A Kingdom of Thorns Read online

“Oh.” She said in a small voice, then when right to mixing paint. Belle was fairly certain that time moved slower in the bungalow, likely influenced by its chief inhabitant. Despite her impudent start to the afternoon she soon settled in to a languid landscape of brush strokes and buzzing, courtesy of the insects hovering ‘round the windows. There was no chance of the Queen calling on her that afternoon, no gowns to be fitted for, nor pock-marked young lords to entertain, and her paint brush flew accordingly. She followed the outline of her instructor with her tongue between her teeth, lost in her work.

  It wasn’t her strongest suit, but Belle smiled widely when she sat back from her creation some time later. Ser Faunus shuffled over to his student so he could appraise her work. While she waited Belle looked over every crimson petal, worrying over the stem and leaves with minute movements.

  Ser Faunus stroked his bearded chin while he looked it over.

  “Hmm, well crafted, yes. You are improving. I see you took great care with the bud itself, however,” He paused and Belle looked up quizzically. The instructor met her gaze, his expression reproachful.

  “…it is not a proper rose then is it my lady?”

  She tilted her head, re-evaluating what she thought to be a lovely enough flower.

  “I think it looks quite nice.” Belle insisted when she couldn’t find anything outwardly wrong with it. Ser Faunus removed his spectacles, huffing on them before giving them a good cleaning. Another lifetime passed while he looked upon it with newer eyes and Belle chewed her lip.

  “You’ve forgotten the thorns, Princess.” He pointed out finally, clasping his hands behind his back. Belle’s brow furrowed.

  “I see.” She replied, looking down at her palette. She’d placed no dark color there, and couldn’t now think of marring her bright, hopeful rose with such painful additions.

  “…I think I like it better this way.” Belle pressed on, her spirits lifted by the willful act of doing something simply because it pleased her, other’s opinions be damned. A few of her teacher’s wrinkles deepened in response and a disapproving cluck escaped him.

  “A rose without thorns is a thing of fantasy my lady.”

  “Then it is a fantastic rose!” She declared, putting her palette down with satisfaction.

  “Today’s lesson was not of fantastic flowers. Do try to keep your feet on the ground in the future my liege.”

  “Yes, Ser Faunus.” She replied automatically, but as she stood to clean up her workspace the rose still brought a hidden smile to her face.

  Bidding Ser Faunus adieu Belle hastily tracked down “The Collected Tales” and retired to another one of her favorite spots. Far from the prying eyes of her keeper Belle hopped up onto a castle fence, returning to the weathered pages. The day passed her by in Somerfield fashion, and she only looked up again when the clatter of hooves reached her ears. The sun was low in the sky behind him as Prince Dane rode in ahead of the royal guard, whooping and hollering.

  In anticipation Belle closed her book, putting it against her back where it would be safe from harm. Seeing that he was beat Dane settled for leaping from the back of his steed instead, backflipping into her presence. His clothes were filthy but his hands were clean at least as he offered her a bouquet of wild flowers.

  “Princess Isobel, a gift for you, from your humble servant.” With a deep bow, he handed them to her.

  “Why, thank you.” Grinning, she let him help her down from the fence, taking care to avoid his bloody gear.

  “Shall we prepare for dinner?” He asked as he unburdened his mount, passing off a few suspiciously lumpy bags to his men. Belle side-stepped them, skipping in front of her brother before the “my lady” wars could begin.

  “That depends, what have you got?” She replied. Dane shrugged.

  “A few choice morsels. But I tell you, my back does not appreciate Tristan’s distraction of late.” He griped and Belle couldn’t help but stare at him, a half smile on her face.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He demanded as she twirled his gift around en route to the castle.

  “…you’re going to be the one missing all the game soon. Surely we shall never eat again.” She lamented and Dane reached out to yank her hair as realization dawned on his face.

  “And how did that go this afternoon?” He asked, chuckling.

  “Oh, you know, the usual. Find myself a nice lord before I wither away into an old hag that no one wants.” She replied, clutching her book to her chest. “Almost felt like home.” She added after a pause.

