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

by D. L. Boyles

  “Nur says this is the place where his mother gave birth to his sister.”

  “So, you understand what he’s saying? Truly?”

  “You look skeptical, Prince Philip.”

  She sounded sarcastic.

  “Truly. I can understand what he is saying.” She smirked at his disbelieving look, which he openly flashed to her. “A test, then. I will walk away and you may whisper whatever you like to Nur. When I come back, he will tell me what it is you’ve said.”

  Philip laughed but agreed to the test. Snow even allowed him to pick out a place for her to stand well away from him and Nur.

  Alone, he eyed the mountain ox skeptically. “Okay, Nur. What shall I tell you? Something that will be difficult for her to know. Hmmm…” He thought for a long moment before he had an idea. Leaning forward, he spoke as quietly as he could to the ox, feeling as though he were the cleverest of males.

  Retrieving Snow, he hauled her back to camp more eager than he should have been to see if she could find out the secrets he’d shared with Nur.

  Snow was smiling wickedly as she stood next to Nur and after a moment, nodded, gave him a good chin scratch, then silently began removing the gear from his back.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “What?”

  Her nonchalance would be his undoing, he was sure of it. “What did Nur tell you?”

  “Nur told me quite a lot. I don’t think it is all information you told him and maybe you’d be embarrassed for me to find out.”

  That was it? The infuriating woman continued setting up camp without another word or glance in his direction. It irked Philip, but he stomped off to gather anything he thought might work for building a fire. Trees were scarce here, as were other forms of flora beyond grass. He searched as far as he dared and giving up on his efforts, he returned only to find that Snow was kneeling next to Nur, laughing quietly, the ox chewing on a handful of fresh hay. The mountain ox’s eyes danced with the humor he could see on Snow’s face.

  “What is so funny?”

  Snow simply continued to laugh, not looking at him at all. Her laugh started off quiet but escalated into an uproarious sound, which made Philip’s cheeks burn. Was she making fun of him? No one had ever made fun of him before.

  He stomped to where she was and tapped her foot with his. “Will you tell me what is so funny?”

  Her hand pressed on her chest as though it were a button to turn down the volume of her laughter, and she took a few breaths until all that remained was a silly grin plastered across her face. Looking down at her, he felt his breath—and heart—catch. Even though he was embarrassed by her laughing, he felt an indescribable joy at seeing her so vibrant and fun.

  “Nur says that you confessed some things to him. Something about being a young boy who streaked through wheat fields in nothing but your own skin with some of the other boys.” She paused here and stood in front of him. “There were more details, of course, which you know. Oh. And that there was a time when you believed you could fly and tried to do so from a high cliff only to discover that you were not that gifted of a fae. It seems your talents manifested in other ways.”

  Those were things he told the ox only with more detail. It should have surprised him that she could relay his words so easily. Part of him should have wondered if she’d overheard him, but deep down, he knew she had been able to talk to Nur; to truly understand what the beast was saying. Maybe that’s why he told the ox so much. Because he knew he’d tell Snow and part of him wanted her to know those things about him. “And that is funny?” Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Snow sat down, crossed her legs, and motioned for him to sit beside her on the leather blanket she had laid out. “A little. I cannot picture a hunter such as yourself believing you could fly.”

  He chose to sit across from her, their knees bumping into each other. “So that caused you to laugh uncontrollably?”

  She flashed him a look of embarrassment. “Not really, but Nur and I did have a laugh at your expense. I’m sorry. It seems that Nur knows about your…dalliance with Doc at the cave and believes that perhaps, in combination with your story about running naked with other boys, you do not like women.”

  Philip raised an annoyed brow at the ox, who watched him closely, still chewing lazily on his hay. The look the mountain ox flashed him was surprisingly close to a challenge—as if to say, ‘prove me wrong.’ “Those two things made him think I didn’t like women? That’s what had you in hysterics?”

