I stood there, closing my eyes to focus on my connection with the earth. The whole point of this battle was to prevent people from getting hurt. My men had their orders. The Arthurians were not to be killed. The swords of Leonard’s kind could do a lot of damage, but I had no plans to allow it. While my men kept them busy, I became the main attacking force and summoned my vines once more. The plants came from every direction, surrounding the Arthurians, dragging them down and knocking their weapons out of their hands. Eventually, once I had my way, those vines would take the Arthurian soldiers to our dungeons. Likely, it was only a matter of time until that happened.
But there was someone who would not relent. A man with dark-blond hair emerged from the skirmish. I didn’t know how he saw me, but he did. He made his way through the battling crowd, escaping the hold of the vines and the looming threat my men represented.
He stumbled through the forest, dodging the trees that tried to hold him back, leaping over sudden holes in the ground that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t even my doing, not all of it. My land was trying to protect me, attempting to eliminate the danger that it could actually affect.
But the man was relentless, and before I could back away, there he stood, in front of me, blade drawn in a distinctively threatening stance. “Call them off,” he said. “You’re the leader, right? Call them all off.”
“I can’t,” I replied. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Turn back before you get hurt.”
He frowned at me and lifted his blade. For my part, I couldn’t do anything. The distance between the two of us and the actual skirmish was very small, and while the trees were being kept busy by the Arthurian forces, they would have come to me had I said a word. But I didn’t say it, and I stopped the ground from attacking him. The vines I controlled fell at my feet limply. I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t hurt him. Because this man, this warrior looked like a younger version of Leonard, his features just as sharp and aristocratic, but a little softer somehow. I recognized him from Leonard’s memories as the youngest of the Arthurian princes, Kirril.
Kirril was mated to another Merlinian and had a child on the way. Kirril had come here to save his beloved brother, my mate. How could I lift a finger against him?
The sharp steel of Kirril’s sword glittered in the rays of the sun, and I remembered that I didn’t have a choice but to stand against him. My seedlings needed me to protect them. That thought made a wall of briars appear between me and Kirril, while I covered the swell of my stomach with my palm.
Kirril’s gaze immediately followed my actions. His eyes widened when he noticed my condition, which so far had been concealed by the way my petals had grown around my body.
“What in the world is going on here?” he asked, hesitating.
He was a noble man, and obviously reluctant to harm someone with child. I wanted to explain, to tell him that the seedlings I carried would be his nephews. But I didn’t get the chance. A bolt of magic struck Kirril, and before my very eyes, my mate’s brother turned into stone.
“Well, that was unfortunate,” the witch said, emerging from the shadow of the trees.
I stared at her, unable to believe my gaze. “Did you kill him?” I asked weakly.
She chortled. “Not just yet, but he will die soon enough. Currently, he’s trapped in the stone, and its structure allows him to breathe. He’ll die slowly and painfully, when his body finally shuts down because of lack of food and water.” She arched a brow at me. “It’s your fault, you know, Briar. As long as you hesitate, this will keep happening.”
“He’s Leonard’s brother,” I argued weakly, knowing even as I spoke that I wouldn’t be able to convince her. “Please…I couldn’t—”
She stopped me from finishing the phrase with a frigid look. “You’ll do what I say, and you’ll like it,” the witch told me. “Otherwise…well, you know what the consequences are going to be.”
I nodded, barely managing to suppress a whimper at the threat in her eyes. Yes, I knew the consequences all too well, and had known them ever since the witch had put my mate into the cursed sleep. The first thing she had told me was that I needed to obey her, or else my mate would pay. And while I understood it was exactly the threat that had determined Aloe and Belladonna to betray me, I’d done exactly that.
The witch smiled widely at me. “Good boy. Now, how are your seedlings? Any sign that they’ll emerge anytime soon?”
Her interest in my pregnancy unsettled me deeply. “I’m not really sure,” I told her. “I don’t know all that much about Arthurian children.”
