by Jenni James
Villeria was smart and waited years before proclaiming what she desired most. She protected them, cared for them; saw that their lands developed richly in their favor—and then, seven years after the covenant had been made—seven years to almost the exact date—Villeria, the dark witch, cooed over the darling baby girl asleep in her cradle and determined right then and there one day she would have this child as her own.
That day came on Aleyna’s eighteenth birthday party. The witch announced loudly in her sharp voice, upon the ballroom steps, to all those surrounding the beautiful maiden—
“Your Royal Majesties, the grand court, and all here who have come to gather and adore the darling princess, I have a declaration to make.” She had paused then and allowed for the room to quiet and assemble themselves.
Aleyna was eager to hear the news and quickly came to the witch when she was beckoned for.
With Villeria’s arm around the princess she continued, “It is in front of all these witnesses that I wish to finally claim what it is I want most as payment for the kindness I have allowed this kingdom and its citizens.” She smiled and the hosts of people smiled in return, no doubt thinking of her dear heart and how much she had done for them. The witch continued, “For compensation of the great debt you have all accrued, I demand one thing, and one thing only: Princess Aleyna.”
It took a moment for the words she had spoken to settle into the minds of all those present, but once they did, a large gasp could be heard to go around the entire room.
“No!” shouted her brother, the heir elect, Prince Carlton. “No, you cannot have her.”
“Oh? Can I not?” The room grew cold as the whispery threat slivered its way into the souls of all those surrounding the area. Shock was too great; the imminence of the witch’s power could be felt across the whole castle.
There was nothing they could do, they were helpless to protect the girl if Villeria really wanted her, they would have to agree—or die trying.
“Villeria, please reconsider,” pleaded the king as he stepped away from his throne. “Is there not something else we could give you instead? Anything at all?”
“Take me,” proclaimed Prince Albert, the younger of the two brothers. “Take me instead. I am young, I am strong, I will do whatever you need.” He rushed forward and bowed himself before the witch. “Please spare my sister and allow her to live here and I will be your servant—exchange my life for hers and I promise I will devote my existence to you.”
Aleyna could not move, her shoulder was clasped so tightly by the witch to keep her securely next to her that she was completely pinned by her side. Her life had been decided for her and there was nothing she could do about it. With tears she uttered, “No, Albert, no. I will go with her—”
“Enough!” Villeria shouted. “I have declared what I require—as in our agreement, now I will claim what is rightfully mine.” She pulled on Aleyna, but she would not budge. “Come with me. You have no choice, now come. We are leaving.” Villeria tried again, yet the forgotten gift Ezralon had placed over the princess at her birth came into effect and wound its magic up and over her legs and cemented her upon the steps, not allowing a fraction of movement.
“I cannot come. I am trying to move. I cannot move,” said the princess, scared and thankful at the same time.
“What is this?” Villeria tried as well to budge the gel. “What trickery is this? Who placed a spell over you?”
Just then the words of Ezralon’s gift to the princess floated through the castle—loud and clear as the day he had first placed the magic upon her—
“I give you the gift of eternal love, for none shall claim you as their own unless they truly love you. I fear your beauty is too great, little one, and many will try to woo you or use you for their own gain. And so I bestow this upon you now, that it may act as a shield and protection against those who seek to cause you harm. In fact, I will add, only the most truest of hearts—of the greatest of men—shall be able to break this spell. He must be worthy of you, he must truly love you as you deserve, and he must be willing to protect you from all evil that may come your way. You will know true love, my angel, and I pray it will be soon.”
Villeria destroyed everyone in the castle that night—except Aleyna, she was shielded from all harm. The next day started a great rebellion and war, as the villagers arose in defense of their monarchy.
Ezralon collected the weeping girl during the midst of it all, and brought her here to this secluded spot near the river. She was so distraught from the horrors of witnessing her parents’ and brothers’ gruesome deaths, she could not be consoled. Having just lost everyone she loved, she had unwillingly become the new queen of the monarchy. She begged for him to take her life too, to end the guilt and torment—she refused to become queen, she hated the title that was meant to be her mother’s. Aleyna simply did not want to be anything. She did not want to exist at all. So he did as she requested, he ended her life—the only way he could, by putting her in an enchanted ghost-like sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
PRINCE DARIÉN THREW HIS head back and laughed. “You’re jesting, old man, I know you are.”
“Aye. You wish I was!” Michael crowed back at him. “No, no. You’re not getting out of this that easily. We have all discussed it and have concluded the only way for you to prove that you’re no longer terrified of ghouls is to break that enchantment.”
Darién slowly lowered his boots from off his chiseled desk and rose. Leaning over the rich gleaming mahogany surface, he rested both fists down and looked each of the three men—his so-called friends—in the eye. They had come to present this insanity—no doubt going on without him in attendance about the great fears he had of the spiritual realm. “Humphrey and George and, if you truly believed me as much a fool as the King of Alemade here,” nodding toward Michael, “then perhaps you would request such a thing. However, I know you both well. We’ve been friends for ages and I know your weaknesses on the fighting field—just as you know mine.” He leaned closer toward the trio. “Though, you discern as well as I do it would be a fool’s errand indeed to go scampering about the countryside releasing that enchantment. An enchantment no one has truly been able to prove exists!”
