"Aurélien, this is Prince Zarin of Corlanis.He has heard much about you and has come to offer for your hand."
That actually took Aurélien by surprise.He'd expected to be told they would marry.Not that Zarin had asked for his hand, hadheard about him, whatever that meant."You've…heard about me, Your Highness?I'm sorry, but I've no idea what that means."
Zarin laughed in a stiff, condescending way."Of your beauty, of course.Your peculiar thorns.But also that you're quite the intermediary, always sorting out disagreements, helping to arrange deals and more between antagonistic parties.You're a peacekeeper and a shrewd politician, Your Highness.An invaluable set of skills.Who would not vie for your hand?"
"I am honored, Your Highness, but as my mother surely mentioned, I am bound by a Test of Heart that she herself requested of no less than Ivan the Heartless himself.I cannot defy the magic, only await its promise."
His mother looked as though she wanted to slap him, but even if she could, she wouldn't do it in front of a guest, not until she was certain they were equally rotten."The magic gave you those foolish thorns, Aurélien.If the magic had intended a spouse for you, it would have done so by now.Your twenty-fifth birthday is in six months.I think by now we know the magic has nothing for you.In six months you will marry Prince Zarin, am I understood?"
It would have been easier to agree, go along quietly and slip away in the night.But he wastired.He had waited all these years.Been a dutiful son, even if he wasn't as meekly obedient as his siblings.Held his tongue.Asked for nothing except that people not touch him without his consent.
Even a beautiful stranger who'd brought so much joy to his life for a single stormy night hadn't wanted to remain with him in the sunshine.
He was just so verydone.
"No," he said coldly."If thorns are the only magic cast upon me, then so be it.You want me?Get past my thorns."
"Aurélien!"his mother snarled, and swung out before she thought—and screamed in pain as thorns shredded her hand.Servants rushed in to help her.
Aurélien stepped back, but Zarin followed, reaching out to grab him, only to find himself in pain as well, rearing back, holding a bloodied hand.Around the room, his siblings, servants, and guards recoiled, fear filling their faces.
Turning on his heel, Aurélien stormed from the room and through the palace back to his chambers."Tell the kitchens to pack me food," he told the first chamber servant he saw."Enough for many days, that I can prepare myself.Go now.I want it taken to the stables and packed on a cart, my horse saddled and readied alongside it."
"Yes, Your Highness."
He went into his bedroom and started packing, until he had a trunk of belongings and a couple of bags, along with his usual satchel, where he stuffed the memento box that held everything that really mattered to him.
When he was ready, he headed for the stables.Guards hovered, clearly under orders to contain him but reluctant to chance the pain they knew would come from touching him without permission.Gloves, rope, canes, whips, it didn't matter.Whoever touched him suffered for it.
So they hovered, followed, obeying as best they could without hurting themselves.
A fully laden cart awaited him as requested.Aurélien thanked all the staff and made certain they would thank the kitchens for him as well, since he knew this would have interfered with their day.He climbed into the driver's seat with Pip next to him yipping excitedly for this unexpected adventure, and rode off.
When he reached his tower, he set to work carrying everything upstairs.It took several trips, and by the end, he was exhausted, and night had fallen.Guards lurked outside, their lanterns marking them, but Aurélien was beyond caring.Let them lurk, waste their time.If anybody tried to come here and grab him, they'd regret it.He sent the horse and cart off toward them, so they could be returned, then went upstairs.
He filled a tub with water and used it to clean himself, too tired to bother heating it first, then dressed in bed clothes and a warm robe.After he had the woodstove going, he set a kettle for tea, then went about unpacking everything he'd brought with him.He wouldn't be able to stay here forever, but he could stay long enough to sort out what he wanted to do long term, without anyone trying to force him into marriage or anything else.And up here, Pip was safe from being hurt in his stead.
Currently, Pip wandered about the tower like usual, happy to be back so soon, curious about all the boxes, crates, and bags that had come with them.
Once Aurélien had the tower sorted and tidied, he made a small dinner and ate it on the balcony with a crate as an improvised table and one of his many pillows for a cushion.There were only a couple of lanterns now, instead of several, but by their arrangement, there was a camp down there.What did they hope to accomplish?Maybe they thought he'd sneak away in the night or something, but where would he go?
He didn't want to go anywhere.Well, no, he would love to travel the way Keone had talked about.Maybe he would, eventually.He'd defied his mother this far.Perhaps he could keep going.
For now, though, he was happy in his tower.Alone and safe, his only concern was how he'd get food when what he had ran out.But that was not a problem he had to fix right now.No, all he had to do now was enjoy his meal, give Pip her dinner, tidy up, then crawl into bed and go to sleep.
When he woke in the morning, it was to voices.Many of them, as though there was a crowd outside the tower.Had his mother ordered them to knock it down, start a fire to burn him out, or something similar?
Pulling on his robe and belting it shut, he went to the balcony to see what he was dealing with—and froze.
Thorns.Hundreds of thousands of thorns.Dark green vines, as thick and heavy as small trees at the base, had sprung from the ground overnight, forming a large circle around the tower, growing up and up in a thick, wild tangle.Each vine was covered in long, sharp, red-tipped thorns, making them even more impenetrable.
The vines surrounded the tower completely, climbing so high that they nearly drew even with the balcony.If not for the space between the tower and the thorns, he could have reached out and touched the very top of the mass.
His heart raced in his chest, moving so fast it nearly hurt.Why had all these thorns grown?
If thorns are the only magic cast upon me, then so be it.You want me?Get past my thorns.
Apparently he'd meant that far more literally than
