A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales – B&tB Book 1)
A Ruin of Roses: Chapter 12

“Step lively, my darling. Lots to do.”

Hadriel greeted me earlier than normal the next morning, dressed in the same weird butler’s outfit but with a little grease plastered across his scant mustache. That was new. I pointed at it.

“Why?”

“Oh yeah.” He lightly touched it. “Ridiculous, right? After the close call yesterday, I thought maybe I’d better up my efforts at standing out in a bad way. I plan to wear this to the party tonight and let the demons make an ab-solute fool of me. They love doing that. It’s the price we pay for not suffering at their hands.”

“But you are suffering at their hands.”

“Well, right, but not eternally, know what I’m saying? Oh…” He paused as he noticed the marks on my neck. “Did he…bite you?”

My face heated. I’d seen the effects of last night in the mirror this morning after my bath. “Yeah. Apparently the hickey wasn’t enough.”

“Did he just bite you on the neck, or…maybe the shoulder, too?”

“Why?” I covered my shoulder with my opposite hand. “He didn’t do it hard enough to—it wasn’t like grabbing my throat. This was…a different thing.”

“Sexual, yes, obviously. But did he also bite— Here, just let me see.” He pulled the neck of my shirt a little, peering at the juncture between my shoulder and neck.

I swatted his hands away.

“Just the neck,” Leala said as Hadriel persisted.

“Ah. Well. That’s strange.” He gave me a smile. “Lame kink, right? Anyway. You’ve eaten?”

“I brought her up a tray before her bath,” Leala said, turning and clasping her hands. Her wrists had angry red welts. She had certainly been busy last night.

“I wondered about the…you know…” I circled my finger around my crotch. “The salon. For the lady beard. But maybe not the demon part. Maybe I can just…trim things up a bit? Just for…cleanliness and…ease of…getting to…things.” I grimaced and my face flamed.

Leala ducked her face to hide a smile.

Hadriel tilted his head and clucked his tongue. “Ah, aren’t you cute? When is the last time we’ve had someone bashful around, Leala?”

“A long time,” she replied demurely.

I rolled my eyes to distract from my face continuing to heat.

“Well.” Hadriel squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll definitely look into that. But for now we need to do a bunch of other things. First, we need to meet the seamstresses.” He led me out. “Now, I warn you. One of them is very sweet. Very professional. And the other is a real shitbox. It’s hard to stand the awful bollocks. But he is amazing at what he does, and so we’ll have to suffer him. Try not to hurt him.”

Two hours later, I stood in a middle-aged seamster’s messy workroom. A chaos of fabric swirled around me, draped from poles, slipping down from desks, flowing in the wind next to two open windows letting in the cooling air. A pincushion lay on the ground at the base of the pedestal on which I perched. Bright red against the beige floor, it kept attracting my gaze for reasons I couldn’t explain. Pins stuck out at odd angles, each little bead at their heads a different color. Occasionally the seamster would nudge or kick it with his foot, no idea it was even there. It had been set aside and forgotten like everything else in this room, used when needed or not at all. It felt like a metaphor for the villages clustering around this castle. Or maybe our kingdom as a whole.

This was my second stop on the measuring train. Before this, I had been in a very neat and orderly work room on the third floor, overlooking the Forbidden Wood. In that room, each piece of fabric was crisply folded and stowed in its place. Each thimble had a home. Each measurement was carefully measured and promptly recorded. It had been quick and efficient, and I didn’t see the point in this second visit. But apparently the seamstress, a plump older woman with a pleasant disposition and easy smile, excelled at humdrum work clothes, and the eccentric seamster did up fashionable attire. Leala and Hadriel thought I needed both, though I had no idea where they thought I would be wearing the fashionable attire. There was no way I was going to parade it around the demons at night. That was a lot of drama I did not need.

The seamster had been measuring me for what seemed like hours. He hemmed and hawed and did the same measurements two or more times each. Apparently, he envisioned the various garments as he worked, and each garment needed its own set of measurements. No wonder he was still alive.

At one point, Hadriel offered to write my measurements down for him. That was when I got the full weight of his personality.