“That’s quite all right.” She laughed again. “I have a feeling we’ll both find out soon. Together.”
She grabbed my arm and started to drag me away from the battlefield. I looked back at Kirril, wanting to return, to help him somehow. I mentally sent out my vines and briars. There were other creatures who lived in the Dryad Kingdom, some who might even be able to do what I could not. If they’d been cursed, too…Kirril would probably die and I couldn’t do anything about it.
The witch was too strong, and my hands were tied. I stumbled after her, hoping and praying that Rosa was doing what I’d asked him to do and that my call for help wouldn’t be unheeded.
* * * *
“You have got to snap out of this, Arthurian!” Rosa growled at me as we walked through the darkness. “You’re the only one who can get us out of here.”
“Yes, well, I’m not sure how exactly I can do that, given that I don’t even know where we are. Why did you even come here if you can’t help?”
Rosa rolled his eyes at me. “Briar asked me to, you ungrateful rat. Do you have any idea how bad he has it now? He has seedlings, Arthurian, seedlings. All the while, you’re just lying there, sleeping. Assume responsibility for your actions.”
I would have loved to do exactly that, except the curse had taken away any possibility I had of reaching out to my mate. The only reason why I even remained in this vague state of cognizance was because Rosa had somehow managed to slip past the barriers of the spell. Sadly, the guardian couldn’t re-enable my mate bond with Briar, and while I was grateful for his presence, I really wished he had better suggestions than “Assume responsibility.”
Seedlings. I knew what that meant. My mate was pregnant. Rosa had warned me before that it could happen if I slept with Briar during his pollination period, but it still shook me every time he mentioned it now.
How much time had passed since I’d been cursed? Gods, I was even afraid to ask. “All right,” I said, taking a deep breath—or whatever its equivalent was in this place where the only thing that existed was my mind. “We have to keep trying. There has to be a way I can wake up.”
Rosa nodded and took my hand. The softness of the petals he was made out of reminded me of Briar and sent a pang of pain through me. He didn’t say anything else, but for some reason, I got the feeling he was hiding something from me.
“What is it?” I inquired. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Don’t ask me that,” Rosa replied mysteriously. “You don’t want to know. And no, it’s not about Briar. Come on. Close your eyes and let’s try to go back.”
Even as he said this, I knew it would not work. The curse was too strong, and even with Rosa here, I couldn’t beat it. Nonetheless, I refused to give up. I kept trying, trying and trying, hoping without hope that my mate would still be there for me if—when—I finally succeeded.
Chapter Nine:
In Which Roses Are Blood-Red, True Mates Are Blue, Kisses Are Sweet, and I Love You
Present day
“They’re coming again.” The witch scowled at me as she sat down at the edge of the bed. “The Arthurians are coming again, and they have vampires with them this time around.”
“And what would you have him do?” Aloe snapped at her as she wiped my sweaty brow. “He’s sick.”
I lay there, breathing hard, nauseous, in pain, and afraid. I couldn’t even turn Aloe away, because so far, she was
the only one who’d been able to make the pain dwindle. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. All I knew was that my body felt like it was going to be ripped into two. Was this what Arthurian females went through in what they deemed birth? If so, I could only wonder how the Arthurian civilization had even survived.
“The babies are on their way then,” the witch concluded.
I didn’t want to answer, because I knew that, for some reason, she was very interested in my seedlings. However, Aloe nodded. “We’re having enough trouble with it as is. Dryad bodies aren’t built for this sort of thing.”
The witch rolled her eyes. “I forgot. You just create seeds and water them.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly correct, but it was far more similar to the dryad reproduction process than what was currently happening to me. Usually, when my people had children, we gave birth to exactly that—seeds. After that, the seed was planted in the earth that gave us life and was tended to our guardians, fed with magic and love, until we were finally ready to blossom into people.
