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

lunged for it, but a branch shot in front of him and he pulled back.

Within seconds, the sword had been covered by a writhing mass of thorny vines.

Edwin gasped. “What happened to them not being able to touch it?”

He was still clutching the jug of salt, but it was empty. What else could we use? Sulfur, the gardener had said, and hemlock. That didn’t help. The sword was the only thing that could cut through the Thornwood, and it was gone….

Something nudged the edge of my mind, a shadow of an idea. Before I could grab it, Varian screamed and fell to his knees.

Rosalin ran to him, right into the thorns. They jabbed at her, but weakly—they seemed to flinch back from the gold thread—and she was able to grab Varian’s hand and drag him toward the spinning wheel, wrenching herself free of the thorns that sank into her skin.

As soon as she was close enough, I threw the rest of the gold fibers over her head. Then I hopped back onto the spinning wheel. I began spinning again, pumping as hard as I could. The thread spun out, agonizingly slowly.

“It’s not going to be enough,” Varian gasped. He was holding his side. “They’re too strong now. They were able to take the sword from me….” He gasped, a pained gurgle, and hunched over, clutching his side.

The branches arced above us and met overhead in a harsh series of scratches and cracks. Thorns and twigs rained down on us. One scraped the side of my hand. Another landed in my hair, catching in its tangles and tugging them down.

Varian threw his body over Rosalin, pushing her to the ground. A few thorns hit him, too, then skittered across the floor.

I spun and spun and spun. The wheel whirled, so fast it was a blur. The gold thread spooled out, not fast enough.

Rosalin wriggled out from under Varian. He grabbed for her, but he was too slow, hindered by his injury.

The thorns hissed at Rosalin, then drew back.

“It’s the thread,” Varian gasped. “It’s keeping them away.”

I tried to pump harder, but my breath was coming in harsh, dry gasps, and I slowed down despite myself. Rosalin grabbed the thread tangled around her and started pulling it over her head.

“Rosalin!” I screamed. “Don’t!”

“It needs my blood,” Rosalin sobbed. “Once it has it, you’ll be free. You’ll all be safe.” She yanked a tangled mass of gold over her head. “Name your first child after me.”

“I won’t!” I shouted. “I hate the name Rosalin! So you had better live, and name your own child after yourself!”

Rosalin tore the last of the thread off and thrust both hands into the thorns. Their hiss rose around us, sharp and sibilant and triumphant.

I jabbed my palm into the spindle of the spinning wheel.

It hurt. It really hurt. For one blinding second, the pain was all there was. Then I blinked out tears and saw that the thorns had drawn back even farther, leaving a larger space around the spinning wheel than they had before. My blood had given the spinning wheel power.

Varian stared at me, his eyes bright with sudden hope. “Your blood works against the Thornwood, too,” he whispered.

I couldn’t respond. My hand hurt so much that it was all I could do to keep spinning.

And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could manage that.

Varian pointed at the spinning wheel. Its surface was clean and polished; the wood had absorbed my blood so fast there was no longer a trace of it. “Briony! You share your sister’s blood. The Thornwood will take you instead of Rosalin!”

I almost forgot the pain in my hand. I turned to look at him. That wasn’t hope in his eyes, it was—

“What are you saying?” Rosalin demanded. Her voice cracked. “That I should let them take my sister?”

Varian looked at her. Whatever expression had been in his eyes, it was gone.

“Of course not,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I can’t…” He stopped. His voice shook. “I can’t bear to lose you, Rosalin. Not when I just found you. I…I love you.”

Rosalin stared at him, eyes wide. He swallowed hard and reached for her hand. She stepped closer to him.

This time, the kissing was gross.

“Um,” Edwin said. He stepped closer to the spinning wheel and watched them with an expression that was probably very similar to mine. “Does it really seem like the best time for this?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” I gasped. Sweat dripped into my eyes, but I didn’t want to stop spinning long enough to wipe it away. This thread, strengthened by my blood, would be even more powerful. Though it wouldn’t do us much good unless we could get the fairy queen here. “Nobody’s asking me, though.”

“Maybe it will help?” Edwin suggested, after several awkward seconds had passed. “I mean, it seems like kissing puts a stop to this spell…at least sometimes….”

I stopped spinning. I turned to stare at Rosalin and Varian. This kiss was taking a lot longer than their first one.

Their first one.

Which I had also seen. Because I had been woken before the kiss. Because…

You’re the important one, the fairy had said.

She had been lying. She had known it was what I wanted to hear, so she had known I would believe it.

But it wasn’t true.

This was the thought that had been nudging me earlier. Varian had hidden the sword before he even walked into my sister’s room. Definitely before he kissed her. Yet Edwin had seen him do it.

Because I wasn’t the only one who had been woken before the kiss.

Which meant it hadn’t been the kiss that broke the curse.

The fairy had told me as much. Another hint that I had missed. Your sister kept trying to wake up.

So what had it been? If Rosalin had woken herself up, why did we even need a prince?

I stood perfectly still, remembering with crystal clarity the fairy’s words: The one who calls himself a prince has already found her.

“Edwin,” I gasped, turning to