Thornwood by Leah Cypess (read after .txt) 📕

of cake flew out of his hand, skittered across the dance floor, and came to a clinking stop.

Varian lay flat on the floor, his arm stretched out, his body limp and motionless.

Rosalin screamed and threw herself onto Varian, grabbing his hands. His head lolled to one side. His eyes were closed, and his mouth drooped open.

“Varian! My love!” My sister knelt and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I need you. Please, please, wake up!”

Wake up…And she had her ear pressed to his chest. Did that mean she could hear his heart beating?

Either that or she was hysterical and not paying attention to reality. Still, there was at least a fifty percent chance that he was only sleeping.

Not that there was anything only about sleeping. Not in this castle.

I started toward them, but Edwin’s grip on my hand yanked me back. I gave him an annoyed look and pulled free. He grabbed my wrist.

“We need to talk,” he hissed.

“Not now!”

“Especially now! Don’t you understand? That poison was meant for Rosalin!”

I stared at Edwin, then at Varian’s unmoving body. Rosalin wept, her ragged hair falling over her cheeks, doing nothing to hide her anguished expression. On the floor a few feet away from her, a flagstone cracked, and the tip of a thorn branch broke through.

I replayed the last minute in my mind. Varian biting into the frosting. Chewing. Swallowing. And then, just seconds later—

Bile rose into my throat, sharp and sour.

“But I ate the cake,” I said. “You saw me.”

“The poison must have been added afterward. Spread on the frosting, probably.”

“By who?”

“Anyone here. The servants. The castle staff. I’m sorry, Briony, but they hate your sister. They blame her for what happened to them.”

“But—” My eyes went back to the gash in the cake. I had blamed Rosalin, too.

And that was even before I had known it was her fault.

No. Our fault.

Rosalin raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Help me!”

My father got to his feet. My mother grabbed his hand to hold him back. The thorn branch jutting from the ground crept sideways toward Rosalin’s foot.

I shook free of Edwin’s grip, ran across the ballroom, and dropped to my knees next to my sister.

This close, it was clear that Varian was breathing. His chest rose and fell evenly. I was surprised by how relieved I felt.

“Perhaps,” a voice said from above, “we should have skipped dessert.”

I looked up.

The fairy hovered above the cake, translucent wings spread wide. She looked around the ballroom, taking in the gaping faces and the utter silence.

“Tell me,” she said. “Did you enjoy my feast?”

Nobody moved.

“If you’re finished eating,” she added, “you may leave.”

There was a sudden clatter of chairs and a thunder of feet. Within thirty seconds, the ballroom was empty except for me and Rosalin, my parents at their table—and Edwin, still standing where I had left him.

I felt a surge of gratitude. I tried to catch Edwin’s eye, but he was staring at the fairy hovering above me.

“The food was delicious, wasn’t it?” the fairy went on. “I went a little lighter on the spices than I would have preferred. But I figured, when you’re cooking for a crowd…”

“Why?” Rosalin interrupted her. “Why did you do all this?”

The fairy’s yellow eyes went wide. “I did it for you! I am your fairy godmother, after all.”

Rosalin clenched her fists. “What do you want from us?”

“I simply want you to be safe.” The fairy gestured at the remnants of the feast—or maybe at the haphazardly knocked-over chairs; it was hard to tell. “And as I have demonstrated, I can keep you safe. I can maintain you in this castle while you are awake, just as I did when you were asleep. I can give you everything you need to live and be happy.”

The thorn branch touched Rosalin’s toe. The fairy glanced down and waved her hand, and the branch froze, though its tips writhed angrily.

“Can you wake him up?” Rosalin asked.

The fairy blinked at her. “I could do that, yes. Are you sure you want me to?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Rosalin lifted her chin. “I love him.”

“Do you? Even after he told you the truth about himself? How unexpectedly broad-minded of you.”

“I don’t care what he is,” Rosalin said. “He’s still the man who saved me. And nobody deserves to sleep forever.”

“It’s better than being dead,” the fairy said. Her voice went oddly gentle. “Isn’t it?”

Rosalin hid her face in her hands. When it became evident that she wasn’t going to reply, I said, “Would he be dead? Was the poison meant to kill”—I swallowed—“to kill whoever ate it?”

“It was quite deadly,” the fairy said. “It would kill most humans in a heartbeat.”

“Who did it?” I asked. My voice shook.

The fairy shrugged. “There are many angry people in this castle. But you don’t have to worry about them. I will not allow death to befall anyone under my protection. No death, no illness, no old age. You will all be safe and happy and have everything your hearts desire, forever.”

“I won’t have everything my heart desires,” Rosalin said, “if I don’t have him.”

The fairy sighed. “You are missing the point.”

I couldn’t help but agree. “So this is your great idea?” I said to the fairy. “To keep us here forever? That’s not what we want.”

“I’ve told you,” she answered. “The power within the Thornwood is the power of my queen, and it is far stronger than I. I cannot vanquish it. I can only hold it off.”

Or maybe she didn’t want to vanquish it. She wanted us to stay trapped here. Because that way, the fairy queen would be trapped here, too.

I glanced again at the branches clinging to the walls. There were more of them now—almost a dozen—and they were spreading from the ceiling like a gnarled, angry tapestry.

“What do you want from us in return?” I said.

“Nothing,” the fairy said. “I will only need your help to keep the Thornwood from creeping into