“She is said to be still alive.” George, Lord Hadden smiled and folded his arms over his chest, not intimidated one bit.
The prince smirked and pushed away from the desk. “Queen Aleyna would have to be as old as my mother now. There is no way anyone could survive sleeping that long. She’s as dead as a doornail.”
“And as white as a ghost.” Humphrey, Lord Taltson chuckled and nudged the king at his side. They both shared a knowing grin.
“Enough! I’m not doing it.”
Michael moved his seat back and rose. “That is fine. You do not have to do anything that will frighten you, young man.”
The other two quickly stood as well.
“Frighten me?”
Michael put his hand up in a cautionary gesture. “Now, settle down. It is fine if you do not wish to do what we propose. We never fully expected you to, did we?”
Humphrey snorted and George began to cough.
“Ha-ha. This is all so humorous, is it not?” Darién walked around the desk and began to whack George on the back. “There, there. Feel better now?”
Lord Hadden pulled away, but Humphrey continued to snort.
“Look. It is impossible. No one believes that sort of thing anyway. It is just a myth. I refuse to waste my time going around releasing haunted female apparitions from their cruel fates for your amusement and sport. My apologies, but you will have to find another sorry sop to do it for you. What you ask is completely ridiculous and out of the question.”
“Ridiculous, yes.” Michael grinned. “But not out of the question.”
George spoke up in a hideous female voice and accent. “Me thinks he doth be scared too much. Let’s leave the wee poor lamb alone.”
The other two burst into laughter. Even the prince co
uld not help himself. He rolled his eyes and grinned before asking, “Are you all mad? Do you honestly have nothing else to do with your time that you must goad me into this nonsense?”
Lord Taltson shrugged and looked at the other men. “I cannot think of anything more worthwhile than this, can you, George? Michael?”
“No,” the king replied, his eyes fixed on Darién. “Come, man, do it. Think of the lark it would be! Think of the adventure!”
The prince shook his head. “This is lunacy.” He grinned again and put a hand on his hip while rubbing his jaw with the other. “And if I do this insanity—if I actually track down that dastardly charmed spirit and release her to die the savage death she no doubt deserves—will you leave me forever in peace about this twaddle?”
“Forever,” responded the king.
“In peace,” Humphrey confirmed.
Darién pointed to each of them. “You all look way too happy about this turn of events to be considered sane.”
George waggled his eyes. “Oh, we know. But our sanity will be well worth the enjoyment of watching you attempt the impossible.”
The prince matched that waggle with a determined gleam in his own eyes. “I will do it,” he announced to their excited whoop, “But just so we are perfectly clear, things will be done on my terms. You will all join me and witness this stupidity first hand.” He paused a moment and then added, “I want us all to ask around and collect as much information as we can about this legend—try to find out anything we may have missed, or did not realize before. And once we get there and you boys realize how much more superior I am and know for a fact I was right all along, then I want to hear nothing about this again.”
The king rubbed his hands together. “Perfect. When do we go?”
The prince let out an exasperated sigh. “Tomorrow week. Let’s get this torture over as soon as possible. Can you be ready to ride in eight days?”
Lord Hadden nodded. “There are a few things I need to sort out with my staff, but I think it is certainly doable.”
“Good. George is in, how about you two?”
The king and Lord Taltson looked at each other and smiled. Everything was going exactly as they had predicted and planned.
“Sounds ideal,” Humphrey answered.
Darién glared slightly. Something was not quite right with this trio, he was positive they had a hidden agenda up their sleeves, but he would be hanged if he was going to say he was backing out now. “Fine then, meet here at daybreak tomorrow week and let the adventure begin.”
***
Queen Aleyna giggled and tossed a bit of flour at Margie, the cook. “There! Now you look like you have been working all day.”
Margie gasped. “Your majesty! My queen! You cannot be in here playing about in the flour. It will not do.” She grinned as she brushed the powder off her apron.
“And why is that? Why must I be like all the other queens? Why can’t I be a normal person like you?”
“Because you are royalty, Your Majesty.” She reached over and pulled the rolling pin out of Aleyna’s hand.
“I don’t want to be. I want to live and laugh and run and be free—like you.” The young queen walked over to the hook upon the wall and fetched an apron. “Please let me help prepare something. Why must we have this battle every single day? Will you never see me as an equal?”
“Never.” She sighed and handed over the rolling pin. “You are my queen, and I cannot tell you what to do, though I will attempt to make you see propriety at some point in your life. Your mother would certainly have had an apoplexy had she seen the way you would one day rule and run about the castle as you do.” She pointed over to the rising dough sitting in a large wooden bowl. “You may work on the tarts.”
