The Sleeping Princess: Twisted Tales: Crown of Roses Book One

by D. L. Boyles

  Philip felt abandoned and…something else. He should be glad to be freed from his bindings and even more to be able to return to his home. Yet, there was a different…something…welling up in him, calling to him, and it was not in the direction of Endari.

  “She stopped by to say good-bye to the rest on her way. I imagine Beth will have stocked her fully with more food than she could carry. Do not worry, she will make it. The weather will not deter her. And the mountain creatures will likely not harm her either. Especially, now that she has an understanding with Pheilendra.”

  “Who?”

  “The migdraga female,” Doc said. The old dwarf puffed on his pipe again. “Have no worries, there is nothing on this mountain that will harm her.”

  “Prince Malecinth will kill her.” There was no doubt in his mind. The dark prince would not allow anyone to steal from him; especially not a human.

  “It’s a good thing she’s headed to see King Furrir, then.”

  “And you think that’s better? He will never allow a human into his court!” Philip shouted at Doc, but he longed to shout at Snow. “The Animal Court is elusive and uninviting. Even Queen Milagros has rarely been able to influence its king.” Her plan sounded ridiculous when it was Prince Malecinth she planned to steal from, but to try and even approach King Furrir was a death wish. He didn’t allow humans within his borders unless they were in chains, working in the most inhospitable places that no fae in his or her right mind would opt to. Philip felt a sudden surge of panic. He looked around the cave and darted for Doc’s cloak. It was much too small for him, but he would need something to shield him from the weather.

  “Hey! Don’t you be taking my cloak!”

  “You’re a dwarf. You will survive without it.”

  “That may be so, but you won’t survive with it. Why don’t you take your own?”

  That caught his attention. “My own?” In an irritating gesture, Doc rolled his eyes again and pointed to a satchel in the corner.

  “She said you might need it for your return trip. Your cloak, your weapons. It’s all there. Everything except your horse,” Doc told him. “And she said you could find Samson in The Meadows.”

  Philip tossed Doc’s cloak aside, only vaguely hearing the bit about his horse, and dashed to retrieve his things. Opening the leather bag, he discovered that Doc told the truth. Quickly, he strapped on his belt and twin swords, sheathed his blades into his boots, and wrapped first his black jacket and then his cloak around him.

  “Don’t forget that,” Doc said, pointing to a little vial. “I went through all the work to get it ready for you, so you’d better use it.”

  “You knew I’d go after her.”

  He shrugged. “I had hoped so. I’ve never known a hunter to let its prey go, so I can’t imagine you’d start now.” Philip wanted to laugh but held it in. “I saved your life—or at least your health—so promise me one thing.” He didn’t wait for Philip to agree. “When you catch her this time, don’t let her go, and keep her safe. She may do well enough on her own against others, but she is sometimes her own enemy.”

  Philip bowed to Doc in understanding and with a form of respect, snatched up the vial and hurried out of the cave. He would find Snow and he would do as Doc requested.

  The cloak did not keep the wind from cutting through the material and chilling him to the bone, but he moved quickly despite it, warming his body as he went. Before long, he removed his jacket, tying it around his waist and opting to wear only the cloak because of its hood. He should have thought to bring water or food, but he was in such a hurry to catch up to Snow that he hadn’t thought of it until he was too far away to bother turning back.

  The mountains were not a place to wander carelessly, so he picked his way through with as much caution as he could afford without sacrificing his speed. For hours, he trudged through, sinking in snow up to his waist in some places then slipping on icy patches in others, squelching into mud others. Finally, he picked up her scent, the familiar touch of evergreen and earth. He traveled another hour before he spotted smoke in the distance. It did not seem too far off, but with this terrain, it could take him half a day to reach. Could Snow really be that far ahead of him?

