Chapter 21
T hey traveled west through the Mystwood Forest, going deeper and deeper into the trees. Before they departed, Phillip consulted the map and committed their direction to memory. He and Jeffrey chatted about their previous adventures. She rode behind them with Charles next to her. She was aware of the sideways glances he gave her as they traveled.
Through their conversations, she learned Jeffrey was the son of a duke. The duke being the king’s brother. The two of them had grown up together with them spending most of their time in Haven Castle. Jeffrey would inherit his father’s title while Charles, being the second born, would not.
“You’re to marry the prince, then,” Charles said.
She was aware he was making small talk. “I am.”
“But neither of you wish to marry the other.” A statement, rather than a question.
“It appears so,” she replied.
All the while she kept her gaze forward watching as Phillip and Jeffrey shared a laugh. There was such life in the prince as he tossed his head back. He was handsome, certainly. He made her feel safe when they were together. He promised to keep her from pricking her finger on a thorn before the sun set on her birthday tomorrow. There was something sweet and endearing about that. It was difficult for her to think of him as her future husband.
But why shouldn’t she? Their parents had agreed to the betrothal when they were both children. She doubted they would break that betrothal.
Would it be so terrible to marry Phillip? She asked herself this more than once over the last few hours as they rode.
“What if there was another suitor?” Charles asked.
His question broke into her thoughts. Startled, she met his gaze and saw the look of hope buried deep within his eyes.
“Another suitor?” she asked.
“Give it up, brother. The princess is spoken for,” Jeffrey said over his shoulder.
Charles flushed a deep red to the roots of his hair and turned away, his eyes forward. His brother clearly had no qualms about embarrassing him in front of her.
“That’s not very nice of you,” she said, chastising him.
“It’s all right, your highness.” Charles sounded so defeated he made her heart ache.
A low growl from somewhere in the forest cut off any response she might have had. Phillip held up a hand for them to halt. Her heart pounded as the growl sounded again, echoing through the forest.
“What is it?” Her voice was a breath of a whisper.
Phillip pulled out his sword and held it. Jeffrey did the same. Each of them glanced around the area as another guttural growl sounded again. This one was followed by a thunderous rumbling of the ground. Phillip and Jeffrey exchanged a look, and then in unison, both dismounted.
“Charles, take the princess to safety,” Phillip ordered, clutching his sword.
“To safety? Where?” She surveyed her surroundings trying to find someplace safe to hide from whatever doom was upon them.
“Come with me, princess.” Charles turned his horse and headed back the way they came.
She hesitated a moment too long. Suddenly the giant crashed through the trees, felling them as he went. The two horses fled. The thunderous noise they’d heard was that of his huge footsteps. He was as tall as the trees with dark round eyes. His skin was a sickly pallor and he wore nothing but a tattered cloth about his hips. When he growled again, he showed off stump teeth. He took a swipe at Jeffrey who dropped and rolled out of the way.
“What—”
“Troll! Princess, come!” Charles shouted, cutting her off.
Phillip went into action as the beastly thing headed for Jeffrey, reaching for him. He swiped his sword in an arc, slicing it across the back of the legs.
When she still failed to move, Charles reached over and grabbed her reins, giving them a tug.
“Come on,” he said.
Then he turned to flee. She did the same. As she did, she saw the large hand come down and swipe Charles off his mount. He went flying into the trees, crashing against one and tumbling to the ground. She gasped.
“Charles!”
That was enough to garner the troll’s unwanted attention. Black narrow eyes landed on her making all her limbs shake. She gripped the reins so tight, her hands ached. The troll took two giant steps and was upon her in an instant. Her horse bucked. Though she tried to hang on, she knew from experience it was better to let go. She tumbled to the ground as her horse galloped away. Without looking back, she crawled over the forest floor. Thick underbrush was ahead. She headed there hoping it would hide her from the beast.
