Heart of Thorns

by Nicolette Andrews

  "The Thorntons are guardians of the forest and therefore my jurisdiction. We've let you run wild in the village, isn't that enough?"

  She smiled. "No, Ray, my dear. We both knew it was never going to be enough." She stopped in front of him, planted her hands on either side of his face, and stepped up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

  He knew he should push her away, but while she maintained the form of Lady Thornton, he did not seem to be able to stop himself. He kissed her with all the fervor and passion he wished he could kiss Lady Thornton with, and that thought disturbed him.

  He pushed the witch away. "What have you done to Lady Thornton? Why do I desire her to the point of madness?"

  She laughed again, and the sound echoed and ricocheted back at him. "Do you like that? You were my inspiration, sending Lord Thornton out to find a bride with Fae blood, hoping beyond hope she was the right one. How many have you gone through now? Six, seven, eight?"

  "Eleven in total," he said through ground teeth. "What's so special about Lady Thornton? Why the sudden interest?"

  "Because she's the one, isn't she? The one you've been searching for?"

  "What if she is? Why would you care?" It was a stupid question, he knew exactly what she was after, but he wanted to hear the words to confirm his fears.

  She crossed Catherine's petite arms over her chest. "Come now, Ray, you know better than that. Why did you get locked out of the Otherworld, condemned to live at the border as gatekeeper? It's all for the Thorn Kingdom; that's all it's ever been about, for the both of us."

  "Is that why you're here? Do you want to offer me an exchange to assist you in taking the throne?"

  She shook her head and waggled her finger at him. Seeing Lady Thornton do these things was disorienting, every gesture was out of character for her. But that was why she used this form. She had placed the spell on her to draw Ray closer to her and then used that same attraction to keep him in her thrall.

  "That ship has sailed, my old friend. I have simply come to give you the chance to walk away now. I have plans for the Thorntons, and you, unfortunately, do not fit in with them."

  Her offer mirrored his to Miss Ashton. "You sent that girl to try to stir up trouble, didn't you?"

  She threw her hands up. "Guilty. She was a delightful distraction and a means to an end but nothing more. Once you stepped in, I knew she would be of no use to me."

  Typical of her, I should have seen her hand in this from the moment that so-called witch put the spell on Lord Thornton. He shook his head. Looking back, her hand was in it all. The disappearing girls, the monster, the fog, he had thought the entire time someone in the Thorn Kingdom was working against him, trying to prevent his return to his rightful place, when it had been her the entire time, his greatest mistake. He considered challenging her and ending it there for good, but a black bird swooped down and landed on a nearby tree.

  She looked up at the bird with a thin smile. She had the sight and could see the messenger for what it was. There was no way to trick her.

  Mr. Thorn walked past her and over to the messenger. The black bird watched them with black beady eyes. He would report every detail of this scene back to whoever was his master. His only consolation was the witch wore a disguise, so he might be able to save some face.

  He bowed to the bird, and it tilted its head and screeched.

  "An acquaintance of yours?" she asked. She was hoping to listen in on his conversation. He had given her enough information and taken too little in exchange. It was time for her to leave.

  "I fear we shall have to continue this conversation later," he said to her.

  He had no real power over her, but she bowed deeply to him nonetheless. He knew it was more in jest than anything. She slipped into the fog and disappeared from sight. I will need to take care of that problem soon. I never thought she would grow so powerful. I should have kept a closer eye on her.

  "You have a message for me?" he said, turning back to the black bird.

  "She is progressing?" the bird said in a raspy voice.

  "She has come to accept the truth. She will be ready for the final test very soon."

  The black bird screeched, and it was meant as a laugh. "You better hope, Ray. You know the council has made their decree this is your final chance. They are growing impatient as well. If this girl is not tested by the next full moon, you will have to face them for punishment."

  "No pressure," Ray muttered to himself.

  The black bird screeched-laughed again. "It will not be a problem for the great Ray," he said, mocking. It was a day of humbling egos.

