Novel & Cerita A Lesson In Thorns

I dropped to my knees, choking, pain exploding through my core as the world tilted. “Maybe the only reason she thinks she’s powerful,” Thorne said coldly above me, “is because Killian stands at her side. I’ll kill him and this whole madness will end.” I couldn’t even answer. My body refused to obey. As he turned to walk away, I forced my hands to move. With a guttural cry, I yanked the stick from my stomach, staggered to my feet, and lunged forward. I caught him from behind and drove the stick straight into his back.

And I still felt unprepared. The carriage rumbled up the mountain pass like it was trying to shake me loose. I pulled the velvet curtain back and stared out at the jagged, frostbitten peaks of the Oathbound Range. The sun had already dipped behind the highest ridge, casting long shadows across the snow-dusted road. Castle Thorne loomed ahead—tall, skeletal, and utterly uninviting. Like something drawn from the nightmares of children who’d grown up on war stories and ghost songs. But I wasn’t a child.

The heavy oak door of the library clicked shut behind Prince Alexander and Sophia, leaving Vivian alone in the cavernous silence. The scent of dust and parchment felt suddenly suffocating. The brief encounter had been a whirlwind of cold assessment, unexpected kindness, and jarring proximity between the protagonists – a stark reminder of the ticking clock. *Tomorrow.* The word echoed, a death knell for her fragile amnesia act and her precarious hold on survival.

Her heart thundered, her lungs working like bellows. Around her, the rogues muttered. “She’s not ready.” “She’s dangerous.” “She’s marked.” Their whispers dug beneath her skin like barbs. She didn’t flinch. Not today. She moved. Thorne struck first, swinging his staff at her ribs. She ducked, spun, countered with a jab to his hip, missed, turned too slow. Crack! The wood slammed against her shoulder, knocking her off balance. She hit the dirt with a grunt. A few laughs rippled through the crowd.

I placed a hand on my chin and pulled a thinking face. “No, you didn’t. However, I believe your response was interpreted as a yes from the stroking of my thigh.” “I supposed that would do it,” I laughed. “Then, I will bid you a goodnight. Until tomorrow, Leila.” “Goodnight, Mr. Thorn.” I smiled. He turned to walk away but before he could take a step something changed. “Fuck it.” he spat. He spun around on his heels and wrapped me in his arms. His lips were on mine, my breath was knocked from my lungs. My knees buckled and he held me tight. As he slowed the kiss, he released his grip and allowed me time to stable my footing.

It was quick and very painful, but over in less than a second. He pulled his hand away fast. I heard a faint snick as his long claws slid back into his fingers and retracted. “That’s a reminder, human,” Thorne said. His voice was almost a snarl now, full of satisfaction. “That’s how easily I can break your little body and tear your soft flesh. That’s how fast I can end your life and your ambitions. Remember that feeling every time you think about talking to the King or doing anything to get noticed in this palace.”

The kitchen smelled like herbs and the kind of prayer that comes with bandages. At the garden gate, Thorn came to me with eyes too old for his face. He had blood on his knuckles. He said nothing. He handed me a small torn piece of paper and a token: a pressed sprig of rosemary he’d found near where the rogues had staged a camera. The paper had a note in a hand that could be readable if you wanted it to be: If we want to be free, we’ll learn to make our own lists. It was not a confession. It was a plan. It was Thorn’s atonement—quiet, late, useful.

Gem was used to collecting and not giving so it was hard for us to bond because I was looking for stability and she was always trying to drain me. I would ask our cook to make lunch for two and I would share my meal with Rose, I was bullied in school because I was reserved and I couldn't stand up for myself, I was too scared too and they would bully me for being naive, but it was different when I became friends with Rose, she stood up for me and helped me fight these bullies, she taught me how to be confident and strong, she taught me how to be courageous and not to be scared of anything .

I apologized with my head down, making other students stifle their laughs. “Well, stay that way until the end of my lessons,” she said and continued teaching. This time I was determined not to lose focus, but it was as if my enemies disagreed with me. Shirley took it as her cue to pull my hoodie, wrapped around my left hand. I sighed deeply and refused to budge. As slow as a snail, the lectures for today ended, and it was time for students to go home. Thinking about my hellhole, I sighed and picked up my bag and books.