. You should have gone down with the hellhound, down with the curse, down so many times—but you keep living. Terribly impertinent of you.”
“Why are you so fixated on me? I can’t do anything—I’m not a threat.” Briar backed away, wondering if she dared to turn her back to him and run. Could I scream for help before he kills me? Maybe Delanna is still here.
“Correct. You are nothing, little more than a speck of dust in the scheme of things. I said as much, but they insisted I use you to turn Sole on its heels.” Carabosso rolled his eyes.
Briar froze. Though her fear screamed at her to run, she knew she had just stumbled on something important. “They?”
Carabosso lifted an eyebrow and looked down his nose at her. “There’s nothing at all special about you. You’re a princess in name only; you have no hidden powers, no loyal country at your bidding, and you certainly aren’t a tactical genius. But it seems in their obsessive studying, they have become paranoid. So you are my assignment.” His expression turned dark and he snarled, “But you won’t die, and that makes me look like an idiot!”
More than ever, Briar burned with the knowledge that she had to survive. What Firra and Donaigh suspected…it could only be the tip of the iceberg if Carabosso was assigned to attack her. I have to tell them—I have to tell Angelique!
Briar bolted, aiming for an alleyway. “Misfit! Delanna!”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Carabosso snapped his fingers and murmured dark words under his breath. Red strands of magic rose up from the ground and grabbed Briar like a bear trap. They wrapped around her arms and legs and held her in place, burning wherever they touched.
“You can’t do anything to defeat me, Princess Rosalinda Talia d’Avalas.” Carabosso circled her like a hungry wolf. “You are powerless. Though you may claim royal blood, you’re not royal at all.”
Pain made Briar’s vision swim, but she could feel her knife cinched to her belt. Could she…? If she lured him in close enough…She grit her teeth and forced herself to speak, even though the burning of his red magic was so bad she could barely form words. “You seem to think I find all my worth in being a princess. I don’t.”
“Are you certain?” Carabosso laughed. “Because if you’re not a princess, what are you? A mere girl who can’t do a thing to save the country she loves.”
Briar laughed, then sucked in air from the pain her display had cost her. “If you think it is only princesses who can do anything, you are sorely mistaken.” She shifted. The pain increased, but she could still move.
Carabosso strolled closer so he could lean close enough to her face that his breath touched her. “Then show me, Princess. What can you—one who is disliked and rejected—do as a mere girl?”
“This.” Bracing against the pain, Briar snatched the knife from her belt and, as Firra had taught her, stabbed Carabosso in the shoulder.
He cried out with pain, but Briar wasn’t done. Though his burning magic wrapped around her, the endless drilling with Isaia kicked in. She reached up and jabbed her thumbs in his eyes, wrapped her hands around his forehead and yanked his head so his nose smashed into her skull.
Stabbed, blinded, and most likely sporting a broken nose based on the crunch it had made, Carabosso shouted with pain. He spat a word of dark magic, and Briar felt the tendrils of his magic start to cut into her skin.
Frantic, she kneed him in the gut then pushed him away. He collapsed with a groan…but Briar couldn’t run.
The pain was so intense she could barely breathe, and she fell to the ground, perilously close to blacking out.
Carabosso sat up and wrenched Briar’s knife from his shoulder. “You wretch!” He tried to stand but fell again, his eyes watering from her jab.
Once again, he sat up, but a crossbow bolt hit him exactly where Briar had nailed him, and he toppled over, screaming.
Delanna appeared with a whirl of skirts. “Leave her alone!” She yanked Carabosso up by his shoulders then slammed him into the ground again and again as she continued to scream. “Leave the princess alone!”
Briar could tell the moment he lost consciousness, for his red magic dissipated, and she could breathe again. “D-Delanna.” She grimaced—even speaking hurt.
Delanna dropped Carabosso, who flopped over, and scrambled to her side. “P-Princess? Briar? Can you hear me?”
Briar shakily raised her hand and, giving Delanna a thumbs-up, said, “Good job.”
Delanna abruptly sat. “I thought I was too late.”
“Nope. Ugh. Perfect timing.” Briar groaned as she tried to move without much success. “You haven’t happened to see my horse around, have you?”
Whether it was the long day, the sheer relief, or the dissipating adrenaline, both of the girls started laughing.
When Firra found them, they were still laughing, and the handsome Carabosso—banged up, bruised, and bleeding—was still unconscious.
The fire mage whistled. “Remind me not to pick a fight with the two of you.”
Briar—still having a hard time breathing without pain—laughed. “Idiot magic user didn’t bother to learn any self-defense.”
“Magic,” Delanna solemnly said. “It can be a crutch.”
The girls erupted into laughter again, and Firra scratched the back of her neck. “I think I should summon Angelique to come take a look at you two.”
“Have her look for my horse, too,” Briar said, giggling.
Firra held her hand up and blasted a blue ball of fire into the sky. “Of course, Little Rose. Just sit back and rest for now.”
