Chapter 24

S he hurried after the goblin, who was fast and low to the ground. She had difficulty keeping up with him. Phillip was right on her heels. So close she thought she heard his breath as he did his best to keep up.

The goblin disappeared around a corner. A moment later his head popped around the side to make sure they still followed. Satisfied, he was gone again in an instant.

“He’s a fast one,” Phillip said, out of breath.

She agreed but said nothing as she rounded the corner and came to a jarring halt. Phillip cursed under his breath as he bumped into her. Ahead, the goblin hopped from one foot to the other clearly proud he was able to complete his task. He gestured wildly to the opening in front of him.

“Here it is, milady. See?”

She stepped next to him and peered into the dark opening of the cave. “I see.”

“I did what you asked. Now will you forgive me?”

Phillip moved to stand next to her, his attention on the cave. Rosamund nodded.

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you!”

Then the goblin’s smile turned viscous as he leapt. She emitted a sharp gasp of surprise and stumbled backward, her weak ankle giving way. They crashed to the ground. The goblin was on her in an instant. She put her arms up in defense against his gnashing spiky teeth. Phillip roared something incoherent and seconds later the goblin went flying off her into the trees.

He reached a hand down to her. She grasped it. He pulled her to her feet and wielded his sword in one smooth motion as the goblin reemerged from the trees. Gone was the pleasant expression only to be replaced by the wicked grin. But it faded quickly when he came face to face with the point of Phillip’s sword.

“Stay back,” Phillip warned.

The goblin frowned. His eyes filled with tears. “I meant no harm, really. I just wanted a taste of the lady.”

“Stay back,” he repeated and jabbed the sword at the goblin.

He stumbled backward several steps, his eyes wide and round. “But—”

“Be gone. And do not return. For if you do…” He paused, sticking the end of his sword against the goblin’s nose. He went crossed-eyed to look at it. “I will make sure you never breathe again.”

The goblin held up his hands and backed slowly away until there was a good bit of distance between him and Phillip. Then he scampered back into the trees, disappearing. Phillip stood there a moment, his hand on his sword waiting to see if he returned. The goblin did not. He replaced his sword, then turned to her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

The goblin’s teeth tore through her sleeves, leaving them tattered. Other than that, she sustained no other damage. She nodded.

“You ask me that a lot,” she said.

“Because you get yourself into trouble a lot.” He winked as he said it. “It’s why I’m here to keep you safe.”

She grinned. “I’m fine, really.”

Relief passed over his face.

“Protecting you is quite the challenge.”

Though she knew he jested something inside her quivered. She liked the idea of him protecting her. Still holding her hand, he looked toward the shadowy cave entrance.

“Looks like we found it,” he said.

Trepidation edged through her. And yet it was impossible to refuse the call to enter and find out if there was, in fact, a treasure within it.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. “Yet, I find I cannot resist stepping inside.”

He squeezed her hand. “Nor I.”

Together, they turned toward the cave and entered.

The darkness pressed all around them. A damp smell accosted her nose. An icy fear skittered up her spine. She edged closer to him as they moved deeper, the light from the mouth of the cave at their backs. It was getting more and more difficult to see.

“We need a torch,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I should have…”

His words trailed off. He cut her a glance, then reached for something in the darkness. She was unsure of what he grabbed until he pulled it closer to him. He held a torch.

They exchanged a glance, each knowing what the other was thinking. It was as though the torch was conjured for them. Whoever was pushing them into the cave was listening. He stared at the unlit wick.

“Now, if only we had a way to light it.” As he said it, he gave her a pointed look of anticipation, as though waiting for his wish to be granted. His voice echoed through the cavern.

Seconds later, the torch sprang to life, emitting a yellow-orange glow all around them. Again, their eyes met. He lifted one brow in a silent question. Her nerves were on high alert.

“Magic?” she whispered.

“Most definitely,” he replied.

Still clutching her hand, he held the torch aloft and led them deeper into the cave. The light flickered off the stone walls. The only sound was that of their footfalls. Rosamund held her breath the farther they went, unable to see much in the murky gloom beyond the light of the torch.

The cave abruptly ended. They came to a halt, facing a wall with no other junctures to lead them anywhere. It was a dead end.

“This can’t be all.” Her words were laced with frustration. “This cave is not big enough for a dragon. Maybe this is the wrong place.”

“This cave is the one marked on the map,” he said.

Disappointment flooded her as she peered at the wall in dismay. How could they have been led here only to find nothing? Her hopes of gathering enough treasure to start a new life were completely shattered.

She pushed past him and stood before the wall, looking for any imperceptible crack that would lead them to a secret door or chamber or something. She ran her hands over the roughened stone, pushing here and there.

“What are you doing?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“I refuse to believe we were led to a dead end with nothing,” she said, and gave the wall a great shove. Nothing happened. “I’m looking for a secret chamber. A lever or something that will open when I push on it and lead us to the treasure. There has to be something—”

“Rose.” He said her name softly.

