Page 9 of Breaking Briar

“Prince. You cannot-”

“Master Balcom!” A soldier tears into the room and drops to his knee. “You are needed in the throne room.” Pausing, he looks up at me. “Prince Philip, you may be needed as well.”

Master Balcom’s lips thin as he watches him leave. “Seems as if some mischief is afoot. Come, let us see what is now befalling us.” Clapping his hand on my back, he leaves, expecting me to follow.

The throne room is in complete chaos as we enter. My father paces as Mother sobs on her throne. Off to the side, the King of Kendrick shakes his head, looking down at a blood-stained piece of paper.

Their terror is acrid to my nose, a stench I’ll never forget. As Master Balcom and my parents converse, I walk over to King Kendrick and sidle up, trying to get a look at the letter. With a sneer, he hands it over and walks off, rage pouring off of him.

From what I understand, soldiers from his family are being slaughtered in protection of our own. Soon, we will have to assist. Balling the letter in my fist, I look over at Master Balcom.

As we make eye contact, I realize what we’re going to have to do. As much as I want to protect Briar and make her happy, I cannot do so here. A battle is waging, and I need to be there at the forefront to keep her safe.

CHAPTER 4

PHILIP

28 YEARS OLD

Anguished screams pound into my skull, setting my mind on fire. In front of me, all I can see is a shimmery haze coated in vermillion. Blood seeps from my fists, dripping down to the ground like poisonous rain.

Hatred swells in my chest, tainting every breath in and out. No longer do I smell the scent of rotted decay and death. Oh no. I smell only retribution.

It burns through my nostrils like fire. It sears my throat with every ragged cry. It turns the men in front of me to ash. No longer do I see them as humans. They lost that right the moment they betrayed the House of Godwin.

Curling my hand back into a fist, I plant it into the face of a soldier racing toward me. His hand grips a long spear as deadly menace splits his face in two. Years ago, I might have been afraid. I might have crouched behind Master Balcom and let him dispatch those who opposed us.

But not anymore.

Those days of childish fear are long behind me. It’s as if I cannot even remember them. Even now, splintered memories pierce my brain, threatening to make me sentimental, to remember those who betrayed us in a kinder light.

It’s agony shoving them away. Until now, Briar had been my only solace. I fought and bled to keep her safe. And for what? Glancing up at the high turret, I seek out a flash of brown amidst a sea of red, desperate for some sweet memory to overtake me.

But she’s not there.

There seems to be no trace of her anywhere. No doubt the bastard king is hiding her away, keeping my prize away from me—the wife I swore I’d come back for. Though I had not seen her in ten years, her soft voice and gentle smile were my rock, my comfort.

Now, she’s a millstone around my neck, threatening to bring me low. Try as I might, I cannot remove her from my brain. It’s as if a part of me resides in her, a part I will never get back until I choke the life out of her body. It’s the only way to be rid of this ache in my chest.

I was supposed to return to praise and fanfare, people shouting their thanks and adoration as the Holy Wars came to an end at my hand. Briar was to be waiting for me, chaste, demure, the picture of a bride waiting for her prince to wed her.

But that’s not the sight that greeted me.

Bodies still lay strewn across the castle's steps, their blood running down into the streets in crimson rivulets. Wings in order of the rainbow decorate the trees, swaying with each gentle breeze—the last of the good witches. As of yet, their bodies have not been found, but they’re not at the forefront of my concern.

Inside, my thoughts are a maelstrom. Part of me wants, no, needs, to make sure Briar is safe, but other part rages and bellows at the betrayal witnessed today. Even if she wasn’t the mastermind, she’s still part of the plot. That much is clear.

The letters in her hand begging me to come home. The trinkets she lured me with. The love she declared, even though she never really knew me. Then nothing. All communication stopped. All promises of our wedding day vanish.

But she was well. The spies confirmed it. Never once did Briar falter, but she did help stir up chaos and confusion. All the facts and data pound in my brain as I run my blade through yet another agent of betrayal.

Kendrick’s soldiers still surround us, their eyes glinting with their bloodlust. If only I’d come sooner. If only I wasn’t so distracted with the war… a diversion created on purpose if my theories are correct, at the behest of Kendrick, but continued on by the lies of Briar.

I should have been home. Because of me, my people lay slaughtered in their homes, their innocent lives snuffed out for no reason other than hatred. With my father nowhere to be found, it’s assumed he’s also dead. Which makes them my people now.

Who am I kidding? I considered them mine from the moment I realized my father was inept, and it was only a matter of time before I took over. I just never imagined him failing this badly.

My servants, my soldiers, my countrymen lie cold and still, their mouths agape in a twisted scream that will never be heard again. Tears threaten to burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Now is not a time to mourn. Now is a time for revenge.