A Kingdom of Thorns Read online

  When she opened her eyes again the sun was beginning to rise, just cresting over the horizon. The view of the open plains was breathtaking for a moment, and then she remembered where she was. Pain ripped through her once again, taking her breath away with a much harder force. Tears came whether she wanted them to or not. Her legs burned from sitting astride a horse for so long, and she smelled of soot and iron. Suddenly she missed Yula very much. She was still sobbing when the line made a sharp turn to the left, slowing as they approached an elevated area with a small stream nearby. Ser Wulfric was expressionless as they came to a complete stop and started to dismount. The men around him clapped their hands together, whooping and dancing with stiffened limbs.

  The knight picked her up and started for the front of the line. Belle disappeared into his large arms, acutely aware of the fact that she wore only her sheer bed clothes. They were also filthy, and the princess avoided looking down at all costs, knowing Dane’s blood was all over her. In a brief moment of clarity she wondered about Tristan’s fate, but then pushed them both out of her head as the searing memories returned. By the time they reached the head of the camp tents had been set-up, haphazardly arranged but sturdy in appearance. They were a dusty blue, and one of them bore the emblem of a rose. Belle stared at it, not sure if she’d ever seen it before, but found her research cut short when Ser Wulfric unceremoniously tossed her into a tent. She landed on her ass, her heart racing as a golden-haired girl with a oval shaped face smiled at her from the other side of it.

  “I’m Violette of House William, I am at your service my lady.” She spoke in a quiet voice, bowing her head, and Belle was confused. The bearded men who’d attacked her kingdom were totally uncivilized. She wondered what need they could possibly have for ladies in waiting. Suspicious, she merely glared at the girl, inching as far away from her as possible. Violette held her hands up in peace, the soft palms revealing that they did indeed have some sort of nobility.

  “You won’t be harmed.” She cooed, moving closer to Belle. The princess drew a deep breath, then jumped as a young man with brooding eyes and a sarcastic expression blew into the tent. The thought brought with it more tears as her brother flashed through her mind.

  “My apologies.” He said quickly, using his hand as a makeshift visor to shield Belle from his view, “I brought what you asked for Violette.” The young man handed her a bundle of fabric.

  “Thank you, Aster.” She beamed at him and he made a swift exit, muttering another apology on his way out. She turned back to the princess, sliding the neat package towards her.

  “These are for you. I will return with some soap and water okay?” Belle didn’t answer but the girl didn’t appear to hold it against her as she dashed from the tent. When Violette returned she seemed to know to leave the princess alone and bowed her head as she left.

  “Just call if you need me princess!” She chirped from beyond the tent and Belle glared at her outline with renewed force, then collapsed into a sobbing, shapeless form once more. The water was cold, so it didn’t matter that she took her time getting up the courage to make use of it.

  When she finally did she found the night replayed itself with every swipe and every scrub. Like the fountains, the water turned pink and then red as she struggled to rid herself of the experience. It didn’t seem to matter how hard she abraded her skin, it was still there. She scrubbed until her whole body was raw and raised, and only stopped when the water became unbearably dirty.

  Like a psychic apparition, Violette returned to take her soiled things away, and left a small pillow for her. Wrapped up in a dull fabric dress that was too big for her Belle curled up into a corner with it and cried herself to sleep. At some point Violette brought her food that she turned down, and a blanket that she also passed on. Belle wanted to keep her eyes closed forever, and tried to, but that was also not meant to be.

  Later that afternoon they hit the road again and for days the pattern was constant. Violette continued her valiant efforts to ensure the princess didn’t starve, but it remained for naught as darkness enveloped her.

  The landscape began to change while they went and Belle took in the scenery, which got wilder and wilder. The rolling green hills turned into untamed mounds of spindly trees and knee-high grass. Belle turned to and fro to get a better look, and possibly figure out where she was headed. To his credit, Ser Wulfric’s grip on her remained chaste as they traveled, which was more than could be said for the looks Belle received from a few of the other men. At that point she started to value Violette’s company a little more.

