Thomas’ death, though, haunted me too. I’d done what I had to do, and I hadn’t purposefully tried to kill him. But he was dead now because of me, and I was trying to live with myself, no matter the kind of person he’d been.
Helping Bastian was distraction enough. He hadn’t had much time after that day to think about what the next steps were. Before the dust could settle and the town fell to lawless chaos, he’d had to establish his authority as the king. He’d done the best of it he could, but we knew it would take some time before the people of Briar felt like they could trust him again.
Now, one of his arms was curled tightly around my shoulders and I was leaning into him as they burned my father’s lifeless body on a pyre. It was the funeral that he’d asked for in his will, and I abided by his wishes. The guilt I felt for not checking in on him earlier weighed on me. It was hard not to blame myself for his death too, even though he’d been the one to create this whole mess in the first place. There were a lot of things I’d done wrong lately, but I believed he was in a better place now.
And I knew I couldn’t be too hard on him since his mistakes had brought me to Bastian.
As he pressed his lips into my hair, I bit the inside of my mouth to keep the tears away. Lila, who was sitting cross-legged on the grass, had finally stopped bawling and now was only hiccupping every once in a while, and Emily looked like she still wasn’t coming close to crying. Even when I’d told them about it, my younger sister had just stood there as if I’d been telling her about the weather. Em was too jaded for only being thirteen, but she’d lived a hard enough life to warrant it. We all had.
After I couldn’t look at the burning flames anymore, I left Bastian’s embrace and pulled Lila up into my arms.
“Come on, sweet girl,” I said as her legs wrapped around my torso. “We’re going home.”
“Where’s home?” she mumbled into my shoulder, and my heart broke a little more.
“Our new home, of course,” I told her, and my eyes found Bastian's. He was looking at me, his gaze intense as he watched me with my sister.
“With him?” She pointed to Bastian.
Bastian and I hadn’t had the chance to talk much about. He’d said it was already decided that my sisters and I—and Alinder too—were moving into the castle permanently. He made it clear that I didn’t owe him anything for it, that we deserved to be happy. But I’d told him exactly what I’d said to him before: that he had my heart. I already loved him more than I thought I ever could love another person, and even though it scared me to think too far ahead, it felt right.
I smiled at her. “Yes, Lila—in a castle.”
“A castle!” she squealed and I laughed as she scrambled out of my arms, running straight towards Bastian.
He peered down at her with a strange expression and I held back another laugh. I could tell by the look on his face that he’d never dealt with children. I’m sure he thought she was some bizarre creature he’d never encountered before and definitely didn’t trust.
“She’s harmless,” I called out to him, and he shot me a panicked look.
Lila reached for his hand, grabbing at his finger, and he let her. I felt Em come up next to me and I locked our hands together.
“Ready?” I asked, looking past Bastian and into what had been the Black Forest. Even now, the darkness of the trees continued to change from burnt black to dark brown and emerald green, and I no longer felt frightened by it.
“Not really,” she admitted.
I squeezed her hand. “We’ll be fine, Em. I promise.”
She didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t sure she was convinced. I knew Bastian would take care of us, and it would be good for him not to be alone in the castle. I could see us having a life there; a good life.
There was so much we were still unsure about, though, and I knew that that’s where Em’s thoughts were: if the people of Briar would fully accept Bastian as their king; how long Briar would be able to evade the reaching claws of the Regime; if we could find a way to move on and rebuild; if we would ever see Sophie—or any of the fair folk—again.
I walked over with Emily’s hand still in mine to where Bastian was holding Lila in his arms. Her head was placed perfectly in the crook of his neck and it seemed that she’d fallen asleep. He still looked awkward holding her, but it was sweet.
Seeing us all together, I realized that none of those other things mattered now. We could survive anything, as long as we had love.
Acknowledgements
I’m not sure where to begin with these acknowledgements. I have no agent to thank, no publisher or professional editor to praise. But I have something better: a wonderful husband who has supported my writing since we meet over 11 years ago. And I have my parents, who were proud that I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, even if that was being a writer.
This book is a true labor of love. It was never my intention to have this book published traditionally, and I think that’s what makes it so special. This is my love letter to a story that shaped my childhood and still rings true the older I get, and if I never make a penny from this story, I’ll still be happy to have shared it with the world because of how much it means to me.
I want to thank those that read early drafts of my book online and made such helpful comments. A very special thanks to Janelle Fluharty, who was willing to read this on a tight deadline. Then there’s Heather Croissant, who designed the gorgeous cover and the wonderful chapter art; you brought to life what I’d dreamed up in my head, and I will be forever grateful.
I couldn’t be more thankful to all the wonderful friends and family that always supported my writing: Michelle Gernert, Michelle Conklyn, my grandmother Dolly Mainardi, my parents-in-law, my cousins (especially Brian Fox, who I have a distinct memory of him telling me never to stop writing). Everyone else, you know who you are, and I love you.
Finally, I want to thank readers everywhere. It’s because of you that I want my stories to be told. And I can’t wait to share more of them with you!
Nicole Mainardi was born in San Diego, California, despite her protests otherwise. Spending her childhood in Michigan and Arizona, she finally found her roots back in Southern California, where she met her husband in their junior year of high school.
When she’s not writing, she’s working at her day job, reading, obsessing over Harry Potter and all things Disney, and playing soccer.
Visit nmainardi.blogspot.com for more information and news!
A Curse of Thorns Page 21