The Sleeping Princess: Twisted Tales: Crown of Roses Book One

by D. L. Boyles

  “I am also The Hunter who let you escape.”

  “Let me?” she whispered hoarsely, her voice rising to a higher pitch that was verging near to audible for all the dwarfs. “If I recall, Prince Philip, you were bleeding profusely and immobile. You spent the night cuddling the corpse of a blood bear.”

  “How touching. Did you stay and watch over me while I slept?” He meant it to be sarcastic but by the way Snow gritted her teeth and squinted at him in disgust, he realized that she must have stayed for at least a little while. “You actually did.” That surprised him.

  She turned away from him, dropping her blade as though she couldn’t let go of it fast enough, shrugging the blanket onto her shoulder a little higher, which resulted in it tugging away from him entirely. “Unlike you, I do not go around murdering people for fun.”

  “No, you just steal from them.” He couldn’t let it go. Her thievery was such a grating disappointment.

  “Another reminder for you, Prince Philip, you happened to have left me with nothing. An eight-year-old girl with no food or water, no warm clothes, and no money. Do you even know the types of jobs I was forced to find?”

  Philip wanted to roll his eyes, but to be honest, he did know. He knew exactly what the humans would have asked of her and even worse, he knew what the fae would have done. Yet… “You are no child now. And as you said, you’ve no need for money. So why the interest in the crown?”

  “As I told you,” she told him, her anger palpable, “I plan to ask him for it. That is why I have you, after all.”

  “And you truly believe that…Wait. Earlier today, you said the king of the Animal Court. As in, we’re going to Furi? To see King Furrir?”

  Snow snorted at him. “You’re perceptive.”

  “We’re in Malesia. You said Prince Malecinth has the crown.”

  “I’ve already tried to get close to Prince Malecinth. It didn’t work. And maybe he doesn’t even have the crown. King Furrir will know where it is. He’s unassociated with any of the seasonal courts, so I might stand a better chance with him.”

  “If you couldn’t get close to Prince Malecinth, Snow, how do you expect…Me. You couldn’t get close before because you’re not fae. Humans are not granted audiences with any fae court without invitation. You need me to even get the opportunity to speak with the king.”

  Snow sighed. “It is a little disappointing. For a hunter and a prince, I expected you to be much smarter.”

  He growled at her. “All of the lavender shade hasn’t been helping. Things have been a little foggy since you jumped from that tree.” And things had been harder for him lately, as though his mind was in a haze. Together, they sat side-by-side, staring into the fire. Eventually, of all things, he recalled his horse and the fact that he’d not seen him. “What happened to my horse?”

  “Samson?”

  “No, his name is—”

  “—Shadow?” She shook her head. “Very original,” she deadpanned. “Though, you should have asked your horse if he liked the name. He doesn’t, by the way.” She gave him a grumpy look that made him think of Bear. “He’s fine. He and my mare, Buttercup, are happily engaging in horse-like activities.”

  Philip momentarily envied his horse. “Horse-like activities?” Even in the firelight Philip could tell that Snow was blushing and a faint smile tugged at her mouth.

  “He is a stallion and, as I said, my horse is a mare.”

  And they’d made the circle again. He was overcome with an aching need to touch her. Instead, he sat there beside her with nothing more than the sound of breathing and snoring surrounding them, until Philip noticed Snow’s lids took longer to open after a heavy blink and her shoulders slumped slightly forward. Sleep was dragging her under. He waited until her eyes closed for a full minute before he dared the slight shift towards her. When his movement did not cause her alarm, he gently pressed his shoulder against hers. Still, she did not flinch. Philip softly reached and arm around her and pulled her to his side. This, of course, made her jolt upright and smack her head into his chin. The pain of it radiated into his jaw, but he ground his molars together a moment before urging her towards him again. “Just go to sleep, Snow. We can argue some more tomorrow.”

  “I still do not trust you,” she told him but did not resist his embrace.

