A painful breath surges through my throat. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
Suddenly, one bramble extends and hovers right below me. A footrest.
“Great. A sentient thorn.” I sigh. “I must not fear.”
With the Dune mantra playing in my head, I turn around so my knees are on the window and I’m facing into my cell. I brace my hands on either side and lower my foot onto the bramble.
It holds. Okay. My whole body shaking, I lower my other foot onto the bramble. I haven’t plummeted to my death Mufasa-style yet, so that’s something. Next step: hand grips. I reach over with my right hand and find a sturdy branch, careful to steer clear of the huge thorns. Then I maneuver my body away from the window and grasp tightly to brambles.
Suddenly, the window emits a shimmering glow and shrinks again. Alright, guess I’m all in now.
Look at me. The girl who barely passed gym class scaling the side of a castle like I’m mother-fucking Robin Hood. Though I’m sure Robin Hood never had to worry about his pretty scarf getting tangled on outrageously huge thorns or his thick thighs shaking with each step.
Hand, foot. Hand, foot. Hand, foot. Each movement is agonizingly slow as I carefully descend the makeshift ladder. I don’t dare look at how close I am to the bridge. All I can concentrate on is one movement at a time. A huge gust of wind blows, and I scream, the brambles pulling away from the castle in a deadly crescendo. I hold on, slamming against the strange mix of stone and bark.
“I can do this,” I strangle out and continue descending.
Hand, foot. Hand, foot. Hand, foot. Hand, foo—
“Aah!” I scream as a bramble breaks beneath my weight. I lose grip and fall, my body tearing against the thorns as I slide down, down, down.
I smack hard against stone. Blinking in disbelief, I take in a shaky breath, realizing I’ve landed on the bridge. It was right below me.
“I’m alive!” I give a maniacal laugh. The window is barely in sight above me. Damn, I climbed far. Take that, Ms. Kimmer, and your ‘lack of participation in gym’ comment on my report card.
I spin around and face the briar. No sign of Keldarion. This is my chance.
Freedom.
My hair and scarf fly behind me as I sprint forward. I run faster than I ever have in my life, careening toward the bramble-covered statues. I’m scraped and bruised from the fall, muscles tight and sore, but I’m alive and I’m free, I’m free, I’m free—
Suddenly, something steps out from behind the statue and slams into me.
10
Rosalina
“Oof!”Ifallontomy ass, feeling like I collided with a boulder. Before I can register anything, a presence towers over me. My throat constricts, and I’m too terrified to even scream.
The being blocks out the sunlight, covering me in shadow. A man… At least, I think so. I can’t really tell because he’s dressed in metal armor from his boots to the shimmering gunmetal gray helmet. His helmet is square, intricately etched with petals and vines. A T-shaped visor made of dark glass is the only indication he’s able to see out of the thing. The rest of the armor is engraved with delicate scrollwork and elegantly curved floral designs that flow seamlessly across the surface. Each piece sits snugly against the others, as though molded to fit him perfectly.
The knight is so tall, I have to lift my chin to keep sight of him. He steps toward me again, like a cat preparing to devour a mouse. A long black cape drips behind him like a shadow.
“W-who are you?” I manage.
The knight doesn’t respond. I intake a deep breath. Is it Keldarion? No, the master of the castle was wider in the shoulders. Maybe he’s a visitor and doesn’t know I’m a prisoner…
I roll over onto all fours and push myself up. “I was just leaving—”
The knight lunges for me. His hand, covered in shiny iron gauntlets, wraps around my throat and slams me into the bridge’s stone barricade. Brambles crack behind me.
I gasp for air, but his grip is so tight, I can barely suck in a breath. The knight lifts me until my feet dangle helplessly. I scratch at his hand but it’s no use.
“Who are you?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”
His voice shudders through me, and chills ripple up my spine. It’s hauntingly calm and smooth despite the reverberation of his helmet.
“Are you a spy for the Prince of Thorns? Another one of his gifts?” His grip tightens, and he slams me harder against the barrier. “Answer me.”