A wicked laugh broke through their happy bubble. Her eyes flew open, meeting his only a moment before he stepped back, pushing her behind him, and wielding his sword. A woman stood several feet away. She was dressed in a black gown. Black feathers plumed from her shoulders, curving upward and swaying with her steps. She wore a black choker around her throat adorned with something that appeared to sparkle. She had long, slender fingers with black nails ending in deadly points. On her head, an onyx crown glittered like mirrored shafts of light.
“How delightful.” Her dark red lips spread in a fiendish smile. “The two of you make such a lovely couple.”
“Who are you? What do you want?” Phillip kept the sword pointed at the woman.
“Why, I want the princess. It is her birthday, after all.”
A sudden coldness spread through her as she stared at the woman in front of them. She clutched her elbows. “You’re the dark faery.”
She clucked her tongue and looked wounded. “That is such an ugly phrase. I am Queen Rowena, ruler of the Eternal Court of Faery. And I have come to exact my revenge.”
Rosamund tensed, every muscle going rigid. She glanced at the sky to see the sun dipping closer to the horizon.
If she recalled the curse properly, it was that she would prick her finger on a thorn before the sun set on her eighteenth birthday. There were no thorns here.
“You will stay away from her,” Phillip said.
“How sweet you think you can protect her.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Rosamund asked. “You pushed us together. You sent us on this quest.”
“How clever you are, dear girl. I take many forms. Olga, the old woman, for one. A dragonfly that talked, for another.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.
Rosamund gasped. “That was you in the garden! You urged me to run away.”
“Stephan removed all the roses from the castle grounds. I had to dosomething.”
“Why push us together?” Phillip demanded.
“Because I needed a witness.”
With a wave of her hand, his sword flew from his grasp. It landed several feet away near the queen. Phillip whipped out his dagger, pointing it in her direction. Again, she used her magic to make it fly from his grasp. Defenseless, he pushed his body between Rosamund and the queen as if he were a human shield.
Rowena chanted something under her breath and in an instant, vines sprouted from the ground on either side of the cave opening. As they grew taller and taller, the lethal thorns grew from the stems followed by large, fragrant roses.
Phillip took her by the hand and darted to the left, but more roses grew. He turned to the right. Still more bushes. They were trapped between the roses. The only thing left to do was charge toward the queen who stood with her arms outstretched as she chanted her spell. He cut Rosamund glance. She gave him a go-ahead nod. Together, they bolted toward the queen.
In an instant, she transformed from the queen into a great black dragon. Phillip halted as Rosamund emitted a squeal of surprise. Rowena turned her giant head toward them, her red serpentine eyes piercing them both.
“There is no escape from the curse,” the beast said.
Phillip spun around to her, gripping her by the shoulders. “Run, Rose!”
He gave her a shove away from him. But the scent of roses beckoned her. Fragrant and sweet, the blooms were large, with petals the size of her fist in pink, red, and white. The bushes towered over her, rocking toward her with the breath of the dragon.
“Rose!” he shouted.
The beast chuckled.
She stepped away from him. Her gaze transfixed on the large rosebush to her left. She was dimly aware Phillip tried to move toward her, to reach for her, but the dragon shoved her head between them and snarled a warning.
A voice flickered through her mind. The voice of the dragonfly from the garden. The one that told her to run away and never return. Now it told her to reach for the roses.
“Reach for it. Touch it,” Rowena’s voice urged.
Rosamund stretched out her hand toward the thorn.
“Rose, stop!”