A Kingdom of Thorns Read online

  A Kingdom of Thorns

  by F.S. Gallagher

  Copyright © 2019 F.S. Gallagher

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  Somerfield

  Belle stood by the window in the northwest tower of the castle, waiting for first light. Before her lay the rolling hills and terraced steppes of her kingdom, the kingdom of Lyons. At that time of the morning the landscape was a ruddy collection of blues and purples, with nothing quite clear. She knew the sun would bring to life the trees and gardens, the clever little wooden bridges and the ancient fountain. The bougainvillea would resume its battle with the castle walls below her room as the finches and song birds continued with their colorful dive bombing tactics. In the palace at Ravana there weren’t very many birds, just vultures that hopped menacingly along the railings, looking for the next poor soul to feast on. She tried to put the capital city out of her mind as she opened the window, taking a deep breath of the late spring air.

  Here, in this place, she could ignore her messy room and the frightening state of her desk for as long as she wanted to. There were no balls to attend, and no boring plays to sit through, which brought a smile to her face. Tossing a ribbon around her hair she slipped into a plain blue dress, grabbed her tattered copy of “The Collected Tales of the Enchanted Lands”, and dashed down the tower steps. Struggling past the door at the bottom she tumbled out of it, landing neatly on the outstretched arm of a member of the Royal Guard.

  “Thank you!” She called out as she raced for the patio. He waved in acknowledgement, then went back to his watch. Taking a seat at the very last table she crossed her legs and opened her book. With the early morning breeze at her back she disappeared into a different world. What started as a sliver of gold at the top of the page widened until the fragile paper was almost translucent in the light. Soon, the whole patio radiated, and Belle sighed with happiness as she stood to unwind an umbrella for some much-needed shade. Her brother appeared while she was working, only to have his hand batted away as he reached forward to help.

  “Good morning to you too, dear sister.” Prince Dane announced with a bemused expression. Belle finished up her task and gave him a great hug. Her nose scrunched up as she pulled away.

  “You stink.” She said pointedly. He laughed, looking down at what he considered a rather exquisite get up.

  “They’re hunting clothes Belle, they’re not going to smell like roses.”

  “Oh. Are you going with Tristan?” She asked, pausing with her hand over her book. She hadn’t seen much of her eldest brother, the crown prince, since he got married months ago. He had agreed to come to Somerfield on vacation with her, as had Dane and his betrothed, but she had yet to speak to him. She spent more time talking to his wife, something she was not entirely grateful for.

  “I suppose, whenever his ‘lordship’ emerges from his wing.” Dane replied, and Belle flopped back into her seat.

  “Have fun.” She announced, diving back into her book without further ado. The prince chuckled some more as he started towards the castle, but then he turned around halfway through and jogged back up to his sister.

  “Yula-alert.” He whispered before taking off quickly. Her head snapped up just in time to catch a glimpse of Yula’s formidable frown before it was bearing down on her. No matter the weather, or the state of affairs, Yula Behr was always dressed in black. It gave her the effect of some sort of royal grim reaper, floating around the grounds ready to suck out the soul of any fun-loving princes or princesses nearby.

  “It is time to be made ready Princess.” She stated firmly.

  Belle snapped her book shut, though she stayed where she was.

  “Yula, we’re on vacation.” She whined as her mother’s hand-picked hand maiden reached for her.

  “Yes, and you never know when a lord from a neighboring house may stop to visit, come.”

  “Alright.” Belle groaned but got up anyway, taking her time stretching in the sun. When she was ready they strolled around the grounds and back into the castle, where Belle was dropped into a cushioned chair so the process could begin.

