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Sleeping Beauty

Page 19

by K. M. Shea


  The princes trooped out of Briar’s bedroom, and Isaia closed the door behind them. He wanted to train until he was too exhausted to think; he wanted to occupy his mind and his heart so they would stop howling from disappointment.

  Briar will wake up. She has to.

  Isaia sat in a straight-backed, wooden chair he had placed in Briar’s room and used a whetstone to polish his sword. He was in the process of oiling the whetstone when he saw a flare of fire puff up from the courtyard outside Briar’s room.

  Someone yelped. “Was that really necessary?”

  “I wanted to warn Isaia that we’re here.”

  “You burned off my eyebrows!”

  “Accidents are bound to happen when you carelessly play around with your speed magic.”

  Isaia set his sword down and crossed the room so he could peer outside the window, confirming what he suspected.

  Firra and Donaigh sauntered across the palace lawn. Donaigh barged inside, but Firra paused long enough to wave. “We’ll be right up!” she called.

  A few minutes later, the pair busted into Briar’s room, bringing with them the scent of flowers, growing grass, and singed hair. Spring was in full bloom outside the city walls. The small trickle of foreign dignitaries had almost dried up, and Briar slept on.

  “Happy spring, Sir Isaia,” Firra said.

  Donaigh ambled idly in her shadow, his watchful eyes taking in Briar’s unmoving form. (His eyebrows did look a little burnt.) “There are no changes, I expect?”

  “None,” Isaia said. “Any news on Carabosso?”

  Firra grimly shook her head. “No. The Magic Knights scramble to stamp out goblins, trolls, and the odd Chimera, but no one has seen Carabosso. He’s gone underground since Briar’s curse.”

  Donaigh rubbed his chin. “It’s strange. This is his hour of triumph…why disappear?”

  “Prince Severin and Princess Elle of Loire are hosting a summit in the beginning of summer,” Firra said. “They mean to discuss the state of the continent.”

  “Is Sole sending a representative?” Isaia asked.

  “No,” Donaigh said. “Or at least that is what they had decided when we last ran into Sir Artemio. They may have changed their minds.”

  “It would be too tricky to send someone when they cannot speak for the crown, the army, or the knights,” Firra said. “But Donaigh and I plan to go. Though the Veneno Conclave is not specifically involved, a number of us magic users will attend as concerned citizens. We’ll pass on what we learn to Sole officials.”

  “Could you request any single, royal males to present themselves to Briar?” Isaia asked.

  Donaigh tilted his head. “Hasn’t everyone come?”

  “No. Neither of the Kozlovkan princes have, and they are both unmarried.”

  “Not surprising.” Donaigh scratched his chin. “I heard they were having trouble with a rogue sorcerer.”

  “We’ll do what we can,” Firra said. “But as much as it pains me, many countries are still scrambling to protect themselves or are recovering from an attack of their own.”

  “I understand,” Isaia said.

  He did, but it didn’t make it any better. Though his mind saw the sense of it, desperation bore down upon him more and more with each passing day.

  “Don’t lose hope,” Donaigh said, as if he could read Isaia’s thoughts. (The surprisingly astute man probably saw them in his face.) “We haven’t had a chance to send the Magic Knights through to test and see if her true love is any of them. Who knows? Maybe Briar sports a secret passion for one of the legendary knights.”

  The thought paralyzed Isaia for a moment. A legendary knight might be a proper partner for Briar. He would be able to protect her better than any man on the continent—except, perhaps, for a magic user. But for Isaia, it was perhaps one of the worst possible outcomes. For her to love a prince or a foreign hero was one thing, but to have her love a fellow magic knight? It would kill him. His doggish loyalty would have to end, and there would no longer be a need for him to stand at her side as her guard.

  “The youngest legendary knight is Sir Lucio, and he is at least fifteen years older than her,” Firra said flatly.

  Donaigh raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression you favored older men.”

  “No,” Firra said. “I find them to be fools who get their eyebrows burned off.”

