Caged: A Twisted Fairytale Retelling

by Lena Mae Hill

  And maybe by then I would have found a way to rid myself of Mother’s control. Maybe, when I was queen, I could make the rules.

  “We’ve got that chopped,” Mother Dear said. “Now it’s time for you to chop the vines.”

  NO!

  I balled my fists, wanting to scream, to rip out her hair, to take her giant machete-knife and chop off her head. I wanted to tell her I’d die before I’d cut down the vines that had brought me the boys, that had given me companionship and company as I sang to them each day, that had given me hope.

  Instead, I nodded and cast my eyes down, as I always had. “Yes, Mother Dear.”

  She threw open the shutters that she’d brought to cover the windows. I knew they were more than the wood that made them up. They had magic, a protection spell, something to keep me from opening them.

  “Good girl,” she said. “The better you are, the more privileges you can earn back. One day, I might even open the windows. For now, enjoy the sun while we’re outside.”

  “You’re never going to let me out again, are you?” I asked.

  “Maybe one day,” she said, clucking her tongue. “For now, you have no reason to leave.” I lowered her down on the rope, hoping that somehow it would break halfway down. Wishing that I could drop her and know she’d die.

  I shifted into a raven this time, fluttering down to join her. At least she hadn’t taken my shifting away from me. As I descended, I fought the urge to fly away, down the mountain and over the next one, into the shifter valley where I belonged. If I did, though, she would follow me. She would hurt my boys. And I couldn’t let that happen. As long as she lived, I would never be free. She would never let me go.

  I had to be patient. One day, my moment would come. Not my moment to take the throne, but my moment to take back my life. But I had to be patient, to wait for the moment when I could get rid of her once and for all. That was okay. I was a patient girl. I’d spent my whole life waiting for her dreams to come true. Now I was waiting for my own.

  Mother Dear handed me the knife, and I knelt at the base of the vines. I began to chop at them, my eyes blurring with tears. The sap was like blood spilling on the ground, blood on the knife, blood on my hands.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, letting the golden teardrops fall from my eyes.

  When it was done, I handed Mother Dear the knife. I knew the vine was truly dead this time, that I had cut through every last one of its stems. I knew it was dead because it didn’t feel like my friend anymore. It didn’t give me hope anymore. And I didn’t feel sad anymore. I felt nothing as I shifted into a bird and flew back into my cage.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jack

  “Just a little further,” I said.

  “Okay, but only a few more minutes,” Daniel said, gripping my elbow. He may have been the dog, but I was doggedly determined. Every day I walked in the woods, feeling the sun on my face, trying to learn the scents and sensations of a tree in my path, the signs underfoot that meant I was nearing a stream or a cliff’s edge. One day, I would walk alone again.

  It had been three months, and we hadn’t heard a word from her. We’d used the gift she’d given us to get our mother a new house. It was just a small, simple one. That’s all she’d wanted. We still shared a bedroom, but that was by choice. Now Mom had her own room, too. And we still had some gold in a safe for when things got tight, our payment for being the princess’s guides.

  When I’d stolen the witch’s wedding gift, I’d hoped to find diamonds in that package. I’d found seeds instead. Those seeds had led me to treasure, even if it wasn’t diamonds. But Astrid’s treasure was different, earned through pain.

  The real treasure hadn’t been the gold, though. It had been her.

  Mom said it wasn’t worth losing my vision, but I wasn’t so sure. One night with Astrid seemed worth anything to me.

  I hadn’t believed her words at first. I had thought the gift meant something, that maybe she was coming back. I imagined her sitting on her windowsill combing out her long hair, letting it fall ten feet down the wall of the tower. I imagined her watching the leaves turn from spring green to the deep forest green of summer to the gold and orange of autumn. I had felt the signs of autumn in the air even if I couldn’t see them.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked, cocking my head.

  “What?” William asked.

  The four of us halted, and the crunch of leaves underfoot died away.

  “You didn’t hear it?” I asked.

  “It would help to know what I’m listening for,” Daniel said.

  And then it came again, the clear sweet note of her voice. “It’s her,” I choked out.

  Daniel didn’t answer. For a second, I thought maybe he’d run ahead to find her. But I would have heard him move. He was frozen like me, listening in silent awe to that voice, like an angel on high. Literally.

  “Then she’s alive,” Evan said at last.

  “Yeah.” I was glad, of course, even knowing what it meant. We’d all gone up to the tower after she left. Even I had gone, insisting they take me up, that I could convince her to open the window or come down. But she’d never answered, even when William turned into a bird and beat himself against her shutters. For all we knew, she was as dead as our beanstalk.

  But now we knew. She was still alive, still singing. We’d thought maybe she’d come back, just as we’d hoped maybe my eyesight would. But I remained blind as a result of the witch’s lightning fingers, and Astrid remained elusive, gone from our lives.

  Still, that song. That voice.

  “She sounds happy,” William said after a while.

  I was happy that she was singing. I was happy to hear her voice, even if that was the only piece of her I ever got. It wasn’t enough, not even close to enough, but I would take it. I would take her happiness, the joy in her song, and I would find my own happiness in it.

