Thorny

by Lelia Eye

  I jumped at the other wolf.

  We became a whirlwind of gnashing teeth and a blur of fur as I tried to move the fight away from Elle. Despite getting knocked on the head, my opponent was like a wild animal, not holding back, having tasted blood and wanting more. I didn’t want to hurt her—tried merely to keep her moving—and I heard Elle shout “Beast!” as fangs dug deep into my shoulder. I wasn’t sure whether she was talking to me or my unexpected foe.

  I tore myself free and cried, “You have to stop this, Scarlet!”

  But the thirst for blood was too all-consuming. She lunged at me.

  I dodged the attack and jumped onto her back, trying to pin her down. She threw me off, tossing me to the ground. And then she had me pinned there, green eyes on my exposed jugular. She opened her mouth and readied herself for the kill.

  “Mother!” I yelled. It was a simple word, but it had a remarkable effect.

  Clarity returned to her eyes, and though she was in the form of a wolf, I could tell she was horrified. “Son,” she whispered, stepping off me. “What?” She shook her head and then took in a few ragged breaths. “I’m sorry.” After giving Elle a look of regret, she took off through the trees.

  I wasn’t about to chase after her. Now that the danger was over and my heart-rate was slowing, I was ticked.

  Getting to my feet with a wince—my shoulder burned like fire—I turned to Elle, who was clutching the wounded lamb to her chest and looking shaken. But in spite of that pathetic picture, I didn’t hold anything back.

  “What did you think you were doing?” I shouted. “Why did you go into the forest at night? Don’t you remember what I told you about other wolves? If you are so determined to break our bargain by getting yourself killed, then go ahead, but at least do it right!”

  In spite of my obvious rage—and the fact that my fangs were likely glinting menacingly in the moonlight that shone down through the trees—Elle didn’t cower. “Étoile went out into the woods. I had to follow her.”

  “If you would keep your pixie-bit SHEEP out in the SHEEP pen with all the other SHEEP, maybe you wouldn’t have to chase after it in the danger-infested forest! You shouldn’t risk your life for an ANIMAL.” I was so mad I could see the capital letters in my head.

  “You’re an animal!” she countered. “Wouldn’t you want me to risk my life to save you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t! I don’t want you to risk your life doing anything!”

  “It’s my life! Why can’t I do what I want with it?”

  “Because you’re a girl!” I shouted back without thinking. Instantly, I regretted my words, but I felt all the worse due to the look on her face. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just the world we live in.”

  “It’s not fair,” she said quietly.

  “No, it isn’t. But one day, it’ll change.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because it takes a mother to raise a child. Men will get that one day. They’ll see how important women are.” I took in a deep breath and released it. “Now, come on. Let’s go make some medicine for that wounded lamb of yours.”

  She looked at me for a moment—perhaps wondering whether I was going to turn on her like my mother just had—but then she nodded and stepped forward, cooing to her bleating lamb and trying to soothe her.

  Elle and I began to walk back toward the castle, and the slight burn in my shoulder started to transition into a persistent throb as the adrenaline left my system. I found myself altering my gait slightly to try to decrease the movement of my muscles in that area.

  As we came out of the trees, the lamb began to calm down a little, and Elle said, “That was your mother?”

  “Yes,” I said, gnashing my teeth together. I was less than proud to admit it.

  “I’ve seen you talking before,” she said.

  I looked at her in surprise. I hadn’t realized she had seen my mother in wolf form before.

  She continued, “But I wasn’t sure if . . . Well, anyway, I didn’t know she was related to you.”

  “Right now, I rather wish she wasn’t.” Then I could go and tear her limb from limb without worrying about guilt afterwards.

  “Why were you fighting?”

  I felt the heat of anger come upon me again. “It doesn’t matter. Just don’t go into the woods at night. Not all wolves are like me. You should stay away from . . . from Scarlet.”

  “That’s her name?”

  “That’s what you can call her to me. But don’t go near her. She’s dangerous.”

  “Unlike you,” she said, with no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

  I gave her a startled look. She thought that? “No, I’m dangerous, too. All beasts are. If I ever . . . frighten you . . . you need to try to get away by climbing a tree or something. Don’t run. That makes a beast want to chase after whatever’s running.”

  “You would never do that. You don’t frighten me anymore. Not—not like she did.”

  I stopped moving, and she did, too. I had led her to an herb garden, deciding it would be quicker to go straight there instead of checking the castle for supplies first.

  “I don’t think the lamb is bleeding too badly,” I said, “but it’s best to take care of the wound now. We’ll need some tiger plant, pixie breath, and dragon’s teeth.” I touched each plant with a paw as I named it—the tiger plant was striped, the pixie breath was made up of tiny clusters of yellow flowers, and the dragon’s teeth had leaves with jagged edges. When I was younger, I had loved learning all the different plant names from my mother. Some were boring, some were fitting, and still others seemed mysterious. I had never learned many of the names of the flowers, though—just the ones that could be used to make different medicines. I had even kept a notebook where I drew pictures of the plants and wrote descriptions of their uses. That notebook had been burned by my father along with my mother’s garden after she had left.