  There were so many things to contemplate as he walked. The first was why he cared whether or not a silly thief got herself killed. Why did he? Well, he could guess but that answer frightened him. An obvious and more pressing question was why did she want the Crown of Roses? There were any number of ancient relics, gemstones, or expensive art that she could steal, which would be equal—maybe more—in value than such a crown. Why take the risk? She was skilled and capable. He had no doubt that she could steal anything else and get away with it. Yet, she wanted a crown that was highly regarded by all of Malesia and Furi and would be heavily guarded by not just King Furrir’s trained assassins, but also by any number of fae. The crown was a symbol of their heritage, worn only by a fae the crown chose. Even if Snow wasn’t killed on her quest to retrieve it, if she tried to put it on, she would be dead.

  His thoughts and questions whirled through his mind just as the snow whirled and howled around him. Soon, the smell of campfire, evergreens, and dirt calmed his anxious nerves. She’d tell him his flattery needed work, but he liked that she smelled of earth. Just like the red and blue corset, the earthy scent suited her.

  “Once again, little rabbit, you were easy to find.”

  Snow did not look the least bit surprised to see him as he stepped closer to her campfire. She had selected a good spot, sheltered from the wind by a jutting outcrop of rocks and beneath the sweeping branches of an evergreen tree, whose trunk reached out from the side of the mountain, bent like an elbow. From a branch hung a thin leather blanket and beneath that, the beady eyes of the mountain ox peered out at him, his mouth dripping with a meal of hay. The hairy beast was much better suited for the weather than either one of them, yet she’d constructed it a shelter, leaving herself more exposed near the fire.

  “And, do you not yet wonder, good sir, why it is I stopped here to wait for you?”

  Her words made him smile. “Wait for me? I seem to recall that you left me behind.”

  Snow gave him a wry smile of her own. “I’ve left you behind before and that didn’t stop you from pursuing me.”

  Truth. Though, this time, he did so for his own ambitions. “The last time I pursued you in such a way, it was my intent to kill you.”

  “And this time?” she asked, a dark eyebrow raised in question.

  “To persuade you not to kill yourself.”

  Snow shook her head and gave him a half smile. She lifted a cup from the flat rock perched inside her fire. “Coffee?”

  Philip reached for the metal cup, his fingers lightly brushing hers. They both wore leather gloves, but he liked the feel of her anyway. “Coffee? Do not refined ladies drink tea?” He sat down beside her on the small log she’d procured. Their bodies pressed against one another but she did not flinch or move away. She boldly met his eyes, trying to read him as he was doing to her.

  “I’m no longer a refined lady, a fact of which I know you are well aware.”

  “I seem to recall you looking very much a refined lady one of the last times we met.”

  Snow snorted. “The last time I saw you, you were forcing yourself upon poor Doc, and succeeding very well in making the man blush.”

  Philip groaned in mortification but laughed despite himself. They sat together, staring at the fire. Everywhere his body brushed against hers felt alive with the same flames.

  “Why did you come?” she asked after a long while. “You could have returned home. Or to Wessix. To Audora. Her curse has been cast and she is fast asleep. You could go to her even now.”

  Absolutely, he could have done any one or all of what she said. Yet, he chose to come after her. He didn’t know how to answer her question; not in truth, and he could not lie. So, instead, he told her, “As I’ve said, I would hate for someone else to finish a job I was contr
acted to do.”

  Once again, his attempt at humor fell short, causing Snow to frown. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

  She looked so sad and he wanted to do something to change it, but he knew she was asking an impossible question and that he had to answer carefully. “A woman who has many secrets but one I’ve come to admire.” There was a hint of a smile on her face that faded too quickly for Philip to appreciate. “You could tell me,” he whispered. “There is no one here but us.”

  “That is still too many for the secrets I know.”

  It disappointed him that she was so quiet, so reserved. They said nothing more beyond the simplicities of camp, and he did not push her. They shared some slices of cheese and she tore pieces of bread for them to dunk in the flavored oil Beth had sent. Whoever Beth was, she at least knew how to bake bread and blend spices.

