52. Rosalina
52
Rosalina
I ce and snow spray against my bare legs. My feet are completely numb, my thin silver slippers already soaked through.
I don’t care, the outside of my body might as well match my heart. Nothing. I feel nothing. All I know is I have to get away, get back home. My real home.
No one follows as I dash across the bridge and run into the deep thorn bushes covered in snow.
Ice clatters from the giant briars as I weave through them. The rising moon provides an ivory pathway. I need to get back to the rosebush, back to Orca Cove, back to Papa and Lucas and everything else I left behind.
I was a fool for ever thinking I belonged here. Tears crystalize on my cheeks, and my clumsy steps push me against thorns that rip my beautiful gown and scratch red lines down my arms and legs.
It’s not like I can feel them, anyway.
I tumble, skin shredding on the thorns, before I land in a pile of muddy snow. I lay there for a moment, breath falling out of me in heavy gasps.
A familiar chittering laugh sounds through the air. My blood turns to ice. No…
Several yellow glowing eyes peer out from the gloom.
The goblins are here.
Trembling, I grip a vine and pull myself up. Run! Rosalina, run, a smooth voice screams in my ear, so loud it blocks out everything else. Run! I’m in a bit of a predicament at the moment. I can’t get to you, I can’t— The voice cuts off in an anguished cry, but the sheer desperation in the words shoots my body with adrenaline. I spring into action, throwing myself into the tangle of thorns and off the haphazard path. Who was that? It sounded so distant, but familiar at the same time.
I can’t worry about anything except escaping the goblins. Last time, they surrounded Lucas and me. I won’t be caught the same way again. A chitter of excitement sounds as they realize I’m running. The thorn bushes shake, and snow and ice spray down as the goblins crawl after me.
“It’s late for the little princess to be out of her castle,” a goblin cackles.
“Where are your wolves? Where are your wolves?” they chant.
I push myself deeper into a tangle of branches. There’s a small gap of light ahead, and I make for it, wondering if it can at least give me some bearing on where I am. Maybe I can see a place to hide or escape.
A wretched shriek pierces the night air as a hideous goblin appears before me, having descended from the branches above. Its enormous bug-like eyes shine like embers in the moonlight, its pallid skin covered in a slimy layer of moss and toadstools. This one wears ragged leather armor and clutches a deadly scythe fashioned from thorns.
A blood-curdling scream tears from my throat as it advances toward me.
“What a pretty little human.” The goblin licks its lips. “What a shiny little dress.”
Fear curls in my belly. Behind me, the thorns move as more goblins close in. No. No. I am not ending the worst night of my life by being eaten by a freaking goblin!
“Sorry, I don’t think this dress would suit you,” I snarl. “Blue clashes with your mold.”
Then I do the only stupid thing I can think of. I run toward it with all my might, shoving it back against the brambles.
A giant thorn pierces right through the goblin’s gut, splattering black blood on me. It drops its thorn sword, and a shrieking cry escapes its lips.
The thorns twist and enclose around it. The briar patch is moving. Shit . There’s a chittering and wail of other goblins still hidden among the thorns.
I need to escape. I don’t want to get tangled and speared like my goblin friend. It’s too easy for them to surround me here.
I make for the light and push out into a sloping snowy hill mostly clear of thorns. Down below is a frozen river and a forest of trees beyond. And there, on the crest of an opposite hill in a gap of trees, is the rosebush. The red flowers show in stark contrast against the moonlight. I have to make it across the river and through the forest before the goblins eat me.
Easy-peasy for a girl in a ballgown who hates running.
I have no choice but to try.
Behind me, the briars continue to swirl, as if a little offering of goblin blood was all they needed to come alive.
Stay in the briars, Rosalina, a voice demands in my head. I recognize it now. It’s the Prince of Thorns. Caspian.
“What, so your little friends can eat me?” I snarl and push myself out into the snow. Fat chance. That’s right where he wants me. I’m not giving him another way to torment Kel. “And get out of my head!”