  Elle got the plants as I pointed them out. She picked more than we needed, but I didn’t correct her. The herb garden would be replenished eventually.

  “All right,” I said. “The castle should have the rest of our supplies.”

  We returned to the castle at a fast pace, going to a small study. The lamb was still a little upset, and its occasional pathetic bleats made both Elle and I antsy. I directed her on using a mortar and pestle and sprinkling the crushed-up plants onto a hot wet cloth.

  She pressed the cloth onto the lamb and bandaged it up. Étoile was twisting and turning, and I wished I could help keep it still, but there was nothing I could do.

  When Elle finished, the lamb wiggled out of her arms and gave a confused look at the bandage wrapped around its torso and neck. Its wound was in an awkward place to wrap—on the neck right before the shoulder blades—but Elle had done a good job of covering it up with strips of white cloth.

  Étoile bleated, and Elle smiled, obviously delighted that the sheep was going to be fine. I was glad myself, for Elle’s sake.

  “We should take it to its mother,” I said. “She’ll comfort it more than we can.”

  “I will, but I need to take care of your wound.”

  My ears went back, and I realized suddenly—apropos of nothing—that I had left my cape on the ground and would need to pick it up. “I’ll be fine,” I protested. “I need to go get my cape.”

  “Don’t be such a baby. It’ll only take a minute.”

  She applied the poultice, and I let out a whimper on accident. I could see her trying to hide a smile, and that made me growl, which in turn made her roll her eyes. I then indulged in an inner diatribe against females who thought men were just their little toys and MARCHING MANTICORES, that stung!

  When I was finally bandaged properly, she said, “There!”

  “Great. Can we go now?” I was already heading for the exit to the study.

  She followed, the lamb once more in her arms. “No ‘thank you?’”

  “For putting me in this ridiculous bandage? Hardly.”

  �
�Oh, we’ll pick up that cape of yours and put it on you, and no one will be the wiser,” she said dismissively. “Though I can’t really understand why you would care so much about appearances, seeing as how the only lady wolf I’ve seen around is your mother.”

  “Remember, I’m fighting your shepherd beau for your hand in marriage.”

  Though my words were teasing, she must have sensed something off in my tone, as she asked: “What’s wrong?”

  What was wrong was that I was still absolutely furious with my mother. “Nothing. It’s just—I shouldn’t have to choose.”

  “Choose what?”

  “Nothing. Look—thanks for your help.”

  “You were the helpful one,” she said. “How do you know so much?”

  My mother taught me, I thought. But all I said was: “I’m not your average wolf.”

  “That’s certainly true.”

  We continued walking and finally arrived at the sheep pen. Elle united lamb and mother, and the former began to nurse greedily.

  “Will Étoile be all right?” Elle asked, watching them with some concern.

  “I’m sure the Invis take care of things like this all the time. Don’t worry.”

  She nodded. “All right. Shall we get your cape?”

  “Sure,” I said. I was doing a fine job of acting calm on the outside, but inside I was still seething. My mother had made me realize the dangers of this form. And she had put Elle in danger herself. It was forcing my mind to make connections I didn’t want it to make.

  Elle and I retrieved my cape, and I tried to complain about the lump my bandages made beneath it, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Then I took Elle to the foot of her tower, where she paused, as if about to tell me something. But all she said was goodnight before disappearing up the stairs. I turned, and there was my mother, though she was in human form this time.

  She had aged since all those years ago when I thought I had lost her to the elements, but she was still just as beautiful as the girl in that painting. But while it was nice to see her as she really was, I didn’t care at that moment. I was wrapped in a cold fury. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here right now.”

  “I—I know.” She appeared shaken, but she was trying to be strong. “But I had to talk to you, son. How long . . . how long have you known about who I really was?”

  “Long enough. And I can’t even begin to describe how infuriated I am with you. Tell me—is this my fate? I can’t remember my dreams, I constantly have this inexplicable craving for uncooked meat, and the night pulls at me like I’m some dog on a rope . . . . Am I going to lose myself to the beast? What exactly happened to you out there tonight?”

  She turned her head away, so I was unable to see her face clearly, but I could still read the pain and shame written there. “Even with control over magic, these animal forms have a power over you. You must be careful to hold on to the humanity in yourself. That’s a lesson I was wanting you to learn.” She gave a bitter laugh. “What I didn’t realize was that I needed to pay attention to it myself. Spending so much time alone and honing magical skills that had grown rusty during my time with your father, well—I suppose I became overconfident in my abilities.” She lowered her head.

  I simply looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

  Finally, she did. “I—I saw that lamb go into the forest, and the beast within that form awakened in me before I even realized what might happen. So I went after the lamb. I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt the girl. You have to realize that.”

  “It doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse for what you did. And now that you realize the dangers of the form I’m in, you can change me back.”

  She looked at me sorrowfully. “I can’t, son.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” I growled, baring my teeth in anger.

  “Magic is complicated,” she said, turning to look at me. “It has its own rules. The more complex spells are difficult to undo. You must abide by the terms of the spell.” She sighed. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what happened here tonight. I won’t interfere as much in your affairs—”

  “You’re right,” I said. “You won’t. I don’t need any more motherly advice. You can go.”

