A Spell of Thorns: A Spicy Fairytale Romance

A Spell of Thorns Adelia Jezek Copyright © 2023 Adelia Jezek All rights reserved. To my darling partner, for all the support, encouragement, and the coffee. A Spell of Thorns Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter One The whole kingdom was abuzz with rumors about the missing Crown Prince, and the Queen’s mysterious illness. But in our sleepy town, tucked under the eaves of the Golden Peaks, the talk was overshadowed by our own goings on and problems. And this market-day, no whisper was spared for the newly missing younger prince, because the spirit had been seen in the woods again. Mother told my sister and me to not believe the superstitions of the townsfolk and the farmers who tried to scratch out a living on the low mountain slopes that produced more stones than they ever could produce crops. There were plenty enough tales about her having strange gifts, and not a small number about me, in Ravutsa. And the presence of a visible spirit, in the Kingswood we’d known for most of our lives, seemed to be far-fetched, more likely a creation of the ale-addled mind of a sun-dazed farmer than a real being wandering the forest. The whispers followed my sister and me as we went about our errands, pretending that we did not see the meaningful glances exchanged as we traded for a week’s worth of food. As the village weaver fished out the coins to pay for our weekly delivery of spun wool, he finally dared to do what no one else had and asked us if we had caught sight of the mysterious red-brown bear near our cottage. I suppose it made sense. We lived alone with our mother a half-hour’s brisk walk from the edge of the town, and the tangled old forest shadowed over our cottage and edged our garden. And since they believed Mother knew the spirits of the forest and some even believed that she commanded them, coming to the conclusion that we would be in possession of the best knowledge about the new spirit that seemed to be haunting the surrounding woods was not perhaps the most preposterous thing imaginable. “They say it’s larger than the black ones that live in the mountain valleys,” he said after I assured him we had not, still glancing curiously at us as if hoping we would betray some secret with our expressions. “Last night in the tavern, Will swears he heard it singing. A ballad about knights and treasure, if he is still telling the same tale.” “A singing bear,” I said, keeping my face open and friendly, but trying to catch my sister’s attention to share an eye roll with her. She was unfortunately occupied with being sensible and noting down the amount of his payment against the quantity of wool we had delivered and keeping her own face remarkably calm. “Well, I suppose spirits are allowed to enjoy music.” “And you have not seen him in your parts?” Callia finally looked up at him, blinking long golden lashes slowly over her honeyed amber eyes. “As we said earlier when you asked, no, neither Rose or myself have seen anything strange or amiss. No bears, spirit or otherwise, have been seen, or their tracks discovered, near our home. Shall we come back later for the missing two silver or…?” she let her words trail off, as she smiled, sweetness and challenge mixing in her gaze and he flushed, digging out the coin purse again with a mutter about having miscounted and the rising price of well-spun threads. They would have no problem denying me full payment if I’d pushed back, and none of them would do business in person with a wood witch, even if Mother wasn’t actually a practicing witch. But Callia was delicate and sweet, and entirely unyielding. She lured them into thinking that she would be soft, all golden and shining as she was, and none of them seemed prepared for her to demand their respect, and our full due. As we left his shop, she slipped her arm through mine. I was a few inches taller, with none of her radiant goldenness or delicate frame that made her seem more wisp of light than a full-blooded woman. “A Spirit Bear,” she turned her face up at me, a smile puckering her mouth into a capricious grin, “who likes ballads. I suppose that’s better than a wild, real bear with a fancy for livestock.” “No one has reported livestock missing and I very much doubt the bear has come into town or we would be hearing everyone’s own tale of how they defeated it,” I reminded her. “Perhaps that’s the best indication that it’s a Spirit, and one created by ale and a desire for an excuse to get out of the mid-summer taxes.” “Rose, what a terrible thing to assume that there are those in Ravutsa who would try to cheat the Duke from what he is due! Why next you’ll say they don’t like to pay widows for their work without tarnishing their reputations with accusations of witchery.” She laughed, but her face had lost a little of its light. “The Duke’s steward you mean,” I tried to steer back towards lighter topics. “Despite living under his rule for fifteen years, we’ve seen as much of His Grace, the Duke, as we have of Ravutsa’s new haunting Spirit.” She wrinkled her nose at me. “If you’re suggesting that the Duke is just as imaginary as the singing bear, then I think you’ve spent too long in the sun today.” I laughed, pushing her lightly as we stepped out from the last shadow of Ravutsa’s cluster of buildings. I came to a sudden halt, laughter frozen in my throat as I stared at the creature who sat on the roadside,