Dream Trysts: A Sleeping Beauty Story (Passion-Filled FairyTales Book 4)

by Rosetta Bloom

  “So how do I let him know?”

  Blissa shook her head. “I’m not sure. But we need to figure it out. If Eldred is dead,” she said with a shiver. “Maurelle will be devastated. Before, she simply wanted to stop James from getting to you. Now, she will want him to suffer, to die a painful death, and she will stop at nothing to ensure that happens.”

  * * *

  The birds had to be wrong. They were wonderful messengers at times, but they weren’t always accurate. This was one of those times, Maurelle was sure. Eldred told her waiting would make him safe. Fairies with the gift of sight always they foresaw their own deaths. He would have told her if he couldn’t kill the prince without being killed himself. The birds were wrong.

  She was sure of it. She would simply go there. She would go to Eldred and find him. He was probably sick. That was probably what the birds had seen. He’d been too ill to attempt to kill that awful human boy, and, Dwennon, in his haste to free Briar Rose from the dream sleep, had left Eldred alone.

  It would be alright. She would take care of him. She paced in her chamber, waiting for the bird to return. She wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t transform into a bird herself and fly to the spot they said Eldred was. Though the birds had said the journey was three hours by air. Too long, she’d thought. So she’d sent one of the crows to fetch a fairy stone for her. She really should’ve kept more on hand. But she traveled so rarely from the kingdom, it didn’t seem necessary to have multiple fairy stones around.

  But surely it shouldn’t take this long to retrieve a fairy stone. She glanced out the window, hoping to see the beautiful spread wings of Jansen, her favorite crow. He’d left ten minutes ago, but the crystal pond wasn’t far by air. He should’ve found one by now and been on his way back.

  She paced the room, thinking of the last time she had seen Eldred. All he’d asked was for her to let him go, and she’d said no. Why had she said no? She could take care of that boy. Couldn’t she? She closed her eyes, swallowed. She couldn’t. She’d spoken with an apprentice oracle after Eldred left he, and he’d told her there was peril from a human heading her way, that she would not be able to defeat it if she continued her threat against Briar Rose. She’d assumed the threat was Edmund. That he, too, would attack like his father. She realized too late that the boy was the threat. If the boy were to be defeated, it had to be by someone other than her. And who better than Eldred? The one who loved her more than anything.

  And she had wanted him to help her and then they could be together. They could rule together, Eldred the oracle and Maurelle, the queen of the fairies, the one who spoke to woodland creatures. The one who could transform to woodland creatures. It was a new power, one she had acquired from the Sacred Pool. It was a sacred power among fairies. Not one to be taken from the Pool lightly. Generally, it had to be given, but the king or queen had the right to request a new power from the Sacred Pool. She supposed that is what the human King Errol had wanted when he tried to defeat her uncle. Not just the kingdom, but the right to take a power from the Sacred Pool.

  She had not sought a power when she took the throne, thinking it unnecessary. But now, now that Errol’s heirs sought to desecrate her mother’s memory by allowing King Edmund access to the throne through Briar Rose, she’d had to act. She had also taken a smaller power from the Pool: those of a love fairy. Love fairies tended to have the power to help others forgive, to help others find kindness and joy in each other. Because Eldred had been so angry with her, she knew the gifts of a love fairy would help. Eldred loved her deep down inside, and if she could simply tap into that after he’d completed his task, she was sure he would love her again. That is why she could stand firm against his threats that he wouldn’t come back. She had known that she could make him come back, that she could make him love her.

  The power of love fairies was fierce and unforgiving. It brought devotion and care to those who had genuine feelings. Though if you used its power on those who did not, it backfired terribly. That’s why love fairies were few. The gift was reserved for those with good judgment and good people skills. People like Blissa were often love fairies. Though Blissa’s gift had been different, it was in the same general vein as that of love fairies. It was a gift to do with the human spirit.

  She sighed and wondered where that blasted bird was.