  “Well, partly.” Her cheeks suddenly flared a bright red. Philip liked the twist in circumstances. “I, uh. Well, you do not seem the type to avoid the company of a woman; you’ve said as much. That struck me as funny.” Snow bit her bottom lip and looked up at him beneath thick lashes. “And remembering you tumbling on the ground with Doc…” She laughed a little again but sobered. “You see, there’s an embarrassing part.” She glanced nervously at Nur then back at Philip. “I do not think I should repeat what Nur said from there.”

  “Because it will embarrass me?” She ignored his question and, instead, pulled out her travel basket, rummaging through it. Philip would not be deterred, however, and took the basket, set it aside, and waited for her eyes to meet his. “It is embarrassing to you.” Not a question; he knew. Without looking at him, she nodded, her cheeks an adorable shade of pink.

  Snow brushed her hair out of her face and did her best to avoid looking at him, reclaiming the basket. “Mountain ox and people go about things a little differently,” she told him as she searched for something amongst the basket’s contents. “He seems to think that because you’ve joined my quest that you should have made your other intentions clear and that because you didn’t, he believes you must not like women.”

  “What other intentions?”

  The red in her cheeks flared even brighter. “Males can sense other males. And…”

  This conversation was taking a turn that made him feel as uncomfortable as Snow appeared, but curiosity kept him pushing ahead. “And?”

  “Last night, he…well, he wonders why you did not try to…um, well…mate with me.”

  Philip’s face flushed to match Snow’s. Did Nur sense how he’d reacted when Snow’s leg had touched his? Oh, curse the moon and bury him on the mountain!

  An awkward silence fell on them as they ate. They still had little to say as they worked together to set up their sleeping space beside Nur. Together, they kicked away the rest of the snow and stomped down the mud to compact it.

  In the mountains, the sun disappeared quickly. Back home, and in most other places, the sun would lower and slowly make its way to the horizon, but here in the Candes Mountains, as soon as it began its decent, the mountains rose up to meet it and blotted out the sun in half the time it would have taken elsewhere. Thus, it was well dark by the time they scooted beneath the oiled leather that served as their overhead shelter. Without any wood, there was no chance of a fire and it seemed the temperature dropped twenty degrees with the disappearance of the sun. So much for sleeping comfortably as they’d done last night.

  Tonight, Snow produced a thick blanket. On one side it was oiled leather and stitched to it along the edges, the other side resembled a thickly woven rug. She slipped off her boots then into the gap created between the two blankets. “Clever,” he commented, gaining nothing more than an acknowledging nod from her. Once inside, she reached down and pulled up a fur lining, which appeared to be made from the fur of one of Nur’s brethren. Her preparations finished, she laid back, cradling the back of her head in one palm.

  For several long moments, Philip did nothing but stare at her. Something deep in his stomach clenched at the sight of her. A nervousness made him hesitate, his fingers flutter.

  “It isn’t polite to stare.”

  “I think you’ve told me that before. At the cave.” Then, it occurred to him, she hadn’t. That was likely all part of his hallucination with Doc. Judging by the look on Snow’s face, she had no recollection of any such discuss
ion. “Or maybe not.” The clenching of his stomach turned into a spasm as he recalled the naked vision of Snow in his hallucinated brain and wondered if his imaginings were anything close to reality.

  She said nothing, just surveyed him in turn. They stared at one another and Philip tried to think of something to say, but it was Snow who broke the silence. “Are you going to stare all night or are you going to get in,” she lifted a part of the blanket, “and get warm?”

  He didn’t want to appear too eager, so he hesitated for the sake of propriety. And because he could not shake the feeling of nervousness. Nur’s suggestion about mating did not help. Snow gave him a little laugh. “I promise that I will not try to seduce you.”

  “And how can a male be so sure?” he asked. Though, to be honest with himself, he wished she would try to seduce him.

  “We’ve been in a closet and a dark alley together and I’ve yet to take advantage of you. Besides, I am not skilled in such arts.”

