Page 75 of Curse of Thorns
That wasn’t something I’d ever even bothered to picture, but damn if it wasn’t the most beautiful sight. And therefore, the most painful.
This place is a slide show of all the things I’ll never have.
Then, Caelynn stepped toward me, slowly, deliberately. Lovely, young, unscarred, in a smooth white silk dress, beckoning to me. Her eyes are bright gold, and she runs her tongue over her plump bottom lip. I swallow.
Not real. Not real.
I can’t help but feel desire deep in my gut. The strap of her silky dress slips down her shoulder, and my mouth goes dry.
I take one small step toward her, my toe just hanging off the edge of the path. That’s when the trees reach for me. Their claws sharp as iron, slice into my arm before I pull away. Caelynn begins begging for my help, swallowed up in the vicious limbs.
My iron blade is out in an instant, and I desperately slash at the branches, trying to hook me like a damn fish. I cut through the branches surrounding me, trip back onto the dirt path, and scramble backward too far. My hand drops onto the grass—off the pathway.
An arm clasps me from behind, soft at first. She whispers in my ear, “I want you, Rev.”
Then, her fingers dig into my chest, breaking the skin and dragging me back into the forest.
Suddenly, someone grabs my shoulder and throws me back into the dirt, the only safe place from the clawing trees and evil spirits, apparently.
The silky-dressed Caelynn stands right at the edge of the forest, her eyes just as soft and full of desire as before. I turn away from that Caelynn and toward—another one.
What the hell?
“It’s not real, Rev!” she shouts at me.
“You think I don’t know that?”
The silk-dressed Caelynn hisses at the other. I slice my iron blade through her chest and she shrivels away into dust.
The other Caelynn on the open pathway, where the trees cannot reach, is disheveled, her hair pinned awkwardly almost like it had been for the Queen’s gala except half fallen out. She wears new clothes—a leather ensemble I’ve never seen. Her boots are caked with mud. And a wraith stands behind her.
She steps back, her eyes dark and full of fear. This doesn’t seem like a mirage of desire. This feels... real.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My iron blade shakes in my hand.
Caelynn holds up her hands. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m real.”
“No,” I whisper. “No, you can’t be real. You have to be... something. Some kind of trick.” But something deep in my gut tells me not to hurt this Caelynn. My breathing comes faster, racing as if to keep up with my galloping heart. “You wouldn’t be here. Couldn’t,” I ramble on.
She reaches for me, and I stumble away, refusing to face—whatever this is. I have to get away from her. From the truth. Because if Caelynn is here... it means something is very wrong. It means everything is wrong.
I stumble and step off the path and into the awaiting claws.