  "Is there more to this message, or are you planning to remain to ridicule me?"

  The black bird tilted his head back and forth, regarding Ray. "I had not planned on it, but if you would like..."

  Ray scowled. "Leave me."

  The black bird gave an indignant squawk before it flapped its wings and shook the branch on which it was perched. Leaves rained down upon Ray. He stared up after the black bird, with a frown creasing his brow. I do not have much time. I will have to deal with the witch after I get Lady Thornton into the forest. I just hope she does not lose her heart before then.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Catherine had spent the better part of the afternoon with Edward's aunt, Mrs. Rosewood, and together they had made plans for the upcoming ball. Catherine left their meeting feeling much more assured in her domestic affairs. Now if only she could find Edward and explain what had happened. She still feared the woods and most of all Mr. Thorn. She did not know how to go about solving the problem of the Thorn Dwellers. Mrs. Rosewood had said no more after her initial warning, and Catherine preferred it that way. She did not want to think any further about these ghastly things.

  She mounted the steps to her room to prepare to dress for dinner. She had invited Mrs. Rosewood to come as well, but she had demurred and declined the invitation. I feel that with Mrs. Rosewood's tutelage I shall become a lady worthy of Edward. When Catherine reached the landing to her room, she found the door ajar. She hesitated at first. I swore I closed that after I left. She wanted to believe the simple explanation that Miss Larson had returned and was preparing her dinner clothes. The simple answer never seemed quite adequate as of late. She pushed the door, and it swung open into a dark room. The fire in the fireplace had burned down low, and a pale yellow light illuminated the furniture. The light outlined the polished wood on her vanity and the posts of her bed. She crept inside. I am being foolish. There is nothing to be afraid of in my own house. The Thorn Dwellers cannot hurt me here.

  She heard a crunch and twirled around to see the owl sitting on the back of a chair, with a biscuit held in her talon. Catherine clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her scream.

  "I helped myself to some of your biscuits while you were out; I hope you do not mind," the owl said before she brought her talon up to her beak and took another bite of the biscuit. "Though I must confess, human food is terribly bland. I do not know how you can stand it."

  "What are you doing here?" Catherine stammered.

  The owl dropped the biscuit, which fell on the seat of the chair. Crumbs scattered across the patterned fabric. Catherine stared at it for a moment as if looking at the crumbs would anchor her spinning world.

  "I have been chosen to help you prepare for the forest dance tonight." She puffed up her chest.

  "I am not going with you. I know what you're after." She covered her heart as she said this.

  The owl tilted her head to regard her. "You know about the test, then? I am surprised Ray told you so much. He never told the others anything."

  The matter-of-fact nature of the owl's speech sent Catherine's thoughts tumbling. She did not even try to say she was not going to take her heart. She had to run, find someone to help her. She turned in place to run for the door, but the door slammed shut and Mr. Thorn was leaning against it. He did not look himself, and it took Catherine a moment to register why. His skin was dark before, but
it was now brown, and his long hair was corded like vines woven together. His features were sharper and more angular but beautiful. His eyes were a blazing green set in his dark skin. It was overwhelming to look at him.

  "You cannot run, Lady Thornton. This was bound to happen from the moment you arrived in Thornwood. Now, are you prepared to come quietly?" he asked with a crooked smile.

  She had learned to accept that she was not mad. She was willing to push herself outside of her comfort zone and accept that the Thorn Dwellers were real. However, seeing Mr. Thorn transformed was more than she could handle after the stress of the past few days. She fainted.