  Snow laughed. She was teasing him back. He enjoyed this easy banter with her, so as they were both in humorous moods, he removed his boots, stuffed his jacket inside of the blanket, and slipped in beside her. The warmth of the blankets was an improvement from the cold air but not so much as to say he was comfortable. He could feel her body heat radiating towards him, a tantalizing feeling that he longed to embrace— not only for the sake of warmth. He opened his mouth to say something witty, something to keep the mood light, but he turned to look at her and all thoughts, all words escaped him. She was looking at him, her eyes searching his face.

  Neither of them spoke as Snow crept closer to him. Her nearness made him shiver but he did not break eye contact with her. Snow’s cheeks turned a slight red color, her teeth capturing her bottom lip.

  After a tense moment, Philip gave her a slight smile. “You may not think you are skilled in seduction, little rabbit, but your innocence may be my undoing.”

  “Because I moved closer to you?” A soft grumble escaped his throat without his meaning it to. A male could only take so much temptation. Snow seemed oblivious to the reaction she caused in him. “It was for the sake of body heat,” she told him.

  Philip moved closer, leaving only the illusion of space between them. “Mmmhmm. Body heat.” Already, he was feeling increasingly warm. “Be careful, Snow. Nur may begin to wonder about you and your intentions next.”

  Her eyes flared along with her nostrils. Nur’s snort made them both laugh softly.

  “It really was for body heat. I am cold,” she told him with such innocence in her voice, he doubted she had any experience with males at all.

  “You should probably remove your leather corset.” That comment made her stop and blink at him with a little concern. “Loose clothing allows your body to trap heat, but that tight corset is likely to keep you cold.” He could tell that she was contemplating his words. “I think you’re well aware of that fact but you’re afraid to take it off.” Her pursed lips confirmed it. “You’re wearing a shirt beneath it, Snow. It’s hardly indecent.”

  Snow rolled her eyes and began unlacing the leather corset she was wearing. His fingers began to tingle with a desire to help her remove it, to touch her, but he kept his distance the best he could. Her movements caused them to bump into each other and when she rolled over and arched her back in order to pull the corset away, Philip fought to keep from groaning aloud. Instead, he rubbed a hand over his face and tried to concentrate on his breathing.

  After she settled back down, Philp turned his head toward her. “Why is it that when I am close to you, I have the overwhelming need to touch you?” he asked her, voicing his thoughts.

  “I didn’t know…” She visibly swallowed. “You do?”

  He nodded his head, not trusting his own voice. Moonlight drifted over them, shadows dancing over their camp as the clouds blotted out the moon then allowed it to shine through, blowing past with the increasing wind. Her pale complexion seemed to glow in the eerie light of the night.

  She stared at him, looking lost for words. Philip pushed himself closer to her so that their bodies were touching. She let out a startled gasp, putting her arm up as though she meant to push him away, but her hand settled on his chest and froze. There was instant heat between them, that was obvious, but there was an emotion that vibrated with it; one Philip couldn’t name. He wondered if he was the only one to feel it. No. The wide-eyed stare of Snow told him she felt it, too.

  “Maybe you’re just lonely?”

  That was a disappointing idea. “Not in this. I can’t be alone in this, Snow. Even the ox senses it.”

  Her fingers curled into his shirt. Philip pressed closer, resting a hand on her hip. Snow’s eyes grew so wide with fright he almost choked from disappointment. Of all the things he wished to see in her expression, it was not fear.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” she whispered, her fear only slightly subsiding. “You have no idea who I am and…and it would not be fair to you if I allowed you to develop feelings for me. Not yet. Not until after I have finished what I’ve set out to do. When you will be able to truly know me.”

  They were back to that, then. Her quest to get herself killed. “What if I told you that I know who you are?”