  A huge mirror was dragged in front of her, reflecting her apathy. She didn’t blink as Yula’s hands flew in all directions, pulling this and poking that. It didn’t matter the castle or the estate, “The Princessing” always happened. Sometimes it was all the princesses at once, and the Queen, and on rare occasions the whole family joined in. Those were the only times Belle looked forward to it. Her father, King Mercellus, would be pulling at robes that were too small, complaining about the seamstresses with red cheeks. Her brother Alcide would be doing much the same thing, but for a different reason, thanks to his herculean form. Dane and formerly Tristan would mug for the court ladies, flexing their muscles while they were primped. Luna would lecture, Cindi would take it far too seriously, and Queen Maliyah would turn her nose up at everyone as Belle struggled not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

  It wasn’t so bad at Somerfield though, at the very least Yula was fast and efficient. There was nothing worse than when it was just Belle and the Queen. She looked very much like her mother, as did Alcide and Luna, but Belle the most. Queen Maliyah had once upon a time been a Dovish princess, before escaping the sands and making her way to the capital of the kingdom of Lyons. Belle and two of her siblings shared the cinnamon colored skin of the since conquered White Dove desert tribe, the wide brown eyes and pouted lips, while the other three looked much more like their father. They were lighter skinned, with narrow eyes that seemed to always be calculating, and stronger faces. It made Belle uncomfortable to sit beside just her mother and their reflections. She felt she couldn’t be herself with such a strong suggestion right in front of her.

  “You are free to go-” Yula began and Belle jumped up, clad in a white dress with flowers sewn into the bodice, her thick, dark hair brushed to shining perfection. “After you eat something Princess.” She finished, leading Belle over to a table bowing with fruit and bread and honey.

  “Only if you’ll join me Yula.” The princess coalesced when her condition was met and together they ate in contented silence. When she was finally released from her royal coil Belle darted out of the castle and set right to work undoing the fruits of her servant’s labor. Tying her hair back up she expertly climbed one of the many stone walls around the castle. Tip-toeing across it she skipped over to her favorite spot. It had been part of a playground for them when they were younger, but had since been turned into an area for sport. Not everything had been torn down though, and just past the end of the fairyball court, over an iron bench and a few overgrown trees a portion of the structure remained. Climbing in to her watchtower, Belle settled under a dusty patch of sunlight and went back to her tales.

  As a sixteen-year-old princess, she knew she probably should’ve had other pursuits but there were none that appealed to her so much as her stories. The only thing she ever missed about Ravana was the library there. The King was nothing if not thorough in ensuring Belle’s happiness at all times, and that meant a collection of books so grand she could read a new one every day for the rest of her days and never read the same story twice. But she did, read the same stories twice that is. Certain ones, with peculiar characters and peculiar places. As a kingdom Lyons wasn’t terribly exciting, but there was infinite excitement in her books. She stayed hidden in her hollow until the sound of Yula’s voice calling her name penetrated the old wood and reached her ears.

  Quickly, she climbed back out of the crow’s nest and loosed her hair, taking the civilized way ‘round the sporting area and towards the castle proper. Belle emerged near the patio with nary a stick in her hair.

  “Isobel, didn’t you hear me calling you, my lady?” Yula glowered at her and Belle smiled innocently.

  “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” She replied.

  “Hmph. You’ll be late for your afternoon tea with Lady Marchand and Lady Osha, now get moving princess.” Belle did as she was told, but hearing Esolde referred to as “Lady Marchand” was still fumbling its way through her brain. Tristan was the first of her siblings to get married, so she supposed she would have to get used to it. She rolled the phrase around in her mind as she made for the east tower, where perfumed teas and cakes awaited her.

  Belle did take her time getting there, choosing to dance through the shifting squares of light that stretched across the floor, let in by the arched windows. With the heavy curtains, and the carpet, and so much dark elm, the halls of Somerfield made her think of being in a hollow of sorts, like a castle for rabbits or other small creatures. The thought put her in a good mood as she got ready to enter the wafting room. It wouldn’t be long, she told herself. Smoothing out her dress she plastered a smile on and made her entrance.

  The ladies sat perched at a table that was much too small for the space, with Lady Osha awash in blue and Esolde in her trademark red. Baring his teeth and trembling in her arms lay Trevor, the only dog whose company Belle didn’t enjoy.

