The Wisterian

Chapter 16: Close

Six men wearing the Wisterian livery surround them.

Briar steps forward, holding her shaking hands out. "I'm fine. I'll go with you quietly if you leave her alone." She wobbles with the heady feeling of desire, not thinking clearly yet.

The men close in, curved swords drawn to encircle the pair. She knew meeting Briar in secret was dangerous, knew they would be caught eventually. She just hoped to have more time. Why couldn't they have just a little more time?

Briar's shoulders slump as she steps towards the guards. Rowan can almost see her thoughts. Her father must know by now.

Rowan turns to face the guards fully, peering over Briar's shorter head. She blinks, eyes clearing from the fog of love. The guard's uniforms flicker. Her whole body tenses as she sees through the illusions.

"Briar." She hisses, pulling Briar against her chest. "Those are not guards."

"They're wearing the livery, Rowan. Who else could they possibly be?" Briar hisses back.

"Do you trust me?" Brown eyes bore into amber.

"Always."

The men creep closer, disguises flickering in and out of her vision. She squints to see through the illusions, recognizing the men from the Pickled Rabbit.

"Pirates." Rowan shouts as she dives for her bow and arrow, nocking one in the instant before the men attack.

Their illusions pop one by one, red skin chapped and salty, eyes lined from staring at the horizon. A gangly man with long red hair and a patchy goatee leads the charge. Rowan sends an arrow flying into his shoulder, knocking him into the pond. He flails as he goes under, fading into the murky water. The others make no move to save the man.

Four men charge, one striking Rowan to the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. The force sends her bow scattering out of reach.

Two men pull at Briar, hands digging under each of her arms and dragging her away from Rowan. Tattoos illuminate beneath the lace of her dress, electricity snapping across her skin. Roots and branches curl from above and below to taunt the pirates. She slips from their arms as they slash at the offending branches.

Rowan pulls her knife, slicing the exposed flesh above a pirate's salt-crusted boot as she rolls to her feet. She pushes a shaggy blond man against the tree, slashing her knife across his hand.

He drops his sword, hissing in pain. Magic rushes to his hands, water trickling from his palms. Grabbing his wrists, Rowan looks him dead in the eye as his magic goes dark.

And smiles.

She head-butts him, and the pirate falls limp to the ground.

The smile falls as strong arms hold her back, a ripped seven-foot monstrosity with bronzed skin and muttonchops as wide as her arms pulls her off her feet. He raises a meaty hand to Rowan's throat. She sees stars as the pressure tightens, lungs screaming for air. She kicks ferociously. Roots and tendrils pull at the behemoth's feet, to no avail. His grip tightens.

"Princess, you must come with us at once. This woman is dangerous." A wiry man, with immaculately parted brown hair, leans against a nearby tree observing the fray.

Rowan's brow furrows with recognition. This is the illusionist from the market. What the heck does he want with Briar?

"Like hell she's coming with you." Rowan kicks the burly man squarely in his nuts. "I'll show you dangerous."

The man's grip loosens enough to slip free as he drops to his knees. She stands on shaky legs as the mountain of a pirate calls his air magic around him in a hurricane.