  A clarion song woke Catherine. She sat up, wide eyed as she peered around her into the darkness. She was cradled in a bed of vines, a blanket with feathers and tiny white flowers had been pulled up to her chin. It slid down into her lap as she sat up. She ran her hands along the soft down material. Ethereal light emanated from sconces on the wall. Blue-green light danced over the rough-hewn walls, which appeared to be carved from the earth. Roots and insect holes adorned the entire area. Natural niches made from curving roots made cubbyholes full of an assortment of odds and ends: glass bottles in a multitude of colors, books and bundles of herbs. This is Mr. Thorn's home. She panicked and touched her chest. Everything remained intact. If he meant to take my heart, why has he not done it already? She looked about the room; there was nowhere to hide. It appeared Mr. Thorn had left her alone. There has been ample time to take my heart if he meant to. What if Mrs. Rosewood was wrong and he does not intend to take it? Then why bring me here again?

  The music that woke her washed over Catherine. She stood and padded across the moss that covered the ground. She curled her toes around it, marveling at the soft flooring beneath her bare feet. As she approached a wooden door at the far end of the chamber, the song seemed to pick up, as if the singers had been waiting for her to awaken. Intertwined in the ebb of the song, voices caressed her ears.

  "Come to us, sister."

  "You are not one of them."

  "With us is where you belong."

  "The time has come to leave them behind."

  Entranced by the song and the coercing voices, she slipped through the door and out into the night. The same pathway that had guided her before appeared at her feet. In the long shadows made by moonlight, she could nearly see dozens of pairs of gleaming eyes peering at her. She stopped to stare at them and pressed her hand over her rapidly beating heart. They did not approach her, just continued to regard her without blinking. They cannot hurt you while you remain on the path, she reminded herself. She scurried past, giving the thickest groupings a wide berth. The eyes disappeared into the brush only to reemerge farther away. It is as if they are leading me deeper into the forest, Catherine mused. She was peculiarly unafraid. Her entire life she had been lied to. She was told the creatures she saw in her garden who danced and sang to her were not real. When she had insisted that she had some skill at helping plants grow, they called her insane. When her parents thought she could not control her oddities, they sent her to a sanitarium.

  She had always done what she was told, listened to her elders, and ignored what she saw before her face. They could all be wrong, Col. Hawthorn, Mrs. Rosewood. They blamed the Thorn Dwellers, but how do I know they are the ones who have stolen these women's hearts? What if those women came too close to the forest and those creatures who have watched me attacked them? Mrs. Rosewood assumes it was Mr. Thorn, but he has not harmed me when he had every chance possible. These things she told herself voiced out loud would sound mad, but Catherine desperately wanted to believe them. She did not want to live in fear any longer; she was tired of looking over her shoulder. She was ready to face whatever waited for her in the forest. He will not rest until he has done what he must. I would rather see this through than keep wondering and waiting. She was ready to take a chance and make a decision for herself. Mr. Thorn had brought her here for a reason. Though she could not explain why, she thought he did not want to take her heart. She realized she wanted to trust him. It was strange, she had feared him from the moment they met, but in all their encounters he had been teasing but never cruel. The entire time he was leading her to find the truth about herself. This music also seemed to be guiding her to some greater revelation. There were still things she wanted to learn about who she was.

  The path continued on, wending and turning under oak trees and thick brush bristling with thorns. Occasionally, a gnarled, spiny and knotted hand would emerge from behind a rock or from beneath a canopy of trees. Catherine turned her gaze away when they revealed themselves, fearing they were not benevolent forest creatures. Where is Mr. Thorn? Why did he bring me here?

  She stopped as the path intersected with a creek. She paused as icy water lapped at her bare toes. A chill crept up her spine. There was an invisible barrier here, and she feared once she crossed it, there would be no turning back.

  "You have been gone too long," the voices crooned, as if reading her thoughts. "It is time to return home."

  Catherine looked over her shoulder, back into the darkness of the forest. She could not see the manor from here. Thornwood Abbey was her home though it had never felt welcoming. In the forest she felt stronger. Since she met Mr. Thorn, she had learned so much about herself, about the world around her. It was dangerous and beautiful. She loved Edward, but she could not escape the feeling that she did not deserve him. If she did cross and never returned, would he be happier without her? Is it not time for you to do something for yourself for once? Cross and find the answers you seek. The tempo of the song changed, growing more demanding and less coaxing. Catherine felt as if she were running short on time.