“Thank you!” Aleyna smiled and began to busy herself with preparing the counter for rolling with flour. “One day I would love to be a cook like you.”
“Like me?” Margie shook her head and walked over to the fireplace to stir the strawberry jam that had begun to simmer in the large pot. “Listen here, Your Majesty, I know you’re very young—too young to be a queen—but you are way too old to be getting these flits of fancy in your head all the time. My dear, I know your love for cooking—and it is a great shame I gave in and introduced you to the skill all those years ago—but, my wee little one, you can’t just be wishing away your rightful throne on doing menial work.”
The queen laughed and pinched off a section of dough to roll out. “But it is not tedious to me. It is fun and challenging and exciting. It is a talent I possess and something that brings me great joy. Cannot a queen have a law decreed that she is allowed to bake and reign?” She glanced over at the old woman as Margie knelt at the fire to relieve the pain in her back while she stirred. “And you need the help.”
Margie muttered something under her breath.
“Tis true!” Aleyna rolled the dough until it was nice and thin and began to slice it with a sharp knife. She wished she could do more to help the dear woman, but Margie would never allow her near the fireplace—it could soil her gown—let alone any of the harder tasks within the kitchen walls. As if she cared one wit about her silly gowns! Life was more important than clothing anyhow, and though she could not remember a good deal of her real family, she did love this woman as much as she did her own mother. She only wished Margie would allow her to help more, and take some of the burden off of her stubborn shoulders. The queen sighed quietly and decided perhaps now was a good time to change the subject. “Who shall we send the tarts and jams to today?”
Margie glanced up from the simmering pot and wiped her brow. “I was thinking there were about ten or twelve families who could use a bit of pick-me-up. Dr. Jenson was telling me about his patients just yesterday and I thought it’d be a good way to lift their spirits and give them an added treat. Is there anyone you would particularly like to visit today?”
Aleyna shrugged as she began rolling out the second batch of tarts, the first resting nicely on the pan, waiting for a spoonful of jam to be placed in the center of each square before folding and baking in the brick oven. “Perhaps the stable boys could enjoy a few extra sweets this morning. And the under gardener’s wife could probably use some more jam, we haven’t taken any to her for a while.”
“What we need is to find a good decent prince or king to give this to.”
“Excuse me?” Aleyna laughed. “Did you just say something about a prince or king?”
Margie expelled a huge breath and stood up rubbing her lower back as she did so. “Yes, my queen. Yes. We need some royalty around here or none of us will ever be able to get the true rest we require.”
She took up at her friend’s sharp tone and tilted her head to the side. “I do not understand your meaning. What has a prince or king got to do with anything?”
Waving her hands and fetching the thick towels, she said, “Never you mind I said any such thing. Just an old woman’s mutterings.” She moved to the pot and began to lift it.
“Wait! Don’t you dare try and haul that up again.” Aleyna pulled the woman away and called for a footman to come and fetch the pot for them both.
Once it was set on the counter and the footman had been sent on his way and Margie began to fill the jars with the delicious-smelling piping hot strawberry substance, Aleyna tried to broach the subject again. “What did you mean about finding royalty to give us true rest?”
She shook her head. “I said never you mind about that. It was pure nonsense.”
The queen glanced over, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “What are you hiding from me? What will you not say? And how in the world would a man be able change anything? Does something need to be changed?”
CHAPTER FOUR
EZRALON STARTLED AT THE glowing pulse that swept over the dome protecting the girl. What just happened? He stood up and placed his horn against the transparent shield to read what had created the odd pulsation. After a moment of connecting, he was able to clear his mind. It would seem somet
hing had shifted in the queen’s conscience, something to make her question what she knew.
What would have created such a shift? And why now of all times? His horn glowed brightly as he felt an overwhelming sense of peace settle warmly over him. Whatever had happened, it would seem it was meant to be. Pulling his horn away, he looked down at the sleeping girl. Could she be ready to face her past? Change would begin soon now, and prepared or not, it seemed as though they had no choice. She would have to be.
***
Darién’s horse came over the crest of the hill first, quickly followed by the other three. They pulled up at the top of the small knoll and stared at the horror before them. The valley below was bleak and neglected. The trees were dark and barren of any life and the fields full of tangled weeds and balding ground. High above a fire-ravaged village there rose a tall castle, once a fortress of strength and beauty, now a shell of its former grandeur and glory. Deserted and eerily stark, shreds of fabric could just barely be seen flapping wildly in the breeze through the shattered windows.
Great heavens! It was even worse than he imagined. Turning in the saddle, Darién called out to the somber group. “Now do you see what a fool’s errand this has become?” He had never arrived at such a disenchanting place in all his life. If this is what it looked like under a sleeping spell, how much worse would it become once the protection was lifted? “Come, let us head home.” Tugging on the horse, he rotated until he was facing back down the hill. “We have no reason to be here.”
“Wait. We have come all this way, aren’t you just a little curious to see it?” asked Michael as he rode up to him.