She turned to him to see the disappointment in his eyes and she knew what she was trying to do was folly.

“It’s no use,” he said.

“But…”

She huffed out a breath and glared at the dead end, willing there to be something more. Something shiny caught her eye near his boot. She reached down to pick it up and realized it was one gold coin. She placed it in her palm and held it out to show him.

“A gold coin,” he said, sounding defeated. He took it and held it up, letting the torchlight flicker over the shiny surface. “I suppose that’s all that’s left then.”

She stared at it, her eyes dry and hot with the threat of tears. She swallowed hard to keep her emotions in check. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

He held it out to her. “You take it.”

“Why?”

“You’re the one who found it.”

Rosamund took it back from him, her thumb swiping over the smooth surface. She was silly to think she would be able to start over as someone else. Her life was mapped out for her, after all. They would return home. She and Phillip would marry. And that would be the end of her adventures.

Closing the coin in her fist, she looked up at him through her lashes. Would it be so terrible to marry him? He was handsome, after all. He was kind to her even when he didn’t know she was a princess and then when he did. Even so, she had to question if it was the magic at work or if that was his true disposition.

“What is it?” he asked, tipping his head to the side.

Realizing she stared, she tore her gaze away and turned back the way they came. Ahead, there was nothing but darkness and shadows.

“I suppose now we should return to Myst Hall.”

There was a long moment of silence, as though he, too, contemplated the same thing. He reached for her free hand, taking it in his once more.

“It would be my honor to escort you home, princess.”

With a smile, she nodded. “I should like that.”

Together, hand in hand, they headed back through the dank cave, toward their future as husband and wife. In her other hand, she still clutched the coin.

“Do you think Jeffrey found us yet?” she asked as they walked.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was waiting outside the cave when we exit,” he said, humor in his voice.

She didn’t doubt that either. As the pinprick of light expanded, she realized the sun must be dipping closer to the horizon. Which meant her birthday was nearly over. And that meant she had managed to get through the entire day without pricking her finger. The curse had not come true.

Her steps were a little lighter. Her mood a little happier.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find the treasure,” Phillip said. “I hope that doesn’t ruin your future plans.”

Her head snapped in his direction. “Whatever do you mean?”

Phillip gave her a knowing grin. “You were planning something, weren’t you?”

Rosamund flushed to the roots of her hair and turned away, dislodging her hand from his. “I was not.”

“Ah, but you were.” There was a smugness in his words.

She increased her speed as she hurried toward the opening.

“Come on, now. You can tell me.”

His cajoling was starting to get on her nerves.

“All right, then. If you won’t tell me what you were planning to do with the treasure, then I’ll tell you my plans,” he said.

That caught her attention. She paused and turned to look at him, waiting.

“You had plans?” she asked.

“Certainly. I was going to take enough money to keep me comfortable while I hunted and drank ale.”

For a moment, she believed him. And then he gave her wicked grin. She punched him in the arm.

“You weren’t,” she snapped. Then she turned and hurried toward the exit once more.

“Rose, wait. I was only jesting.” His footsteps were close behind her.

“If you must know,” she said, a bit out of breath. “I was going to take the money and disappear to a new kingdom. I was going to become someone else. I was going to have a life of my own where decisions aren’t made for me. Where I can be my own person.”

He caught up to her as they exited the cave in the evening air. The sun was dipping close to the horizon now. Her heart thumped a wild beat as she peered at the sky. It was almost sunset. He paused next to her, likely thinking the same thing as he looked toward the west.

“It would be a terrible thing if you became someone else.” His words were quiet.

Rosamund turned to look at him and noticed the torch in his hand was now unlit. He tossed it aside and took her hand in his. It was something he seemed to be doing a lot and, by the way he looked at her, enjoyed it.

In her other, she still held the coin.

“Would it be too terribly awful to marry me?” he asked.

There was heart rending tenderness in those honey-colored eyes of his, causing a tingling to erupt in the pit of her stomach. The evening sunlight illuminated the gold strands in his dark hair. There was a tangible bond between them. Whether it was because they were pushed together by happenstance or magic, she did not know. And, frankly, she didn’t care anymore.

Finally, she shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t.”

He reached for her then, cupping her face in his hands and stepping closer. Her pulse beat at the base of her throat, as though her heart had moved from its usual place. Anticipation swelled through her as he leaned closer. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her lips parted, ready and willing and wanting.

A wicked laugh broke through their happy bubble. Her eyes flew open, meeting his only a moment before he stepped back, pushing her behind him, and wielding his sword. A woman stood several feet away. She was dressed in a black gown. Black feathers plumed from her shoulders, curving upward and swaying with her steps. She wore a black choker around her throat adorned with something that appeared to sparkle. She had long, slender fingers with black nails ending in deadly points. On her head, an onyx crown glittered like mirrored shafts of light.

“How delightful.” Her dark red lips spread in a fiendish smile. “The two of you make such a lovely couple.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Phillip kept the sword pointed at the woman.

