I grew up in the shadow of the castle, the cursed princess, and the thicket of enchanted roses who protected her from the wrong kisses. Mother and I tried to warn all the would-be lovers about the danger waiting for them in the tangle of thorns and flowers.

Sometimes they listened.

Sometimes they took an axe or a machete or a heavy pair of garden shears to the roses and disappeared into the briars. They screamed a lot before they died.

Then the One True Love came and kissed the sleeping woman awake. But now the roses don't seem to know there's nothing left to protect, and I don't know how to make them stop killing.