Of Roses and Thorns

Prologue: Phillip

Phillip jumped as the plates and silverware clanged, disturbed by the clenched fist of his mother that had slammed down onto the table.

"What is it, my darling?" The young prince's father asked at the opposite head. Phillip sat on his hands as his mother scowled.

"Queen Anita and King Norris have lost their only heir to a spell," she grinded.

Phillip's eyes widened. Aurora?

"Oh, heavens," the king breathed. "What a tragedy. Is she . . ." He glanced at his son, then looked to his wife.

"No, she is not dead," she said. Phillip's shoulders drooped. His friend was alright. "Sit up straight, Phillip," the Queen ordered. He did so. He wasn't supposed to be sitting on his hands either, but his mother did not notice. She addressed her husband. "It is a rare spell that scholars claim has not been seen for centuries: the princess is in a sleep like death."

"But you said she wasn't dead," Phillip piped up.

The Queen slid her eyes over to him. "She isn't. She is sleeping like she's dead—she cannot move, speak, or communicate." Each word became acuter as she spoke, like a dull knife being sharpened.

"What a tragedy," the king repeated and set down his knife and fork. "We must offer our condolences and services."

"Of course," the Queen said. She tilted the paper at her son's plate. "You must finish your beans, Phillip."

He pursed his lips together, much like she did when determined.

"Phillip."

"Aw, let him go, Reggie. He ate everything but that." He smiled at the boy with blond curls. "You'll eat all your greens at supper, won't you?"

Phillip eagerly nodded. But then frowned. "Aurora will wake up, won't she?" he asked.

Queen Regina's face softened. "We certainly hope so, my prince." Though he could not see the doubt and the stifled anger in her green eyes, the king did; he sensed the tension as vinegar in the air. He cleared his throat.

"Phillip," he said. "Why don't you go to the colosseum and see the Weapons Master. He's got a new sword made for you."

Phillip waited for his mother to release him. She patted the side of his fair face, an action she did less and less as he grew. "Go on," she said. He pushed his chair out and leaped from the chair.

"Mind you do not run about the streets like a ragamuffin!" She called as he dashed out of the dining hall. Chuckles echoed throughout the chamber from the guards posted along the walls.

The Queen glared at them. "You may go," she commanded. They hastily departed.

The king nodded at the ones who passed, though they were several paces away from the table. Finally, when the door had shut and it was only him and the Queen, he leaned over his unfinished plate. "Reggie, what is it?"

The letter shook in her thin hands. "What is wrong?" she said. She shoved her plate away. Her eyes met the King's, green diamonds clashing with soft amber. "What is wrong is that our kingdom's survival and our son's future is in limbo. That is what's wrong." Her mouth closed with a clack.

"Darling," the king said and took Phillip's seat beside her. How his heart ached when she was distressed. "There is plenty of time for the princess to wake before either of them are old enough to wed. Calm you mind and heart. You worry too much over things you have no control over, and that causes me to worry about you. Do you want me worried?" He stroked her hand.

Once again, her face softened like clay that had been rained on. She set the letter down and tucked a lock of goldenrod hair behind his ear, the one with the ruby earring in it. "Of course not," she told him. "But everything would be more stable and secure if we made the bind now. While they are young."

"But we cannot; not without the princess' own words of consent."

The Queen rubbed her temple. "No, we can't."

"Since we can't until she wakes, then we should cease worrying. When she wakes is when we will worry." He squeezed her hand. "Alright?"

His lined palm against the smooth back of her hand soothed her. "Alright—but we shall send our best healers, researchers, and Messengers to them. The sooner she wakes up the better."

"It will be done, my queen," the king said and kissed her knuckles.

"Oh," she scowled half-heartedly and pulled her hand away. "Go get some work accomplished so I can get my own finished."

The king grinned at her. He tried to sneak a kiss onto her cheek. She shoved him away.

"I said go! And you're mussing my hair." She patted the curls intricately pinned on the top of her head.

The king chuckled, stood, and held out his arm. Queen Regina narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Escorting my wife to her office, like a good husband."

"What if I wish to work here, at the table?"

"You get more done when you are in your office, which makes you happier and less stressed."

"You know me too well."

"I could never know you enough."

Her eyes rolled to the granite ceiling. "You are a shameless flatterer; Phillip is going to be just like you." She rose and took his arm.

"And you know this how?" He led them to the door, which opened without a sound.

"He told me I was the prettiest, smartest woman he had ever known. And he claimed he would never love another as he loved me."

The king's heart tripped. Tears stung the backs of his eyes. "Is that so?"

"Yes." She spotted the shining of his eyes. "Oh, do not get all sappy on me. I'm sure he will not ever say it again, especially when he becomes an adolescent and discovers girls."

"Or other boys."

She shook her head. "He can fool around with whomever he wishes but he must marry a girl to have an heir."

One corner of the king's mouth pursed.

"Come Grenald, you know I am right."

"I just wish him to marry someone he loves. That is all." He could not bear the thought of that sweet boy being trapped in a political marriage.

Regina gazed at him and said, "Hopefully he will fall for Aurora."