Cursed: Briar Rose's Story - Kaylin Lee Page 0,9
The palace fit the exact description of the Masters’ dwelling I’d read about in the paper—simple yet elegant symmetry, adorned with perfectly spaced columns carved in the architectural style of the Kireth homeland. This enormous dwelling, so incongruous in the wild Badlands, was exactly what my parents had been searching for in the Badlands. How powerful were these mages, that they’d moved an entire palace into this hidden crater?
Fear shot through me, but it was laced with triumph. I straightened my spine and inhaled deeply, the icy air filling my lungs and numbing my panic. The Masters were here. I’d found them.
They probably thought they were safe and hidden. And they were. No one in Theros knew about this crater. The Masters wouldn’t be expecting me.
I’d dreamed of being like Dad. Well, here was my chance.
I tossed my gloves onto my pack, then whipped out my crossbow and hurried toward the grand palace entrance, the thick blanket of snow quieting my every movement.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, terror hovered like a swarm of bees, preparing to strike and sting. I moved faster through the snow, rushing to quash the sensation of fear.
Wasn’t this what I’d always wanted? A chance to make a difference—to go out and have adventures on my own, without depending on anyone else? The ultimate mission had just been dropped in my lap. There was no way I’d give it up now. I wasn’t a coward.
The hallway inside the palace’s entrance was gleaming and elegant but empty. I padded through it silently, my wet boots leaving puddles of snowmelt on the wood floor. Traces of the Masters’ evil magic tingled against my skin, making my clothes feel overly warm and scratchy.
Voices echoed down the hall—a man and a woman arguing, and in the background of their conversation, a steady whirring noise. I approached slowly, silently. The door was open. I notched a bolt and cocked my crossbow, then swung into the room and fired.
Whoosh. A vicious force hit my body head on, sending me into the air.
“What have we here?” I caught a glimpse of a thin, blond man waving his hand before tingly wind rushed against me, whirling me around in the air before them.
Alarm curdled my stomach. The terror that had been hovering in my mind rushed through me at once, robbing me of any thought or feeling but fear.
“Zel.” Another glimpse—a beautiful woman stood beside him and eyed me hungrily. “She has been with Zel. Can you not sense it?”
The wind disappeared. I landed hard on the floor with a bruising crash, near-blind from panic.
The man said something, but I lurched to my feet, unable to focus on his words. Would they kill me right away or torture me first? My pulse throbbed in my ears. If I tried to run, would I make it any distance before their magic brought me down?
“Zel must pay,” the woman said. “You said she would pay.” She pointed her finger. Magic rushed over me, freezing my legs and arms in place.
“Yes, she will.” The man sounded annoyed. “But—”
“She will. She must.” There was a spinning wheel in front of me, I noticed numbly, a spinning wheel that held endless coils of glowing, silver thread.
“What is your name?”
Even in the haze of my terror, I managed to press my lips together. I wasn’t giving these monsters anything they wanted, no matter how small.
She took a crystal vial from the pocket of her violet robe and tossed the contents over me. “Tell me. Now.”
An ugly, stinging sensation slithered across my face, into my mouth, and down my throat. I gagged. “Briar Rose.” My mouth uttered the words involuntarily, my throat jerking like I’d vomited them up.
She held up a silvery spool of thread, her eyes bright and excited. “You belong to us now, Briar Rose.”
“The creature is ours, of course, but won’t you slow down a moment?” The man glided out of his chair and joined her in front of me, his lips pursed. “You must not use your own thread on such a thing, Elektra. It’s beneath you. Find a grubby Badlander to use up if you want to make a new curse.”
“Did you learn nothing from that mess with Drusilla?” Elektra pulled a loop of silver thread from the spool, licked her fingers, and rubbed the end. “You just told me the sorbus needs five more years to grow, which means her curse will be a long one. And a good, lengthy curse needs a