  A low beating sound caught her attention. She turned to see Jansen flying toward her, several small pebbles in its beak. Of course, she thought. Jansen was such a phenomenal animal and friend. He’d brought her more than one stone. She’d need them if the birds were right. She closed her eyes, shook her head. No, the birds couldn’t be right. Eldred had to be sick. Either way, she’d need them to bring help with her. She should bring a healer to help Eldred. She smiled. In her grief, she’d not had a clear head, but Jansen had.

  The bird landed on the window sill, its little chest heaving from the exertion of the flight at such speed. He laid four stones on the sill and croaked. Maurelle croaked back a thank you and gently stroked Jansen’s feathery back. She picked up the stones and headed toward the healer. They would leave at once.

  * * *

  Someone was speaking, Maurelle knew, but she couldn’t hear what the person was saying over the cacophony created by her own wails of sorrow. His body was so cold, and the blue fairy blood that had pooled beneath him had started to congeal and thicken. Soon it would sparkle and glitter as the magic that had been his gift returned to the Sacred Pool.

  She hated this. She hated that the birds had been right. She hated that he was gone. That he had died not loving her. That she wouldn’t be able to make him love her the way he used to. She didn’t have that chance now, and it was the boy’s fault. It had to be.

  She lifted her tear-stained face from Eldred’s body. She cringed as she thought it, but it was true. This was simply Eldred’s body now. All that was him was gone. Gone forever. She looked up at the healer, Hadden, who offered her a weak smile. He was a plump, kind-faced fairy who seemed to usher in a feeling of ease and contentment when you saw him. He reminded her of Blissa a little, and with that thought, Maurelle recoiled. Blissa and her ilk had been the cause of all this. All of her problems had begun with her cousin, the woman who would ruin the fairy kingdom by taking up with humans. Anger coursed through her veins as she stared at the healer.

  “My queen,” Hadden said, reaching out a hand, perhaps to help her up. “Might I offer you something to ease your pain?”

  Maurelle stared at his hand, knowing she wouldn’t take it. As if taking his hand or anything else could ease her pain. She scoffed. Nothing would ease her pain, except the death of the boy who caused this. She shook her head. What if it wasn’t the boy, though? What if something else had happened? She had to know. She waved his hand away and said, “Tell me what happened here.”

  Hadden, retracted his hand, widened his eyes and cocked his head. “I’m not sure what you mean, my queen.”

  “You are a healer, yes?”

  He nodded.

  “That means your gift allows you to see how a wound was inflicted in order to help heal it.”

  He shook his head. “Yes, healers can see that,” he said. “But only sometimes, my queen. And Eldred is dead. His life force is long gone. I can see only with the aid of his life force.”

  Maurelle shook her head and looked down at the blood. “It hasn’t started to sparkle yet. Some of his force remains. Use it and tell me what happened.”

  Hadden opened his mouth, and stuttered, “But that’s, that’s not right. That’s sacrilege to disturb his body in this way.”

  Maurelle stared daggers at him. “I am your queen, and I must know who is responsible for Eldred’s death.”

  “Perhaps, first,” Hadden said, his voice quaking, “I could persuade my queen to take a healing salve to ease your pain slightly.”

  Maurelle stood, feeling completely empty as she moved away from the body that had been Eldred’s. “The only thing that will make me feel better is knowing
how this happened. I am your queen and I order you to use his blood and to tell me how this happened.”

  Hadden nodded, then knelt beside Eldred. He closed his eyes and dipped his fingers in the blue congealing blood.

  Chapter 29

  The ride was harsh and punishing, and James found himself, despite his singularity in purpose, feeling distracted. Something in the back of his mind was pulling his attention from the road and watching out for obstacles.

  “James!” He heard the words clear as day in his head. He pulled on the reins to slow the horse. He looked around, confused. He was sure it had been Rose’s voice, but there was nowhere she could be.

  “James,” he heard the voice call again. He furrowed his brow and looked around. The sun shone down on the rolling hills and created glare. There was nothing.

  “I’m still sleeping,” Rose’s voice said. “Something happened last night. I could see you. I could see through your eyes. I saw Eldred attack.”