  One morning as they made camp in a muddy enclave Belle rose from her corner at the sound of a familiar voice. It was one that had been making its way through both her nightmares and her waking terror. It was the voice of the beast. Crawling forward the princess peeled back the opening of her tent ever so slowly, peering out of it while the sun began to climb up through the trees. All the camp was quiet, and she could clearly hear and see them standing there. The group consisted of Ser Wulfric, Ser Lance, and their lord.

  “We will be back in Briar Hill before the fortnight.” The charmless voice announced and the two men nodded, smiles cracking their weathered faces. Belle drew in a breath as she recognized the name. The kingdom of Briar Hill, according to her lessons, was a collection of huts and cabins. Her father had always referred to them as the “bramble folk”, and assured her that they were simple and backwards, with a kingdom that held no value whatsoever. Her concerned breath turned into an audible gasp when the beast removed its helmet a moment later. She saw with her own eyes a quite impossible thing. It appeared that their Lord, was actually a Lady.

  Belle’s mouth fell open. She wasn’t particularly pretty, but her light brown hair was full and shining, her eyes flashing a frozen blue as she took on a relaxed stance. Her armor and her arms were just like a man’s, all brute strength and muscle, with the hammer at her back scattering the morning sun behind her. In shock and disbelief the princess backed away from her peephole for a moment, then went right back to it, her ears trained to their conversation. She didn’t get much however as they strolled away from the tents, and then the princess settled for sitting there and staring at the walls of her own enclosure. Her mind raced. Was she a queen? Was she…a king? Questions bounced around her head, causing it to ache as she sat there in deep thought.

  When Violette joined her later on Belle tried to get her vocal chords to work, and spoke her first words to the girl.

  “…is Arthur still king…in Briar Hill?” The princess asked in a voice she barely recognized. Her lessons were beginning to come back to her, but words felt foreign on her tongue, and she had to work to get them out. Violette raised her eyebrows, but looked pleased as she answered.

  “Well, he has long since taken on a more traditional Briar name. His grace is known as King Anthos Arturus Rose, uniter of the free peoples, and protector of the realm.” She replied, glowing with respect. Belle felt angry at first, but then she just cried.

  “W-why?” She stammered, knocked for a loop by Violette’s concern and all those dead men. The girl patted her hand but Belle yanked it away.

  “…I want to know why.” The princess demanded. Violette looked away.

  “It’s best not to speak of such things, your grace.”

  Belle’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her lip quivering.

  “My brother…is d-dead.” She admitted and Violette looked on her with pity. Lowering her voice she came closer to Belle, who held her ground.

  “Many men are dead Princess, for many reasons. We have to think about the living.”

  That afternoon Belle took a few bites of the steaming fish Violette offered, and the blond girl looked like a proud mother as she snuck glances at the princess while she ate. It was a terribly slow process, as even chewing seemed to hurt, but she did give it an effort. While she picked at her dinner Violette peered outside the tent at a certain someone, and then back at Belle.

  “Would it be alright if Aster joined us?” She asked breathlessly after a minute and the princess sighed, but waved her on anyway. Things were different with the Briars, that much was assured.

  With Belle’s blessing, Aster crawled into their tent, flopping on to the floor on his back. He was breathing hard, sweat covering his brow and running down his chain mail. She knew that look.

  “Aster…is it?” Belle began and the boy shot up.

  “Yes, your highness!” He panted, then looked horrified as they made eye contact. Jumping to his feet he bowed as low as he could in the tent.

  “Forgive me for my rudeness. I am Aster Lily, son of Ser Sorrell Lily, Knight of Briar Hill.” He formally introduced himself and Belle nodded, gesturing for him to have a seat as she pushed her food away.

  “Whom do you squire for?” She continued. He inflated a bit when he replied, his chest puffing out and his shoulders squaring.