  “And what’s so wrong with that might I ask?” He chose to ignore the latter part of her statement, regarding his sister with something resembling a serious expression, or as close to one as Prince Dane could achieve. Belle slowed down, gazing at the ground beneath her feet.

  “Nothing, I suppose.” She said quietly, and he shook his head in wonder.

  “What else could one want for? You’re the daughter of the greatest king in the richest kingdom in the land.” His tone was disapproving, and the princess felt tears prick at her eyes.

  “Nothing.” She agreed and he sighed.

  “…you know those are just fairy tales right?” He asked, his eyes sweeping over the copy of the Collected Tales in her hand.

  “Of course I do.” She replied in a stiff voice, falling into silence.

  When they reached the stairs that led to her chambers Dane watched her enter, then butted his head in, holding the door open as he looked at her.

  “Listen, if you want to follow your heart wherever it takes you, then I think you should, Mother and Esolde be damned. But do remember how much I hate cats.” His expression was pained and Belle added to it by kicking him in the shin, but stomped up the tower with something resembling a smile despite herself.

  Belle freshened up between surreptitious glances at her book and fearful scans for Yula. When her stomach finally grumbled enough she followed the smoky, delicious smell right to the outdoor dining hall. Encased by wreaths and tumbling vines, the hall gleamed a bright orange in the waning light. Belle had to squint through it, but she could still make out his Lordship’s chiseled countenance at the head of the highest table, and promptly took the seat beside him. Esolde twitched but took her rightful place further down.

  “It’s nice to see you Belle.” He greeted her and she bowed her head slightly.

  “And you as well Lord Tristan.” She replied, taking in his royal appearance. It was a change that had seemingly come with the title, but she still wasn’t quite used to seeing him dressed up all the time, especially when he’d spent her whole life up to that point in sweaty chain-mail. That, and an emerging beard combined to freak her out a bit. There was an awkward silence until Dane dropped heavily into the seat across from her, sporting a ruffled shirt that could have only come from the Bay. They exchanged greetings as well and Belle stifled a laugh as his flowing arm reached out for a glass of wine.

  “Hey, I support you, don’t I?” Dane caught her staring, and admonished her in a loud whisper while the entourages took their place and the first course began. From the back of the room string music played as servants hurried back and forth, dancing to the tune of rulers and ruled. Belle watched them instead of the flashing brooches and sparkling rings that flew around the table, attached to soft, unblemished hands and protruding chests. It was Tristan who brought her attention back to the royals, leaning forward to speak to her.

  “Isobel, do you love it here? At this castle?” He inquired.

  “Very much.” She answered warmly. Tristan looked pleased at her answer and celebrated by handing Belle a full goblet of wine.

  “When you marry, I will see to it that it is yours.” He shared a toast with her as the rest of the table started to pay attention to them. Belle’s cheeks flushed pink.

  “T-thank you, my Lord.” She managed after a minute and he grinned widely, sitting back.

  “A toast as well for the marriage that is upon us, join me in celebration of Prince S
inbad and Lady Osha!” Raucous applause shook the table while goblets sloshed and smashed together, Belle was the only one to notice Dane’s grimace at Tristan’s rather formal announcement. It was covered up by pumping fists and shouts of “To Lyons!” and “Hear, hear!” By the time it calmed down Dane had regained his composure and looked over at Belle, an idea turning itself over in his head.

  “Say, how would you like to come with me to the Bay? While you wait for your Lord-to-be, I mean.” Dane asked her with a wink and Belle’s heart leaped. Tristan looked put out for a moment, and almost angry, but a few more swigs from his glass and his smile returned.

  “I will speak to the King when we return to Ravana.” Tristan promised, turning his attention to Belle once more.

  “That would be wonderful.” She said breathlessly. She had never been farther than Somerfield to the north, and had yet to visit any place in the south. For a moment she was taken by the thought of salty air and crashing waves, the exact opposite of Ravana’s dusty streets and dry heat.