Behind her, the troll cried out. Despite her better judgement, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jeffrey and Phillip had both attacked. No longer interested in her, the troll turned his attention back to the two men.
Nearby, Charles groaned. She stopped and turned toward him. He was on the ground at the base of a tree. Still on her hands and knees, she quickly crawled to his side. He had a terrible gash on his head. She pulled him into her lap, wrapping her arms around his upper torso.
“Shhh,” she said. “Don’t move. I’m here.”
“Princess?” he muttered. “The troll…?”
“Looks like your brother and Phillip have everything in hand.”
It was a lie, she knew, as she glanced up to see them fighting the large beastly thing. The troll hit Phillip so hard, he tumbled to the ground, his sword flying out of his hand. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She eyed the sword lying out of his reach as Jeffrey went after the troll again. Every attempt he made to strike was outmaneuvered.
“Stay here,” she whispered. “Stay quiet. I’ll be back.”
Gently, she placed Charles back on the ground. He groaned but didn’t try to fight her or talk her out of it. Still on her hands and knees, she crawled toward Phillip’s sword. He managed to get to his feet, shaking his head to clear it, and then pulled out his dagger. He charged the troll while the beast was busy with Jeffrey.
As she reached the sword, Phillip plunged the dagger into the back of the troll’s leg. He cried out, an ear-piercing shout that rattled the treetops as he flung his large head back. He stumbled to the left, then the right. Phillip only had time to shout a warning before the troll fell, a descent that took out numerous trees on the way down.
Jeffrey jumped out to the way as it crashed with a resounding thud. Rosamund gripped Phillip’s sword in her hand and jumped to her feet. The troll rolled to his stomach, trying to get back to his feet. Without thinking, she charged, clutching the sword in both hands.
The troll pushed up to his hands and knees. Phillip’s dagger still stuck out of his thigh which oozed black blood.
“Rose!”
Phillip shouted her name as she came face to face with the troll. He growled, showing off nasty teeth, then reached for her with a large, meaty hand. Long fingers wrapped around her torso and hoisted her up into the air.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she used every ounce of energy and strength she had to shove the sword right into the troll’s left eye. Furious, he reared back crying out in pain as he released her. She, at least, had enough thought to let go of the hilt as she fell, landing on the ground hard enough to jam her elbow.
The troll crashed against the ground. He flinched one last time, gave out a pitiful moan, and then was dead.
Phillip was at her side in an instant, scooping her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. She heard the wild beat of his heart hammering against her ear. He clutched her tight, as though he might never let her go.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said. For a moment, their eyes met and her heart did a funny thud followed by a fluttering in her gut.
“What you did was…” he began.
“Incredibly stupid,” she finished.
He grinned as a low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Perhaps.”
“Brave, indeed, princess,” Jeffrey said, sounding impressed as he approached. “Even though you could have been injured or, worse, killed.”
She pushed out of Phillip’s arms and scrambled away from him. Her elbow throbbed with an almost unbearable pain that went all the way to her shoulder. She tried to ignore it as she got to her feet.
“But I wasn’t,” she said, brushing the leaves and grass from her pants.
A faint groan sounded. She gasped as she glanced in the direction of Charles. She tried to hurry over to him, but her ankle was still giving her trouble. Instead, it was more of a hobble. As she neared him, he sat up, clutching his head and looking pale. He moaned again.
“Let me help you,” she said as she reached down to grasp his arm.
Jeffrey was there on the other side of him. Together, they hoisted Charles to his feet. The gash on his head continued to bleed.
“That’s a nasty gash on your head. We better see to it,” Jeffrey said.
“Where are the horses?” Phillip asked, glancing around.
They all stood within the destroyed forest, but the horses were nowhere to be found.
“The troll scared them off,” Jeffrey said. “Here’s hoping we can find them and not have to continue on foot.”