  “I squire for Princess Kiara of House Rose, the greatest warrior in the kingdom.” His answer was dead serious and Belle’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

  “Our princess has never been bested in battle.” Violette chimed in, her cheery tone almost comforting to Belle even if her words were mad.

  “That…can’t be true.” Belle replied incredulously and her lady in waiting’s face softened.

  “In Briar Hill, all are welcome to stand in defense of the kingdom. The princess just happens to be very good at it.” She stated with a knowing smile and Belle sputtered, then fell silent once more.

  When they continued their journey Belle was intent on staring at the warriors around her, trying to figure out the gender of each, but her gaze was arrested as they crossed over the border lands. She had read about it in her books, the retaliation of the desert tribes and the outland
ers on Lyons, but she never thought she’d see it. Hollowed out huts and fallen guard posts were still dotted across the land, the ashen wood sticking up like bones out of the depleted soil. Framed by stark gray peaks on either side, it gave the princess chills as they barreled through the dead arena.

  She was glad when they were past it, even if they did run headlong into mud. Thick trees of the brightest green appeared to swallow them up, raining heavy droplets on their heads from above. Vines suddenly reached out, looking for a careless ankle or even a face to slap into submission. Sucking in the humid air, Belle fought off clouds of tiny bugs as they materialized out of nowhere, zooming around her head.

  To her confusion, the Briars seemed oddly pleased and even cheerful as they worked to free stuck horses from the knee-high slop, rescuing wayward saddle bags that were a gurgle away from disappearing forever. She watched from her perch on Wulfric’s steed, fascinated. The barbarians were industrious, efficient, and helpful to each other even in the muck. They all seemed quite familiar with it, like they’d done it all a thousand times, and it was then that realization struck her. They were finally here, in the kingdom of Briar Hill.

  The road to the castle however, would be a few more days yet. Belle could feel the energy rise as they cleared endless soaking miles of swamps and bogs, reaching a fever pitch when the horses finally found traction. The horizon came exposed, like a curtain thrown open in a dark room, and the blue sky took over nearly all of it. In front of her short sturdy trees moved in the breeze, and a covering of thin grass laid over the sandy soil.

  Beside them, mean looking little bushes sprang up on either side of the path, and as they continued, the tiny brambles on each one turned into equally unimpressive rose buds. At the very least, they did provide some color to the sparse landscape. When a few glittering pools of water made their appearance, it almost became beautiful. The princess noticed that the warriors and their mounts had picked up speed when they saw them, anxious to get home.

  It was a hot, oppressive morning when Belle spotted the towers in the distance. The normally chatty men around her had grown quiet, staring ahead with wistful gazes. She felt a pang as she thought of Somerfield, but buried it when her weary eyes started to sting. Instead she looked around for signs of life. When the streaming rose banners came into view she could finally make out a few small houses, but that appeared to be it. The castle itself sprawled over the open field, a large inlet sparkling behind it, and Belle was taken aback by its design. She didn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t what she got.

  The castle rose high above the terrain, its white stones shimmering in the almost-summer heat. The towers were large and rounded, each topped with a handsome navy blue turret that curved fancifully. The grass seemed to be greener around the castle, the trees rounder and more vivacious. There weren’t many of them, but the flowers that did bloom waved proudly as they approached. Around the enormous castle there were rows of narrow houses all pressed together, their facades also white or cream colored, with charming navy roofs. People hung halfway out the windows, waving flags and blowing kisses at the men when they passed. They lined up to cross a small bridge, and then they were trotting through the gates and into the castle.

  When they rode into the courtyard Belle sat up straighter. The yard itself was beautifully maintained, flat and smooth, with a dozen gorgeous fruit trees in the center. White fences closed it all in, wide and simple. Standing in front of the glossy fruit, were what Belle assumed to be the nobility of Briar Hill, applauding the returning riders. She merely caught a glimpse though, as they headed directly for the stables after a few dizzying laps of the yard. When they arrived the men leapt from their horses with grins and chest bumping, and even the stoic Ser Wulfric seemed in a bit of a hurry as he pulled the princess down from her seat. He did give her a nod though, and something resembling an encouraging expression as Violette materialized beside her right when her feet hit the ground.

