Those Who Dwell in the Thorns

by Nicolette Andrews

  “He is, and will be again. You see, a long time ago I made a grave mistake that changed life for those who dwell in the thorns. I let a human woman into the dance.”

  “Lady Bastien,” Catherine said with a small intake of breath. The pieces finally came together.

  “Yes, the same. I thought myself handsome and clever, and when the daughter of the forest steward caught my eye, I brought her into the forest. She participated in the dance, which no human should do, and once she did, it changed her. Humans cannot sustain fae magic. It warps them, and the more time they spend among us, the more it twists their minds. I thought she would be different, living alongside the forest her entire life and from the line of stewards as she was.”

  “Who are the stewards?” Catherine asked.

  “The stewards were picked by the king to guard the gateway and be our connection with the human world. In the past, they intermarried, and there is a strain of fae blood in them. But Isabelle was corrupted by the magic. She grew hungry for power and seduced the king and ensnared him with stolen magic. Magic she stole from me. She desired the throne and thought herself the forest queen. I stopped her and was relinquished to live on the border between the worlds for my foolish choice of allowing her into the forest. The king, who also had his magic drained by her efforts, was weakened, and with the last of his strength sent away his daughter to safety and became this.” He looked back to the tree, and his intense longing touched Catherine.

  He turned back to regard her, and Catherine felt like his dark gaze was probing, searching for the answers. Why had she not awoken the king? “The legend says if the heir to the throne is to commune with him, he will rejoin us in the dance once more.”

  “And you thought I was her?”

  He nodded.

  “Then I am not?” She could not help but let sadness creep into her tone. It had been nice to fancy herself as a princess, even if she would not indulge in such a fanciful notion.

  “I apologize for the trouble I have put you through.” He sighed.

  On the heels of her self-pity, she felt anger. He had uprooted her life and deceived a man into loving her, for nothing.

  It may have been a lingering effect of Lady Bastien’s spell, or perhaps now that she had unlocked her feelings, they could not be contained, but Catherine unleashed her hurt upon Mr. Thorn. “Do you think this will be enough? What you have done is unforgivable. You have tampered with my life and Edward’s. You changed his heart from his true love to me. For what, to shrug your shoulders and act as if it were nothing. We are not your playthings but human beings!” He smirked, and Catherine felt all the more enraged for it. “What, sir, do you find amusing?”

  “I never said you were not one of us. There is fae blood in you, of that I am not mistaken, but not royal fae is all.”

  She deflated. “Then who am I?”

  The question would not be answered because a ripping sound of branches breaking and bird’s squawking crushed the silence. Mr. Thorn jumped to his feet and was bowled over within moments. The monster had pinned him to the ground and roared as he plunged his open maw at his throat.

  Catherine screamed but could do nothing to assist but stand aside and watch as Mr. Thorn struggled to push the beast off of himself. He strained and gained an inch, which gave him the opportunity to roll away.

  He jumped to his feet, and with a twirl of his hand, a staff materialized there. He frowned as the animal lunged at him once again without hesitation. He jabbed at the exposed underbelly of the animal. It twisted in midair but caught the edge of the stick and landed awkwardly just short of Mr. Thorn.

  Catherine replayed the first attack on her journey to Thornwood in her mind. This was not the same. The ferocious intensity of the animal was too focused and too out of control. Before she could think further, Catherine felt hands closing around her throat and a blade pressed against her breast.

  “Ah, my pet, I see you have failed. A pity, I had high hopes for you.”

  Catherine tried to shout, but the blade was pressed against the muslin of her dress and pricked her skin.

  “Now is not the time. I do not want your fear to taint the spell. I need your heart, after all.”

  Her breathing caught, and she suppressed her fear. Across the clearing, Mr. Thorn had taken a wound and was bleeding. The animal was also sporting numerous gashes, and the fumbling movements had become even more exaggerated. He was tiring.

  Catherine wanted to shout to Mr. Thorn for help but could not for fear the lady would drive the knife further into her flesh.

