Page 48 of Heart of Thorns
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Thankyou for reading HEART OF THORNS book two TANGLED IN THORNS will be coming at the end of November 2020 and you can pre-order it here. Join Nicolette Andrew’s ReaderNewsletter and get a free copy of the Thornwood Fae Prequel PRICKED BY THORNS.
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Excerpt Tangled in Thorns
Catherine buried her fingers into the damp earth. It yielded easily to her touch, softened by the previous night's rain. Using her flattened hand like a shovel, she pulled back small mounds of dirt. It would have been faster with a trowel. Even if it was slower, she preferred to use her hands. There was something gratifying about the feel of dirt between her fingers. When she'd dug a hole to her satisfaction, she sat back on her heels. She raised up an arm and stretched as she leaned to the side. The sun was high in the sky and a single rivulet of sweat rolled down her spine. Winter had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and the first touches of spring were warming the garden.
A flash of red darted past the corner of her eye. Catherine froze and turned slowly. A cluster of long grass swayed in the breeze. That must be it. She turned her attention back to her precious Azaleas. Gently, she peeled back the burlap, exposing a tangle of milky white roots. She lowered the azalea into the hole and scooped handfuls of dirt onto it.The azalea didn't look like much. Right now it was nothing more than a few scrawny twigs in the earth. But in years time it would be a blooming bush filled with fragrant pink blooms. That is if the depictions in her botany books were any indication.
It had already been a yearsince Edward died. Because of her.
A lump lodged it's way in her throat and she started scooping dirt faster onto the base of the brush.A high pitched giggle broke the silence. Catherine's hand stilled. They were back again.
Without turning her head she surveyed around her. They never showed themselves. But they often lingered around her in the garden. At all times she could feel their gaze. She licked her lips and not for the first time, she thought of calling out to them. As a girl, small fae creatures had often visited her. They wove her flower crowns and played mischievouspranks. And she took the blame for the latter. Adult women didn't speak to unseen creatures. The villagers and staff already suspected her. She didn't need to give them another reason to think she was insane. Catherine finished smoothing the soil on top of the roots.
Catherine's palm tingled as if pricked by pins and needles.Something softly brushed against her arm. She jerked backwards. The Azalea had bloomed into the thick bush she imagined. Fragrant pink blossoms unfurled before her eyes, their petals like small fans. Not again.
Her gaze darted around the garden. How would she explain this to Mr. Rockwell, the head gardener? Palms smeared with soil, like blood on her hands.She had to destroy it. The staff of Thornwood must suspect. More than once she'd accidentally helped flowers bloom prematurely, and brought back withered plants. She couldn't control it and there was no rhymeor reason to it. She tried to hide it, tried to stay in the manor. But staying indoors was like living in a tomb. As a widow she was exiled from society for one year. And seeing as Edward left everything to her, she couldn't by law give it up. The garden was her only reprieve. But now that might even be lost to her. The other instances were minor, easy to explain away as they happened slowly. But this had been instant and uncanny. They would know she wasn't normal. And it would be all the proof Lydia and the others needed to condemn her for Edward's death.To lock her away for good.
Hands trembling, she grabbed onto a branch. It was new and limber and bent under her grip. It was beautiful and innocent. It had done nothing wrong but meet her.
She let it go. She was the monster, not the Azalea. She couldn't tear it out by the root.
"You're getting stronger I see," Mr. Thorn chuckled.
Catherine spun in place using her body the best she could to block out the bush from sight. She hadn't heard him approach.The air between them was charged. Words unspoken weighed on her chest making it difficult to breathe. A year and he remained at the fringes of her life. She should send him away, had nearly done so dozens of times but each time the words withered before they were spoken.
"I didn't mean to make it bloom," Catherine said her mouth felt suddenly dry. It felt like madness to admit it out loud, even knowing what he was.
"And that's something to be ashamed of?" Mr. Thorn quirked an eyebrow.
He brushed past her and she caught the scent of pine wafting off him. Mr. Thorncrouched down beside it. He reached for it reverently, his rolled up sleeves exposed the tanned skin of his forearms. His hand hovered over the petals for a moment before he nodded and brushed long fingers across the leaves.Mr. Thorn looked back at Catherine, she'd been so absorbed in watching him she hadn't answered his question. She lowered her gaze but couldn't hide the blush burning her cheeks.
"Mr. Rockwell or the other gardenersmight have questions," Catherine muttered as an answer to his earlier question.
He stood to face her. It had been months since she'd gazed upon his face, it was as handsome as she remembered just as etherealand inhuman as the faery realm he came from.
"There are ways to make those questions go away, I could teach you." A mischievoussmile curled his lips.
There was an undeniable allure to the offer. What would happen if she could control this power? Over and over she'd replayed the moment of Edward's death. What could she have done to stop it? Had her latent powers not struck first, would Edward have tried to kill her? If she hadn't accidentally killed Edward, he certainly would have killed Mr. Thorn. If she knew how to control it she could have stopped it. But another voice whispered in her mind. These powers were the source of all her misery from the time she was a girl, it had only brought her misfortune. If she didn't see things others could not, if she hadn't killed Edward.
"I'd rather you take this power from me," she replied.
His smile fell. "You know I cannot. But your power is nothing to be feared, Lady Thornton."
This power was a curse. And this was just a reminder of why she had to keep Mr. Thorn at arm's length.She'd traded Edward's life for Mr. Thorn. She couldn't look at his face without being reminded of it. And yet she couldn't send him away either. How much longer would they be locked in this dance which only caused them misery.
"I told you not to call me that," Catherine replied. She wanted to be cruel, she wanted him to hate her as the rest of Thornwood Village did. That would make it easier to let him go, to release herself of the guilt of wanting him close by.
"You've yet to give me an alternative, what shall I call you instead? Catherine?" His eyes twinkled with mirth.
The flesh on her arm pebbled. To hear her given name spoken on his lips felt intimate and forbidden. It had been so long since she heard her name spoken aloud she'd almost forgotten the sound of it.
"I should be going." Catherine said but her feet wouldn't obey her.
He took a step closer to her, his dark eyes trained on her. "You didn't answer my question."
"Mr. Thorn—“
"Call me Ray."
She shook her head and backed away. She turned on her heel and fled from him, if she stayed a moment longer she wasn't sure what she would do.Heedless of mud puddles and rain slicked grass, she sprinted for the manor. Her booted feet slid in the grass and she caught herself in a wet earth and splattered her sleeves with murky water. She jumped up and resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and see if Mr. Thorn was watching. She was being ridiculous, and she knew it. And yet she couldn't trust herself around him.
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