“This is my process, you sour-faced cur. Leave me to it!”

There was a reason he was not well liked, that was clear.

Given Hadriel chuckled to himself, I didn’t bother kneeing the seamster in the face.

“I’ll need to dry the everlass this evening,” I said as I let my mind roam. “Someone needs to remind Nyfain.”

The seamster, Cecil, sucked in a startled breath. “How dare a lowborn hagbag like you call the master by his given name? You shouldn’t be messing around with his prized everlass at all!”

“Call me a hagbag again and I’ll punch you in your beanbag,” I replied.

He looked up at me slowly, met my gaze, and just as slowly looked back down. Message delivered, message clearly received. He stopped protesting.

Then: “I have new inspiration!” he cried. “I must start again. I was doing it all wrong!”

He worked faster the second time around, thankfully, but it was still another hour before we got out of there.

“I’ve never seen him work so quickly,” Hadriel said as we headed outside. The next order of business was finding me a garden to redo. “I mean, he certainly wasted a lot of time in the beginning, but he really seemed to find his way after you threatened him.”

“And now we know what it takes to hurry him up,” I said.

“You shouldn’t have to go back for measurements. Once he has direction, he usually starts churning things out. Sometimes it just takes forever for that direction to come to him. Right, okay, where’s this garden you had in mind?”

It took me roaming the outside grounds, sadly burned and browned without a team of people to look after them, to find it. I thought about asking after the gardening team, but I had a pretty good idea of what had happened to them. If they could make use of a pitchfork, they probably hadn’t lasted long.

I caught sight of my tower room and cut that way. “It’s just over here.”

Except it wasn’t. A brick wall rose in front of us, covered in a mess of vines.

“Oh no, you can’t choose this one.” Hadriel shook his head as I met the wall of the castle.

I started around the other way, finding the same thing. A glance up confirmed that I was in the right place. I just hadn’t noticed the garden was walled because I’d been looking down. It must’ve been hidden within the overgrowth, which meant the overgrowth was extreme.

“See?” Hadriel said. “There’s no way in. You— What are you doing?”

I found a part of the wall free of the thorny vines and jumped, hooking my fingers around the edge. I pulled myself up and threw my leg over, rewarded with a bite of pain in my calf from the thorns of an out-of-control blackberry bush. Sucking air through my teeth, I adjusted and sat, confronted with a swell of plant life.

“Holy crap, this place is in a state.” I looked up at the tower window, accessing my memory of the layout from looking down. “If I fall in, Hadriel…tell someone.”

“You shouldn’t be up there. That garden is off-limits!”

“Nyfain didn’t mention any gardens being off-limits.”

“This is not something that has to be mentioned!”

Well, that just made it more attractive.

I stood, taking a moment to find my balance, and walked the top of the brick wall. There was a mess of roses to my left, and a thicket of thorny vines beyond them. I had no idea what those vines were, but I planned to cut them all down.

“I’ll need some gardening tools, Hadriel,” I called. He nearly hopped along the ground beside me, incredibly anxious. This garden had probably belonged to royalty at one time—their private grounds. I’d read about that in the history books. But guess what? The royals were all dead, and the king had sucked. I wouldn’t at all feel bad about taking over.

At the side near the castle wall, the massive overgrowth turned into tall and brittle weeds. They crowded within and atop rows that must’ve been used for growing herbs or produce of some kind. I wondered how the dirt was. I turned and lowered myself down.

“Come back out,” Hadriel called. “Seriously, come out. This is a terrible idea.”

“It’s just a garden, Hadriel.”

“It’s the queen’s garden!” he replied. “The queen’s own garden.”

“She’d probably want me to return it to its former glory, then.” I meandered through the space, taking stock of any plants I could identify, weeds or otherwise. I’d need to check the library for anything I didn’t recognize.

“The king forbade it. He forbade anyone to touch any part of the grounds except for the everlass. He said that was the queen’s role—the management of the grounds—and without a queen, there could be no grounds.”

“And look at the fix he’s gotten us all in with his terrible decision-making. Besides, he’s dead, Hadriel. His royal decrees or whatever don’t mean squat anymore.”