It wasn’t like that with my seedlings, and I was terrified that something would go wrong, that my body wouldn’t be able to go through with the process and my babies would die. During past weeks, Rosa had come to me a handful of times and assured me that I could do it, but he hadn’t stayed because the curse was weakening him and I needed him to be with Leonard. I wished now that I would have, at the very least, told Rosa to convey to Leonard how much I loved him.
“Stop panicking,” the witch snapped at me. “You’re not the first person who’s ever given birth. Your healer is just incompetent. Move over, Aloe. Oh, and gather the troops. We’ll be marching against the Arthurians.”
Aloe fled when the witch glared at her, her dedication toward me obviously not enough to keep her in the room. This was how I ended up with the same witch who’d cursed my family caring for me. I would have resented her giving commands on what my men had to do, but right then and there, armies and wars were the least of my concerns. Her power had increased in the past months, and for the first time, she was using it for something good.
I was afraid of her at first, afraid of what she wanted, but she steadied me and sent waves of soothing powers through me. Suddenly, I could breathe. “You’re going to help me?” I asked, hating the weak sound of my own voice.
The witch nodded, humming something that sounded like a lullaby under her breath. “Do you know why I was cursed, Briar?” she asked almost idly.
Leonard had told me bits and pieces of what had happened, but I wasn’t sure if she actually wanted me to reply. When she gave me an inquiring look, I said, “Because your family went against you.”
“More or less,” the witch answered. “My children…Well, they’ve always been precocious. You know that by now. You’re keeping two of them trapped here after all.”
It was true. The woman named Anelah and her brother Rumpel Stiltskin were in the palace cellars. The witch hadn’t been able to extend the sleep curse onto them, but they were being held in a prison made out of thorns while their mother regularly sucked out their powers.
“In any case, they cared for me once, until I tried to hurt Anelah’s spawn. That was my mistake. Children should stay out of the wars of adults.”
It was a strikingly kind comment to make from the witch. And then, something occurred to me. The witch had always wanted a child from my father. This was how this entire debacle had started. She could have forced him into it now, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d directed her attention at me, and at my pregnancy.
“They’re my seedlings,” I replied, my eyes widening. “You can’t have them.”
“Oh, I would like to disagree. They’re half-dryad. The guardians will reject them. They will need a faithful godmother, and that’s where I come in. Especially if their parents are cursed into eternal slumber.”
I had always wondered why she hadn’t cast a new curse on me. I’d guessed it must have been because I was the heir of the Dryad Kingdom, and she could use me to control its military power. It seemed that I’d been wrong.
“Now, now,” she shushed me. “Don’t look so upset. I assure you I’ll take excellent care of your children.”
For what it was worth, she was careful. She smoothed her hand over the swell of my belly, and the cramps wreaking havoc on my body started to fade. “Hmm,” she mused. “It looks like you’re closer than I thought.”
I couldn’t help a whimper at that. In that moment, I would have gladly given my life if it meant keeping my children safe. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. Leonard…We’d had so little time together. We hadn’t even gotten to know each other that well. He’d made me fall in love with him in a few hours, and those hours would be the only ones I’d get to spend with him. The witch clearly had no intention of allowing us to reunite—ever. Perhaps she would even kill us once she no longer needed me.
For now, though, my time wasn’t up just yet. Belladonna stepped into the room, hesitated briefly, and said, “We’re gathering the men for an attack against the Arthurians. They will be ready within the hour.”
Suddenly, the witch frowned and pulled away. “That’s not fast enough. It looks like I have to take this matter into my own hands. After all, we can’t have the kingdom falling to the hands of Arthurians while the heir apparent is incapacitated.”
When she disappeared from the room, a strange mix of terror and relief filled me. Now that I knew what she had in mind, I wanted her as far away from me as possible. And yet, she was the only one who could help me save my seedlings.