  “But how?” he said aloud.

  “Are you alright?” Dwennon asked as he cantered toward him on his horse. James realized that Dwennon had ridden past him and circled back. The old fairy stared at him, and came closer, still astride the colt. “Are you alright?”

  “Answer him,” Rose said. “Tell him you can hear me.”

  “It’s Rose,” James said, looking at Dwennon. “I can hear her now. She says she can see what I see, and I can hear her in my mind.”

  Dwennon’s mouth popped open, and then his lips quirked into the slightest of a smile. “This is good,” he said. “We’ll ride slower, but still toward Rose, as we try to puzzle this out.”

  * * *

  They had actually had to stop riding to try out some of Dwennon’s theory. Chiefly being that James actually was a conduit, that Rose could see through him and he could hear her so that he could act as a conduit for her power. It would run through him if he let it.

  They tested the theory, with Rose creating small maelstroms to move leaves, straw, and eventually rocks. It was, for James, the most exhilarating feeling he’d ever had. As Rose commanded the wind, he could feel it race through him. He wasn’t sure if it was literally the power of the wind, or something more figurative, a feeling of surging power, artfully controlled.

  For once in this past three days, he felt confident. He felt sure that he would make it to Rose and that they would be together, forever.

  * * *

  Maurelle had taken care of the human. At least one of them. Her birds had tracked the man who had been with Eldred when he died. He was running home like the coward he was. For only a coward would leave a man to die alone in the woods.

  The man had begged for mercy, but Maurelle had shown him the same amount of mercy that had been shown to Eldred: none. And like Eldred, this poor soul—he’d said his name was Bayard—had known it was coming. She’d told him to beg for his life, to beg for mercy. That’s when he’d told her his name and that he had a family. “Eldred was the only thing I had left,” Maurelle had said moments before she transformed into a lion and tore him to shreds. He’d deserved it. And so did Dwennon and James. She closed her eyes as she sat on a rock, in front of the wall of thorns that shrouded the princess Briar Rose and her mother.

  She would kill James, and Dwennon, and she would mark the spot where she’d done it. A stone shrine she would inscribe: “Here lie Dwennon and Prince James, who murdered the innocent fairy Eldred.”

  Maurelle looked up at the sky. The sun was getting low. They would be here soon. They had to be. They were coming to try to end her curse. Only, she wouldn’t let them. Not after what they’d done. Not after she’d sacrificed Eldred to them.

  A tear trickled down Maurelle’s cheek, but she wiped it away and gritted her teeth. She needed to be strong for when they came. She needed to be strong to enjoy her vengeance.

  Chapter 30

  Despite the surge of assurance he’d felt after learning he was a conduit for Rose and testing her power, James suddenly felt a prickle of fear. As they got closer to the castle, he felt anxious, the hairs on his body standing on edge. A chill ran down his spine as he looked westward at the purplish tint of the skyline as the sun gave its final gasps before nightfall.

  His hands trembled despite knowing that he had the ability to fight Maurelle. The horses seemed to be slowing, too. Almost as if they wanted to turn and run.

  “You feel it?” Dwennon asked.

  James nodded, knowing exactly what Dwennon spoke of, but not exactly how to describe the trepidation that had overcome him. “What is it?”

  “Fear,” Dwennon said succinctly.

  James turned and looked at him. “I understand that. But why? How?”

  “It’s old fairy magic,” he said. “Maurelle has dipped deep in the well for this. It is used to make people — human or fairy — turn back. It is generally used as a defense of sacred places in the fairy world. As people get near, their instincts kick in and tell them to turn around, to run away. It infects the area surrounding a place, and anyone who is foolish enough to continue will continue to feel it until they arrive at the spot it is guarding. When they finally get there, they will feel slightly better, but they’ll be on edge. Their nerves will already be stretched to the limit, and they will be weaker when fighting.”

  “So the fear weakens you?” James asked.

  Dwennon shook his head and his horse stopped. So did James’. The abrupt halt threw James forward slightly. He nudged the horse forward by patting its side, but it didn’t move. “We have to dismount,” Dwennon said. “These creatures will go no further. Maurelle wants us alone.”