I bent and dug my hands through the dirt. Something scraped my finger, and I grimaced, pulling it out to look. A drop of blood welled up, and I smiled. I fed the blood back into the ground.

“You see?” I held up my finger even though he was still on the other side of the wall. “It drew first blood. It has chosen me. Now all I need to give it is sweat and tears, and we’ll be all set.”

“Since when do you talk like a warrior? They are plants, Finley. Come out of there this minute!”

“Nah.” I continued sizing up the space, working out in my head what I’d need to do first, and what tools I’d need to accomplish it. I wondered if anyone could be spared to help.

“Okay, but listen here, Finley.” Hadriel sounded like he was pressed against the wall. “The king passed that law because he wanted the prince to settle in with a noblewoman of dragon blood and make her queen. Or at least a queen in waiting.”

“And when he couldn’t get his way, he made a deal with the demons, and here we are. I know.”

He kept talking, but I wasn’t really listening. Although there was no door to the rest of the grounds, there was a lovely patio I hadn’t noticed from my tower room. It led to a pair of large glass doors in the side of the castle. Darkness waited beyond.

Royalty had lived through there.

In awe, I stepped up onto the patio.

“No, but… The king blamed the queen’s death on the prince. When the prince tried to marry for love, it broke the queen’s heart, and she died. That’s what was said. The funeral brought back the prince and the demons, and the king trapped him here.”

The queen herself had come out through those doors and onto this patio. She’d used these—now rotting—wooden chairs to look out at her or her gardener’s handiwork. She’d maybe breakfasted or taken lunch out here on fine days, soaking in the beauty. Maybe before the king had gone mad, they loved each other and celebrated that out here.

No, probably not. Royalty didn’t find love.

Well, maybe she had enjoyed some self-love, thinking about a hot gardener or something.

I approached the glass, shielding my eyes from the glare.

“She and the prince had a really tight bond,” Hadriel called, his voice distant as I tried to peer in the room.

Despite all the times I’d played make-believe as a kid, pretending to be in the royal court, I’d never believed it would actually happen. And now, after the world had gone to shit, here I was standing on the queen’s private patio. This was blowing my mind.

I couldn’t see anything through the glass, but curiosity was burning a hole through me. I tried the doors, figuring they’d be locked. Could I find my way through the castle to check the other side? Nyfain had a skeleton key—if there were ever a reason to seduce someone…

I pulled on the handle. Nothing happened. A push had the same result. I dragged my hand as I stepped away, and the glass pulled away from the other side.

I froze. Sliding glass. I’d never seen such a thing! But then, I’d also never seen a single pane of glass as big as these doors. Money made miracles.

I slid it open farther.

“Finley?” Hadriel called. “Finley, did you fall in? What’s happening?”

“I’m fine,” I called, a bit hushed, pulling the door open.

“Don’t nose around in there. The master blames himself for what happened, and that garden is the remnants of something she loved. He won’t want it disturbed.”

His words flowed around me as I ventured into the dark space beyond, and although I could hear him, I wasn’t listening.

Two fabric chairs teamed with a couch sat around a little table by the door. A place for tea, probably. Not a speck of dust marred the shiny surface, as though this room was still routinely cleaned. The floor was plastered with an enormous rug, nearly large enough to cover my entire house. A little desk waited off to my right, cleared of any parchment, and a large mirror was stationed on the other side. Other furniture took up residence, but I crept toward the oddest thing in the room. A rosebush somehow—obviously magically—grew out of the actual floor! As though the floor were dirt. It looked almost fake but for the differences in the browns and yellows of the leaves and the way it curled as it died. The branches were brittle and roses deep brown and wilted except for a few. It was in terrible shape.

For some reason, it moved me. I wanted to roll up my sleeves and nurture it back to life. But there was something uncanny about it, beside it growing in the wood floor, so I left it alone lest I break some sort of magic remembrance spell or something.

Instead, I continued onward, absolutely delighting in the saturated tones and bold decorating choices. She even had a decorative sword and shield tacked up on the wall. A woman after my own heart.