  I saw that my words hurt her. It didn’t matter. But she did not immediately leave. Instead, she said: “Remember what happens to a smothered rose.”

  I curled a lip upward. “It becomes only thorns, with nothing left to protect.” I stared at her. “Now, go.”

  I watched her form disappear and thought once more of how I had seen her vanish into the fury of a blizzard. Back then, I had felt despair and sorrow. Now, however, all I felt was a hardness in my gut and a solid sense that this was how it had to be. Though I spent hours that night worrying about the beast within which I had seen demonstrated so vividly by my mother, I didn’t gaze into the looking-glass in my room. I feared that if I asked to view myself, I would see the face of a cruel young man.

  Or worse, I would find only the face of a beast.

  Chapter 15: A Thornless Rose

  Elle and I ate breakfast together the next morning, as was customary. But she mostly picked at her food, and I didn’t have much of an appetite myself.

  “How are your wounds?” she asked.

  My shoulder was stiff and still hurt, and I had torn off my bandages. “I’ll heal,” I told her.

  I ate a bit of fried egg, wondering a little at how the conversation between us seemed so stilted, and then I asked her, “How’s your lamb?” I had seen Elle go outside before breakfast and figured she was going to visit the sheep.

  “She’s not as scared as she was last night, but I think she needs her mother’s comfort.” Elle hesitated before speaking again. “Burnet, I’m sorry I caused you pain.” She was half-heartedly trying to get back into the name game, but her remorse made her attempt fall flat.

  “Not ‘Burnet.’ Elle, you don’t need to apologize for that. Someone else has to account for what happened. I just want you to be careful in the future. I might not be there next time.”

  “I know,” she said softly, staring down at her plate. But there was something else going on. Oh, I didn’t doubt that she was sorry, but the sorrow that had been weighing on her seemed heavier.

  “Elle, what’s wrong?”

  “I miss my family,” she said softly.

  Mentally, I replaced “family” with “father” and tried to think about my parents. When my mother left my father and me, I had thought she was going to her death. I had not known there was actually a presence to miss—just a memory of a presence. And the day I missed my father was the day I actually started to wax nostalgic over hanging out with sheep all day.

  But Elle’s pain was real. I didn’t need to make light of that. “You miss your father,” I prompted gently, knowing she wanted to say more.

  “Yes,” she said, already close to tears. “I miss how he calls me by my stupid nickname with this merry expression while singing off-tune made-up songs. I miss his stupid jokes and his tales of my mother’s mischief. Iris is unkind and morose—she brings him down. She doesn’t make him happy. I worry about how he’s doing without me there to cheer him up.” She was actively crying now and put her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled as she sobbed, “I wish I knew how he’s d-doing.”

  I hated her sorrow. It made me feel as if the fangs that had been in my shoulder were now buried in my heart.

  “I have a magic mirror,” I blurted. “It can—it can show you anything you want to see. If you see your father, will that make you feel better?”

  She looked up, her face bleary with tears, and I longed to embrace her. “It can . . . show me my father?” There was a slight hitch in her breath from crying.

  “Yes,” I said. “Follow me.” I didn’t know if I was making a mistake, but I had this strange drive to make her happy.

  I led her to my room, where she stood in the doorway, wiping remnants of tears from her eyes as I opened the chest and dug out the mir
ror. She got to her knees, her red dress crumpled beneath her, and took the looking-glass from my mouth.

  “Show us Gaheris Beauregard,” I said to it, and his image swirled into existence.

  He had a mug in hand and seemed to be in a pub. The mirror showed his face then, a close-up of a bleary haggardness that was familiar to me. I recognized that look of drunkenness, having seen it so many times before. And there was also despair written there, stamped on his face as strongly as one might stamp a signet ring into wax. Elle took all this in, too.

  “No!” she whispered, her pain so obvious it was almost a tangible thing. “Father!”

  I couldn’t blame him for sinking so low. He had consigned his pride and joy to life with me, a terrible beast. Of course he was drinking himself into oblivion.

  Elle was so upset that her hands, still clutching the mirror, were white. “Beast, please let me leave.”

  My panic rose up like an awakened bear, furious and desperate to lash out at anything near. “No!” I growled. “You can’t leave!”

  “My father is hurting—”

  “It doesn’t matter! We had a deal!”

  She was worrying her lip in an effort to contain her tears. “I guess I shouldn’t expect a beast like you to understand love!” she bit out. And then she ran off.

  Her parting blow struck with the force of a gunshot. But what she didn’t understand was that I couldn’t let her leave me. She couldn’t go to her father.

  After the initial shock wore off, I went after her. By that time, she had started climbing the stairs to her tower. Since I had complained quite loudly more than once about her choice of residence, she likely believed I wouldn’t follow her. She was wrong.

  Oh, I didn’t want to go up that ridiculously tall tower. The very idea made me feel weak in my beastly knees. But you know that point when you finally admit to yourself that something you have been denying is actually true? I was close to that. I wasn’t completely there yet, but I was near enough to it that I realized I had to go up that tower.