Page 5 of Breaking Briar

“To you, young Briar,” the witch with the green wand whispers, “I give the gift of song.”

Well, that one is even more useless than the first. What need do I have for someone who can sing? But again, I suppose it should be nice to have a wife who can entertain me.

“To you, young Briar,” the witch with the blue wand chuckles, “I give the gift of conversing with animals. They will love you and serve you well.”

My nose wrinkles up as I mull over her words. I guess it would help to know what ails an animal, but other than that, none of these so-called gifts seem like actual blessings. It’s more like they have nothing better to do than to saddle this poor girl with anything to make sure she is pretty and useless.

“To you, young Briar,” the witch with the indigo wand croaks, “I give the gift of endurance and strength. Pain will never touch you. Your bones will never break. Any pain will be transmuted into pleasure. You will never know discomfort or agony. In childbirth, this will ease your suffering and allow your lineage to flourish.”

Stunned, I merely stare at the indigo witch. Out of all the gifts so far, this seems to be the only one which is actually useful. If only the others wouldn’t squander their blessings away on such nonsense as talking to animals or singing. If only I could have such a blessing.

The witch turns to me as if she can hear my thoughts but says nothing. For a moment, our eyes lock, and something primal roars from inside my head. Her eyes widen as she takes a step back, so small only I notice it. Before she can say a word, however, the last witch speaks.

“To you, young Briar…” The witch with the violet wand hesitates, her hand poised high in the air, but no words come out. It’s as if she’s not sure what she wants to say. Granted, with the other gifts, it would make sense she would have nothing left, but her silence makes me uneasy.

As I step forward, about to demand what she plans on giving my future bride, the doors once more open with a swoosh. This time, no joy follows the eddies of air swirling around the crib and me. Before I even see her, I know the evil witch approaches.

The onlookers huddle into themselves, looking to my father to help guide them. But coward he is, he merely steps behind King Kendrick, as if the other king will honor a truce not yet penned.

“What is it you want from us, witch,” my father cries out from behind his shield.

“I was not invited to the festivities. How rude of you to send word to my sisters but not me.”

The leader of the good witches steps forward, her violet wand waving back and forth. “You are no sister of ours. Leave this place. You are not welcome here.”

I hear her words as I watch her face. There’s something odd about the interaction, as if it’s rehearsed. Her face conveys the righteous anger I expect, but her tone is devoid of emotion. Perhaps this is the way of witches?

Until today, I had not had the chance to encounter one. It could be they weave their power in their voices and not their fists. That would make far more sense than to have all these good witches side with the one who aims to make trouble for me and my throne.

Stepping forward, she makes a great show of sweeping low to the floor in an ostentatious bow. “Forgive me, King Godwin and King Kendrick, but I, too, have a gift for the child.”

With a flick of her wrist, she motions for them to part, giving her a direct line to the infant. Enraged, I throw myself over the crib, refusing to allow this witch to harm her. The shocked gasps of the crowd fall around me, but I barely notice it. I’m not here for adoration.

This is personal.

However, just like before, she dispatches her shadows. The tendrils grab hold and lift me high into the air. With my body stretched out as such, all I can do is buck against my bonds, bellowing out my rage.

Master Balcom heads up the guards as they trample through the crowd to rescue me, but the witch holds up her hand in a motion for them to stop. As if their feet are held to the floor by some unseen hand, they refuse to move.

“Careful. One false step, and I can rend your prince limb from limb. Where then will be your treaty? With no other sons to marry the princess, you will be ripe for destruction.” Glancing at my parents, she smiles. “He is your only son, is he not? I would think long and hard about coming after me if you want him to take over your throne.”

Unfortunately, she’s right. I’m far too important to allow my anger to cloud my judgment. With a sigh, I stop my fighting and concentrate on her actions as she steps closer to the crib. My heart slams in my chest as she leans over and strokes Briar’s face with a long, sharp nail.

“Such a beautiful girl. I’m sure my sisters have blessed you with all sorts of things to make her the perfect bride and queen.” Looking up, she gives me a pointed stare. “Pity she will not make it that far.”

My heart seizes in my chest, arresting my breath. No. She cannot possibly think to kill her. Not with all of us here to stop her. Even if we die trying, little Briar will be saved.

“Here is my gift to the young princess. You will certainly grow up to be a woman of great beauty and poise, but I will give you the gift of an insatiable curiosity. This will lead to your eventual downfall. Once you reach eighteen years of age, you will find yourself so overcome with the need to figure out how a spinning wheel works that you will prick your finger on the spindle and die.”

Outraged roars fill the building as the guards rush toward her. However, she vanishes into thin air, her maniacal cackles echoing above the din. As her body disappears, so do the tendrils holding me aloft.

Tucking my chin into my chest as I make myself into a ball, I brace for impact, wishing I had a fairy to gift me the blessing of never feeling pain. But I never fall. Eventually, I crack my eyes open and unfurl, shocked as a violet glow surrounds me, keeping me in the air.

Slowly, the good witch eases me down until my feet brush against the polished floor. Once I regain my footing, I race over to the crib, my heart in my throat. Poor Briar screams out in terror as her eyes roll wildly about in her head, as if looking for some sort of comfort.

Her mother, the queen of Kendrick, races over, but I block her path, picking Briar up into my arms. For some reason, I feel an intense urge to comfort the baby myself. The crowd mumbles a touch at my actions, but I ignore it. It’s not about princely duty; it’s about protection.

The instant she curls up against my chest, something shifts between us. A possessive urge I never felt before wells up inside me. Though I felt similar emotions, I never knew how tame they were compared to what I feel now. I will keep Briar safe from all harm. Even if it means fighting every enemy that poses a threat, I will keep her safe.