Prince of Thorns

There were beasts—and then there were monsters. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. In a world so crisscrossed with magic and its after-effects, there could be some fog in the lens that made it difficult to determine who was friend or foe, predator or prey.

When it came to princes, even, the lines were blurred almost beyond recognition.

It was to this environment that a young trainee named Calla entered. In her time at the Schola, she had learned charms that would have befuddled the minds of any who sought to challenge her. But her specialty lay in transformation, though she often compared the work to craftsmanship: she could not make a creation from nothing, just as a sculptor could not make a statue without clay to shape. Her finesse came with the workings of animals—and the ways they could intersect within humanlike shapes. Some called it blasphemy, what she did, though some might have called it art of a kind in certain circles.

When Calla was traveling the land of the five kingdoms, she had been warned that magic was not welcomed in all places. But when she saved a young girl from being run over by the wheels of a carriage in Kalcerne, she was almost immediately surrounded by the townsfolk—and the red-cloaked guard of the kingdom. It was in magic-binding chains that she was taken to the dungeons of the castle in this bright city that she had hoped would do her no harm.

Brought before the prince himself, however, she suddenly found herself shaking. Unsure of her fate, she looked up into eyes that showed no mercy in their depths. The way his mouth curled, she could tell this was a man who looked at her as nothing but something to be crushed underfoot.

“Please,” she said, “I was just trying to help a little girl—”

“Knowing your kind, I would guess you had ensorcelled the driver to run over the girl in the first place. All the more to push forward the idea that you were a protector, a savior, and not a wicked sorceress.”

Calla just stared as if he had actually hit her with the force of his fist. “That is a lie,” she said, and she willed herself not to wilt before th2.is mistaken man, so certain that she was an evil thing who could do only\

ill and wrong. “I have never used my magic to hurt anyone.”

The prince sat down upon his throne as if asserting himself in the moment as superior to whatever standing she might have had. “Witches are never to be trusted,” he said. “Where you come from, you may be looked as humane, but I see you as nothing more than a monster in a beguiling skin. You have probably used your wiles to deceive many a person.”

Her anger and humiliation made her feel even more exposed, like she was an animal whose belly had been exposed to a snake’s poisonous fangs. And with that surge of emotion came waves of her powers trying to seep through the weaknesses in the bindings that held her magic in check. One more word from this prince, and she might lose all control over the situation.

“You sit upon that throne and look down at me,” she said, her voice rippling with a near-snarl, “but I see you for what you are. You declare me the monster when you are no better than a beast looking to dominate what you deem weaker than yourself.”

The prince stood up as soon as the words tore from her throat, and he stalked forward. “Shut your mouth,” he said. “How dare you speak to me, your better, as if you have any right—”

“I have every right as a living, breathing being,” she said, “and my magic will never make me half as monstrous as you and your kin are.”

The stories she had heard of the five kingdoms spun in her head as the prince grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. Looking up at him, she saw nothing human in that gaze. He was looking at her like he very much wanted to rip her throat out, to do anything to assert dominance over her, to show that he was righteous while she was far below him.

The bindings around her wrists burned apart as her heart beat double-time, her magic breaking free of its restraints. Power rippled around her, from her, the waves rising and rising until they broke free from what little control she had with how scared she felt. The prince recoiled too late, his hand loosening its hold on her, and she watched as fear came alive from the depths of his eyes. Her magic surged and sought a release, a meaning, a target to strike. All of it encircled the prince and trapped him in a sphere of energy.

Calla felt like she was pulled outside of her body as she watched the transformation begin. The prince’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, his limbs spasming and his bones crunching as his body reshaped itself. Legs and feet became haunches and talons, his clothes shredding thread by thread as his skin swelled. His bare skin sprouted with coarse brown fur, and his gold circlet clattered to the floor as curved horns erupted from his once-fair hair. His hands curved into paws edged by scythe-like nails. And then a terrible roar rumbled from his throat as his now-monstrous body collapsed to the floor at the foot of the throne.

As the last ebbs of her magical outburst coursed through her, Calla fell to her knees, spent. But she knew she could not linger. Soon, the guard would come to investigate, and she had to be far away before anyone saw what she had done to the prince. A part of her was frightened by what she had done—even though, on the other hand, she was fascinated by the way her magic had flowed without exact direction from her. But this kind of power...it was exactly the kind of display that often ended with witches being burned alive.

With one last look at the beast she had made, Calla used what final bits of energy she could to magick herself past the guard who would soon discover their liege had been drastically changed—at least on the outside. It was an after-thought as she fled that she created a fortress of thorns and briars around the castle. If such a thing would protect the citizens from their prince, then she would gladly expend the effort.

But Calla was wrong in assuming that would be her last dealing with the prince-turned-beast. Their story was not yet done.