I waited with bated breath. The vines remained still and defiant. The prince glanced back at me.
“You see?”
My heart pounded wildly as the full implication of my situation settled over me, squeezing my chest with icy fear. “But…I don’t understand. How can they not listen to you?”
He shrugged. “This is the garden’s palace. I’m not the master here; they are.”
The panic rose in my chest. “But…there has to be another exit—”
“There’s only one,” he repeated. “It’s the archway the garden created for you to enter earlier. And as I’ve already said, the gardens have informed me they have no intention of releasing you.”
“But why?”
He motioned to the flower I still held. “Magic has a set of laws, which you violated the moment you plucked that rose.”
My breaths were coming up short. No, this couldn’t be happening…I wouldn’t let it happen. I spun on the vines. “Let me go! You have no right to keep me here after you tricked me.”
They rustled in distinct refusal. I stomped my foot.
“Please don’t do this. I just escaped my first prison. Are you really going to lock me away, too?”
The prince’s eyes widened, and he turned to the vines with renewed determination. “I understand the conditions she’s violated, but can’t you make an exception?”
In response, an agitated wind blew roughly through the grounds. The prince’s shoulders slumped as he turned back to me, his expression apologetic.
“They refuse to cooperate, which means you’re trapped. I’m truly sorry, Miss Maren.”
My frustration transformed into despair. I slowly sank to the ground. “This can’t be happening.”
My suffocating panic escalated, just as it had yesterday when Father told me what he’d done. I took a wavering breath in an attempt to calm myself. I couldn’t give up. There had to be a way.
My gaze settled on the rose I still held. I extended it towards the garden like an offering. “Please accept this rose back as penance.”
The plants stirred again as the breeze carried their whispers to their prince. I didn’t need to understand them to know they were refusing my request; his hardening countenance said it all.
“Returning it now can’t undo the damage you’ve inadvertently caused,” he said. “Your action forged a connection to the garden, allowing it to lay claim on you.”
My arm dropped limply to my side. “The magic…laid claim on me?” For possibly the millionth time in my life, I cursed the curiosity that had led me to this. “What consequences come from plucking an enchanted rose?”
He nodded towards it. “A binding spell. You took something from the gardens, so they’ve connected you to them in its place.” He looked out across the vast grounds with a pensive frown. “Such magic only occurs with that particular rosebush. The fact that the gardens led you there…I can’t even begin to guess their motivation.” He shook his head and returned his somber gaze to me. “The rose is like an hourglass. When the last petal falls…”
My heart beat wildly in trepidation. “What happens then?” I asked shakily.
He hesitated a moment, as if trying to figure out how much to tell me. “Then I’m afraid that the garden’s punishment will be permanent.”
Chapter 3
I stroked the velvet duvet of my new bed as I slowly took in my surroundings. I was in a palace, one as opulent and grand as I’d imagined…albeit gloomier.
I’d only caught glimpses of it as Prince Briar escorted me through the abandoned hallways, shrouded in shadows. Dozens of potted plants took up nearly every stoney surface, the only cheery details in the otherwise fortress-like structure; the exotic flowers’ perfume clung to me along with the chill that seeped through my shawl.
Prince Briar didn’t speak until we’d arrived at a door flanked by two potted miniature magnolia trees, who stirred as if to open the door, but the prince did it himself and bowed me through like a proper footman.
“Your room, Miss Maren.”
I took a tentative step inside and looked around. Just like the corridors, the room was comprised of stone floors and walls, the only color coming from the forest-green rug, matching curtains, and the duvet, all patterned with a design of vines and roses. Despite my unexpected arrival, it was already clean and aired out, with a welcoming pot of red carnations atop the nightstand.
The room was simple yet lovely, but as beautiful as it was, it was still a prison. Desperation seized me again. I whirled to face the prince, who hovered on the threshold. “I won’t stay here.”
“Won’t you?” Although his tone was calm, exasperation filled his eyes.
“No, I won’t,” I said firmly.
He sighed wearily. “Then would you prefer to stay somewhere else, perhaps somewhere less comfortable? The dungeon is also available.”
I gasped and staggered back. “You wouldn’t.”
He instantly became repentant. “Of course I wouldn’t. Forgive me, I shouldn’t joke about such things. I understand you find yourself in a difficult situation, but allow me to assure you that this is one of our most comfortable rooms, and that while you’re here, you’ll be treated well.”
“Regardless of your hospitality, I won’t be staying. I refuse to believe that a bunch of enchanted leaves and branches can prevent me from leaving.”
“Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice.” He folded his arms firmly across his chest and glared pointedly at the rose I’d plucked, still cradled in my hand. “I know my gardens. When they’ve made up their mind about something, there’s no dissuading them.”
Despair rose, pressing against my chest. “But if the curse isn’t permanent already, isn’t there a way to break it before the last petal drops and it becomes so?”
“It seems like there should be, but I wouldn’t know. The gardens have never trapped someone before.”
“But—”
“Every choice has a consequence. As much as the arrangement displeases me, I have little choice but to accept it.”
I raised my eyebrow. “But you’re a prince, are you not?”
“The crown prince,” he clarified stiffly, as if I needed reminding. “And acting king, because Father—” He tightened his jaw and looked down the corridor, his gaze faraway. His expression had transformed from impatient to vulnerable so rapidly that I almost hesitated continuing to argue.
Almost, but unfortunately for him, I was nothing if not determined. “Well, as acting king, can’t you control your own gardens?”
He returned his gaze to me with a wry smile. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Now, is there anything you need?”
I glared at him. “I refuse to be a prisoner.”
“You’re not a prisoner; you’re my guest, and as unwelcome as that arrangement is for both of us, you’ll be treated as such.” He started to turn away to leave but paused. “Is there anyone you would like me to notify of your whereabouts so I can reassure them of your safety?” Although his expression was nearly blank, I detected a flicker of curiosity.