The light faded, and a golden bracelet appeared around the boy’s wrist, inlaid with roses.
“Is this like a bargain?” Caspian gasped.
“No, it’s a gift.” Anya opened her palm to reveal the wooden camel. “You have shaped this. Now shape yourself, Prince of the Below. You decide what to do with the magic you bear.”
The boy smiled, and he waved his hand. From the ground sprouted a briar with a purple vine and black thorns.
The next day, the family—Francis supposed even if the boy wasn’t their son, they were a family—dropped him off at a port with enough money for a ticket back to England. And he was so glad about it.
But as Francis stepped onto that ship, he vowed one thing.
He was never going to rob a mummy’s tomb again.
1
Rosalina
Ihave no name.
No soul.
But I have a heart.
It belongs to him.
Everything that I am belongs to him.
The Prince of Thorns.
2
Rosalina
My days in the dark are beautiful.
He is like the stars, twinkling in and out of sight, his cool radiance the only light I need.
He doesn’t speak much. I long for his touch, for the feel of his skin against mine. But he’s always out of reach.
Sometimes, he visits my room. It’s filled with pretty things, like a bed draped in gauzy curtains and large jewels hanging from the walls that fill the space with a soft violet glow. But when he enters, it’s as if even the light bows before him. I fall to my knees, pleading and sobbing for a kiss, an embrace, a touch.
He doesn’t answer. He just stares, his eyes shining like emeralds.
3
Rosalina
“Do you miss the sun?”
The sun? What use do I have for the sun when the mere sound of his voice fills my entire body with heat?
It’s the first thing he’s said to me in…
Well now. I don’t know.
It’s hard to tell time in the dark. I don’t sleep much. How can I sleep when I know he is so close yet out of my reach? My thoughts are utterly consumed with him. My hero. My god.
Hmm. There’s a word for this.
