Thornwood by Leah Cypess (best value ebook reader TXT) 📗

“Tell us the truth,” I said. “Who are you?”

The silence in the sitting room was complete. Varian opened his mouth, then closed it. His jaw trembled and went taut.

“You’re not a prince,” I said.

He shook his head.

“What are you? A peasant?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “I’m a…a commoner. But where I’m from, rank is not considered important.”

Though he had considered it important enough to lie about. “Let me guess,” I said. “Commoners don’t learn to use swords.”

“No. We don’t.” He sighed. “I do know how to defend myself. But I’ve always preferred pistols.”

“What are pistols?”

“They’re…complicated. And not relevant.”

Right. I focused on what was relevant.

The curse will be broken only when a brave and noble prince wakes her with a kiss.

No wonder the Thornwood still surrounded us. The curse wasn’t completely broken.

Which meant the new question was, why was it even a little bit broken?

“If you don’t know how to use a sword,” I said, “why did you think you could cut your way through a magical forest with one?”

“Ah,” Varian said. “So, um, that’s not exactly what happened.”

“Do go on,” I said.

He coughed. “I was outside the Thornwood, collecting fallen thorns—we sell them to tourists—and I heard a musical trill. When I looked up, a path had opened in the woods, and there was a fairy standing in its center. She was holding the sword, and she gestured to me to follow her.”

“So you did?” Edwin said.

Varian glanced at him. “Like I said, I’m a commoner. I was collecting thorns on a cold morning, before sunrise, without any food in my belly. Then a fairy offered me a way into a magical castle. I didn’t question it, okay? I just went.”

Edwin nodded, and a look passed between the two of them—like Edwin completely understood what Varian meant and they both knew I didn’t.

I continued to focus on what was important. “So you got to the castle just by…walking? Down a path?”

“Right.” Varian coughed. “I was holding the sword the whole time, though. And it was very heavy.”

Before I could come up with an adequate response to that, Edwin said, “And when did you decide to pretend you were a prince?”

“The fairy led me through the castle to your sister’s room. The princess was lying there on her bed, so beautiful….” His eyes went soft, and his voice trailed off.

I cleared my throat loudly.

“Right. Um, I might have lost track of time while I was gazing at her. When I looked up, the fairy was gone. But I knew the story. I knew what I had to do.” His cheeks colored slightly. “I kissed her, and she woke. She called me her prince, and I—I never quite got around to correcting her.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I said.

Edwin’s brow furrowed. “It doesn’t make sense. If no one has ever passed through the Thornwood before, why would the fairy godmother open a path for you?”

“Maybe because the hundred years were over,” I said, “and it was time for the curse to be broken. My question is—”

“It’s been more than a hundred years,” Varian said.

Silence again.

“How much more?” Edwin demanded finally.

Varian coughed. “The Thornwood—and your castle—have been here for centuries.”

Centuries.

I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. I didn’t know why several hundred years seemed so much worse than one hundred. But it did.

Focus. Focus on what’s important.

Varian was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Um,” he said. “Could you maybe…not tell your sister about this?”

“About the fact that you’re not a prince and you didn’t fight your way through the Thornwood to save her?”

He sighed. “All right. I guess you have to.”

“No, no,” I said. “I was just clarifying.” I looked around the room. “We need a bandage to wrap around your hand.”

“Why?” Varian said.

“To explain why you’re not the one wielding the sword.”

Varian blinked. “You’re going to keep my secret?”

I nodded. For now.

“Why? I haven’t gotten the impression you like me very much.”

“I knew you were hiding something,” I said. “Now that I know what it is, we’re fine.”

Which wasn’t exactly true. He was still lying to my sister, and there was no way I was going to help him do that. But we had a more urgent task at hand, and we needed his help. We could figure out the rest once we were free.

“I know where they keep the bandages,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I kept an eye out for Twirtle as we walked. But there was no sign of him—or of any of the animals that normally inhabited the castle. No hunting dogs sniffing for scraps, no cats lazing about.

It was a bit of a relief—especially about the cats, who had always found Twirtle’s protected status both unfair and ridiculous. But it was also puzzling. So when we passed one of the kennel boys lounging on a bench in a hallway, I stopped and said, “Do you know what happened to the dogs?”

The boy looked up. His face was streaked with dirt and tears, and his eyes were red. “What’s that?”

He really should have risen to his feet before speaking to me. I glanced at Edwin and decided to let it go. “Er—I’m sorry about what’s happened to you. To all of us. I’m—we’re trying to fix it, and I was wondering—”

He laughed rudely, revealing crooked teeth. “You’re trying to fix it, are you?”

I kept my voice even. “Do you know where the dogs are?”

“Not in their kennel. That’s empty.” He grimaced. “The hounds knew what was coming. They were all desperate to get out that morning. Someone unlocked the kennel gate, and there was no stopping them. So I guess I’m out of a job.” He looked past me at Edwin. “If you’ve come to the castle looking for work, you’ve chosen a bad day for it.”

Edwin said nothing.

The kennel boy’s eyes narrowed. “I recognize you. You’re that useless boy from the blacksmith’s shop. What business do you have in the