  I raised my blind eyes to the sun, and I smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Astrid

  The leaves were falling by the time Mother Dear let me see the sun again. For a few days, she stayed close, but not for long. She was busy in the wolf valley, carving out a place for herself among the wolves. It wasn’t enough for her to have a place in the coven. She needed more. She would always need more.

  I didn’t need more. I had found what I was looking for. So when Mother Dear went off for a few days, I knew we were back to our old routines. I had proven myself, had earned her trust. It hadn’t been easy—I had bitten my tongue so many times I was surprised I had a tongue left at all.

  I perched on the windowsill, looking out over the mountains for a minute, and then I let myself fall. I wasn’t scared this time. For months, I’d had nothing to do but shift and practice flying. I could shift in seconds, and landing was no longer a problem.

  I soared down the mountain, knowing that I would find my way to the boys, that my heart would lead me like a compass. The shifter valley was big, but I knew the way. Soon enough, I had come upon a little blue house with white shutters where the trailer had stood. The only signs of it were the bits of blackened earth visible at the edges. I heard voices, and I flew around back. A small fence surrounded a little plot of earth where four boys were digging. I sat on the fence post, watching them work, and I sang them a song.

  Evan had his shirt off despite the slight chill of autumn in the air, collecting more freckles on his shoulders. He was digging hard with a fork while Jack dug in the dirt at his feet. A row of dirty, orange potatoes lay where they had already dug. Daniel was yanking vines back ahead of them while William chopped at their stems. None of them looked my way, even when I sang. My heart sank. Didn’t they know I was coming back?

  I flew to the ground at the end of the row. Still, no one paid me any mind. I shifted into human form. That got their attention.

  They all stopped working and stared at me except Jack. He kept digging like nothing had happened.

  I walked over, stepping ov
er the row and kneeling beside Jack. Wordlessly, I began to dig.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “A queen should be in touch with her people,” I said.

  Jack’s hands went still, and he turned toward me. He wore a pair of sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes as he looked at me, remaining perfectly still as he took me in. Then he slipped his hand from his glove and reached out, laying his fingertips on my cheek. Warmth swept through my body, and I sighed at his touch. His fingers ran over my skin, finding my jawline, my chin, my lips. I pressed a kiss to his fingertips before he slid them away, over my nose and eyelids, my temples, then ran his hand over my head, down my back where my hair lay. It was only down to my waist now, growing faster each day.

  “It’s really you,” he said.

  “He can’t see,” Daniel said.

  “With my eyes,” Jack said with a small smile. “I see with my hands now.”

  Tears filled my eyes, and I let them drop. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Jack cupped the back of my head, pulling me in until our foreheads rested together.

  “Thank you,” Evan said, resting a foot on his digging fork.

  “For what?” I asked, raising my face to his.

  He shrugged and cut his eyes toward the house.

  I looked down, picking tears off the ground. “There’s more,” I said.

  “I know,” Daniel reminded me with his same big grin as always. “I told them, too, so they know. But they don’t really know. It’s hard to believe without seeing it.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said, tossing a scrawny potato at him.

  William held out a hand, and I took it, that same wash of shyness coming over me that I’d felt the morning I’d woken up here. He pulled me to my feet, wrapping me in a tight embrace. For a long minute, we stood without moving, without speaking. Finally, he released me.

  “How long are you here?”

  “A few hours,” I said.

  “That’s it?” Evan said, and though his voice was flat, I saw the anguish in his eyes.

  “It’s what I can risk,” I said. “I can’t have her coming after you again.”

  “Totally worth it,” William said.

  Daniel pulled me to him and planted a hard kiss on my lips. Then he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “We can do a lot in a few hours.”

  Evan shoved the fork into the ground and started digging again. Hurt flickered through me that he wasn’t going to embrace me as the others had. But I had time to win him back. I knelt at the foot of the fork and began to dig in the dirt with Jack.

  “You’re getting your hands dirty there, princess,” Evan said.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I bet you still have a shower.”

  William gulped, his eyes widening. He obviously hadn’t forgotten me.

  “Is this like a one-time thing?” Jack asked. “Or how often does a queen mingle with commoners?”

  “Y’all sound like a bunch of girls,” Daniel said. “Where is this going? I need you to define our relationship right now.”

  William punched his shoulder, and they started shoving each other around.

  I turned to Jack. “I figure a queen should get out among her people at least a few times a week.”

  “And how does your mother feel about that?”

  “A princess should sneak out of her tower a few times a week, too,” I said, unearthing a fat orange potato.

  A slow smile spread across Jack’s face as he dug his hands into the dirt beside mine.

  “Besides,” I said. “I was promised bacon.”

  *

  The End.

  From the Author

  Hey, y’all!

  I hope you enjoyed this twisted tale! At the end of last year, I asked my readers what they wanted to see. The majority wanted paranormal RH with a little more steam and a lot of grit before a hopefully-ever-after. I hope this one delivered! If you think it did, make sure to leave a review.

  If you want to keep up to date on new books, be the first to get sneak peeks, cover reveals, and fun giveaways, make sure to join my RH Readers Club by clicking here.

  If you want to read more about Astrid, pick up the complete Girl Among Wolves Trilogy today!