Thornwood by Leah Cypess (read after .txt) 📕

roots, and stuff it between her smug red lips. She acted as empty-headed as people assumed she was. As if this was just a grand party, attended by people coming from far and wide to admire her beauty. As if there were nothing to be afraid of.

Which left me to be afraid all by myself.

That was easier to do if I was actually by myself. And at last, I was. My ladies were busy with their clothes, my parents were busy with their preparations, and my sister had barely glanced at me since morning. It had been all too easy to slip away.

Good, I told myself. That’s exactly what I want.

Normally the courtyard was a bustling place, especially on a brisk fall morning like this one. But today it was empty. I assumed that was because everyone was inside getting ready for Rosalin’s party. A few colorful leaves floated past my shoulder, twirling and twisting as they fell. The air was cool and moist, disturbed only by the restless buzzing of insects. Above me, the foliage was an interlocking design of brilliant colors against a mostly gray sky.

An arc of blackness cut through the gray: a raven, soaring in a slow graceful spiral between leaves and sky. As I watched, the great black bird swooped low. It landed on one of the tower windows.

But there was something wrong. That bird was too big to be a raven….

It cocked its head and looked straight at me, and then it wasn’t a bird at all. It was a woman—a creature that looked like a woman—with shimmering dragonfly wings whirring behind her back.

She beckoned at me, and then she slipped through the window, into the tower, and disappeared.

I gasped.

“Are you all right?” Edwin said. He was watching me closely, his eyebrows drawn together.

“I…” I couldn’t breathe.

“Briony?” Rosalin said worriedly.

“I’m fine.” I would sort out the memory later. I didn’t have time for it, not right now, not right here. The thorn branches weren’t just outside the castle anymore. They filled the doorway, and several snaked along the inside wall, clinging to the edges of the thick tapestries. “Let’s get started.”

Varian picked up the sword and swung it awkwardly. Its point hit a vase and sent it flying. The vase shattered on the marble floor with a crash that made me jump, and a spray of flowers and colorful glass ricocheted across the entrance hall.

“Give me some room,” Varian said.

We hastily complied. I backed up so far that my shoulder blades hit one of the tapestries. Edwin joined me a second later, his arm pressed against mine. Even Rosalin took several long strides back, though she kept her eyes fixed trustingly on her prince.

Varian glanced at her, and his face twisted with what I thought might be guilt. Or maybe I was just projecting my own feelings onto him.

“I’m not afraid,” Rosalin assured him. “I trust you. Keep going.”

“Rosalin,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Not now,” Rosalin said firmly. “There will be time for that later, once we’re free.”

Varian turned back to the door. He stepped forward and swung the sword at the thick, impenetrable mass of brambles.

It went through them like a knife through butter. Like they were nothing. The branches he cut through fell away, and then the branches below them crumbled.

The ground beneath was white cobblestone speckled with black, just like I remembered.

I gasped. “You did it!”

Varian looked over his shoulder and grinned. He stepped forward and swung the sword again.

When Edwin had used the sword, he had only managed to injure the branches and make them retreat. But in Varian’s hand, the sword seemed barely to touch the thorns before they disintegrated.

Another step, and he was standing on the cobblestones. Outside the castle.

There was still a mass of sharp, tangled forest in front of him, branches arcing over his head and casting him in shadow. But the space behind him was clear, the ground bare, bumpy dirt and mud.

Edwin let out a relieved breath. “I have to admit,” he said, “I didn’t expect this to work.”

“You didn’t?” I said. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t think anyone would listen to me.” He grinned. “I’m sure that’s never stopped you.”

There was something easy and unguarded in his tone. As if now that Varian was opening a path to the outside world, that strange future world where I wasn’t a princess and there was little difference between kings and commoners, we were already on equal terms.

I found that I liked it. I returned Edwin’s grin. “All right,” I said. “Let’s go tell my parents that we know how to fight the Thornwood. Then we can make a plan to get everyone out of—”

“No.” Rosalin’s voice sliced through mine. “We keep going.”

Varian blinked. “But I thought—”

“Don’t stop.” She strode forward, stumbling as she did—Rosalin, who was so graceful she made walking look like dancing. “Cut a path straight through the woods, and we can walk out on the other side.”

The sword dipped, and Varian strained to lift it. “But your father—”

“My father can’t save me! He tried, and he failed. Nobody can help me, Varian.” Her voice caught on a sob. “Nobody but you.”

Varian’s jaw tightened. He turned and swung again. The stroke was awkward and a little wobbly, but the thorn branches in front of him melted away.

“Do you really think,” Edwin demanded, “he can keep this up long enough to cut all the way through?”

He had a good point. Varian’s shoulders were already shaking.

But I didn’t see how I could stop this. Nothing I said to Varian would mean anything, set against Rosalin’s pleas or the tears now trickling down her cheeks.

So instead, I crossed the hall and grabbed Rosalin’s hand. She shook her arm free and stepped closer to Varian.

This time, when he swung the sword, it shook so badly that even I could have knocked it out of his hands. But another chunk of the Thornwood gave way.

“Rosalin,” I said. “Tell him