  “How cold!”

  The fire mage ignored him. “We’ll remain in Ciane for a few days, Isaia. We mean to give you a chance to get out of here and take Valor for a ride. It would do you some good to see the countryside.”

  Isaia looked back and forth between the pair. “I am content to guard Briar.”

  “Of course you are,” Donaigh said. He reached up to try and throw an arm over Isaia’s shoulders. “But Briar would burn my hat if she woke up and heard you had stayed with her the whole time.”

  Unconvinced, Isaia stared at him.

  “That’s a worry for tomorrow,” Firra said. “Come, we smuggled some cookies away from a friend of ours.”

  Isaia appreciated the mages’ visit. It bolstered his lagging spirits. But more than anything, Isaia wished Briar’s true love, perhaps the rich lord on the white horse she had always described when plotting out her Easy-and-Carefree-Life, would arrive—preferably before it came down to testing the Magic Knights of Sole.

  Outside of Ciane, lightning lit up the sky, and thunder shook the earth in a torrential downpour. Ciane lay undisturbed, preserved in its moment of time.

  Isaia sat in his chair and watched Briar.

  It was midsummer. No potential men had come to see Briar for weeks.

  His hands twitched. “Steady,” he murmured to himself.

  Isaia would guard her as long as he breathed. He would never leave her. But it hurt to be so close to her and to have her asleep.

  Her laughter and playful banter haunted his dreams. He missed her so much that if he closed his eyes for however brief a moment, he would see her eyes—mischievous, smiling, and dazzling.

  Isaia forced himself to exhale deeply.

  He missed her with the strength of a broken heart.

  He stood and picked up his chair. Slowly, he took several steps closer to her bed until he almost could have reached out and touched it. He set his chair down, seated himself, and waited.

  He would wait as long as it took for Briar to open her eyes again.

  Isaia looked up from the book he was perusing half-heartedly and glanced out through the open window when he thought he heard voices.

  He couldn’t see any trees, but he knew they were painted bright orange, gold, and crimson. Once again the temperatures had turned cooler, and it had been more than a year since Briar fell asleep.

  Isaia set the book aside and went to the window, but he saw no one. He returned to his chair and juggled the book back and forth.

  His original plan had been to read it out loud for Briar, but thus far he hadn’t been able to read more than a page. It made him feel like an idiot—not reading to a sleeping princess, but just reading out loud in general. Reading the entire page had possibly been more words hooked together than Isaia had spoken in his lifetime.

  He glanced outside and set the book aside. Valor needed to be ridden around the courtyard to stretch her out.

  It was the routine that saved him. The silence and stillness of Ciane didn’t bother him—though Firra complained about it every time she visited. As long as he stuck to his routines, he could get through the day with a little more ease. If he let himself think about Briar, he would go mad with grief.

  He automatically started for the door, but he made the mistake of glancing back at Briar. Seeing her on her bed, knowing how vibrant she’d been, cut him so deeply he stopped to lean against the doorframe.

  He hesitated, then slowly returned to Briar’s bedside. “I’m sorry.” He tried to smile, but failed. “I’m sorry I’m not enough. I wish I were with everything I have, but…” He bent over slightly, and the pain in his
heart made him brush her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m just your loyal dog. I cannot be your true love as you reign.”

  Unhearing, Briar slept on.

  The merciless silence almost crushed him. Unbidden, her last words to him surfaced in his mind. I need you to wake me up when the curse hits…

  He stared at her, beautiful but silent. When would she get up and laugh and speak again? Her absence was a gaping hole in his heart. He thought he could stay with her as long as needed, but this was torture. Sole needed her; the world needed her; he needed her! Why wouldn’t she wake?

  This wasn’t right. Waiting for random men to wander into Ciane to see if they would be worthy of her—none would ever be able to wake her. Her curse would break with true love’s kiss…

  The Princes of Arcainia were right. It was an expression of love that would break the curse, not an empty kiss. And who could ever love her more than he?