Briar finally managed to uncurl herself, and she stretched while she waited for the beautiful lady enchantress to arrive. As Firra stroked her forehead, she watched Delanna prod Carabosso in the cheek with an arrow. And she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 12
A Happy Ending
The rising sun cast pink and orange hues over the quaint village of Ippari. It was a balm to Briar’s soul as she stroked Misfit’s neck and watched the sea of colorful tents the Magic Knights had pitched for medical spaces and the evacuees.
It was over. Carabosso had been defeated, and the other dark mages and the sorceress had fled. A small contingent of knights had chased them all the way to the Loire border. They were gone.
Briar still ached from Carabosso’s attack. She had nothing to show for it but a few bruises and cuts, but Angelique had explained to her—when she woke up as they were transporting her to Ippari the previous night—that the spell used on her was one of the nastier spells in a dark mage’s arsenal, and that it was incredible she had been able to move while it was cast on her. She would likely be in pain for a few days, even with Angelique’s healing powers.
She leaned into Misfit and gratefully breathed in his horsey scent. Today she would return to Ciane, to her grandfather. Even though Briar knew he would be furious, she didn’t regret her actions.
After she had left, Sir Roberto and Sir Franco had talked the Magic Knights of Sole around. Briar was not sure exactly what was said, but a majority of the knights left Ciane to ride north in search of Carabosso. That was how the group Sir Lucio and Sir Roberto led had found them and
been able to signal to the group led by Sir Artemio and Sir Virgilio before joining the battle.
Moreover, Isaia had been welcomed heartily into the ranks of Legendary Knighthood. He was the youngest in two generations—or so Sir Franco had told Briar in the hours of twilight, trying to distract her as Angelique applied her soothing healing magic—and it was apparent Faro, the sword, was a perfect match for him. He had expelled more power during the battle than the other three legendary knights combined.
Privately, Briar suspected it was because Isaia put more of his heart on the line when he fought, and she would not be surprised if suddenly the other legendary knights found they were more powerful as well.
She did not know how permanent the change in morale would be for the Magic Knights of Sole. She would know for certain when she returned to King Giuseppe and saw for herself how they reacted to his ire. But she was selfishly grateful Isaia was a legendary knight, for no one—not even the king—could punish a newly minted legendary knight who had played a key role in defeating Carabosso.
How generous the king would be to his thieving granddaughter, Briar did not know. She did not have much hope.
Briar sighed and patted Misfit’s side.
“Are you in pain?”
Briar peered over her shoulder and smiled fondly at Isaia. “Not unbearably so. I think everyone is nursing some sort of ache after yesterday. Poor Delanna’s fingers are worse for the wear.”
Isaia joined her, looking out at the peaceful picture Ippari made. He wasn’t wearing his armor, but boots, trousers, and a loose-fitting black doublet that was unbuttoned, revealing his white undershirt. “There were very few casualties from Tavo. It appears we arrived just in time.”
“I’m glad—though I fear the majority of their town is little more than wreckage,” Briar said.
“Your grandfather will send aid so they can rebuild,” Isaia said.
“I’m glad you, at least, are confident in his generosity,” Briar said.
Isaia pressed his lips together but said nothing more.
Briar sighed again—a much deeper sound that was close to a groan. I have to talk to him about my curse, or things will never clear up between us. “I-I spoke impulsively when I first woke after the curse broke,” she said. “I was surprised so much time had passed…and I was hurt you trusted me so little. But it is still no excuse. I’m sorry.”
Isaia rested his hand on the hilt of the legendary sword, as if drawing strength from it. “No, it is I who should apologize. I must be honest and admit it was my own fear and selfishness that kept me from waking you earlier, not any disbelief in you.”
Briar squinted up at him in surprise. “Oh?”
Isaia was quiet for a few unbearably long moments. “I was afraid I would never be worthy of the call placed on your life. I knew it when I fell in love with you when you were simply Briar Rose and I was simply Isaia. I knew I could never have you…and I didn’t think I could bear letting you go if I did kiss you.”
She had to focus to keep her jaw shut. He had been in love with her that long? How had she not noticed? Isaia was taciturn and unemotional, yes, but he was her closest friend!
“I thought I needed to stand aside so you could find someone who could bring honor to you.” Isaia shifted his stance slightly and stared at Ippari. “But I should have known better. You have never cared about such things, and your loyalty is as strong as my own. I apologize, Briar. I allowed my fears to cloud what I knew about you.”
Briar swallowed and finally found the strength to talk again. “You love me?” she squeaked.
A slight smile curled on Isaia’s lips, and he gazed down at her. “Since you confessed to me when you were fourteen.”
His words and the unmistakable tenderness in his eyes made Briar blush and want to go hide in a hole. But this is everything I’ve ever wanted! She looked down and noticed the way his hands twitched.
“I don’t know that I’ll be given the chance to tell you again,” Isaia said. “So I want you to know that you are my true love. It has always been you. It will always only be you. As a magic knight, it is my honor to protect the country, to protect you. I will do everything in my power to see that you are safe and happy.”
“But what if I would be happiest being with you?” Briar asked.