  “Let’s get you to your chambers, shall we my lady? It has been a long journey.”

  Belle’s eyes widened at her words. It was true then that she would not be returning to her messy tower at Somerfield, or even to her royally kept room at the palace. This strange place, and its strange inhabitants, were what she had to call home now.

  “The view is very nice, your grace.” Violette coaxed, taking one of her hands, and Belle slowly put one foot in front of the other. It was surreal. All her life subjects had bowed their heads and whispered blessings whenever she walked by, but in Briar Hill she got nary a second glance from the celebrating men. She had only the sparkling eyes of her hand-maiden to avoid, and it was unnerving for the princess. She’d always hated all the hand wringing, but felt oddly naked as she walked about without it. It was like she wasn’t even herself.

  She followed Violette’s lead with her head on a swivel, her view unencumbered by well-wishers to the crown. There were guards of course, but they didn’t pay them any attention other than a curt nod or two as they strolled through the grounds.

  “Through here, my lady.” They went up a set of alabaster steps and through a drafty hall before Belle emerged into the foyer. Like the kingdom itself as it appeared beyond the forest of mud, the room simply expanded to fill one’s entire vision. Arched ceilings that went far over their heads came down into intricate posts, the same delicate shade of cream as the marbled floors. Warm red brick held up the sturdier walls, with wooden chests and hangers placed at neat intervals in between. The windows were all the size of doors, and the princess couldn’t help nearly pressing her face to one, staring out over the wilds and the water.

  “We’re almost there, your highness.” Violette prodded her after a few minutes passed and Belle felt her cheeks get hot. They went up another flight of stairs and Violette attempted to get through the landing but the princess got distracted again. Coming to a standstill, she gazed at the family shield displayed upon the wall. The lady-in-waiting sighed but was understanding.

  “…it was made from the bough of a tree from the Giants Wood.” She pointed out but Belle wasn’t concerned with the grain or the size of the thing, though both were impressive. It was the emblem that held her interest. On the face of it, carved deep, was a beautiful rose, and it made her think of the golden lion of House Marchand and its steady tower, crushed beneath the hooves of a Briar mount. Belle sucked in a breath and Violette caught the dangerous shine in her eyes.

  “Right this way Princess.” She continued, successfully getting Belle to move forward again. Beside them, one of the curtains quivered, giggles and whispering floating out from it.

  “Here we are my lady!” Violette said loudly, staring daggers at the curtain, but Belle ignored it for a moment as she stepped into her room. It was small, but cozy, with more red brick and white stone. Dark gray tiles made up the floor and covered the face of the fireplace in the corner. There were a few chairs, wooden with dusty blue seats, and a bench perched against the wall. A tiny desk of dark wood sat in front of the window, and a few feet beside that in the corner of the room a four post bed was made up and waiting for her. Belle turned to Violette once she’d finished evaluating the space.

  “What was that?” The princess asked finally, gesturing in the direction of the talkative curtain, and Violette rolled her eyes but her cheeks turned bright pink.

  “You needn’t worry about them your grace. The girls of the castle get excited very easily.” She replied, fidgeting. Belle quirked an eyebrow at her and Violette broke down a bit.

  “A princess from a foreign land coming to stay with us. It’s all rather romantic isn’t it?” She replied wistfully and Belle’s inquisitive stare turned hostile. Violette caught herself, backing away slowly.

  “Forgive me. I’ll draw you a bath, my lady.” She bowed before scurrying off and Belle sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the wrought iron bench. Dane was dead, and she knew not whether Tristan was still in one piece. It seemed terribly unfair that she could feel the sun on her legs, and breathe the fresh air of Briar Hill while they suffered. The thought of a bath became less appealing the longer she sat there. When the furniture started blurring she stood, trying to shake it off.