  Their bellies filled, they hunkered down with the mountain ox, who happily curled up beside them, his thick hair a comfort even if the smell of him was less than desirable.

  In the night, Philip felt the pressure of a leg draped across his own, the heat radiating from that connection nearly making him jump. Snow was lying on her side facing him, her legs sprawled out with one was draped across his just below his knee. He stared at her, that pale skin and those rosy lips calling out to him. Philip wanted to touch her, to let his fingers brush across her flesh and pull her close. He could tell her—and himself—it was to keep warm, but that would not be true; the heat of the fire and the mountain ox beneath the leather blanket was enough to keep them comfortable despite the wind and snow. The only excuse he would have would be that he wanted to touch her, wanted to feel her pressed against him. The memory of her warmth and womanly softness made him shiver. Snow was a beautiful woman; he’d have to be blind not to be attracted to her. It went beyond her looks, though, to something more…something he didn’t understand but that he wanted to. He wanted to understand her. Maybe if he could do that, he could understand what it was about her that drew him in. Not trusting himself to keep his hands to himself, he clenched his jaw and made such tight fists that his nails bit into his palm. His efforts were beginning to wane, his body beginning to tremble from the effort of resisting. The longer she touched him, the less likely it would be that he’d be able to keep his hands to himself.

  Trying to dislodge her, he rolled his ankle then began to slide his knee away. Thankfully, Snow stirred and turned over, leaving him feeling empty and cold. The feeling was a shock to his senses and immediately, he wanted the connection back. However, he was not brave enough to try and move closer, so he, too, turned over and willed himself to sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A Confession and an Embrace

  He woke up to Snow talking to the mountain ox and scratching dutifully beneath its chin. “There?” she asked, and the ox made a bellowing noise and stretched its neck to allow Snow easier access. Snow laughed but accommodated the creature. “Will you be ready soon?” she asked.

  “I can be,” he answered.

  She whirled around to face him. “I was asking Nur.”

  “Nur?”

  She nodded her head in the direction of the mountain ox. “Nur.”

  “Do you pretend to speak to them, or do you actually know what they are saying?”

  Snow’s eyes grew large then returned to their usual almond shape. She didn’t answer his question, turning her attention back to the ox. He left her to her business and hurried off to a secluded space to tend to his. When he returned, he was surprised to see that she had everything—what little there was—completely packed and ready to go.

  “So…” he began, rubbing his hands together. “Are we headed to Endari? You’d be welcome there. It might take some doing, but I may know someone with a little influence on the summer court. I doubt you’d like to return to Wessix any time soon. Or, we could go to Nod, maybe even Quill. There are lots of—”

  “—Furi.” She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you think that I would be swayed from my mission simply because you showed up at my campsite last night?”

  Philip drug his teeth across his bottom lip, contemplating what he should say to convince her to not get herself killed. “Well,” he told her, pouring on as much charm as he could, “I hoped that after we spent such an eventful night together, you would be unable to leave my side. And I have no intentions of going to Furi. Which means we’re headed that way,” he told her, pointing south.

  “You’re already in Furi, Prince Philip, and despite your overinflated opinion of yourself, I am not so besotted with you that I would abandon my quest for your sake.”

  “Why? Why would you risk it?”

  Snow turned away from him, Nur falling into step behind her. “You wouldn’t understand even if I could tell you.”

  Philip groaned, tipping his head back and looking up at the morning sky. It was cloudy, but at least the wind and snow had died down. Snow and the mountain ox—Nur, he reminded himself—were already several paces away when he made up his mind. He would go with her. For now. They were a few days away from civilization, so he had time to try and change her mind.

  She said nothing when he caught up to her, barely even noting that he’d decided to come along. Maybe she didn’t care. That thought plagued him as they trekked through the mountains.

  In Furi, the Candes Mountains were enchanted in places and in the distance, he could make out mountain peaks ringed with light pink clouds, tropical forests flowing to their very tips. What lurked beneath that canopy was nothing remotely as majestic as the view. There were hunters more fearsome than he or his comrades and creatures who were even more deadly.