  “Belle! There you are!” Esolde’s grin mirrored her pets’ while Lady Osha gave her a proper smile. Belle returned it gratefully as she waded through a sea of ladies-in-waiting, engulfed by fabric and skirts. It was always uncomfortable, with the bowed heads and murmurs of “your Highness” or “long live the king” and Belle walked quickly. They exchanged kisses and pleasantries before she joined them in front of the shining pastries and steaming tea cups.

  She sat between the two noblewomen, accepting her fate. Lady Esol
de hailed from the cold reaches of the north, though exactly where Belle wasn’t quite sure. Her hair fell between red and blonde, framing sharp eyes and a smattering of freckles across a delicate face. She was very tall, which was fitting, as she preferred to look down on everyone else. On Belle’s left hand side sat Lady Osha, who came all the way from the sunny, tropical kingdom of Yoru Bay, far to the west of Lyons, past the Solomon Sea. The young lady was sweet and often dreamy, with eyes of an inscrutable color and dreadlocs that only occasionally heeded her command. She did have a great energy about her, and Belle was admittedly a little envious of the ease with which she carried herself.

  “So, what did I miss?” The princess went for a light-hearted approach that paid off when Osha replied delightedly.

  “My dress is finished!” She announced, sending their entourages into a tizzy. Belle squeezed her hands, unable to hold back a grin of her own. Though usually roughshod, Dane was very gentle with Osha, and Belle could see that he cared for her deeply. It was a marriage ceremony she wasn’t dreading.

  “It’s wonderful isn’t it? With Tristan at Lyonneshold, and Dane a new lord of the Bay, the kingdom will never be safer.” Esolde cut through Osha’s excited chatter after a few minutes, sipping her tea.

  “Well, it’s only right. He is the best sailor in all the land after all.” The bride-to-be had stars in her eyes, while the bride had cutting knives.

  “That he may be,” Esolde began, sitting a little straighter in her chair. “But he is no match for my Tristan with a sword or a lance.”

  Belle gulped her tea down, removing herself from the equation by stuffing a whole sweet roll into her mouth.

  “Be that as it may, no one can best Prince Dane with a dagger.” The chink of poorly treated china rang out as Osha put her cup down and Belle chewed faster. Apparently, both of her brothers were the best at making women act like fools.

  “All the same, Lord Tristan is the greatest warrior in the kingdom, and the protector of all the realm.” Esolde shot back. With an inward sigh Belle ran out of pastry and was forced to enter the fray.

  “Their heads are big enough already if you ask me.” She joked before quickly changing the subject. “How are Cindi and Luna?” Belle asked after her sisters and Lady Osha took the bait at least.

  “You know Cindi, she’s still busy auditioning every handsome young man in the kingdom for a role in her great show.” Osha replied and Esolde nodded approvingly.

  “Why not? She can have the best of the best.” The ice queen smirked. “The strongest knight, or the richest lord-”

  “You mean, someone who loves her.” Osha corrected and Esolde looked offended. The legion of handmaidens separated, drifting off to have their ladies’ backs like so many disapproving apparitions.

  “And Luna?” Belle prodded, desperate to keep things on track. Osha sighed but stuck with the program.

  “Still begging your father for peace with the desert tribes. Poor thing.” Osha answered, shaking her head.

  “She’s a silly girl. She knows not the first thing about ruling a kingdom.” Esolde tossed out and Osha lifted her shoulder in a shrug.

  “It isn’t always about the whole river. Streams bring us fresh water, don’t they?” Lady Osha replied.

  The point went right over Esolde’s head and there was a terrible silence that stretched on as she scowled. Belle gazed longingly at the clock ticking on the wall, hoping one more cup of tea would bring her salvation.

  “So, what about you my darling girl? There are no sons of Lyons that have caught your eye?” Osha blurted just as things were starting to get painful, turning her full radiant attention to the wilting Belle. The Princess’s heart dropped into her shoes.

