I shift closer to my curvy little Princess.
“We should back away from this thing—slowly. Whatever is controlling the thorns could lash out at any time.”
“I didn’t come all this way just to give up,” she says, a frown tugging at her pretty mouth. “I have an idea.”
“What kind of idea?” I ask suspiciously. I have a bad feeling about this.
Irena doesn’t answer. Before I can stop her, she reaches out and places her palm flat against the thorns.
A sharp gasp escapes her lips as a needle-pointed thorn pricks her skin. A bead of blood wells up instantly, crimson against her pale flesh.
Fuck!
I catch her hand and pull it back, curling my body around hers protectively.
“Are you insane?” I growl. “That could’ve been poisoned! It could have been enchanted or?—”
But before I can finish, the wall begins to shudder.
The vines writhe like snakes in a pit—thorns clashing and scraping against one another with a terrible, metallic screech. Then, slowly, they begin to part. A narrow archway opens in the center of the bramble wall, revealing a second, hidden barrier behind it—a massive stone gate, carved with intricate, twisting patterns that seem to move if I look at them too long.
They’re runes—old ones. Dark ones. The kind even I can’t read, though I can feel their malevolent intent. They’re not runes of welcome—that’s for fucking sure.
But they don’t draw my eyes for long. For standing before the gate, waiting in perfect stillness, are three knights.
Each is clad in full plate armor, their helms polished to a mirror shine. The one in the center wears jet-black armor, spiked at the shoulders and rimmed in silver. To his left, is a knight in deep forest green, his helm shaped with curling vine motifs. To his right, a knight in rich, blood-red plate stands, embossed with flame-like designs. All three carry swords strapped to their backs, though none reach for them.
Still, I move to block Irena, putting myself between her and the triple threat. My muscles tighten with instinct, ready to fight if I need to and my throat begins to burn with my Drake’s fire.
The black knight steps forward, his voice deep and metallic behind his visor.
“Welcome, visitors. The Lady of Thornmere is willing to grant you an audience based on your claims of nobility.”
His helm tilts slightly as he takes in Irena’s ragged dress and dirty slippers.
She straightens under his gaze, cheeks going pink, though she says nothing and holds her chin high. Her pride won’t let her flinch.
I feel a flash of pride—that’s my girl.
The knight gives a curt nod.
“Follow us.”
The three knights turn as one, the massive stone gate groaning open before them. Beyond lies a mist-filled path of mossy flagstones, lined with statues cloaked in ivy and thorns.
Irena and I exchange a glance but we both know the truth—there’s no going back now. We follow the knights, and the gates swing shut behind us with a sound like thunder, sealing us inside.
No going back now, I think again.
I glance down at Irena, who’s keeping her head high, shoulders squared. But I can feel her trembling just slightly where our arms brush.
“Don’t be afraid,” I whisper so only she can hear. “It’s all right, Princess—I’m right here.”
She doesn’t look at me, but her fingers graze mine briefly before falling away.
“I know,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Valen. But I don’t think fear matters now. We just have to be strong.”
I know she’s right. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that this is only the beginning. That whatever lies ahead will test us in ways even the forest couldn’t.
