He lifted his head, staring bleakly into her eyes. “I can’t hear her anymore. I’ve been calling and calling, but…” His voice broke.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, feeling the emptiness of the words, tears spilling hot down her chilled cheeks. A bit of spring snow blew through the ragged hole in the wall.
“I know.” Sebastien nodded, as if trying to convince himself. “I should have been able to stop her, with my magic. If only I’d studied harder…” A low sound dragged out of him, his breath catching.
She didn’t understand what he meant, but she grieved with him. She took his hand and he clutched at it, his face averted.
“And… Kismet?” she asked hesitantly. And all those other poor horses. “Maybe you should check on him.”
“I already reached out to him and he’s fine, though frightened,” Sebastien answered cryptically. He laughed a little, a watery sound. “He’s convinced it was a dragon. Breathing fire, you know.”
Oh.She had no idea how he knew that. “I’m just so very sorry that I… that things got out of control.”
He studied her, a terrible change in his beautiful eyes. “How could that happen?” he asked with a gentleness that broke her heart. “Rose never loses control.”
She couldn’t think of what to say, tears hot in the edges of her eyes. It came to her then. Hints she’d ignored, things he’d said, the way he’d come to care for her so easily and fast. There was a Rose, a real Rose, and Thorn was not her. She’d found her prince, only to lose him in the same day.
“Except you’re not Rose. Are you?” Sebastien asked with that same, horrible gentleness, not really a question.
No. If only she were. But she was only Thorn.
14
Sebastien went to deal with the damage while Thorn sat in her lonely bed and stared at the shattered remnants of the once-lovely room. Someone had come to nail boards over the broken door, and things had gradually quieted. Finally, he returned as promised, sitting heavily on the bed and looking at her for what felt like a very long time.
“I should have realized,” Sebastien said wearily. “In truth, I did know from those first moments, but I second-guessed myself, as usual. You know, you look exactly like my Rose. And how can that… Who are you? Tell me what game this is.”
Stricken, her lips numb, she groped for a way to explain herself. Not his Rose. Not a rose at all, but a thorn. She’d thought nothing could be more terrible than Jada’s punishments, but Sebastien’s disdain hurt immeasurably. He didn’t seem angry, and yet she shuddered inside at the prospect. Even if he didn’t choose to punish her, his disappointment cleaved her soul. Not a flesh wound, but a mortal one.
She had no idea how to answer his question, didn’t know who she was. She was just some stupid girl raised in a cottage in the woods. Maybe she didn’t truly exist. Maybe she was someone Rose dreamed up. A nightmare other self, like the black-haired girl in the Dream garden. Sebastien stared at her, expecting an answer, the demand of a prince in his manner.
“I don’t know,” she finally floundered out, an inadequate answer.
He looked scornful. “How can you not know? Tell me the truth or there will be consequences.”
Consequences. The threat stirred a bone-chilling panic in her.“I don’t know who I am,” she insisted, not sure how to convince him. How to plead her case. “My name is Thorn.”
“Thorn,” he repeated, as if trying out the sound of it.
“Yes. That cottage in the woods where you found me? I grew up there, I’ve lived there all my life. This is the first time I ever got to leave it and I hate it there and it’s awful and—” She had to catch her breath, tears thick in her throat and sliding down her face. “And now I have to go back to it.”
He gazed at her for a long time, grief and anger and confusion making his eyes hard as glass. Finally he dropped his face in his hands. “I’m tired,” he said, in almost a wondering tone. “I never imagined… I’m tired. And I have to get this wound bandaged. It’s nearly morning anyway. I think it’s best if we leave as soon as possible.”
“I’m so sorry, Sebastien,” she said, knowing it wasn’t enough and unable to stop saying it. Wishing she had other words than those stupid, empty ones. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. She was a sorry creature indeed. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just… wanted to be free.”
“No, it isn’t your fault.” He gazed out the shattered windows, expression bleak. “But you don’t have to go back to the cottage if you’re so afraid. I won’t make you go there. You can still come with me and we’ll figure things out.”
“To the City of Hasp?” she asked in desperate hope. She could find a place in the city. But she had promised Moriah she would go back.
“What?” He looked so confused.
“Or is it a castle? Your castle, Hasp.”
“No, mine is Castle Vega.” He cocked his head, looking into her face, seeing her for the first time, and not the wonderful, perfect Rose. “You really don’t know much about the world, do you?”
“I… No.” She flushed, ashamed of her ignorance, of her willingness to believe he could fall for her, of the awful damage she’dcaused. “I can’t go there anyway. I have to go back to the cottage,” she told him. She couldn’t break her promise and she couldn’t run from herself. The danger she posed by simply falling asleep would follow her everywhere.
“But you hate it there, you said. And you were afraid before. That was real.”