  Briar had been right all along. He could break her curse, but not because of the feelings she held for him, but because of the endless love he had for her!

  Something in him snapped, shattering like a flooded river dam. He had to wake her. He still couldn’t marry her—he still had that much honor, at least, and he doubted King Giuseppe would ever approve anyway. But it didn’t matter if he couldn’t have her; it was far worse to sit by her and never hear her voice and her laughter, to never see the mischievous glint in her violet eyes or the sly smirk that made her look almost pixie-like.

  Even after she found the man worthy of her…he would always be her knight.

  He leaned over her, resting his forehead gently against hers. “I will love you forever,” he whispered. Every part of his soul screamed at him to end this pain and wake her even as he dreaded and savored every moment. He kissed her lightly on the lips—his heart thudding painfully in his chest as the chivalry that was so etched into his life sputtered and choked in shock.

  Like a shattering mirror, the curse broke.

  A tremendous crash sounded, and the palace hummed as Angelique’s preservation spell and sleep spell crumbled. Playful sparks of light whirled around Isaia and Briar, and her lips moved against his.

  Shocked, he pulled back—unable to breathe as Briar’s purple eyes flickered open. She smiled shyly at him, and Isaia felt his world heave with joy…and with a desperation even more heart-wrenching than the past year. For now she had woken—and he was going to lose her.

  Chapter 10

  An Unexpected Outcome

  Briar felt the curse lift, slowly tugging her from her sleep. She was comfortable and warm, and the lightest touch brushed her lips.

  Isaia.

  She struggled to open her eyes in the bright light. She was in her bedroom, and Isaia was the only one present—though there were silver flecks of light. Leftover from the spell, perhaps?

  He had listened to her—he had woken her up! Relieved her mad scheme had worked, and more than a little embarrassed at what being woken up by her childhood friend implied, Briar smiled shyly.

  Her smile dimmed a little when she read the sorrow on his face. His mouth was slightly opened, as if he were trying to find the right words, and the sadness in his eyes was unpleasant to witness.

  But he woke me. That’s what matters most right now.

  “Thank you for listening to me,” Briar said. Her voice was rusty, and she coughed to clear it. She grimaced as she struggled to sit up in her bed and rubbed her eyes. “And thank goodness it’s over. Now Grandfather, Mother, and Father will stop nattering over my curse, and we can really nail Carabosso. What happened to him? Did he run off?”

  “He hasn’t been seen since the onset of your curse.”

  “So?” Briar asked. “It’s been what, a few hours? A day?” At the moment she didn’t care a bit about Carabosso and what he had accomplished during her brief nap, but the stricken expression on Isaia’s face increased Briar’s desire to stay far away from the topic of why Isaia had been able to break her curse.

  She would try bringing it up to him later—when he didn’t look so conflicted. She scooted to the edge of her bed as Isaia backed up to the far wall.

  “Briar,” he said, “it’s been a year.”

  She froze. “What?”

  “You activated your curse and fell asleep a year ago,” Isaia said.

  Words escaped her. Her ears rang as she processed his response in shock. A year. She had been unconscious for a year? “Did Grandfather forbid you?” she asked.

  He hesitated.

  “Did my parents forbid you?” When he shook his head, she floundered for a legitimate excuse. “The other knights, then? You Magic Knights do brag about your independence and detachment…”

  Isaia stared at the ground.

  “Surely there must be a reasonable explanation. Someone must have kept you from following my request.”

  “The Lady Enchantress Angelique, who modified your original curse, came shortly after you fell asleep and placed a spell on Ciane so the entire city slept with you. I stayed awake to guard you.” Isaia finally raised his eyes to meet Briar’s gaze.

  Briar gripped her coverlet. “And you waited a year to kiss me?”

  “I didn’t think I was your true love.”

  His response was a sword to Briar’s heart. He hadn’t believed her. “But you didn’t think to try for an entire year?” Briar asked, her voice cracking against her will.

  “I thought you were mistaken in the depth of your feelings for me.”

