Be Good
Until very recently (eight minutes ago, in fact), the blood spattering the outside of Karina’s brand-new tunic had pulsed inside the heart of the dark sorcerer known as Shadowfade. Brock, the knight she traveled with who did most of the laundry, would be appalled when he saw it. But Karina the Tempest, Protector of the Queen’s Realm of Mereth, chose to think of the stain as a rather dashing and intimidating addition to her look as she strode through the castle grounds, blade in hand.
Karina searched for movement atop the black stone battlements that stood watch like hulking sentinels over the expansive gardens. The carefully groomed paths flanked by topiaries and flower beds were full of poisonous blooms, no doubt, but greener and more cheerful than she would have expected from a villain like Shadowfade.
Noneof this was as she expected. With as fearsome a reputation as Guy Shadowfade had amassed, vanquishing him should have been much more of a trial. Her lingering concern whispered that this had been some elaborate trick.
But Karina would have time for those thoughts later. One wayor another, the sorcerer was finally defeated and his minions scattered, meaning it was up to Karina and her companions to make sure they could cause no further harm to the Merethi people.
“She went into the hedge maze!” Maggie cried, her long legs a blur as she sprinted in the opposite direction, her staff in hand as she chased another foe—hopefully that dreadful alchemist who had burned through Karina’s favorite pair of boots with his poisons. “Brock and I will take care of the others!”
Karina nodded curtly, her eyes dragging on her partner’s form for only a second longer than necessary before she took off into the hedge maze, sword gripped tightly in her fist. As she navigated the twists and turns of the maze, she kept an eye out for danger. She wouldn’t have put it past Shadowfade to fill his grounds with tricks and traps, but the maze was strangely pleasant, its greenery on full display despite the late-winter season, and its corners staged with cheerful pots of colorful flowers. Like everything else about today, it didn’t meet her expectations, and it only put Karina further on edge.
At the center of the maze, in a wide, round clearing, she found the one they called the Thornwitch.
To look upon the Thornwitch, it was said, was to look your death in the eye as it reached for you with vines that strangled and flowers that poisoned. The Thornwitch had destroyed the crops of an entire county with a single wave of her hand, dooming them to famine. She had torn buildings from their foundations by roiling the roots beneath them and disrupted trade routes by tearing apart roadways and growing impenetrable forests of the poisonous thorny vines for which she’d been named. She could command anything that grew and twist it to her dark purposes.
She was a monster, or so Karina had always heard. Hideous and deformed, some said, though others swore she was a temptress more beautiful than Evry, fearsome goddess of the secondmoon. When she’d fought her back at the castle, Karina had gotten only an impression of thorns, spiny like the quills of a porcupine, and eyes glowing like fox fire.
But the woman in front of her was sitting serenely on a garden bench like a young lady enjoying afternoon tea, not like an infamous trafficker of cruel poisons and punishments for the sorcerer’s enemies. Gone were the thorns that sprung from her skin like spines and harshened her facial structure. Gone was the unearthly glow from her eyes and the vines that sprouted from her back like wings, slinging clouds of toxic pollen. If not for the iconic purple cloak puddled at her feet, Karina wouldn’t have recognized her at all.
She was young, late twenties if Karina had to guess, and without the thorns that she had been named for, her face was soft and round. Pretty, in a homespun sort of way, with pale, freckled skin, thick brown hair that tumbled over her shoulders like vines reaching for a hold, and honey-tinted eyes beneath soft-angled brows. A white scar, perhaps the length of Karina’s thumb, tracked down her face just to the right of her nose, slightly puckered where it bisected the edge of her lips and tugged one side of her mouth upward in a permanent smirk.
She would have been popular in a tavern, Karina judged, though of course she had nothing on Maggie’s elegant beauty. Still, there was little to liken her to the monster of the stories or the villain she’d seen just minutes ago.
“Hello,” the witch said softly, her voice high and clear.
Karina raised Flamebright, putting the sword between her and the witch, though she was realizing now, too late, that she was surrounded by plants. Here, the Thornwitch could incapacitate her with a twitch of her fingers, which were covered in dirt and curled tight around a long, sharp branch, still filthy with blood from the fight. The Thornwitch followed her gaze andallowed the branch to crumble to dust, leaving dark stains on her fingertips that matched the black silk of her tight clothing.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Karina asked, her voice like brittle steel.
The witch only blinked her long lashes. “Should I have?”
“We’re surrounded by plants.”
“Well, yes. This is my garden, after all.” The witch paused. “Are you here to killmenow?”
Karina hesitated. If anyone had asked her even twenty minutes ago, her answer would have been a resounding yes. “I don’t know. Do youwantto die?”
She lowered her gaze. “I don’t deserve to live.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The Thornwitch’s chin trembled, though she quickly got herself under control. Karina hid her surprise. The witch in the stories felt no fear, only anger and hatred. But stories—she knew well, being one herself—were just stories in the end. Made of equal parts truth and lies, and it was often impossible to be certain which was which.
There was more to the Thornwitch than Karina could fathom, and more still she didn’t understand. She had fled to the hedge maze, but why did she stop here? Why wasn’t she fighting back? Her mind snagged on something the witch had said. Karina looked around at the center of the maze—the ivy-covered bench where the Thornwitch sat beneath a large flowering shrub heavy with pink flowers, the koi pond edged with round, smooth stones, the lush flower beds filled with buttery daffodils and the tall jut of foxgloves. “This isyourgarden?”
The Thornwitch looked around, fondness shining in her eyes. “Yes.”
Karina remembered the tidy room she’d found in the castle,with a small bed and potted flowers and leafy vines crowded in the doorway to the balcony.
And a lock—on the outside of the door.
“You made all of this.”
The witch did twitch her fingers then, but instead of carnivorous plants or thorny vines, a flower burst from the ground next to Karina. From amidst its splayed, fingerlike leaves sprung several clusters of vibrant purple flowers.
“It’s gorgeous,” Karina murmured, her fingers stretching toward a flower, half afraid it would sprout teeth and sever her fingers.
