A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #1)(59)

On the other side of that emotional storm sat the knowledge that this made complete sense. Of course he was the prince. The mad king had doomed us all to keep his son here. The demon king couldn’t kill him with the curse locking him in. Still. Nyfain didn’t heal the same, so it’d be easier for someone or something else to kill him. Only that hadn’t happened yet. So the demons were trying to break him.

How could I have missed this?

The prince.

The fucking prince!

Why hadn’t I known his name? But I hadn’t. And I didn’t even know the queen’s name. All of that had fallen through the cracks in my memory. It just wasn’t relevant. Still, he must’ve thought I was a simpleton. An ignorant, lowborn commoner.

I ran the back of my hand across my face.

Memories shoved into my brain. That majestic dragon cutting through the sapphire sky. The glittering gold scales catching and throwing the buttery-yellow sun.

“But your dragon is dull black, not golden—”

He rushed at me. I should’ve turned and sprinted for an exit, or maybe curled into the fetal position, or at least taken out my knife and tried to stab him, but I was too busy freezing in place. The past warred with the here and now. My memories of him in the sky warred with this scarred man in front of me. I’d daydreamed about him as a kid. Wanted to be best friends. Then I grew up, and even though we all believed he was gone, I’d fantasized about slipping into his bed. I hadn’t known what he looked like as a man, but I hadn’t cared. That roar. That dragon. That effortless glide through the sky. He’d been the pride of the kingdom. Fierce and powerful. He would take the throne and elevate us all—that was what the elders in my village had said.

“What are you doing in here?” he snarled, stopping beside the rosebush. “Getting a look at my father’s fallen kingdom?”

I frowned at the plant. “I think you’re getting a little extreme in your metaphors…”

He laughed sardonically, pinning me to my place with a hard stare. “That’s right, you are about as ignorant as they come. No idea about your animal, shifters, the dragon court…”

Pain pricked my spine. Even as a beast prowling his failing lands, he hadn’t paid attention to our village. We’d been nothing to him. I was nothing now.

But he wasn’t finished. He hovered his hand over the rosebush. “My mother’s favorite plant was the rosebush. She felt like it embodied her. When allowed to flourish in the wild, she was fierce and beautiful, sweet to smell but with a sharp bite. Then she was brought here, and the king treated her like he would a rosebush. She was pruned back. Shaped. Cultivated. Wild at heart, violent even, but unable to express it.”

He drummed his fingers against the glass. His gaze sparked violence. I took a step back, suddenly unsure.

“My father wanted to remind me of my part in killing her,” he said, and I could hear the pain twisting his words. “This rosebush was enchanted by the demons and sunk into the floor. It’s connected to the kingdom. Each year I see a little more of it wilt and die. Eventually we will all die with it. There’s nothing we can do but make the passing as easy as possible. I thought maybe bringing you here would help. I knew your village was using the everlass for something, and your rate of death was slower than everywhere else. Your branch has roses still in bloom. The only one that looks even reasonably healthy. I’ve been watching from afar. I just had no idea how you were managing it.”

“What?” I blurted. “But you said—”

“I lied. How many times must I remind you that I am not a nice man?” He stalked toward me slowly, a hunter sizing up his prey. “Your scent is burned into my brain. That first night you ran into the Royal Wood, the young, plucky thing with more courage than a grown dragon, I committed it to memory. You didn’t escape me, Finley. I allowed you to leave. You were too young to kill. I smelled the everlass on you and wanted to know what you were doing with it. After you left, I visited the field and scented your path through it. I realized you’d pruned as you went. You harvested just one leaf from each plant, taking your time to keep the plants healthy. Even though you came to steal, you were looking after that field.”

He wound closer, one slow step at a time, his big shoulders swaying, his size dwarfing mine. His presence was imposing.

I swallowed. “Everyone knows to harvest like that.”

He shook his head. “You know they don’t. Especially not plucky little—what, fourteen? Fifteen?”

“Fourteen,” I whispered.

“Yes. Before the first shift was possible. I didn’t scent your animal, or feel it when I chased you out. The magic surrounding the wood was too strong for me to cross at the time, but I didn’t need to. You returned to the wood before I could investigate you further. You’ve never entered without my knowing, but I could never catch you. Not until I had that birch enchanted. You’re a sly little thing.”

“I was just trying to keep my family alive.”

He stopped in front of me. “The last time, when you left your knife, I felt you. I felt your animal. It called to us. I’d suspected, but only then did I know what was in you. Your power.” He pushed in close, taking all the space. Trapping me in. “Tell me, when your animal first awakened, what did you feel?”

“Exhilarated. Scared.”