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

by D. L. Boyles

  Philip pulled her to him, his strong arms wrapping around her and holding her tight. There was no way to know how long she bawled or how long he held her afterward, but when she woke in the morning, she found him still holding onto her, their ankles hooked together and her face pressed into his chest.

  “Good morning,” he told her, a sleepy smile on his face.

  “Did you sleep?” she wondered.

  Philip nodded his head, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Stayed warm, too.” He winked at her, which made her blush. “You?”

  Snow felt a little embarrassed but didn’t move away. She nodded her head. “And after last night, do you know why I must see King Furrir?”

  His face fell—and with it, her heart.

  “I’m sorry, Snow. I didn’t hear a thing you said. At first, I thought you hadn’t started talking, so I turned over and saw your mouth moving. You were so intent on what you were saying that I have no doubt you believed I could hear you. And when you began crying, I knew.” He paused, looking at her with such emotion it nearly caused her crying to begin anew. “It’s a curse, isn’t it?” he asked. She wanted to nod but found she was unable to. That made tears well up in her eyes, but her extreme undoing was when Philip’s thumb brushed against her cheek.

  She sucked in her sobs, trying to sort through the emotions that drained from her. “If you couldn’t hear me, how will I ever be able to tell King Furrir? What if he doesn’t know who I am as I hope he does?”

  Philip brushed her hair from her face and wiped the tears from her cheek. “He is somehow important in all of this?”

  “I tried going to Malecinth once. For some reason, the…thing I cannot say…did not impact everyone right away. For a while, he…was unaffected. But, by the time I reached Malesia, it had taken hold there, too, and instead of helping me, he never received me, and I was thrown into a copper mine with the rest of the human trespassers and slaves.”

  That news made Philip stiffen and a darkness well up in his eyes. “Yet you would now try to go to the king, unable to tell him of your plight just as you were unable to tell Malecinth? Snow, this is not the best plan.”

  “It’s the only plan.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Corset and the Conflict

  She wanted to stay there all day, allowing him to hold her, but she rose up and slid from the blankets with her leather corset in hand. Lacing herself back into it, she glanced up and found that even though Philip was pulling his jacket and cloak from inside their blankets, his eyes were glued to her. “What?” She snapped her word at him, frustrated more with the circumstances than Philip.

  He pressed his lips together then stepped towards her with the look of a predator. “I want to help you.”

  “Then, stop arguing with me about going to see King Furrir.”

  Philip grabbed hold of her hands. “Not just with that,” he whispered, leaning in close. Gently, he slipped his hands around her and pulled her corset together. “You skipped a loop.” Snow’s heart raced wildly but she allowed him to unlace what she’d already attempted and re-lace the thick ribbon that held her corset together at her side. She’d only undone one side in order to remove it, but Philip firmly moved her so that he could give both sides sufficient adjustments.

  The intimacy of their night and now this…she didn’t know how to react to any of it. His eyes sparkled with a feeling she echoed but didn’t know what to do with.

  “I, um. Thank you. I’m going to tend to…my personal business and then I will return. Be ready to go.”

  Her words were harsh, more than she meant for them to be, but her emotions were all over the place in a jittery mess. She didn’t go far as there were plenty of rocks on the mountain for her to stoop behind. When she returned, Philip was ready and Nur was already on his way.

  “I think Nur is excited to get moving,” Philip said, motioning towards the mountain ox, a wry smile on his face.

  For a moment, Snow thought she could forget about what had transpired between them, but as she tried to pass Philip, he reached out and took her hand in his. “I will go with you, Snow. And I won’t try talking you out of it again. Just know that I won’t be able to stand by and allow anyone to enslave you.”

  “Not to worry, Prince Philip,” she told him in her lightest tone, “that is why I kidnapped you. The Furian king would never kill the Summer Court’s prince.”

  “I’m glad to be of some use,” he quipped, his hand tightening on hers and pulling her alongside him as they walked.

