“I assure you, Archmage Vogel is a boring old man who prefers to bury himself in books than talk to people,” the prince said haughtily. “He’s far from interesting.”

“A man of knowledge. I respect that,” Danico said with a grin.

“Mage Cian,” the prince started. “How are the soldiers?”

The man in question shook his head. “Three have passed, your highness.”

Mikhail looked at the soldiers that were left from his campaign. An old man who shook like a leaf under the dark canopy of thorns, two foot soldiers barely holding themselves together and a knight with a stomach wound from a wildling attack.

He let out a tired sigh. Half the soldiers he brought to the garden died before they could enter. Several wildlings were waiting for them at the forest, their claws and sharp teeth easily pierced through their defenses and targeted the old and young who were protecting their provisions.

Mikhail wanted for them to retreat, to recuperate and plan an attack at a more advantageous time, but the wildlings surrounded them on all sides and all he could do was order for the survivors to grab whatever provisions they could find and rush to the forest.

The wildlings did not follow them once they were inside. The second problem arose thanks to the thorns. Many did not pay attention to them because of their tiredness, panic and the dizzy spell that arose from the sharp smell of roses and decay. 

One by one, they fell like flies sipping on poisoned sugar water and the wildlings hiding in the shadows dragged their corpses to feast on.

And now, they were the only ones left.

Sir Faris handed a bowl of stew to Mikhail. The prince did not feel like eating but he knew Faris would shove the food down his throat if he had to. 

“It was stupid to avoid eating because of guilt. You need the energy to survive and ensure that our soldiers did not die for nothing,” Sir Faris had told him one evening when the sight of food made him want to vomit.

Mikhail couldn’t argue with that and ate everything the knight had given him with clenched teeth and a heavy gulp.

Mikhail started eating once Sir Faris was done handing food around the camp. He peeked at the bard sitting next to him and frowned. It was clear Faris was not being fair with the portion sizes. The bard barely had any meat or vegetables in his soup, but still he stirred it and took a sip with a grateful smile.

He could only imagine how long the bard was wandering around without food in his stomach. It has been days since the man left the camp.

The prince shoved his bowl at him, “Here, you eat it. I’m not hungry.” From the corner of his eyes, he saw Faris make a sullen face.

Danico shook his head, “No, I don’t need it. Please eat your fill, your highness! After all, a growing boy needs all the nutrients he could get so he can grow big and strong.”

The prince frowned. “Bard, how old do you think I am?”

“Eighteen?”

Sir Faris choked on his soup to stifle a snicker as everyone else paled at his exclamation.

“Bard,” the prince said darkly, “I’m twenty-three.”

“What? No way,” Danico said. “But you’re so… short.”

“I’m a late bloomer!” The prince exclaimed, an embarrassed blush spreading on his cheeks. “All the males in my family are! I’ll grow taller than you in no time! Tell him, Faris!”

Sir Faris composed himself and with a serious expression said “Indeed, his highness speaks the truth.”

“Oh. Well, all the more reason for you to eat properly then. So you can get that growth spurt you’re talking about,” Danico said placatingly. It was obvious he did not believe the prince.

Danico was begrudgingly accepted back into the camp by Sir Faris. Mage Cian was wary of him but did not show it. The soldiers did not seem to mind his presence, especially since the prince’s mood got exponentially better ever since he arrived. They wondered if that was the power of love? Watching the two of them made them miss their own beloved wives they left behind. 

The prince stuck to him like glue, as if afraid he would vanish once more. He wasn’t wrong to think so, because as soon as Danico found a way to the tower and the dragon, he would be the first one to leave.

It was another day of wandering around the Rose Garden when the mage exclaimed how odd it was that they haven’t been ambushed by a single wildling lately. 

They told Danico when they first entered the Rose Garden, they were quickly divided by the wildlings. It was the reason half of them were killed that first night. The darkness in the garden was all consuming and their torches were not bright enough to light a large area for them to see. The rest perished from the thorns.

Whoever was left that night and survived the eternal slumber was picked apart by another ambush. That was how their army dwindled to only a handful of men after only a couple of nights in the garden. 

It was true what they say, once you enter the Rose Garden, there’s no chance of coming out alive. The only reason they knew to avoid the thorns was thanks to the keen observations of scouts who would ride around the borders of the garden and send cattle to get cursed.

To say the farmers were upset their cows were used as experiments was an understatement. 

Danico would very much like for the wildlings to attack them. He’s really curious to know what they actually looked like, because accounts of them vary from person to person. Some said they’re absolutely grotesque monsters with thousands of sharp teeth and eyes, while others said they looked like beautiful shadowy figures who looked at you with a piercing gaze and a wide grin. 

He wondered why the wildlings never bothered to attack him. Surely he should be considered an easy target the first time he stepped foot in the garden. After all, his weapons were in the interdimensional pocket and he was wandering around alone for days on end until he found the prince.

How very curious. Surely they weren’t afraid of him, right?

“Another day of not finding the tower,” the prince murmured tiredly.

“Heads up your highness, I’m sure we’ll find it in no time,” Sir Faris said. The prince gave him a small smile. Danico tried not to point out that they’ve lost more men today and now there was only the Mage Cian and Sir Faris left of his company.

Losing men wasn’t much of a tragedy in Danicos most honest opinion. They were slowly running out of provisions and while Danico would be fine, he wondered if the other three would be able to survive for long and which one would be the first to die through cannibalism. Danicos money was on the mage, because he didn’t seem to be very close to the prince like Sir Faris was. Danico was safe because the prince still harbored feelings for him for some reason Danico was not sure of. Not that it mattered because he’d kill them all first before they even thought of gnawing on his fair skin.

Danico stopped in his tracks as he felt the magic shift in the air. The mage must have felt it too, because he looked up at the covered skies with intense focus.

Someone was casting a spell. It wasn’t just any spell either, it was a very powerful one. Before he knew it, a strong wind blew them off their feet. The thorns moved aside as they were flung in different directions. He felt a hand clutch his, squeezing it in reassurance.

“Why are you reassuring me, when you’re the one who looked most terrified?” He thought as he looked at the prince’s pale face.

Once the air calmed down, they found themselves on an open field with a young lady in the middle. The armor she wore clung to her body like a second skin. Danico appreciated the craftsmanship of the skirt flowing beneath her armor. They looked like blue butterfly wings layered on top of each other. Her long blue hair, the color of summer skies, reached her ankles.

The prince tugged on his hand sharply and Danico looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He was glaring at him like he insulted his mother. Danico wanted to roll his eyes. Is he not allowed to appreciate a beautiful sight anymore just because some selfish guy decided he liked him when he didn’t even reciprocate the feeling?

“I was hoping one of you died from the thorns, but you two clung to each other like a couple of otters on a harsh stream,” she said. Her voice reverberated all around them with magic.

“Who are you?” The prince said as he stepped forward to shield Danico from her gaze.

She smiled a smile that could disarm any man and make them fall at her feet. “I am Caela and I am your second trial.”