59. The Prince of Thorns
Pathetic. That’s the only word I can think of as I stare down at the miserable creature slumped in the corner.
He barely even raises his head as I enter through the window.
Either I’m losing my touch, or he’s even worse than I realized.
“What?” I smirk. “Not even a hello for an old friend?”
A deep rumble echoes through the large white wolf, and it shakes its body, chips of ice and snow falling to the ground like twinkling chimes. But there are other parts still attached to him: jagged spikes of ice jutting out from the back of his legs and fluorescent blue scars etching around his face. All reminders that this is no mere wolf, but signs of the Enchantress’s curse. The only thing the spell left untouched were his eyes, blue as the winter sky.
Well, his eyes and his temper. That’s always been a problem.
I force myself to look away and onto the utter destruction of the room. Torn curtains, broken furniture, and winter creeping its icy claws across every inch of this place. Frost covers even the dark thorns crawling along the chamber’s walls. It’s utterly covered in my handiwork. It has to be. Keldarion’s uncontrollable winter keeps destroying them.
It’s beyond irritating to upkeep.
I give an exaggerated shake and look down at the wolf. “I know you prefer the cold, but this is getting ridiculous.”
“Get out,” the beast snarls, pawing forward. Even in this form, he’s taller than me, the giant maw in line with my face.
“You can’t expect me to miss this, could you now?” The black ends of my cape drag in the ice as I walk in a circle around him. “How far you’ve fallen, Prince.”
He doesn’t answer and I continue to pace, trailing a hand over the soft white fur of his back. “What a pathetic creature you’ve become. The sun is up, yet you’re still a beast.” I gesture to the window. “Not to mention your realm is on the brink of open rebellion. What are you going to do if they storm the door? The castle doesn’t have enough magic to keep it shut for much longer.”
“Leave now.”
“I always thought I was going to have the honor of doing you in,” I say. “But it looks like your own people will do that for you.”
Nothing. His body shudders, more chips of ice falling off his massive frame, and his eyes cast downward.
“She’s been gone, what, a month?” I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. “She has broken you, hasn’t she?”
He roars loud enough to shake the castle. Daggers of ice fall from the ceiling, and jagged spikes jut from the floor. Here we go.
“Rosalina.” I speak her name like a poem, and I can see the reaction of his body like a physical blow. “Your—”
“Don’t.”
“Of course you would send her away. You always were dramatic when it came to… love ,” I say, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. “You’d rather damn everyone in the Enchanted Vale than break the curse.”
Kel lunges, knocking me to the ground with his massive paws. His snarl reveals teeth long as my hand.
“It’s been a long time since you had me on my back like this, Kel.”
I tug his ear and tilt the wolf’s face closer to me. My thorns push through the frozen ground with great effort, cracking the surrounding ice. They twine around his legs and over his massive paws so he can remember who is in charge and who is the cursed sullen beast wallowing in his sorrow.
“ Though,” I continue, “I don’t recall your breath being quite so bad.”
He pulls his head back, growling, and the thorns snap off him with a quick shake of his body. So annoying.
“I’ll rip you to shreds.” His claws curl on my chest, just hard enough to leave a thin red line along the skin.
“Oh, Kel, we both know if you were capable of doing that, you’d have done it when I first betrayed you.”
The wolf jolts, hackles rising. Ice and snow tremble in the air before they shower over me. I blink through the cold to see a man. His white hair falls long and loose, and his muscular chest heaves in breath like a drowning man finally come up for air. Though I cannot say his expression is any less beast-like. Something feral has permanently etched its way in: brows lowered, teeth gnashed. Why, I’m surprised he’s not foaming at the mouth.
His large hand still presses down on my chest. Slowly, he moves, fist tightening in the fabric of my shirt, before moving to clasp my wrist. “Break it,” he practically begs. “Please, Cas—”
I cannot and will not let him speak my name to me, so I cause thorns and shadows to surge through the ice. But not before I raise myself, bringing my lips to his cheek as I whisper a promise for all eternity. “Never.”
My thorns wrap around me and drag me back to the Below, leaving the Winter Prince alone.
I clutch my wrist, fingers stroking the dark ink that binds me to Keldarion. No, our covenant will never break. Because one day, the Prince of Winter will give into Rosalina, and when he does, I can’t wait for the magic of our bargain to drop his mate right at my doorstep.