  “Let us see whose blood will spill before things get underway,” Lady Bastien said and urged Catherine forward, putting her in plain sight of the dueling pair.

  When she did, Mr. Thorn paused, and the animal caught him about the waist and he fell to the ground. He managed to save himself by crouching and springing away before being pinned once more.

  “You cannot play with him, Rai. He will only come back for you until you kill him.”

  Mr. Thorn scowled at her as he batted the creature away once more. Though Catherine thought him tireless, his shoulders sagged a bit and his mouth was parted as he panted harder.

  “Do you fear spilling blood? My, how you have changed,” Lady Bastien taunted.

  He looked from Catherine and then back to the beast, the knife was pressed against her heart and could be inserted at any moment. Mr. Thorn lowered his head, and the staff took on a dagger’s point. When the animal next lunged for him, he sank it into its chest.

  The creature howled and toppled to the ground. Mr. Thorn ran from it as it writhed on the floor, trying to remove the implement, and blood spattered about.

  “Let her go, Isabelle,” Mr. Thorn snarled as he approached.

  She laughed a throaty laugh. “Not unless you free the binding, or else I will make my stay entirely permanent.”

  She pressed the knife harder, and blood blossomed on her bosom. Catherine sobbed and covered her mouth with her hand. Lady Isabelle brushed the curls from behind Catherine’s ear.

  “She is the perfect candidate, just enough magic to give the spell power and pure as well. But darkness is hidden in those depths, as you have seen, darkness that can overwhelm and corrupt just like him.” She nodded, and Catherine turned her gaze to the monster, gone now and replaced by Edward lying sprawled on the ground with the pike in his heart.

  “No, Edward!” Catherine shouted, but she could not go to him.

  “What will it be?” Isabelle asked.

  Mr. Thorn clenched his fists and then said, “You are free to leave this place, and do not return.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Lady Bastien’s hollow laughter filled the space and echoed inside Catherine’s head.

  “You’ve always been a fool, Rai. Did you really think I would give up on my revenge, give up my one chance, just for freedom?”

  The knife dug deeper into Catherine’s skin, and she gasped. Mr. Thorn moved forward to try and stop her, but Lady Bastien held up her free hand, and he flew backwards, where he landed on the ground with a thud.

  He attempted to climb to his feet, but he was forced into a kneeling position. “Stop this, Isabelle, she’s innocent! Don’t bring her into our squabble.”

  Lady Bastien’s laughter had died down, and Catherine felt weak, as if all her energy were being slowly drained from her. Her eyes were heavy, and she could not keep them open, no matter how hard she tried.

  “Listen to me, Mrs. Thornton. You must stay awake. If you fall under her spell, you may not wake again. Do you understand?” Mr. Thorn instructed.

  Catherine tried to respond, but he seemed too far away, as if he spoke to her in a whisper. While he fought against invisible bonds and tried to get closer to Catherine, Lady Bastien whispered in her ear.

  “You should sleep and lay down your weary head. A foolish girl like you is of no use here.”

  She’s right, Catherine thought. I should never have let this go on this long.

  “Yo
ur husband is dying, and you have only yourself to blame. Had you been better or smarter, perhaps he would have loved you as you are and the love spell would not have been needed. He would not have killed Henrietta in his madness, a madness that your selfishness created.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Catherine slumped in Lady Bastien’s grip. The bite of the knife in her flesh brought her back to the present. She must fight.

  “I did not choose him. I was not to blame,” she countered though the argument fell flat off her tongue.

  “But you are, Catherine. He was a good man. He would have made a respectable husband for Henrietta, but you chose to keep him to yourself. There were plenty of opportunities for you to explain yourself and end it before it escalated, but you didn’t. You were jealous and selfish.”

  Her words wound around Catherine and wove an inescapable web of her own failures. I should have explained to him before the dance, when he accused me of being unfaithful, but I did not. Could I have saved him if I had?

