Thornwood by Leah Cypess (read after .txt) 📕

woken before the spell broke. That the fairy godmother, after waking me, had asked me to spin for her. What if that was why she hadn’t moved me? So I could spin?

Maybe today you’re the important one.

A shiver ran up the back of my neck. I hadn’t, after all, done what the fairy wanted. And she was still in the castle, somewhere….

A flash of color in the corner of my eye. I whirled, my heart pounding. But it was only Edwin, holding up a section of Rosalin’s delicate lace bed canopy and staring at it like he had never seen fine fabric before. When he saw me looking at him, he flushed and dropped it.

Rosalin went behind the screens to change, and I stepped closer to Varian. I spoke in a low voice. “As soon as we’re free, you need to tell her the truth.”

“Once we’re free,” he said, “it won’t matter anymore.”

“What does that—”

Rosalin stepped out from behind the screen, wearing a pink dress. It was as ridiculously covered with ruffles as the white dress had been with pearls, but at least the ruffles wouldn’t go flying off the dress every time she moved.

“All right,” she said. “I’m ready to be rescued.”

She was speaking to Varian. But I was the one who led us out the door in the direction of the castle entrance.

In the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, we passed the royal treasurer, who was looking dour. That wasn’t unusual. He had been under great stress my entire life, and met with my parents several times a year to beg them to revoke the spinning wheel ban. He said it was destroying the kingdom’s economy.

As we rushed by him, Rosalin tripped and flew forward. Varian lunged for her, too late. Luckily, since she had changed her dress, no one got hit by any flying pearls. But the thud as her knees hit the rug made me wince.

Varian grabbed Rosalin’s arm and pulled her to her feet. She shook him off and glared at the retreating treasurer. “You tripped me!”

The treasurer glared right back at her, then kept walking. He rounded a corner and disappeared.

Rosalin gasped. “How dare he!”

“It’s all right,” Varian said soothingly. “I’m sure it was an accident.” He looked at me as if for confirmation.

I hadn’t seen what happened, but I didn’t really care. We had bigger problems than my sister’s outraged dignity. “Yes,” I said. “He should have apologized, but we’ll tell Father, and he’ll deal with it. Once we’re out.”

Rosalin sniffed and straightened her skirt. “Where was he coming from, anyhow? There’s nothing down that hall but the kennels and the gardens.”

Rosalin was right. What could the treasurer possibly have to say to the kennel master or the gardener? He considered himself high above their station.

Then again, he no longer had too many choices about who to talk to.

“Let’s keep going,” Varian said. “It doesn’t really matter.”

I wasn’t quite as confident in our ability to figure out what mattered. But that wasn’t why I remained where I was, looking down the hall and frowning. I was remembering the last time Twirtle had escaped, when we found him in the gardener’s workshop, going through one of the seed packets. The gardener had not been happy, either about her missing seeds or about the bird poop on her floor.

“You know what?” I said. “Before we do this, we should go see the royal gardener.”

“Why?” Varian said.

I had a feeling no one would be too thrilled about prioritizing a bird at a time like this. And they would be right, which would make it difficult to argue with them. So I said, “We’re headed into a magical forest. A gardener might have some useful tips, don’t you think?”

Varian looked skeptical. “Is she a magical gardener?”

“Not as far as I know.” (Actually, I knew perfectly well she wasn’t, but that would just lead to some more predictable and impossible-to-argue-with-because-they-were-true objections.) “I think we should talk to her.”

“No,” Rosalin said. “We know how to deal with the Thornwood. We have the sword. That’s all we need.”

“But—”

“No, Briony!” She strode ahead of us, her pink ruffles swishing against the rug.

“Well,” Edwin said. “I’m glad someone’s confident.”

Varian hefted his sword and strode after Rosalin. Edwin and I exchanged a glance; then we shrugged simultaneously and followed them.

As soon as we stepped into the castle entrance hall, I knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as I’d thought.

And I hadn’t really thought it was going to be that simple.

The hall was echoingly empty. There were no guards at the front gate, and none of the usual maids sweeping the floor. The front doors were open, but I couldn’t see the courtyard through them. The doorway was covered by a wall of thorns, thick and solid, spikes and coiled branches forming an elaborate, grotesque design.

Other people had tried to get out before us. There were scraps of cloth caught in the brambles, and several of the thorns glistened wetly, covered with what I was pretty sure was blood. My heart stopped for a moment, but there was nothing yellow, and there were no feathers at all.

On the morning of Rosalin’s birthday, I had opened the castle doors onto the courtyard, the ground slick and shiny with rain, shouts and neighs from the stables drifting through the warm air. The memory hit me suddenly, vivid but distant. Like something that had happened a very long time ago and gotten frozen in my mind.

I was alone, finally. The last few days had been a chaos of fittings and cleaning, baking and decorating. Nothing mattered except Rosalin’s party. The castle was all glitter and bustle and excitement, with a constant sour undercurrent of fear.

And Rosalin! She’d been avoiding me since morning, and the one time we’d met, she’d told me to try braiding my hair, which made me want to grab her hair, yank it out by the