  “Oh no, not yet.” She replied softly. Esolde took no notice and seized upon the topic with vigor.

  “You’re old enough now, princess, that you must begin to take these things very seriously.” For once she sounded sincere as she took Belle’s hand. Belle worked to turn a grimace into something more pleasant, fidgeting hard under the table.

  “She should take her time, why not date around and see what’s out there?” Lady Osha offered and the war of the ladies came to an end as their servants tittered. Belle felt only a slight release in pressure since Lady Marchand’s gaze still bored into her.

  “Marriage is the most important part of a princess’s life. You must marry and raise children. It is your sacred duty to the kingdom Belle.” Esolde’s grip became painful on Belle’s fingers. She kept silent, recoiling at the thought of becoming a prince and princess factory.

  “I’m sure we will have plenty of little Marchand’s running about the palace soon.” Belle replied in a high-pitched tone, looking to Osha for support.

  “Ah! Of course! I do hope our boys look just like their father.” Osha swooned. “Don’t you, Esolde?”

  The lady in red shot her a cold glare, retaining her hold on the princess.

  “Of course, I do.” She replied dismissively. Belle’s hands were starting to sweat, and she slowly pulled them from Esolde, folding them in her lap as she eyed the exit.

  “Listen Belle, while you are young and beautiful you should use what you have to get what you want. Find a good lord, who can provide for you. As you get older you will only become less attractive. Take care that you aren’t left with the brutes and the beasts.” Esolde declared and Belle nodded mechanically in response, but her breath started to come quicker.

  “Oh Esolde! Don’t frighten the girl! She’ll never marry if you keep this up. There, there.” Osha reached out to pat Belle’s shoulder and it did bring the princess some small comfort. Belle cleared her throat.

  “If you will excuse me, it’s just about time for my lesson.” She stood up.

  “Are you still up to that Belle?” Esolde asked and Osha waved her off.

  “Leave her be. I think it’s quite nice of the King.” She said, leaning in to kiss Belle goodbye.

  “Good day ladies, thank you for the pleasure of your company.” Belle announced and a rush of relief went through her when she finally emerged on the other side of the sea of maidens. As she walked out the door she heard Esolde’s unmistakable edge once more,

  “A princess has no need for such things. The sooner she learns, the better.”

  Gritting her teeth Belle nearly ran through the castle, breathing deeply again only when she emerged on the grounds. Her father had allowed Ser Faunus to accompany them, and he stayed in a small house on the edge of Somerfield Castle. While she made her way there her mind wandered to her books, but instead of romance or adventure she could think only of the monsters and villains. Though the afternoon was warm, a chill ran down her back. She found that she was sweating by the time she reached the small bungalow, having walked hard to get away from the phantom shadows. It still wasn’t quite enough for her teacher.

  “You’re late, Princess.” Ser Faunus droned in his ever-present monotone when Belle swung into the study.

  “Sorry. Tea party.” She panted as took a seat on a tiny wooden stool, excited to see an easel before her.

  “You’re rarely on time, Princess.” He stated matter-of-factly, chomping down on a green salad as he mixed paints from his position at the front of the room.

  She bowed her head but it went unnoticed by Ser Faunus. He continued to move along at his mystically slow pace, giving Belle plenty of time to collect herself.

  “What are we painting today Ser Faunus?” She asked when he was ready, poking her head around her easel.

  “A most wondrous thing. It is perfectly balanced, simple but fine.” With his previous enthusiasm Ser Faunus prepared bright blotches of red, green, and brown upon his palette. He could nearly rest it on his round stomach, which was somehow supported by rather thin, bent legs. Belle couldn’t fathom a guess on how long he had been teaching in Lyons, but it seemed to her that it might’ve been legendary.

  “A flower that speaks of promise and hope, whose budding brings forth a most fruitful season.” He continued, taking a chair, and Belle frowned a little.

  “Well, what is it?” She blurted and Ser Faunus gazed at her over his spectacles.

  “…a rose.” He replied after some time had passed.