“Why, I want the princess. It is her birthday, after all.”

A sudden coldness spread through her as she stared at the woman in front of them. She clutched her elbows. “You’re the dark faery.”

She clucked her tongue and looked wounded. “That is such an ugly phrase. I am Queen Rowena, ruler of the Eternal Court of Faery. And I have come to exact my revenge.”

Rosamund tensed, every muscle going rigid. She glanced at the sky to see the sun dipping closer to the horizon.

If she recalled the curse properly, it was that she would prick her finger on a thorn before the sun set on her eighteenth birthday. There were no thorns here.

“You will stay away from her,” Phillip said.

“How sweet you think you can protect her.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Rosamund asked. “You pushed us together. You sent us on this quest.”

“How clever you are, dear girl. I take many forms. Olga, the old woman, for one. A dragonfly that talked, for another.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

Rosamund gasped. “That was you in the garden! You urged me to run away.”

“Stephan removed all the roses from the castle grounds. I had to do something .”

“Why push us together?” Phillip demanded.

“Because I needed a witness.”

With a wave of her hand, his sword flew from his grasp. It landed several feet away near the queen. Phillip whipped out his dagger, pointing it in her direction. Again, she used her magic to make it fly from his grasp. Defenseless, he pushed his body between Rosamund and the queen as if he were a human shield.

Rowena chanted something under her breath and in an instant, vines sprouted from the ground on either side of the cave opening. As they grew taller and taller, the lethal thorns grew from the stems followed by large, fragrant roses.

Phillip took her by the hand and darted to the left, but more roses grew. He turned to the right. Still more bushes. They were trapped between the roses. The only thing left to do was charge toward the queen who stood with her arms outstretched as she chanted her spell. He cut Rosamund glance. She gave him a go-ahead nod. Together, they bolted toward the queen.

In an instant, she transformed from the queen into a great black dragon. Phillip halted as Rosamund emitted a squeal of surprise. Rowena turned her giant head toward them, her red serpentine eyes piercing them both.

“There is no escape from the curse,” the beast said.

Phillip spun around to her, gripping her by the shoulders. “Run, Rose!”

He gave her a shove away from him. But the scent of roses beckoned her. Fragrant and sweet, the blooms were large, with petals the size of her fist in pink, red, and white. The bushes towered over her, rocking toward her with the breath of the dragon.

“Rose!” he shouted.

The beast chuckled.

She stepped away from him. Her gaze transfixed on the large rosebush to her left. She was dimly aware Phillip tried to move toward her, to reach for her, but the dragon shoved her head between them and snarled a warning.

A voice flickered through her mind. The voice of the dragonfly from the garden. The one that told her to run away and never return. Now it told her to reach for the roses.

“Reach for it. Touch it,” Rowena’s voice urged.

Rosamund stretched out her hand toward the thorn.

“Rose, stop!”

“Enough,” the dragon said on a growl.

She blew out a puff of smoke toward him, encasing him in a thick cloud. Phillip staggered away from the dragon, as though suddenly he was at a great distance. He watched in horror as the space expanded between them, gradually moving the princess farther and farther away from him.

Phillip tried to move toward Rosamund, to stop her from touching the thorn, but he was frozen in place. He felt lightheaded. His vision blurred. His mind was foggy. He couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t force his feet to move to keep her from touching that thorn.

The dragon’s breath must be some type of magic to keep him in place so that he would have to watch as Rose staggered toward that thorny bush with her hand outstretched. Her other hand was still clutched into a tight fist.

Her name slipped from his lips in a plea. But she didn’t hear him. She moved toward the rosebush, toward the one branch that appeared to be reaching back for her with giant pink blooms and thorns so large they looked menacing.

“Touch the thorn,” Rowena urged.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. In his haze, he saw the faery queen had morphed back into her true form and was no longer a dragon. She stood between him and Rosamund, her hands outstretched.

Phillip, in his haze, understood what was happening. Rosamund was under the same type of spell they were under the entire journey. She was compelled to reach for the thorn. Just as he was compelled to remain in place.

He tried to move again, but his limbs were heavy. As though he was trying to walk under water.

The sun dripped closer to the horizon. The day was almost over.

Rosamund, with her hand still outstretched, reached for the bush that shifted toward her, beckoning her closer. Even from his distance, he saw the deadly outline of sharp thorns.

“Touch the thorn, princess,” Rowena urged in a dark and dangerous tone.

He tried to cry out, to warn Rosamund, but his voice was frozen in his throat.

Rosamund’s hand moved closer. The tip of her forefinger touched the largest thorn on the bush. Shocked, she flushed hot as a bead of blood swelled where she pricked it. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tumbled to the ground. Her clutched fist opened and the gold coin rolled out.

The sleeping curse had taken hold of her.

Just as she fell, his eyelids turned to lead and he, too, fell to the ground. His legs were no longer able to hold him upright.

The last thing he heard was Rowena’s distant, triumphant cackle. And then there was nothing at all.