  “Then it is done.” Tristan put his glass down with a thump. “Father will take care of your books, and I will take care of your adventures.” He said triumphantly and for some reason Belle felt a prickle despite the great news. Dane raised a brow, but went back to eating his boar wordlessly.

  “You’ll love it Princess. It is nearly as lovely as you.” Lady Osha clapped her hands together in excitement, grinning at Belle.

  “To the fairest princess in the land!” Not to be outdone, Esolde jumped in as well and praise rippled up and down the table while Belle blushed. When she could speak she did so with a smile.

  “Thank you for your kind words, but all the kingdom knows Cindi is the fairest princess in the land.” Belle replied and the table erupted in laughter, and then cheers of “Here’s to the princess!” and “Long live House Marchand!”

  The rest of dinner transpired in the usual way, with the volume level increasing as the courses disappeared along with the wine. Once darkness fell upon the castle one by one the royals started to sink further into their fine clothes, their heads drooping upon the table. The silver trays and golden goblets were brought back to the kitchen, with the servants moving at a much slower pace this time, and eventually the candles were extinguished.

  In her chambers Belle sat on a cushion, clad only in her night clothes. Her eyelids were getting heavier by the second as Yula brushed her hair, but she stubbornly clung to her book. She just wanted to make it through one more story.

  “It is time for bed now Princess.” Yula said once Belle’s dark waves were sufficiently tamed.

  “Yes, Yula.” She sighed, getting in once Yula turned the covers down.

  “Sleep well, my lady.” She bowed, and then she was gone. With only a few pages left to go Belle fought the fuzzy feeling long enough to light a candle and lean into the light. Her plan was not to be however, as the frayed pages soon fell to her chest, her breathing deep and even.

  Exhausted from the hunt and dulled by alcohol her brothers met the same fate. The Royal Guard, lulled by the quiet nights of summer, dozed at their posts or slept fitfully in the grass. By the time they snapped awake to hear the pounding of steel hooves as they tore up the earthen path and the flaming torches illuminating razor sharp steel it was too late. The warriors were racing towards them, led by the concussive swing of a massive war hammer, that was propelled by the arm of a true beast. The first of the Royal Guard lunged toward them with gurgling shouts that were soon cut short.

  In her tower, Belle sat straight up in bed, the candle beside her still burning. Her gaze went right to her open window as the icy fist of fear wrapped itself around her. She could hear shouting and screaming, and the frame of her window was lit from without by a shifting orange glow.

  Trembling, she slid out from the sheets, plastering herself to a wall as she inched towards the window. When she reached it she couldn’t bring herself to look at first, but as the clamoring sounds got louder and closer she found herself with no choice. Gathering the courage, she peered down only to find the bougainvillea burning. Below the tower walls patches of flames lit up an awful scene. Collapsed heaps of black and gold armor lay everywhere as the Guard struggled to arm themselves. Men brandishing pitch forks and broom sticks from the stables went up against steel and iron.

  The intruders looked to Belle like monsters, and her terrified gaze was immediately drawn to the hulking figure at the center of it all. The warriors helmet was decorated by steel horns, and the weapon that flew beside it scattered the men like so many bales of hay from atop a massive black and white horse. Belle was paralyzed, looking down just as the figure looked up into the tower, making eye contact with the princess for but a moment. In the dark holes of the helmet where the eyes should’ve been Belle could see the flames surrounding the castle reflected, burning fiercely, a perfect picture of chaos.

  Belle was dragged out of her reverie by the sound of booted feet heavy on the stairs just below her, her heart leaping into her throat. Frantically, she struggled to push her bedside table against the door, gasping for breath as reality began to sink in. She could either take her chances with whoever was coming for her, or leap from the window, straight into the jaws of the beast.

  Her table exploded from her hands before she could make a decision, jettisoned by the door as it came crashing open. When a grizzly, unfamiliar face appeared in her vision she sprinted for the window, getting her bare feet on the sill before being yanked away. The man threw her over his shoulder as if she were nothing despite her violent protests.

