8. Rosalina
Rosalina
The Prince of Thorns and I sit on a fallen log near a bog.
Frost clings to the tall grasses, and chunks of ice float in the marsh, but the sun is shining beautifully, basking everything in light.
I wish I could stretch out and soak my whole body in the rays, but I fight the urge.
He doesn’t like when I search for the sun.
We’re on the border of Winter and Spring, though I can’t remember which realm this log sits in.
All I know is the Prince of Thorns negotiated with a coven of bog witches: ugly things with gnarled fingers and hair made of marsh grass with eyes that can see straight through to your bones.
They’re on their way to Cryptgarden now, to amass with the rest of Sira’s gathering army.
The Prince of Thorns and I share a wedge of hard cheese, passing it back and forth, not talking.
“You and I are mates, right?” I say it absently. Just because I felt it in my heart, and I wanted to say it.
The cheese falls from his grip and into the boggy mud beneath his boots.
“Bother,” I chide. “That was good ch—”
The Prince of Thorns is upon me, shoving me flat against the log, his entire body covering mine. His eyes flash not green or purple but a muddy black, like bog water.
“You mustn’t ever say that aloud. Do you understand me?”
“But why? It’s true, isn’t it? We’re mates—”
He covers my mouth with his hands, the weight of his body near suffocating. “Stop it. Stop it right now. My mother cannot know that, and her spies are everywhere. Do not ever say it aloud. Do you understand?”
I blink, then a smile curves beneath the touch of his palm. “What will you give me to keep the secret?”
His chest heaves, and he looks at me as if I’m crazy. Maybe I am. Who am I to negotiate with one who is a god?
He licks his lips. Looks around. I can practically hear his thoughts rumbling like an avalanche. Then he closes his black eyes and nods as if he’s figured it out.
Slowly, he shifts forward. I feel every place our bodies touch, the movement so slow, I may expire from the pure ecstasy of it. His breath is warm on my skin. Achingly unhurried, he brings his face to mine and, ever so gently, lays a kiss on the very corner of my mouth.
“Please, Princess,” he purrs, “be a good girl and keep our little secret.”
“I swear,” I whisper.
I touch the corner of my lip, right where he kissed me. For this, I would do anything. For this, I would raze the realms.