  “Do you?” she asked. His comment perked her mood, her blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

  “You are the only woman who has ever managed to thwart me—at every turn. I couldn’t kill you back then, not only because you evaded me, but because for some inexplicable reason, I didn’t want to,” he told her, trying not to dwell too long on the fact that he’d tried to kill her eighteen years ago, “nor could I do it any of the other times the opportunity presented itself. I searched for you many times. Did you know that?” She shook her head. He hadn’t expected her to, but when he’d looked for her, Philip had tried to rationalize his failure by saying she was intentionally evading him, just one step ahead. “I sought you out when I should have abandoned all interest in you, and I was disappointed when I found not a trace of a little rabbit who should have been easily ensnared. And when you kidnapped me, I was more elated than angry because you finally allowed me to be in your company without running away. Even though I should have left you to your fate on this mountain, I was drawn to you. You lured me in with that innocent charm of yours and your witty banter and your quiet, strong personality. There is absolutely nothing about you that makes sense and my reaction to you has even less a perspicuous explanation. You’ve made mountain dwarfs your make-shift family and talk to stray cats and a mountain ox with an apparent humorous streak. Somehow, you managed to befriend a pack of migdraga. Heck, Snow, I wouldn’t be surprised if you lured me into your trap by talking my horse into helping you.” He laughed because it seemed entirely plausible. “I may not know why you were in Wessix or why you’re traveling to Furi—since you’re so vague about it all—but I do know that you are beautiful and smart, funny, intriguing, and simultaneously infuriating. And, if you keep holding onto me while looking at me the way you are, I may have to kiss you, Snow, and I won’t feel the least bit sorry for it.”

  She released her grip on his shirt with a start and pulled away. The distance between them was only inches but it felt like a mile to Philip. They stared at each other, both of them breathing a little faster than usual. Philip wished he could read the emotions on her face, but they flew by so quickly, there wasn’t time to register each one. What he saw very clearly— and painfully—was the regret that lingered, the tears that welled in her eyes but were quickly blinked away.

  She gave him an apologetic smile and turned over, putting her back to him.

  “So that’s it?” he asked. “You have nothing to say to me after that?”

  He could feel her shiver so he knew she was awake. Yet, she said nothing. He’d said enough tonight to embarrass himself thoroughly for months. In the morning, he’d leave. She could continue into Furi on her own. For years, she’d managed without him so it’d be no big deal for her to manage now. Rolling over, he ope
ned his eyes, glancing up at Nur, whose head was nodding not far from where he and Snow were…what? Hunkered down? Because they surely weren’t sleeping or curled up comfortably.

  Everything was quiet and still, and Philip imagined Snow had fallen asleep, so when he suddenly felt her move and the warmth at his back increased where she pressed her face between his shoulder blades, it surprised him.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed, her voice sounding shaky. One hand grabbed his side, her fingers digging softly into his flesh. The feel of her so close reignited that nameless, vibrating emotion in him. “Philip, it is not only you.” He tried to roll over, but she pushed him back into place. “Please. I cannot tell you if you look at me.”

  “Okay,” he whispered.

  “I will say what needs to be said to Nur. There is nothing that forbids me from talking to a mountain ox. If you happen to hear what I say…” Snow pulled away and he felt her shift and by the sound the ox made, he knew she was somehow speaking with him as she scratched his chin.

  ∞∞∞

  Snow had not told anyone of her life before. Not even the dwarfs who had taken her in and treated her like family for so many years. They knew plenty, but the curse prevented her from telling them all.

  “There is a curse. It is not just upon Audora of Wessix but upon all those who once knew her mother. King Stefan was exploring through The Wilds, as he was often in search of adventure, when he discovered a beautiful woman—or so he thought.”

  Her story unraveled, unspoken words and emotions pouring out of her and into the night. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she told Philip through her discussion with Nur about the curse that prevented her from speaking aloud the names of those she loved, the curse that kept all those who once knew her from even murmuring her name, let alone remembering it. When she was done telling him of all which plagued her, she stopped, and with a sigh of relief, began to cry. Not just a little cry either, but one that shook her body and prevented her from seeing or speaking clearly.