Charles emitted a faint grumble of despair. Rosamund felt the same way. She would be unable to continue on foot with her sore ankle. Phillip retrieved his sword from the dead troll. Black blood coated the once-shiny steel. Frowning, he managed to scrape off most of the blood on one of the felled trees.
“I’ll find them,” Phillip said.
Before anyone could object, he was off through the forest, whistling and calling for them. Jeffrey walked Charles over to a fallen tree and lowered him down. Charles expelled a long breath as though he were exhausted as he leaned back and closed his eyes.
“My head hurts,” he muttered.
Jeffrey ripped a piece of his tunic at the bottom edge. When he had a decent sized cloth he reached for his brother, placing the cloth on the bleeding gash. Rosamund limped toward them.
“Here, let me.” She held out her hand for the cloth.
“No need, princess. I can—”
“Jeffrey, give it to her and go find the other horses. She’s a prettier nursemaid than you are,” Charles said without opening his eyes.
Shock registered on his face as he glanced from his brother and then to Rosamund. He removed the bloodied cloth and handed it to her.
“He really must have hit his head hard,” he muttered.
She took it and lowered herself to the ground next to Charles as Jeffrey lumbered off to find the other two horses. With a gentle hand, she dabbed the cloth along the gash to clear away the blood.
“I think you surprised your brother,” she said, a hint of humor in her voice.
“What I said was true.” He winced as she dabbed at the worst of the cut. One eye cracked open as he looked at her. “You are far prettier than he is.”
It was hard not to grin at that. “You flatter me, my lord.”
“You don’t believe me?”
She considered this a moment as she continued to dab away the blood. She had never really thought of herself as beautiful or pretty or anything other than plain. Her mother, though, had all the looks and she wished she was half as regal and lovely as her. Thinking of her mother sent a pang of homesickness through her.
She halted her hand, thinking of her home and her parents and wondering what happened to the soldiers who had come looking for her. Had they given up and returned to the castle? Or were they still out there searching for her?
Her mother must be beside herself with worry. Rosamund also thought of the visiting royals—Phillip’s parents—and recalled how kind Queen Adele was to her when she arrived. For the first time, since wondered what would happen when they returned together. Would their parents be overjoyed? Furious? Both?
“You should,” Charles continued, unaware of her inner strife. “You were touched by Fae magic.”
She snorted. “And cursed by Fae magic if what Phillip said is true.” She finished dabbing his forehead. “The cut isn’t as bad as it looked. I think you’ll be fine.”
“That’s good to hear.”
When she sat back, she met his gaze. There she saw admiration and something akin to affection. A faint smile crossed his lips.
“Charles, you should know—”
“You don’t have to say it.” The affection faded from his face. “I know the truth of it. You will marry Phillip. The alliance between Myst and Woodhaven will be sealed and the borders of Stonebridge will be strong and safe from those Fae royals.”
She settled on the ground next to him, leaning her back against the fallen tree. She pulled off her boot, flexing her foot to work out her sore ankle. The throbbing of her elbow had dissipated to a dull ache.
“Is there a threat from Faery?” she asked.
“I can’t say. If there is, it’s from the Fae royal who was forgotten and not invited to your christening.”
“A Fae royal would hold a grudge for eighteen years?” It was more of a rhetorical question. She didn’t expect an answer.
“People have held grudges for far longer for far less.”
She supposed he was right. As she sat there, wondering if Phillip and Jeffrey would return with the horses, she could not ignore the apprehension shifting through her. Tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday. Tomorrow, she was supposed to prick her finger on a thorn and fall into a forever slumber.
She hoped she wouldn’t run into any thorns in her quest to find the dragon’s treasure.
Rowena cackled as she peered through the All-Seeing Eye. “Yes, dear sweet child. A Fae royal would hold a grudge for eighteen years. And, soon, you will feel my wrath.”
The girl’s birthday was tomorrow.
Tomorrow vengeance would be hers.
Tomorrow the girl would prick her finger on a thorn.
Tomorrow the girl would die.