The snow is deep here, up to my knees as I trudge through it. A wild call sounds from behind me, and I risk a glance over my shoulder. More goblins emerge from the thorns.
The movement of the briar has stopped, probably because that idiot prince realized I wasn’t dumb enough to fall for his trap. But it must have seriously freaked the goblins out, because it’s not just a couple of them pouring out of the briars. Ten, twenty, fifty. Fears courses through my body as hundreds of them flee the giant thorn bushes. And they’re all heading toward me.
I cry out and throw myself down the snowy hill. Momentum takes over and I’m tumbling head over heels. I try to shield my face but soon lose all control of my body. Smashing through the snow, I careen to a stop at the bottom of the hill. Above me, the world spins and spins.
I force myself to my feet. Everything in my body aches. My vision is blurry. Dark shapes race down the hill, getting closer and closer. Shit, those things are fast.
The only way to the rosebush is over the frozen river, but without a bridge, I don’t know if I can cross. I stop at the lip of the shore, but hesitate for what feels like an eternity, my foot hovering above the ice.
My hesitation is the opportunity the goblins need.
A wild chant rises as the mass of goblins surrounds me. They’re clustered so close together, I can’t even count them anymore. In a panic, I throw myself onto the ice, sliding as I try to escape. A deep groan shudders beneath me. How thick is this?
A few goblins follow onto the frozen river, causing it to moan further. This damn river is so wide, but I don’t dare stop.
But they are faster. A goblin snags my dress and I fall. My body stings as my blood spreads across the ice from a gash on my knee.
Black shadows whirl over the frozen surface as the goblins catch up and surround me. A swarm of them covers the shore. Their hounds crouch low, snarling, foam dripping from their putrid mouths.
“Leave me alone,” I cry, struggling to my feet. They’ve circled me, and there’s nowhere to run. “What do you want?”
They cast knowing glances at each other and laugh, some of them mockingly calling out:
“Dances with the prince, she does.”
“Break the curse. Break the curse. Thinks she will break the curse.”
I swirl, desperately trying to find an opening.
“Mother and brother would not like that.”
“Not like that. No, no, no.”
The creatures’ breath smells of spoiled milk and sulfur, a cloying odor that fills the air as their circle tightens.
“Your prince can burn in hell,” I spit.
A blinding pain shoots through me as one of them lunges, cutting its thorn sword across my thigh. I cry out, doubling over.
“Thy shall not mock our prince,” the goblin snarls, then licks her lips at the sight of my blood. “Red as a rose.”
“Red as a rose!” Another goblin attacks, swiping for my face.
“No!” I shriek, bringing up my arms desperately to defend myself. The sharp glint of the blade slams into my skin, slicing the flesh of my upper arm.
“Red as a rose. Red as a rose. Red as a rose.” A sickening ring of malicious laughter encircles me, each chuckle rippling in the icy air like a deadly wave.
“Down, down, down to Mother you will go.” Their chant changes, and they stomp their feet. Two of them grab me.
“No!” I scream and tear myself out of their grip. “No, I won’t.”
One of them quirks its head at an awkward angle. “Her head will look pretty on a pike.”
Raw terror floods my veins. Two of them grab my arms, another wraps its moldy fingers on my dress, ripping into the fabric. And the one with the long thorn blade stalks before me. “Your shiny eyes will be earrings. Your hair bronze rope. Head on a pike.”
I thrash wildly, screaming. Pure rage lights me from within. And a voice that doesn’t sound entirely my own snarls with a dark promise, “I will see your guts splattered across the ice.”
They look at each other and snicker. The goblin in front of me raises its thorn sword.
A deafening roar cuts through the air, and the goblins go silent, right before a massive white paw tears through a cluster of them. The goblin in front of me turns just in time to see a nine-foot white wolf leap into view. It engulfs the goblin’s head in one bite.
He tosses the remains to the side before his wild blue eyes meet mine.
Keldarion has come for me.