Once she was gone, I knew I couldn’t just lie there and wait for my children to come. I slid out of the bed, clutching my swollen stomach and hoping whatever spell the witch had cast to help me with the pain would hold. Belladonna rushed to my side, trying to stop me. “You can’t do this, Briar. You need to lie down.”
I shook my head adamantly. “Take me to my mate,” I said, speaking to her for the first time in months. “I want to see my mate.”
Belladonna looked like she wanted to protest, but thankfully, she didn’t. Supporting me on her arm, she guided me out of the healing room I’d been resting in. Together, we slipped into the one next to it—Leonard’s quarters. Moving away from Belladonna, I knelt next to the bed in its center. Still deep in sleep, my mate looked a little pale, but otherwise, just like the day we’d met. The witch’s magic was sustaining him without him having to drink or eat—it was, apparently, a part of the curse. I half expected he would open his eyes, but he never did.
“I’m so sorry, Leonard,” I said as I brushed a kiss over his lips. “I couldn’t do anything to protect us.”
Leonard didn’t stir, but I’d known he wouldn’t. I had tried to break the curse on him like that countless times before, and it hadn’t worked. Crawling next to Leonard, I curled around him and took his hand.
In the distance, I heard dull sounds of what I guessed was the witch’s battle with the new arrivals. I couldn’t focus on it, especially since the spasms of pain were returning.
As if on cue, Belladonna said, “Briar, you can’t be here. You’re sick.”
Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. “I’m not sick,” I argued bitingly. “My seedlings are coming.”
She blinked, obviously surprised at my vehemence. “I know, Briar. Aloe is preparing something to help you.”
I mentally grimaced. I didn’t have time for that, and Aloe’s potions wouldn’t do me much good. “I need you to something for me,” I told Belladonna. Opening the nightstand, I rummaged through the items there until my hand finally fell on a small herb knife.
My heart racing, I offered Belladonna the item. “You have to cut me open. There is no other way.”
All the blood drained from her face. “I can’t do that, Briar,” she whispered.
“You can and you will. You owe me this. The witch has gone to fight the Arthurians, and no one else can help.”
She continued shaking her head, slowly backing away from
me. I had thought her to be capable of slicing into my flesh like that, because she hated me with a passion. But apparently, I had underestimated her disdain for me.
“Even if you loathe me, my seedlings aren’t to blame,” I told her weakly.
“I know that,” Belladonna argued. “But there has to be another way.”
“There isn’t,” another voice said from the doorway. Aloe walked inside, carrying a handful of supplies. “Put that knife away, Briar. It’s not appropriate.”
I guessed she was right, but I didn’t know what else to do. I nearly winced when I saw that she held a small, slim blade that looked far too sharp for my comfort. And yet, I was, to a certain extent, comforted by the fact that Aloe knew what she had to do.
Aloe and Belladonna joined me next to the bed. Aloe wordlessly gestured me to lie down. As I did so, she slowly rubbed a greenish substance over my petals. The ones around my stomach parted, although it wasn’t due to pleasure or anything like that. It looked like I had underestimated my druid aunt, because the entire area was becoming a little numb.
“This is safe for my seedlings, right?” I asked, panting.
Aloe nodded. “I’ve been looking into Arthurian birthing since it became obvious that it would happen for you. Males don’t give birth for their people, but there is a method to remove the babies in spite of your gender. Now, breathe deeply. Hold your mate’s hand if it helps.”
I did as Aloe told me, squeezing Leonard’s palm tightly. As my aunt prepared me for the birthing procedure, I prayed to the Goddess that it would work and my seedlings would survive this day.
* * * *
“Oh no.”
The two words startled me from my angry daze—which was as close as real sleep as I could get in this strange void. “What is it?” I asked Rosa.
The creature gave me a pained look. “Briar is giving birth. He isn’t ready for it, not ready at all. I have to go back.”
Briar Rose and His Not-So-Charming Prince [A Tail Like No Other: Book Five] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 11