  "Come before the gateway closes, hurry!" a voice whispered in her ear. She turned around, expecting Mr. Thorn, but found nothing but the empty forest, even the eyes had left her to her decision.

  Catherine waffled for a second longer, feeling as if invisible tendrils were pulling at her and urging her to cross the riverbed and take that final step. She thought of all the strange things she had encountered since arriving at Thornwood Abbey and also her own childhood previously locked away at the back of her mind. As if a final bond had been broken within her, she waded into the creek, picked up her skirt, and crossed. It was time she took a risk.

  She felt free and alive for the first time. Hands caked with mud, she climbed the rise of the bank. Over the edge she peered and saw faces in the trees. Not the same glowing eyes but real forms. She stood up and elegant women, hair coifed and the color of green leaves, awaited her. They took her by the hand, and one woman with long hair like the vines of a willow tree brought a basin in which she could wash.

  They kneeled before her, washing her hands and feet. A girl with a small sharp nose, round black eyes, and an owl mask pushed back on her head brought a gown of white silk. Though Catherine tried to protest, they would hear none of it and disrobed her and put on the thin sheath. They adorned her hair with a garland of white flowers before leading her further into the forest.

  A line of people awaited her, regal men with crowns of bird's nests upon their heads. And people with animal-like features. Men with hawk noses and cloaks like the sweep of wings, and women with clever fox eyes, tawny pelts hooded with empty-eyed masks pushed back on their heads, as if they merely need pull them down over their eyes and resume the forms of the animals they were, watched her pass by.

  Opening their arms to her in welcome, they led her deeper into the forest. Occasionally, a clawed hand would reach out and caress her skin or soft padded fingers would catch her hair, which trailed after her like spiderwebs twinkling in moonlight. Though she shivered with excitement and fear at their unfamiliar touch, she continued on, eyes fixed on the distance from whence the song emanated.

  Eventually, she reached a clearing, where dozens of humanoids gathered in a circle, dancing beneath fur and feather, silvery in the moonlight. Each moved to the song at their own speed and with their own dance, limbs akimbo, howling
and screeching. Others hung back in the shadows, eyes glittering. A man, a head taller than the rest, his hair cabled like a myriad of vines, spun around as he dipped and twirled.

  Suddenly, his eyes fell upon her, and he halted. His hand, thorny and the color of earth, held up to the sky silenced those gathered and the music died away, leaving only a void of silence that seemed to echo through Catherine's head. Mr. Thorn smiled a wild and feral smile.

  He bowed to her, his cable hair fell into his eyes, parting like a curtain, and he rose again. "You have passed the test, Lady Thornton. Welcome home."

  Words were not enough to encompass the love and acceptance she felt in that single word. She had never felt accepted, never felt welcome. She had always been an outsider, always just a bit different. If this was a dream, she hoped it never ended. Her hands trembling, she took his and he led her to the center of the clearing. The music resumed and the dance began anew. It was no dance one could learn, it came from the heart, from the most instinctual carnal part of her. The humanoids in the clearing soon joined in the dance, cawing, grunting and growling. Others emerged from the darkness; she presumed these were Those that Dwell in the Thorns. Some were wild and fierce looking, and others had a more human compassion in their eyes.

  They danced in a ring beneath the light of the moon. Those that Dwell in the Thorns and others she could not name. The Thorn Dwellers, who were long legged and nimble, jumped and twirled, thorny hands and limbs flashing beneath the moonlight, and all the time their dark eyes watched her hungrily.

  "You are home," they chanted.

  "Our daughter has returned," they sang.

  And she sang with them, her once quiet voice now uninhibited and free, full of previously unknown melody. "Home. Home. I am home!"

  A chalice was passed about, and she drank deep and felt no weariness, no regret; she felt only joy, pure and complete.