  It felt overwhelmingly right to have his arm around her and that aching desire for physical contact was temporarily abated. At some point, he fell asleep, waking to Bear’s grumbling. Bear shoved Philip, whose head was resting against Snow’s, but gently pulled Snow to her feet, murmuring something quiet and sweet-sounding in dwarvish. Before he left, Bear stooped down to retrieve Snow’s dagger then grabbed at her hand with concern. Flashing Philip a scathing look once more, he guided her, presumably, back to her bed. Snow never looked in his direction. Philip was so tired that he allowed himself to fall over onto the braided rug and go back asleep. If Bear ever came back to check on him, he didn’t know. He was too tired to care.

  Chapter Eleven

  Danger and a Song

  They traveled up the mountain, setting a breaking pace for men with small legs and a woman determined to get herself killed over thievery.

  Snow spoke very little to him, but he could tell that something was weighing heavily on her mind. When they stopped for a rest, he ignored the yank on his arm from Bear and just barely managed to slip out of the man’s grasp to sidle up to Snow. She jumped slightly when she realized he was there, which only confirmed that she was deep in thought.

  “Is something bothering you?”

  “What’d you care?” Bear snarled. “Leave ‘er be!”

  She gave Bear an appreciative smile. “He’s fine, Bear. Enjoy a minute to yourself. I will keep an eye on the prince.”

  Bear clearly did not like that arrangement but did not voice it to Snow. There were six other sets of eyes on him, anyway, so it wasn’t like he could harm her. Not that he would.

  “I want to thank you for last night.”

  She snorted a laugh at him and stepped away. He thought she was walking away from him, but she paused to look at him with a raised brow. “Are you not coming? This is your last opportunity to stretch your legs.”

  “Because you plan to tie me across the ox’s back like luggage again?”

  “How would it look if I didn’t secure the man I kidnapped? Some might think you were coming along willingly.” When he didn’t respond, just followed alongside her, she gave him a mischievous grin.

  Philip wanted to grab hold of her and…Well, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. Shake her? Kiss her? Fight her? Get away from her? Follow her? Every single one of those thoughts had already entered his mind this morning and kept him pondering what he ought to do on more than one occasion.

  ∞∞∞

  The prince walked beside her just out of the view of her family. She saw the looks they flashed her, but she wasn’t worried. Not about an innocent walk. However, the fact that she wanted to walk with him out of sight of the others was a bit worrisome since she wasn’t sure exactly why she had that desire to begin with.

  “Bear is not happy I am walking with you,” she told him. It was an unnecessary statement. Philip was well aware of the dwarf’s opinion, but she wasn’t exactly sure what else to say at the moment; just that she wanted to say something.

  “But I am happy. I enjoy walking with a beautiful woman. There’s nothing to fear,” he told her, raising his wrists, “you have me securely bound.”

  Her cheeks felt a little warm from the way he said ‘beautiful’ and the way he looked at her as he said it. A little flutter in her chest made her stop. What was she doing? This was The Hunter. He was a prince engaged to marry Audora, someone she…was trying to help. And he clearly took many walks with ‘beautiful’ women. He’d alluded to it now and had bragged about it in the garden back in Wessix.

  A shadow blotted out the sun for a moment but when she glanced up, there was nothing there. Philip noticed it, too, for he was gl
ancing in the sky, his hunter senses on alert. Snow liked the way his nostrils flared as he tried to pick up the scent of their surroundings.

  “Snow, I think you should maybe untie my wrists again.”

  “Why?” She began a more thorough observation of the rocks above them. “What do you smell?” It irked her that she had to put a level of trust in him, but she sliced open the bindings with a whispered incantation. “Let’s get back to the guys.”

  It irritated her further when he put a hand on her back and protectively guided her back towards their group. For two reasons: first, because she was more than capable of defending herself without his protection and second, her traitorous body reacted to him with a warmth it shouldn’t have.

