Thornwood by Leah Cypess (read after .txt) 📕

I started wrapping the bandage around his left hand, pulling a little tighter than was absolutely necessary. “What are you saying? That you don’t like her?”

“No! She seems very nice. And she’s extremely beautiful. I mean, obviously she’s beautiful, that’s the whole point of—ouch!”

I loosened up on the bandage. “You had better not hurt her.”

“Why would I hurt her?”

Not a good enough answer. I stopped wrapping the bandage. “Swear to me that you won’t, or I’ll tell her the truth.”

Whatever he saw on my face made Varian’s eyes widen.

“I swear,” he said. “I’ll never deliberately hurt her.”

I finished the bandage, tucked in the loose end, and examined my handiwork. It would not have been adequate if he had really been injured, but as a disguise, it would do. Medical techniques were not on the list of things Rosalin paid attention to.

“All right,” I said. Ceramic crunched under my shoes as I headed to the door. “Let’s go get that sword, and let’s get my sister. And then let’s cut our way out of here.”

We found Rosalin in her room with four of her ladies, standing in front of her mirror in a voluminous gown. It was covered with so many white pearls that I couldn’t tell what fabric the actual dress was made of. The ladies-in-waiting fluttered around her, making adjustments to her sleeves.

“Oh, Your Highness,” one said. “You look so lovely.” She was the lady I had seen earlier, the one who had been crying when she ran down the hall. Her face was wiped clean of tears now, and her voice was light, with only a slight tautness to her face to show how she was really feeling. “Your prince will fall in love with you all over again.”

“He’ll marry you in a heartbeat,” said another. She knelt to examine the gown’s hem, and I saw that her cheeks were streaked red, as if she, too, had scrubbed away tears. “And when he does, the Thornwood will dissolve and we will all be free.”

So that was the story going around? Convenient. Though judging by the grim expression on the other two ladies’ faces, I suspected that not everybody believed it.

Still, here they were, fussing with Rosalin’s gown like it actually mattered what she wore.

I felt a tinge of scorn, but then I saw the first lady swallow hard and press the back of her hand to her mouth. Her expression reminded me of Edwin’s as he struggled to hide his fear, and I was suddenly ashamed of myself. Of course they were doing what they were trained for, and telling themselves it might help. What else were they supposed to do?

“Rosalin,” I said from the doorway. Edwin stood next to me, but Varian hung back with a nervous expression on his face, as if he was afraid I would change my mind and tell Rosalin the truth. (Which was smart of him. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t.) “I need to talk to you.”

Rosalin turned—carefully, because one of her ladies was arranging her hair. Varian was standing behind the open door, so she couldn’t see him, but she flicked her gaze at Edwin. “Who’s this?”

“This is Edwin. He’s, um, a servant.” I glanced at Edwin to see if he would take offense at that. He didn’t seem to. He was staring at Rosalin with a slack-jawed amazement that was very familiar to me. It’s the way everyone reacts when they get their first close-up look at my sister.

Mostly I don’t mind, but sometimes it irritates me. This was one of those times.

Rosalin gave Edwin a dismissive look, then focused on me. “What’s with your hair today? It looks like—like—”

“Like it was pulled out by magical thorn branches?” I suggested.

She blinked. “Well, yes. Exactly like that. Maybe one of my ladies can help you make it presentable.”

Her ladies gave each other despairing looks.

Edwin looked at me, confused. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

“Your ladies are busy,” I said to my sister. “For starters, it will take them at least an hour to make that dress look less ridiculous.”

Rosalin sniffed and ran her hands over her skirt. “I wouldn’t expect you to know it, but this dress is the height of fashion.”

“The height of fashion over a hundred years ago. Prince Varian will probably die laughing when he sees you.”

Varian made a low, strangled sound.

“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” one of the ladies-in-waiting said reassuringly. “Prince Varian will be enchanted. We just need to choose a necklace.”

“Ooooh,” I said. “I hope you have one with pearls.”

Rosalin whirled. The motion shook several pearls loose, and they slid off her dress and rolled along the floor. One of her ladies scrambled to pick them up.

“Why don’t you just leave?” Rosalin snapped. “Nobody needs you here. Go annoy someone else.”

My chest went tight. “You do need me, actually. Even if you find that hard to believe.”

She snorted, and two of the ladies-in-waiting tittered.

I clenched my fists. But really, what had I expected? Rosalin thought this was all about her, her fairy godmother and her dark curse and her dashing prince. I was just the insignificant little sister, who could never say or do anything important. Everyone thought so.

None of the stories mentions you.

But everyone was wrong. I was a princess just like her. I had even woken up before she had. And I was the one who was going to get us out of here.

The fairy’s musical voice sounded in my memory: Maybe today you’re the important one.

Something sharp and bitter and red-hot came bubbling out of me, searing my insides and spilling out of my mouth.

“You know what?” I said. “I wish the prince hadn’t saved you. I wish you were still asleep!”

“Think for a second,” Rosalin said cuttingly. “If I were asleep, you’d still be asleep, too.”

“IT WOULD BE WORTH IT!”

She rolled her eyes. “Go fix your dress and fix your hair and fix your attitude, Briony. It’s more important than ever