  The words spun in Catherine’s addled mind, and the darkness in her heart grew. She was the cause, the reason so many lives had been ruined, and now even Edward’s death was upon her hands. Her eyes sagged, and the clearing blurred around her. The sound of Mr. Thorn calling for her faded to silence, and only the mellow cadence of Lady Bastien’s voice as she enumerated Catherine’s faults grew.

  “You were unfaithful to him; though he was devoted to you. Mr. Thorn kissed you, and you loved it. I can see into your heart, and I know how you have relished the attentions he fawns upon you. He is a handsome creature; why would you not? But you are duplicitous and false.”

  “Tell me, Isabelle, how did you manage to get him here? How did you find a pathway into the forest?” Mr. Thorn asked though his voice was strained as if he were struggling for breath.

  “Do not waste your tricks on me, Rai. I will not fall for them.” She cupped Catherine’s cheek and rubbed her thumb along her cheekbone. She was limp in her grasp and watched their exchange through bleary eyes.

  “I thought the gem was a bit too flamboyant for you. You’ve always been underhanded. And you must have known that she would never have made it here on her own. Then what was it, the box?”

  She laughed again and drew the blade and scored a line across Catherine’s skin. She gasped, and the clearing came back into focus.

  “Oh, Rai, does it matter now? I have the girl, you lost, accept your defeat.”

  “Then you led me to her. She was a part of your plan all along?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, that was your own folly. I merely took advantage of the opportunity you presented me with, just as you did back then.”

  Without realizing it, Catherine had begun to regain her senses. The spell Lady Bastien had been focused on blanketing Catherine with was weakening, and Mr. Thorn’s voice once more entered her conscious.

  Mr. Thorn smiled, and Lady Bastien tilted her head. Her grip slackened for a moment, and Catherine struggled against the invisible tendrils that were wrapped around her mind, binding her to Lady Bastien. Her body was not under her control, as if ropes had bound her arms to her sides. However, she found her voice belonged to her still.

  “I will not be used in this manner!” Catherine shouted, and her voice echoed from within her, and the force bolstered her confidence.

  The binds on her loosened, and she could wiggle her fingers.

  Lady Bastien realized her mistake and hissed. “Foolish girl, I would have made your death painless.” She raised the dagger to strike, and Catherine, still bound by invisible hands, could do nothing more than watch the dagger fall. But before it sank in, a white light enveloped them both, obscuring the clearing from her vision.

  Lady Bastien stumbled back as if burned. She hissed, and the dagger fell to the ground. Catherine’s limbs were freed, and she turned to face her.

  Catherine shielded her gaze with her forearm and stumbled beneath a force of energy that nearly toppled her over. Mr. Thorn caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. She borrowed his stability as Lady Bastien screamed in agony.

  Before the light subsided, Catherine saw the silhouette of a man standing inside it. He held up his hand in greeting, and then the light faded and left nothing but the oak tree rustling in the wind.

  They were alone but for a prone Edward lying upon the ground. Lady Bastien was gone.

  “What happened?” Catherine asked Mr. Thorn.

  He was frowning but declined to elaborate. Edward moaned, and her concern overriding her curiosity, she rushed to his side.

  The wound Mr. Thorn had inflicted was deep, and a pool of blood had gathered, staining the earth red. Catherine kneeled beside him and lifted his head to lie on her lap, while Mr. Thorn hovered over them protectively.

  “Edward, speak to me,” Catherine pleaded.

  His eyes rolled back, and then his lids dragged open. His gaze was unfocused as it wandered over her face and beyond to where Mr. Thorn stood.

  “Catherine?” he said in a thin voice.

  “Yes, darling, I am here.” She bit back her sob. There would be time for tears once they had called the doctor.

  “I think you should call Dr. McCrae,” he groaned, and Catherine kept her gaze upon his face to avoid the steadily growing pool of blood.

  “He’ll be here straight away, I promise.” She gave a poignant look to Mr. Thorn as if to tell him to call for him.

  “There’s not enough time,” Mr. Thorn said with a small shrug.