  “No! Please!” Belle begged but the man ignored her every thrash, bringing her down the stairs and to the patio with ease. When they reached the open air the princess instantly went silent. From ground-level the destruction was clear. Everywhere she looked the rampant lion sigil lay beaten and bloody before her, her kingdoms colors trampled into the dirt. The banners fell in flaking pieces from their poles and tears flooded her face as it all swam together into a blurry mess. Her captor picked through the clutter, a great yell emanating from him when he reached his men. She stared at the ground from over his shoulder, her wits beginning to slip from her.

  Belle went limp as she was bounced up and down in celebration, but then she heard Dane’s unmistakable holler coming from somewhere ahead of her. As she looked up her captor turned to unsheathe his sword and, with her blood pumping, Belle jumped out of his arms. She landed hard, her ankles vibrating with pain, but even still she took off running, dodging through a forest of armored legs and torsos. She ran straight for the front of the castle and breathed a great sigh of relief as she spotted a small sea of men in black.

  “Get the princess!” One of them shouted and another sprinted forward, picking her up and making back for the Lyons lines. Belle squinted, her eyes stinging from the smoke and ash, but she had to find her brothers. In her search for them she was able to see the front line bulge first-hand as barbarians poured in from all sides, swinging axes and claymores.

  “Go my lady! Ride for Ravana!” Her protector pushed her towards a soot-blackened horse with fear in its eyes as the Royal Guard caved in completely. Unable to move she stared at the fountains, watching the water turn pink and then red as it continued to spurt in its lazy way.

  “Argh!” The guard beside her fell backward into her, and she screamed. The rest of the men threw themselves forward in her protection, but were swiftly cut down. Belle sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide. Before they could descend on her though daggers began to fly through the air. Even in the night Dane didn’t miss his target, and freed one of the men from his earthly duties with a well-placed throw. They charged at him, but Dane was fast, and Belle was grateful as she clung to the fence post she had been reading at just a few hours ago. He dispatched two more, then drew his scimitar as he walked steadily toward her and the princess looked away, unable to stand the sight of any more bloodshed. When she opened her eyes again he kneeled in front of her, panting but grinning. His handsome face
was dirty, but for once she didn’t mind as he embraced her. When they separated he placed both of his hands on her cheeks, looking into her eyes.

  “Isobel, you’re safe now.” He assured her, but before his sister could smile the vanishingly sharp blade of a spear nearly parted her front teeth as it slid through Dane’s throat. He stiffened, and as he fell back Belle watched the light vanish from his eyes.

  “NO!” Diving for his body despite the blade in front of her she grasped his face, shaking him.

  “Dane…come on…that’s not funny…” She whispered even as the tears started to over take her. His killer didn’t pay any attention to her, playfully tossing his spear around instead, and rage burned within her. Yet, it wasn’t enough to stop the overwhelming sadness as she pressed her head to Dane’s chest, weeping. He was only half dressed in armor, and she cursed the gods above for their thoughtlessness. She stayed there until she heard voices just above her, peeling herself from him miserably. The man with the spear had removed his helmet, and he stood by the man who had taken Belle from the tower as well as the demon that she had looked upon. He kneeled for the one with the hammer.

  “My liege, Prince Sinbad Dane Marchand is no more. The Crown Prince has fled, and we have the princess.” He reported.

  “Good, then our debt is repaid. Rally the men and take whatever we can carry.” The leader replied in a gruff voice, nodding toward the man on one knee, who promptly got up to follow orders. The man who had taken her, despite his awesome size, also looked toward the smaller warrior.

  “Ser Wulfric, secure the princess and make ready. We will ride through the night.” The beast looked towards Belle once more, but she had returned to clinging to her brother, stealing a few more precious seconds with him. This time when Ser Wulfric pulled her away, Belle didn’t fight back.

  Chapter Two

  The Kingdom of Briar Hill

  The princess was numb as she rode in Ser Wulfric’s arms. The torch lights made it look sort of like a dream, like a stirring of some primal memory long suppressed. They kept a fast pace, but Belle couldn’t feel the wind as it whipped at her cheeks. Eventually the rhythm of the horses and the clanking of armor turned into a savage lullaby that tricked her into sleep, and she was glad when the darkness came.