  As soon as they came into view, Sunny’s smile shrank. “What happened?” He looked from her to Prince Philip then gazed past them. Bear hurried to her, shoving Philip’s hand from her. Maybe Snow should have defended the prince, but she was glad to be free of his touch since she was enjoying it way too much, seeking him out more than she ought. Foolish girl, she chided herself, stop trying to be alone with that male. The inner dialogue and berating faded as soon as the high-pitched, harrowing call of a migdraga pierced the air. The migdraga, a wolf-like creature with a mane like a lion and scales in lieu of fur, was known to hunt the Candes Mountains. It was the nemesis of the dwarfs who dwelled in these caves, as migdraga tended to seek out lairs to rear their young, bringing them into direct conflict with the peoples who made those places their homes.

  Snow and Bear reached for their swords. In a slick movement that made her body shiver, Philip reached down and pulled a dagger from her boot. It irked her that he was so familiar with her yet gave her a simultaneous thrill of longing. He raised an eyebrow at her but quickly averted his attention to the direction of the second migdraga’s howl. There were at least two; generally, there were more than two. Migdraga travelled in packs of six or more, led by an alpha female with a harem of males at her disposal.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Coy urged. “If they catch us here, we’re very exposed.”

  Above, a shadow loomed overhead. Snow looked up to discover the form of a migdraga silhouetted by the bright sun shining directly behind it. It was perched at least thirty feet above them, blocked by sharp rocks, but it knew exactly where they were and likely knew the right path to take in order to reach them.

  The mountain ox bellowed nervously but lumbered forward at a hurried speed behind Torpid and Sneezy. Bear and Philip bumped into each other in an effort to be the one who took up position behind her; Snow barely suppressed an eye-roll. She didn’t turn around to look but she was certain the two of them were glaring at each other just as much as they were keeping a wary eye out for their uninvited travel companions.

  They traveled a good distance without ever hearing another sound from the migdraga, which eased Snow’s mind a little but gave her room to think about the man who was trailing close behind her. More than once he had given her a boost without her asking or had offered a helping hand, which she didn’t take.

  By nightfall, they’d not heard or seen any signs of pursuit by the pack of migdraga, but that did not mean they were not out there. They were left in an open part of the mountain, so they ensured they built an impressive fire. Doc always had various tinctures, salves, and poisons available, which meant it was relatively easy to catch just about anything afire.

  They all slept with their backs against a wall of rock, the fire a long, narrow thing that spread out in front of them like a protective wall. Thankfully, Sneezy had a habit of picking up fire-building material along the way and Nur, the mountain ox, was able to carry all of their supplies easily.

  “I don’t like the fae prince not being bound,” Bear grumbled. “He is not to be trusted.” Philip remonstrated angrily with Bear over this, but Snow managed to get the Summer Prince to relent and allow his wrists to be tied once more.

  “What if the migdraga attack us in the night?” Philip asked.

  “Then we will take care of them,” Bear growled. “We’ve survived in these mountains an entire lifetime without the assistance from the likes of you!”

  Philip was clearly offended. “What have I ever done to make you so angry with me?”

  “Other than ruin Snow’s well-laid plans? Or, do you mean besides being part of the Summer Court and all of its arrogance? Yet, I could simply cite the fact that you are fae. Beyond that, there is the glaring fact that you tried to kill Snow—on more than one occasion.”

  “I have no idea what plans I have ruined but I only ever tried to kill her once.” He turned his intense glare from Bear to her, making Snow feel as though she were being drawn into something she wanted to avoid. “Even then,” Prince Philip said, still looking at her, “I did not put much effort into it.”

  “No difference,” Bear seethed. “And it does not endear you to me in the slightest.”

  Doc stood up, stepping in the line of sight between Bear and Philip. Snow was grateful for the older dwarf; he was always a comfort and voice of reason.

  “Let me have a look at your hand,” he said to her. She opened her hand and allowed him to give it a quick look before he retrieved a jar from his ‘doc bag.’ Doc slathered a smelly salve onto her palm and fingertips. “This should help.”

  “What did you do to your hand?” Philip asked, peering around Doc.

  She and Doc exchanged a look but neither of them answered Philip.