An open doorway led to a room with a bed and another small chamber that appeared to be the bathing room. The bed stood against the far wall, a huge, canopied affair decorated in gold and ivory. The wardrobe in here had been dusted, too, everything clean and in its proper place.

Imagine living in this kind of finery, in rooms such as these. It was beyond belief for someone of my upbringing and social status, but I would definitely be dreaming my life away after seeing it. My make-believe audience was about to turn into a bunch of make-believe servants and adoring ladies-in-waiting, hanging on my every word. No more jester thoughts for this girl.

Making my way back out, I heard the metal tinkle. Like a key in the lock!

My heart sped up, and I hurried toward the glass door. Before I could get far, the door swung open. Nyfain filled the doorway, seeing me immediately. Suspicion and rage filled that golden gaze.

Everything Hadriel had said finally took root.

The funeral brought back the prince, and the demons and the king trapped him here.

She and the prince had a really tight bond.

The master blames himself…

“Oh, holy goddess, no fucking way. You’re the prince,” I said in a hasty release of breath, so many emotions warring through me that I didn’t know what to do with any of them. Excitement, sorrow, disbelief—I didn’t know where to land.

On the other side of that emotional storm sat the knowledge that this made complete sense. Of course he was the prince. The mad king had doomed us all to keep his son here. The demon king couldn’t kill him with the curse locking him in. Still. Nyfain didn’t heal the same, so it’d be easier for someone or something else to kill him. Only that hadn’t happened yet. So the demons were trying to break him.

How could I have missed this?

The prince.

The fucking prince!

Why hadn’t I known his name? But I hadn’t. And I didn’t even know the queen’s name. All of that had fallen through the cracks in my memory. It just wasn’t relevant. Still, he must’ve thought I was a simpleton. An ignorant, lowborn commoner.

I ran the back of my hand across my face.

Memories shoved into my brain. That majestic dragon cutting through the sapphire sky. The glittering gold scales catching and throwing the buttery-yellow sun.

“But your dragon is dull black, not golden—”

He rushed at me. I should’ve turned and sprinted for an exit, or maybe curled into the fetal position, or at least taken out my knife and tried to stab him, but I was too busy freezing in place. The past warred with the here and now. My memories of him in the sky warred with this scarred man in front of me. I’d daydreamed about him as a kid. Wanted to be best friends. Then I grew up, and even though we all believed he was gone, I’d fantasized about slipping into his bed. I hadn’t known what he looked like as a man, but I hadn’t cared. That roar. That dragon. That effortless glide through the sky. He’d been the pride of the kingdom. Fierce and powerful. He would take the throne and elevate us all—that was what the elders in my village had said.

“What are you doing in here?” he snarled, stopping beside the rosebush. “Getting a look at my father’s fallen kingdom?”

I frowned at the plant. “I think you’re getting a little extreme in your metaphors…”

He laughed sardonically, pinning me to my place with a hard stare. “That’s right, you are about as ignorant as they come. No idea about your animal, shifters, the dragon court…”

Pain pricked my spine. Even as a beast prowling his failing lands, he hadn’t paid attention to our village. We’d been nothing to him. I was nothing now.

But he wasn’t finished. He hovered his hand over the rosebush. “My mother’s favorite plant was the rosebush. She felt like it embodied her. When allowed to flourish in the wild, she was fierce and beautiful, sweet to smell but with a sharp bite. Then she was brought here, and the king treated her like he would a rosebush. She was pruned back. Shaped. Cultivated. Wild at heart, violent even, but unable to express it.”

He drummed his fingers against the glass. His gaze sparked violence. I took a step back, suddenly unsure.

“My father wanted to remind me of my part in killing her,” he said, and I could hear the pain twisting his words. “This rosebush was enchanted by the demons and sunk into the floor. It’s connected to the kingdom. Each year I see a little more of it wilt and die. Eventually we will all die with it. There’s nothing we can do but make the passing as easy as possible. I thought maybe bringing you here would help. I knew your village was using the everlass for something, and your rate of death was slower than everywhere else. Your branch has roses still in bloom. The only one that looks even reasonably healthy. I’ve been watching from afar. I just had no idea how you were managing it.”