  She wanted to lash out at him for his cool demeanor. Did he feel no remorse for what he had done? Edward was dying!

  “There has to be! You cannot just let him die!” Catherine shouted before reining in her temper and saying in an even tone, “It’s my fault he ended up like this. Please, Mr. Thorn, there must be something we can do.”

  “Am I dying?” Edward asked, and he placed his hands on either side of him in an attempt to rise.

  “Don’t.” Catherine laid her hands upon his chest and forced him to lie down. “Just rest, the doctor will be here soon.”

  He closed his eyes, and Catherine feared he would slip away from her. There must be something I can do. If I could stop the bleeding. She tore the edge of her gown and pressed the cloth to his wound.

  She bunched her hands in the cloth and took a deep breath. “Edward, there’s something I must confess.”

  He rolled his head towards her and stared up at her with a pained expression. “Please, let me first.” His voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but she could not bring herself to deny him. The blood had already begun to soak through the cloth.

  “Go ahead, darling,” she choked on her words.

  He paused for a moment to collect the energy needed to speak. “I remember the first time I saw you, at a dinner party in Westwood.”

  “Edward, there’s something I must tell you before you speak of such things,” she hurried to say. She could not let this delusion continue further.

  He placed a hand over hers and gave the barest shake of his head, and she settled to listen.

  “I was lonely and had settled on finding a wife. A cousin of mine spoke of you in high regard and had designs to set us together. She said you were a beauty, a woman who would be devoted to her husband, keep a well-maintained house, and love him despite his faults. My cousin spoke so highly of you that I knew that once I met you, I would fall in love with you.”

  She shook her head, and tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto his face. He did not notice and continued his story.

  “From the moment I saw you, Catherine, I knew you were the one. The woman I would spend my days with. I apologize they were cut short…” He closed his eyes once more, peacefully as if he were going to sleep.

  Catherine sobbed. “Edward, you should not say these things. They are—” She stopped and looked down at his slackened face. The rise and fall of his chest had ceased. The tears fell freely now. She did not care if Mr. Thorn saw or that her dress was stained
with Edward’s blood.

  He had died bewitched, with lies filling his head. He did not deserve this, she thought. He should not have perished. After a few moments, Mr. Thorn approached her. She did not hear his footsteps but sensed him standing behind her.

  “Why did you not lift the spell? Why did you let him die believing that he loved me?” she asked. She turned her red-rimmed eyes towards him, begging for an answer that would never be adequate.

  “Would it change anything if I had?”

  She shot to her feet and struck him on the chest over and over. Shouting and calling him the foulest names she did not know she even knew until then. After she had exhausted herself completely, she fell into his arms and allowed him to hold her or else she would have fallen over.

  “I am sorry, Mrs. Thornton.”

  Edward was dead. No matter what he said, it would not be enough. His pity was not enough; it would never be enough. He had died for nothing. All of this had been for nothing.

  Epilogue

  Catherine settled back into her life at Thornwood Manor. After the last rites for Edward were held, she was surprised to find that the entailment which should have left the land and property to her late husband’s next male relative had gone missing, and by default, Catherine was now the heir to Thornwood Manor. Though she would have rather returned home to her mother and father and escape the terrible memory of her husband’s death, she was unfortunately stuck.

  “Will you need anything else, mistress?” Mrs. Moira asked as she cleared away Catherine’s mostly full breakfast plate. She had not had an appetite for quite some time.

  “No, thank you,” Catherine said as she stood.

  “You should eat more, mistress. I would hate to see your health go. He would have wanted you to stay in good spirits,” she added. There was no facetiousness to her comments. Mrs. Moira had changed since Edward’s death. Indeed, all the staff seemed to have changed their opinions of her over the preceding weeks. And stranger still, they did not remember ever being cool to her. She had gone from an enemy to a beloved employer overnight. Just as Edward’s death had been written off as an unfortunate and sudden illness. They refuse to believe and just swallow the lies.