Page 65 of Once Upon an Enchanted Kiss

“Enough,” the dragon said on a growl.

She blew out a puff of smoke toward him, encasing him in a thick cloud. Phillip staggered away from the dragon, as though suddenly he was at a great distance. He watched in horror as the space expanded between them, gradually moving the princess farther and farther away from him.

Phillip tried to move toward Rosamund, to stop her from touching the thorn, but he was frozen in place. He felt lightheaded. His vision blurred. His mind was foggy. He couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t force his feet to move to keep her from touching that thorn.

The dragon’s breath must be some type of magic to keep him in place so that he would have to watch as Rose staggered toward that thorny bush with her hand outstretched. Her other hand was still clutched into a tight fist.

Her name slipped from his lips in a plea. But she didn’t hear him. She moved toward the rosebush, toward the one branch that appeared to be reaching back for her with giant pink blooms and thorns so large they looked menacing.

“Touch the thorn,” Rowena urged.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. In his haze, he saw the faery queen had morphed back into her true form and was no longer a dragon. She stood between him and Rosamund, her hands outstretched.

Phillip, in his haze, understood what was happening. Rosamund was under the same type of spell they were under the entire journey. She was compelled to reach for the thorn. Just as he was compelled to remain in place.

He tried to move again, but his limbs were heavy. As though he was trying to walk under water.

The sun dripped closer to the horizon. The day was almost over.

Rosamund, with her hand still outstretched, reached for the bush that shifted toward her, beckoning her closer. Even from his distance, he saw the deadly outline of sharp thorns.

“Touch the thorn, princess,” Rowena urged in a dark and dangerous tone.

He tried to cry out, to warn Rosamund, but his voice was frozen in his throat.

Rosamund’s hand moved closer. The tip of her forefinger touched the largest thorn on the bush. Shocked, she flushed hot as a bead of blood swelled where she pricked it. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tumbled to the ground. Her clutched fist opened and the gold coin rolled out.

The sleeping curse had taken hold of her.

Just as she fell, his eyelids turned to lead and he, too, fell to the ground. His legs were no longer able to hold him upright.

The last thing he heard was Rowena’s distant, triumphant cackle. And then there was nothing at all.

Chapter 25

“Phillip!Wakeup!”

The distant voice urged him to come back to life, but he felt as though he were incased in lead. It was hard to move his limbs and his eyes refused to open. Someone shook him and shouted his name in his ear again. He realized, dimly, it was Jeffrey trying to rouse him.

He peeled his eyes open and focused on Jeffrey’s face hovering over him. Firelight flickered over his face creased with concern. He held a torch aloft to give them some light. With his free hand, his friend reached for him and helped to a sitting position. His head throbbed like mad as he tried to focus on his surroundings.

He was not surprised to see Jeffrey and Charles. His friend was an excellent tracker. He only wished they had arrived before sundown and Rosamund was compelled to prick her finger. Perhaps they would have had a better chance at fighting off the dark faery and her deadly Fae magic.

Charles kneeled next to the princess, the worry evident on his youthful face.

“I cannot rouse her,” he said.

Phillip shook his head. “You won’t be able to. It’s the sleeping curse.”

“There are no rosebushes here.” Jeffrey glanced around in the deepening twilight.

Through his haze, Phillip took in their surroundings and realized that, indeed, there were no roses anymore. They must have disappeared along with Rowena when her curse had finally taken hold of Rosamund.

“There were,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “The dark faery was here.”

“Here? Was there treasure?” There was hint of excitement in Jeffrey’s voice as he peered behind him into the darkened cave which was now nothing more than a black opening.

“No.” Phillip climbed to his feet, his head objecting to the movement. “It was all a fiction.”

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