“What?” I blurted. “But you said—”

“I lied. How many times must I remind you that I am not a nice man?” He stalked toward me slowly, a hunter sizing up his prey. “Your scent is burned into my brain. That first night you ran into the Royal Wood, the young, plucky thing with more courage than a grown dragon, I committed it to memory. You didn’t escape me, Finley. I allowed you to leave. You were too young to kill. I smelled the everlass on you and wanted to know what you were doing with it. After you left, I visited the field and scented your path through it. I realized you’d pruned as you went. You harvested just one leaf from each plant, taking your time to keep the plants healthy. Even though you came to steal, you were looking after that field.”

He wound closer, one slow step at a time, his big shoulders swaying, his size dwarfing mine. His presence was imposing.

I swallowed. “Everyone knows to harvest like that.”

He shook his head. “You know they don’t. Especially not plucky little—what, fourteen? Fifteen?”

“Fourteen,” I whispered.

“Yes. Before the first shift was possible. I didn’t scent your animal, or feel it when I chased you out. The magic surrounding the wood was too strong for me to cross at the time, but I didn’t need to. You returned to the wood before I could investigate you further. You’ve never entered without my knowing, but I could never catch you. Not until I had that birch enchanted. You’re a sly little thing.”

“I was just trying to keep my family alive.”

He stopped in front of me. “The last time, when you left your knife, I felt you. I felt your animal. It called to us. I’d suspected, but only then did I know what was in you. Your power.” He pushed in close, taking all the space. Trapping me in. “Tell me, when your animal first awakened, what did you feel?”

“Exhilarated. Scared.”

“And?”

He put a hand to each side of my face. His heat soaked through my skin, turning me liquid. My body was fifty percent heartbeat.

“Turned on,” I whispered.

His power coursed through me, caught by my animal and held for a moment before she fed it back, like we had done to save Hadriel. He was the brawn; I was the finesse. Together we’d literally pulled someone away from the brink of death. This time, though, pounding arousal came with our connection.

I panted, my breasts rising and falling with each breath. His gaze traveled down my front as though caressing my naked flesh. My animal pumped fire into me. The power between us turned molten.

A desperate, tortured moan parted my lips. He leaned in a little, almost imperceptibly, as though he couldn’t help it. Like he was struggling against the desire. The air between us snapped taut and the room fell away. All I knew was him and me and this never-ending thirst for his body to fill mine. For his muscles to push me down onto the mattress and his cock to fill my world.

He inhaled, taking me in. “Goddess strike me down, Finley, I want to fuck you so hard you forget your name. I want to own that sweet pussy and destroy you with pleasure.”

I couldn’t seem to get enough air. Wetness gushed between my thighs.

“But if I do that,” he went on, “that will be the end of you. I’ve explained why. I do not share. Not in my past life, and not now. Once I take you, I will not allow anyone else to touch you. Your life will be forfeit. To me.”

His words crawled across my skin, making me shiver. His eyes hypnotized me, and a large part of me wanted him to do as he said. I wanted him to make good on his word and brand me with his desire.

But seriously, had I lost my mind? Had I gone completely insane?

He was a damned prince. What would I become, his side piece? Because no way was I the heroine of this story. I was a nobody from nowhere. I was a lure to his ruin. An end to his celibacy. And if I gave in? I’d land myself with the world’s biggest cockblock.

Not to mention that he had imprisoned me here. He’d lied to me on multiple occasions. He’d brought me here and forced me into danger. Me and no one else. He could’ve met me in the wood like the others. There was no reason for him to drag me into this. Now he was messing with my head and my future. With my life.

I was a fool for letting him get under my skin. For allowing myself to forget how I’d ended up here.

He wanted me to stay away from him. So I would. I had a home, and the demons there didn’t give two shits about me. He could meet me in the Forbidden Wood like he did his other informants, get the recipe for the elixir, and go about his life. The demons didn’t want me. They wanted him.

The man could save himself. I had other shit to do.

With the last shred of sense I had, I ducked under his arms and darted toward the door. I hoped this area of the castle wasn’t a maze, and I could find my way in case he chased me.