  “And weak.”

  “We will not be weak,” Dwennon said. “The weakness is caused because our bodies are not meant to live in fear for extended periods. The fear is to help us run, to move away from the danger, or to fight, if necessary. It gives us short bursts of strength. The key is short burst. After prolonged fear, we become tired and weak. But you and I won’t.”

  James left his horse, grabbed the hilt of the sword in his scabbard to reassure himself that it was there, and it would aid him. “We won’t get weak,” James repeated. But he didn’t feel it was true. The fear, the desire to turn back was pervasive and overwhelming. “Why won’t we get weak?”

  “Because we have nothing to fear, James,” Dwennon said.

  James turned to see Dwennon smiling at him. Was the man mad? They had a powerful fairy to fear.

  “Tell yourself that you are going to rescue Rose and you have nothing to fear. Tell yourself and believe it,” Dwennon said. “You must believe it so you can push away the fear and face Maurelle at your full strength.”

  James bit his lower lip and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “But I don’t feel that way.”

  “Then have Rose tell you. She can see and hear, but she’s not going to feel this because she isn’t here. Let her anchor you. Let her help you.”

  James took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could hear Rose’s voice, sweet and soft in his head. “You are not afraid, James. You are the bravest man I have ever met.”

  And he believed it. He felt a surge of strength in him. He opened his eyes, and even though he could tell he should be scared, he wasn’t. Not really. “I am not afraid,” he said aloud.

  “Good,” Dwennon said, his smile remaining strong. “Neither am I.”

  The two men walked down the winding path, Dwennon in the lead. They were silent, each trying to maintain their grasp on their inner strength and push aside the fear attempting to invade them. Finally, James could tell they were close. Over the tops of the trees that lined the winding road, he could see the peaks of the castle’s towers in the distance. They walked for thirty minutes, the sun finally abandoning the world and giving way to darkness and a few twinkling stars. The moon shone bright in the sky when the road emptied out into the clearing.

  There it was, closer than before, a majestic stone castle with turrets, towers and archways. All surrounded by a fence of bra
mbles and thorns.

  They had arrived. The fear that had sought to take hold of them had disappeared. It was gone. This was the place. James looked around, spinning in a full circle to get a view of everything. Only, he didn’t see what he was looking for. “Where is she?” James asked.

  Dwennon looked around, too, then shrugged. “Perhaps in the castle, guarding Rose?”

  Perhaps, but James didn’t trust it. He watched as Dwennon lifted his arms and looked at the thorn wall. Dwennon seemed to expect something to happen, but nothing did. The old fairy let out a tired cackle. “They can’t be moved by fairy magic. Just strength and hard work. I suppose she figures if you’re not weakened by the fear, you shall be weakened by hard work.”

  Dwennon looked at the thorns once more. “It matters not if they can be moved. You will not fatigue yourself, for we will both levitate over the wall.”

  James heard the scream, first and then turned and saw a woman step out of the shadow of the thorns. “You will do no such thing,” the woman spat. James had never seen her before, but he knew instantly it was Maurelle.

  Her skin glistened white in the moonlight, and had he not known the depths of hatred in her heart, he might have thought she were beautiful. Silky black hair hung in waves cascading to her waist. Her eyes looked black in the night, her high cheekbones gave her an air of proudness. But the scowl on her lips made her look as angry as a lioness.

  Maurelle was dressed in a long black cloak and she slinked toward them. Dwennon took a step forward and said, “My queen, please, this is not the way.”

  She flicked her finger, and a bird swooped down and dropped something on Dwennon, a powdery mist. Dwennon coughed in surprise and toppled over.

  James widened his eyes in alarm, and Maurelle glared at him. “You pretend to worry about him,” she said. “Well don’t. He’s simply immobilized for the moment. He’ll be fine until I finish with you. And you won’t get something as peaceful as sleeping powder. Your death will be painful and cruel, as you have made the death of others.”