A Story of Blood and Thorns

Chapter 21

A pounding on my door wakes me. The guard on my balcony runs through my room to open the door, peeking around the side with his sword raised. Whoever it is must be familiar. The guard's arm dips and the door swings open, revealing Devina with a dark expression.

She marches in, dismisses the guards. I duck back into my pillows as she draws back the curtains. Already, the sun is high in the sky.

"What did you do last night?" she asks. She looms over me, her hair pulled into a severe bun. "Where did you go?"

I look innocently up at her. "Nowhere. I was here."

"That is a lie."

"No, it's not," I say. She draws her sword and presses it against my chest. "It's not, I swear."

"Why did you knock out the guards, if not to go anywhere?"

I lean back against the pillows, the sword pushing into my chest. "I couldn't sleep with their shadows on the floor all night."

Devina lifts her sword, pressing it against my arm. I hiss with pain. The bandage is beginning to smell, and my arm isn't doing much better. "That is the worst lie I've heard. And I've got the fortune to hear quite a few. I won't ask again." The sword digs into my wound. "Tell me where you were."

"I was in the garden," I gasp. She withdraws the sword. "I was getting fresh air. The events from the past few days have drained me. I couldn't sleep."

She snarls, eyes flashing. "Because you are my friend and because you have been through hell, I will let you go. If you try that again, I won't be so merciful."

Friend. She has a funny way of showing it. Although, I haven't been a good friend to her.

But if she's this upset, this must mean that Isadora has arrived.

I wait for her to leave, bringing the guards with her. As soon as the door shuts, I scramble to my closet. Pulling on a dress while brushing my hair, I get ready for the big day. Find the king, see Isadora. Free Isadora, find Drakon.

I chant the words in my head as I open the door. Motioning for the guards to follow as to not raise suspicion, I start toward the king's chambers.

Three guards wait outside his rooms. One of them is half-asleep, while the other two gaze off, lost in their head. They perk up as I approach.

"You can't go in, miss." One of the guards steps in front of me. My guards bristle. "Strict orders from the king. Nobody disturbs him."

I square my shoulders. Meet the guard's eyes. Say with as much force as I can, "You will let me in. Or face the consequences."

He doesn't want to face the consequences, because he gestures to his friends to let through. The doors open. And I'm inside.

The king sits in a chair in the middle of the room. It smells faintly of decay. In the dim light from the two candles, I find the source. A green bottle covered in thorns sits in front of him. Inside is a crushed flower. My father stares at the bottle, not moving as I come into his sight. I pinch my nose as I examine him.

He does not look well. Instead of the tanned skin I was used to, it has turned pale and saggy. His eyes droop in his sockets. Red veins run through them, surrounding the blue irises. His beard hangs down to his chest, much longer than it used to be. Grease streaks through his white hair. He blinks slowly, then, with a great deal of popping bone, swivels his neck to look at me.

"Father?" I ask tentatively. This is not the king I was prepared to battle. This is a broken man. "Are you okay?"

He sighs through his nose. "No, darling. I am not." I turn to investigate the source of decay, the green bottle. My blood calls to the thorns, drawing me toward them. As I get closer, I can see the blood crusted on each of them. My blood. These are my thorns. And that... I look closer. That is my flower.