His hands twitched again. “There is nothing that would bring me more joy, but I’m afraid such a thing is beyond me.” His voice was lined with regret.
Maybe so…but it is not beyond me! Caught by the thought, Briar perked. A half-formed idea twirled in her mind. Perhaps there was a way to maneuver her grandfather into accepting a marriage with Isaia.
“Do you mean it?” she asked. She was afraid her heart was in her face as she looked up at him, her chest tight.
He smiled sadly. “I would marry you in a second if I didn’t think your grandfather would punish you horribly and break it off. You are my world,” Isaia whispered. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, and Briar could have sworn she felt both yearning and gentleness in that one light touch.
She bit her lip. “If I can…would you trust me? Would you believe that I can make a place for us?”
“He will punish you.”
Briar chuckled wryly. “Oh, no he won’t. He won’t have room to disapprove! Court life has been good for me. I am much better at carrying out my plans now. But…do you really want it? Us, I mean?”
“Of course,” Isaia said. “It cuts that you doubt me—though I do deserve it.”
Her cheeks heated again. “Well, it’s just the one time we kissed, you seemed pretty despondent,” she said. His hands are twitching again—maybe Angelique should check him over? “And Donaigh hugs me more than you do, so I wondered—”
Before she could finish, Isaia swept her up in his arms and kissed her soundly. She didn’t know what shocked her more: that Isaia clearly knew she was too short to reach him without his help, or that the twitching problem was most likely a symptom of him fighting to keep his hands to himself. But neither mattered, for she felt overwhelming love and tenderness as he held her in his arms and kissed her with enough strength to make her toes curl in her slippers.
Relief and joy burned in her heart.
Isaia’s insistent lips, emboldened embrace, and frantically beating heart told her more than any words could.
She was not alone in her adoration. Sir Isaia—the Legendary Knight of the Two-Handed Sword—loved her. She had been awakened and desired by her true love.
Sorry, Grandfather. You aren’t going to win this one.
Isaia could not help the love in his eyes as he watched Briar, riding a content Misfit, giggle with Lady Delanna.
He rode with Sir Virgilio behind the pair, and though he could not hear their conversation, it was clear both girls were in high spirits.
“I must apologize, Sir Isaia.” Virgilio’s brow was furrowed, and he stared at the backs of his horse’s ears. “I have been rather unfair to you.”
Isaia pulled his attention away from Briar and studied his fellow legendary knight. “In what way?”
“I cast judgment on you because of your devotion to Princess Rosalinda,” Virgilio said. “I couldn’t comprehend what she had done to deserve your loyalty. Now…I do.”
Isaia smiled fondly. “She is incredible.”
Virgilio lifted his gaze to the sky. “She has a strength and conviction that has long been lost in this country. She sees things the way we should, and will not rest when she realizes it is not the way things are. And she is strong enough to stand when no one will join her.” He offered Isaia a thin smile. “She really will be a magnificent queen.”
“I don’t think we’ve seen such a monarch since the Queen of Hearts,” Sir Artemio said as he joined them.
“But she’s different,” Sir Lucio added from directly behind them. “The Queen of Hearts played the game of crowns. She swindled everyone and won.” Sir Lucio’s eyes narrowed. “Princess Rosalinda…she won’t buckle or budge. She’ll tell the world
straight to its face that it’s wrong.”
The other knights fell silent, but Isaia leaned back in his saddle, encouraged for Briar’s sake. He had always seen in her the ability to be great, and it had pained him that many of the other knights did not. But if they could see it, too…the Magic Knights of Sole would support her. Isaia knew this in his soul.
“Things will change in Ciane, and in Sole,” Sir Artemio predicted. “The princess is right. We must take the initiative to serve and protect. It is our purpose and our honor.”
The group was quiet, and from the back of the escort, Isaia could hear Donaigh complaining.
“It was not my fault I dropped first—they cheated. When I threw up one of my shields, they unleashed a backlash spell.”
“They were dark mages. They only cheat. It’s your fault for falling into their trap,” Firra said. “So it is for your own good that I will be forced to remind you of your shameful failure for the next decade.”
“Can we do something to help her?” Virgilio asked, shattering the knights’ silence. “Something to lessen whatever blow King Giuseppe will deliver to her?”
Sir Artemio frowned thoughtfully.
“We can trust her,” Isaia said. “She told me she will bring us through this. I believe her.”
A shallow smile returned to Virgilio’s face. “If her own legendary knight says it, we can only fall in line.”
Sir Franco trotted past them on his horse and piped in. “It might be explosive!”
Sir Lucio raised an eyebrow. “It might be fun.”
“The princess was raised by Magic Knights,” Sir Artemio said. “Previously I did not see the value in that, but I think now we all do.”
Isaia’s heart squeezed with painful hope. Briar promised him she would get her grandfather to agree to their marriage. He believed her…because he knew she was that kind of woman.
As a flood of messengers had been sent back and forth between Ippari and the capital during the few days Briar and the Magic Knights recovered, all of Ciane knew what had happened and knew what Briar had done—what the knights had done.