  She chuckled, “To be honest, I planned to hold my knife to your throat to convince King Furrir not to kill me, but since I’ve seduced you into helping, my plans have changed.”

  Philip barked out a laugh. “And you said you had no intention of seducing me.”

  She shrugged, giving him a sideways glance. If she thought she’d be able to ignore whatever it was between them, she was wrong. Eventually, they needed to use both their hands to keep from falling as they traveled downward, but periodically, she allowed Philip to hold her hand whenever he reached for it. It was a strange thing to be doing with a man who had tried to kill her and with the man she had kidnapped not so long ago. Yet, she couldn’t avoid it either.

  “I think it will only take another day to reach the pass,” she told him when they stopped for a short break.

  Philip’s keen eyes took in their surroundings, but she watched him rather than examine the landscape. As a hunter, his eyesight and sense of smell were much better than hers and she observed his nostrils flaring as he scented everything within a mile radius; maybe more. Hunters were known for being able to smell their prey from long distances and to be able to track them for days. They did not possess the speed and agility of some fae, but their well-honed senses and extreme endurance made it possible to track their quarry to exhaustion. It was what he would have done to her had she not been smart.

  “Did you ever wonder why she wanted you to kill me?”

  He looked down at her where she leaned against a cold rock, quietly contemplating her before speaking. “No. I told you, I do not ask questions.”

  That frightened her. “If you’ve never questioned your loyalty to her, then how can I trust you?” His nonchalance grated on her nerves. That growing feeling of attachment to a man who should have meant nothing to her was suddenly pierced with the reality of their history as much as the reality she knew and he didn’t.

  “Please do not mistake my lack of questioning for loyalty. If I were loyal, you would be dead and not a helpless boar who got himself caught in the briar.”

  “You killed a boar instead?”

  “She needed a heart for proof.”

  The disgusted look on his face made her heart tighten with discomfort, but it was not enough to fully ignore what they were discussing. “Let me see if I understand this. Queen Isadora commands a prince—a fae prince who is also a Hunter—to kill people and he willingly does so without asking a single question, carving out his victims’ hearts, and trots through her castle where he is welcomed into her private chambers. Yet, you would have me believe there is no loyalty between you? No other relationship that would cause such blind, unfeeling murders to be accomplished without a thought of remorse or without a single question as to why?” She let out a high-pitched incredulous laugh. “And to think, for one moment, one ridiculous moment, I thought that I…” What? Had feelings for a man who held her while she cried? Someone who had wanted to touch her when they were together? What did that mean? That he desired her, not that he cared. Snow shoved him and he allowed himself to fall backwards, putting space between them.

  “What are you doing, Snow?”

  She didn’t know what she was doing as she made to walk past, slamming her shoulder into him. “You are her hunter! And you are going to marry her daughter.” She pulled out her dagger and turned to face him. “I will have to revert to making you my prisoner, Prince Philip, and you will not be putting your hands on me again.”

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  “Snow, I think the mountain air is getting to you. That’s the thing about the Candes Mountains. If you will let me, I will give you some medicine from the vial Doc made.”

  Snow lunged for him and he barely managed to duck out of her way. She was not trying to take him captive; she was sincerely trying to kill him. His best defense would be distraction until he could convince her somehow that she needed Doc’s concoction. She circled him, her eyes narrowed and her movements intent.

  “It has nothing to do with the mountain air!” she shouted at him, lunging once more in his direction. Her dagger caught in his jacket and tore through its hem.

  “Please, Snow, I do not want to fight with you.” Nur, who had been trotting ahead, bellowed in the distance, likely concerned by the shift in Snow’s demeanor. The idea of her wanting to harm him churned in Philip’s gut, but he could not let himself feel anything at the moment. Not when there was a blade flashing dangerously close to his head and other sensitive body parts.