  “Snow. What happened to your hand?” The prince was clearly not used to being ignored, but that was precisely what occurred. No one responded to his query even when he persisted in asking each of them, in turn. He was frustrated with them, but finally gave in, leaning back against the rock with his lips pressed into a thin line.

  Everyone began to fall asleep, albeit uncomfortably, startling awake at the slightest noise.

  “Do you not believe in taking shifts?” Philip grumbled. Grog kicked Philip’s boot in response and turned his back to him with a grunt.

  It took a while, but soon the men were all snoring, Philip included, but Snow curled up beside Nur and began to hum. It had been a long time since she’d had a desire to sing. When she’d been a slave in the copper mines, she hummed to herself every day. The other drudges would join along, making the gloom of the mines and the monotony of the work just a little more tolerable. After the mines, she found it difficult to hum or sing; mostly because it reminded her of the people she’d left behind and she wondered if they still sang without her—if they were even still alive.

  She couldn’t remember the words to the songs her mother had sang to her, not all of them. It was so long ago that she’d seen her mother that some days she struggled to remember what the woman had looked like, much less the words to songs she had sung. So, Snow hummed the tunes instead. Vaguely, she recalled that it was a song about a raven, its black feathers, and an adventure it took. At one point in the song, the raven visited different seasons, adding a new verse until it had four new stanzas to sing. She wished she could remember the words, but she at least remembered the tune. And, she, at least, remembered the seasons.

  ∞∞∞

  Philip’s feet were toasty due to their proximity to the fire, but his back was cold, pressed as he was against the rocks. Periodically, he would sniff the air and open his eyes to reassure himself that the migdraga had not surrounded them or infiltrated their meager defenses. When he was relieved to hear nothing, to scent no wet fur other than the ox in the air, he would close his eyes and allow himself to sleep again. A sound woke him at one point in the night. It was not the alarming howls of the mountain creatures but of a woman’s sweet humming. Snow. Not wanting her to stop, he did his best to remain still, slowly turning his head in her direction. He wondered if she ever slept. Last night she had been awake wandering the tavern and now, she sat with the mountain ox, running her fingers through his hair and humming a song that was so familiar. It niggled in the back of his head; he should know this tune. What was it? />
  So engulfed in searching his memories for the name of the song, he failed to notice the whiff of wet fur and death until the migdraga were within sight. He shifted quickly, reaching for his sword, only to remember that he had none and that Bear had not only returned the small dagger to Snow, but had rebound his wrists. Philip pulled his feet beneath him, ready to launch an attack, but an arm reached out to stop him. He looked down at Grog, who lazily shook his head but firmly pushed him back. Assuming that one of the other dwarfs was already in action, Philip leaned back and glanced around. To his utter disbelief, every dwarf was still lazing on the ground, but Snow had stood up and was walking towards the edge of the fire, staring out over its dwindling flames, still humming sweetly. Her steely resolve was not what surprised him. It was the way the migdraga stared at her, their soft whines and submissive demeanor. Relaxing himself once again, Philip sat there, his heart racing wildly at the spectacle before him. There was no explanation for such a thing. The migdraga were fierce creatures who never skipped an easy meal, and they were more than easy prey for the gathering pack. Ten, that he could see, were pacing within the light of the fire, their whimpers now a chorus to Snow’s song.

  “Snow,” he said. Her name came out as a whisper more than a word. He opened his mouth to call her back, jumped to his feet to run to her, but when her hand reached out and the female migdraga pressed her nose to it, Philip froze in place. Above the erratic beating of his heart, the melodic sound of Snow’s voice sang reassurances to the alpha female and in response, her male compatriots ceased their whining, sitting like statues behind their queen.

  Grog tapped Philip’s boot, drawing his attention. The dwarf said nothing, just gestured with a nod for Philip to sit back down. He was only a little surprised to find that the dwarfs were awake, silently watching Snow, not making a move to defend her. How were they so calm? Why was Snow currently giving the alpha female of this pack of migdraga a thorough scratching from her ears to her backside—while humming?