  The Candes Mountains extended through the middle of the continent, dividing the east from the west. The Northern Wood separated the northern half of the mountains from the southern, successfully putting the entire continent in four quadrants. Countries flowed between quadrants, but as a general rule, the north was ‘owned’ by the Furians—on both sides of the mountains. Fae lands were generally separated from human kingdoms by the briar patch, a several-mile-wide thicket of briar roses that grew in twisted beauty just south of the Northern Wood. The briar patch, however, had begun to die in places, obscuring the line between fae and human worlds.

  He and Snow were fully inside of Furi. Most humans here were slaves or were merchants limited to seaside cities where they traded with their fae neighbors. Most of Furi was wild except near those bigger cities, so King Furrir never worried that humans would venture too deep into his kingdom. With shape-shifting fae roaming loose, preferring to live in their animal forms, most humans feared venturing beyond developed cities in Furi. And the more powerful fae with an affinity for nature and the ability to harness natural elements generally moved away from the cities where they could safely unleash their powers. It was because of these reasons—and many more—that Philip did not like the idea of traveling through Furi.

  The Candes Mountains were so desolate and difficult to navigate that Furian warriors rarely scouted the area. The dwarfs, native to the entire range of the Candes Mountains, were an unforgiving race, not prone to assisting humans or fae. Because of the dwarfs, most everyone else stayed away. Sure, there were several Candean mines throughout the continent, but most were at lower elevations. Anything being mined this far up is reached by dwarfs and only dwarfs. They maintain sole access to the aquamarine and peridot mines—two gems that are of extreme importance throughout both the fae and human kingdoms. Both are important in talismans. While they are important, they are rare largely because dwarfs do not frequently leave their mountain homes and because…well, Philip couldn’t remember why, but he was sure there was some other reason for their rarity. Bits and pieces of his mind felt cloudy. It must be the mountain air. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the vial Doc had sent, taking a sip before replacing it.

  Again, Philip stared out in the distance, and while he did not long to face anything in the warmer climates of Furi, he did env
y the weather. He didn’t like the snow. Other than in the mountains, he never had to endure the cold bite of wind or snow or ice. And, how often had he been in the mountains? Not often. Seeing it on the mountains, he wasn’t surprised at what it was, but as he searched his memory, he could not recall having ever seen snow before. So how did he know that he didn’t like it? The mountain air surely was beginning to cloud his brain and he hoped the concoction Doc provided would kick in soon and clear his head.

  Where they traveled at the moment, there was nothing but snow and ice and rocks. There was a pass that separated the snowy half of the Candes Mountains from the tropical half. It was that pass he was certain Snow was headed towards because it also led to the Furian castle. How did he know that?

  They only stopped once along the way so that Snow could see to her private needs— something Philip was glad for as well—before moving deeper into Furi. The terrain never changed and the weather, thankfully, held. When the sun began its decent, Snow spoke to Nur, asking him if he knew of any good campsites. She stood back and allowed the mountain ox to take the lead. Philip was just about to mock her, or at the very least, ask if she needed some of that mountain medicine Doc had made for him, but before he could make a fool of himself, the ox bellowed out a high-pitched call and dashed off at a pace he would never have thought possible.

  Turning to him, Snow smiled. “He remembered a place where we can camp comfortably.”

  “He did, did he?” Judging by the look on her face, Snow knew that he was doubtful but she grinned at him undeterred. “Nur comes here often, then? Maybe he has family in the area?”

  She shook her head at him. “Actually, he was born here and learned the migration routes as a young ox.”

  Of course he did. Philip mocked them both inwardly, but outwardly smiled at Snow as though he believed her fully. Nur faded from view around a bit of rocks then the tips of his horns peeked out over the tops, thick and curved, bobbing up and down. His bellows and demeanor when Snow and Philip caught up to him were like watching a young child who had just discovered some great thing.