  Snow faked a lunge then sidestepped his counter move and rammed her fist into his ribs, causing him to double over. Her strike was fast—faster than anticipated—and the contact felt like an iron fist.

  Philip tried to regain his footing, but Snow was so fast. “How are you doing that?” One moment she was there and the next, she was far from his reach. It gave him opportunity to withdraw his swords and attempt to defend himself, but somehow, Snow managed to trip him and charge him simultaneously. Before he could even begin to move, a very large, very muscular, very naked man launched himself between Philip and Snow.

  “No! Snow, no!” the man yelled. Philip hauled himself to his feet, swords raised and ready. Snow sliced at the man’s exposed flesh, but he managed to jump back, nearly impaling himself on Philip’s swords. Both Philip and the man…correction, male…stepped back away from Snow.

  He could see over the male’s shoulders; Snow now had a sword in one hand and her dagger in the other. The look on her face made him falter. Gone were the icy blue eyes he admired, replaced with near black irises. “Snow?” he asked.

  He’d heard of this before but it was only a fae thing, so it made no sense. When a fae became so enraged, his strength could increase if he drew from his natural powers, evident in elongated canines and enlarged pupils. Was Snow fae? It was impossible. He’d have been able to sense that in her. And her ears—those were normal human ears, as were her teeth.

  There was no time to think about it. The male in front of him ducked and rushed Snow’s waist. Whatever the male’s intentions were, Philip couldn’t be sure, but he sensed that he had no intention of hurting Snow. Risking the injury, he stepped forward, raising one sword to deflect the blow Snow was raining down upon the naked male and using the other to deflect her swiping dagger. His swords engaged her weapons, but not her body, which she now angled so that she kneed the naked male in the face, then stepped over his shoulders in a move that made Philip’s masculine pride flicker with first, jealousy, then shock, followed by an immediate need to back away. There was no time, however, because she was upon him, her dagger aimed at his face, the sharp edge cutting deep into his flesh. Just as she began to flick her dagger, he slammed his wrist upward, causing the blade to slice through his skin then dove at her knees, knocking her back as his own cry of pain echoed through the mountains. A shout from Snow caused her echo to mingle with his own. They crashed backward, landing atop the naked fae, who seemed just as stunned as Philip by Snow’s fighting skills.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled as they tumbled together into the mud and snow. She still had a grasp of her dagger, but her eyes were thankfully beginning to show more blue. Her weapon glanced off of his shoulder, cutting him. Blocking her next strike with his forearm, he leaned with all of his weight onto her sword arm. The pressure caused her grip to falter, but it was no victory yet because Snow pressed back, grabbing hold of his hair and yanking his head to the side. From the corner of his eye, he could see her blade speeding towards his exposed neck. Using the momentum from her tug on his hair, he kept moving, just barely escaping a deadly blow of her sword and rolling away from her. Unfortunately, his momentum put him onto a patch of ice, which caused him to slide even further away from Snow, but put him perilously close to falling over the edge of a crevice. The only thing keeping him from plunging to his death was his attacker’s grip on his hair.

  Philip twisted in her grasp and came to a halt. Her dagger was barely an inch from his eye.

  “Snow, please. I don’t want to hurt you. And I know you don’t want to hurt me.” He had been holding back. They were well-matched even if he hadn’t been avoiding hurting her and there was no doubt in his mind that he could have fought her better, but he did not want to; he’d have injured her.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question,” he said, trying to sound as light-hearted as possible. She flinched a little and her pupils receded some more.

  “That is no reason.”

  Her eyes flicked between the tip of her blade and his own gaze. Holding his hands out to his sides, he finished twisting slightly towards her so that he was not teetered on the edge but sitting up on his knees, the movement causing a tearing feel at his scalp and her blade to press against his cheek. “I trust you, Snow. I do not want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Why?”

  “Would you please stop asking me that?”

  “Then, perhaps you should answer!” she shouted.