  True love or not, Briar would have happily stabbed Isaia with the very knife he had given her at that moment. “Isaia, this whole situation was bigger than us. I set off my curse because I knew without a doubt that you could wake me up that same day, and I asked you to do so. I took the risk because we had to cast off the terror Carabosso placed on the country. But it’s been a year?” Briar almost flopped back in her bed. “I’ve made things so much worse.”

  She tried to stand and stumbled. Isaia lunged forward to help her, but Briar swatted him away. “No. You don’t get to help. Why didn’t you believe that I would know my own heart?”

  Briar could tell he itched to steady her, but she didn’t care. She had asked him to wake her up—which was about as close to blurting out that she loved him as she dared to come and keep her sense of pride. And he hadn’t considered it to be true—for a year?

  “I imagine you hold me in affection, but I couldn’t—I can’t be your true love,” Isaia said.

  “And why is that?” Briar was barely able to keep the snarl out of her voice.

  If Briar had not spent nearly half of her life around the taciturn magic knight, she might have missed the flicker of bottomless misery in his green eyes. It was there for only a moment before Isaia smoothed his expression over. “Because I am not worthy of you.”

  She could have screamed. “Isaia, you are the most honorable person I know!”

  “But I cannot hope to match you as you change and grow into your role.”

  Briar’s world fell out from under her, and the moment of his misery was forgotten. “Change. Grow? You think I’m not fine the way I am?”

  “No, that’s not it—”

  “You—like everyone else in this festering castle—think I need to change? Hah! Do you also think I need someone to make me whole, like my mother and grandfather?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She was so hurt and angry, her words poured from her. “Well, I have a revelation for you: I don’t need another person to prove my worth!”

  Briar took a shaky breath and tried not to cry. Yes, it had hurt her when she was young and Isaia had kindly rebuffed her. Her heart ached that he was so near and yet not hers. But she still enjoyed his friendship. She still counted on his loyalty, and she thought he valued her. But now…he thought she needed to change? And he believed her so little that when she told him he could wake her, he waited a year?

  Bitter tears stung her eyes. “Get out.”

  Isaia did not move.

  “I said get out!”


  Before Isaia could move, the door swung open. Princess Alessia smiled brightly—though Briar could see her face was a little wan. “Darling—you’re awake!”

  Briar marched over to her mother, threw her arms around her in a fierce hug, and tried not to break into ugly sobs.

  Princess Alessia smoothed Briar’s hair away from her face. “I’m so glad you’re finally awake, darling. But who broke your curse?” She peered around the room, as if Briar’s true love would naturally hide. Her eyes skimmed over Isaia twice before she realized the implications. “Sir Isaia?”

  Briar kept her mouth shut—a rare occurrence.

  “Oh, darling.” Princess Alessia hugged her again. “You cannot…the king won’t allow it.”

  Briar didn’t miss the way Isaia’s hand inched towards his sword hilt. She wondered at the show, but it reminded her of her brief interlude with the legendary two-handed sword in the hall.

  She pushed the memory away. Later.

  Princess Alessia sighed. “We better inform your father—and your grandfather. Come, Sir Isaia. You’ll need to be present as well.”

  As Princess Alessia led the way, she explained to Briar why and how the sleeping spell came to be cast upon Ciane. The realization only deepened Briar’s guilt. She hadn’t thought the king would react so emotionally, and now the entire city had lost a year because of her impulsive plan.

  A part of her heart wanted to snarl at Isaia. None of this would have happened if he had just believed her! But as much as his reasoning hurt, Briar knew that truly, she could only blame herself.

  “Donaigh and Firra arrived just as the curse broke,” Princess Alessia said. “It was they who explained that a year had passed.”

  “How has King Giuseppe reacted to this knowledge?” Isaia asked.

  “We presented the mass spell as more of a precaution for Briar than a…safety measure. I’m sorry, Rosalinda, but we told him that we felt you would have been alarmed to wake up and find that things had changed around you.”

 

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