  He nearly sighed with relief when he saw her eyes return to normal. Not only did she look more herself, but she sounded like herself. “It’d be much easier to concentrate on what I want to say if there was not a dagger pressed into my flesh and I wasn’t on ice near a rocky cliff.”

  “You put yourself in both situations.”

  For a moment, he worried she would run him through, but to his surprise—and great relief—she lowered her dagger, stepped backwards, and allowed him to slip and slide in her direction until they were side-by-side. He slid them both back a few feet from the edge of a crevice, breathing heavily and feeling foolishly defeated. Snow shifted so that she knelt in front of him, the little dagger still in her hand but not in her grip. She was admiring it, clearly thinking about something, her palm open. “It has felt different since you held it,” she whispered, a hint of awe in her voice.

  “Your dagger?”

  She nodded, still staring down at it. “I do not think it would have allowed me to kill you.”

  It was then that Philip realized the palm of her hand was an angry shade of red with pieces of charred skin around its edges. The hilt of her dagger had burned her. “Snow!” He pulled her hand into his. “Does it hurt?” Her answer was a sullen nod. Philip stared down at her palm, the stench of singed flesh filling his nostrils. “We will need to get a salve or a poultice of some sort. Do you have any of Doc’s medicines with you?”

  “No.”

  “We can go back. Snow, we’ll go back to…umm…Beth. That was her name, right? I’m sure she’ll have something.”

  She was ignoring him, her tone flat when she spoke again. “It was a gift. The dagger.”

  “From your father. You told me.”

  Snow looked up at him and smiled an odd smile. “He said it was special. My…someone made it from Malesian metals. I don’t know what kind…”

  The footsteps of the naked male crunched in the snow. Both Philip and Snow looked up at him. Philip took him in cautiously. He was tall and much more muscled than any male Philip had seen. His black hair was streaked with blonde and brown and silver much like…

  “Nur?” Philip asked.

  “I apologize, Prince Philip,” Nur said. “I should have greeted you better.” The male fae version of Nur shivered. “I am Nur, Furian Champion to King Furrir of the Animal Court.”

  How could he have missed it? He should have been able to scent him even in his animal form.

  Nur crouched beside them, his skin a splo
tchy red and purple from the cold, still very much naked. He grabbed the dagger and Snow made no attempt to stop him. In fact, Snow looked less surprised to see him than she should have. “It would not have allowed you to kill him, Snow, but your sword would have known no better.” Nur was admonishing her, and she bowed her head, accepting his words as though she were a child and he her father.

  The male turned the dagger so that he offered its handle to Philip. “Do you not know the tesalari in the Summer Court?” Philip accepted the dagger, examining it. He had seen it up close more than once and he hadn’t even paid attention. The handle was so ornate that the scrolling words were obscured until he looked closely. Tesalari, it read.

  The snow began to fall in large, fat flakes for just a few moments as they stared at each other. He was so mesmerized by her that it almost didn’t occur to him that the snow and the wind all stopped suddenly and the weather around them began to warm.

  “Have I ruined things?” she asked in a near whisper.

  Philip let out a strangled laugh. Had she? Nur stepped away from them, hopefully to put on some clothes.

  “Ruined things?” he asked Snow.

  “For you. If I had not used the tesalari against you all those years ago…”

  No, Snow had not messed things up. No more than he. He reached up and brushed his fingers across her face. The sound of her breath catching slightly from his touch encouraged him. With cold, trembling hands, she returned the favor by rubbing her fingers over the mark on his cheek where he could still feel the bite of her dagger. A dagger that never would have allowed her to deliver a killing blow. It never would have allowed him to deliver such a strike either the day he held it to her throat.

  “It explains a few things at least,” he told her.

  “What about Audora? You’re to be married. Perhaps we can find a way to…undo…things?”

  He shook his head adamantly. “One, I am not marrying Audora. She and I agreed to just be friends. And, two…well…two, I don’t want to undo anything.”