Sleeping Beauty's Spindle

by Shonna Slayton

  Fanny nodded. “She loves you, even if she doesn’t realize it herself yet.”

  Briar’s eyes were wide. She did realize it. Ever since Henry came home. Too late, though. And now she couldn’t speak the words. Couldn’t even breathe them.

  But Henry turned back to her with his big grin. He squeezed her hand. “I have something for you.”

  He leaped up and began searching the room. Pansy was peeking in the doorway, watching it all. “Pansy,” Henry said, “where is my bag? I left it here.”

  “Under the bed. I cleaned up.” She stepped into the cottage and inched along the wall, like Jack had done earlier.

  Quickly, Henry reached under the bed and pulled out his pack. “I never did give you my gift. Now’s as good a time as any.”

  “Oh, isn’t this a sweet picture?” mocked Isodora. “A final romantic gesture.”

  Henry whispered in Pansy’s ear. Her eyes opened wide, and she nodded. Then Henry pulled back the sheet covering Briar and reached under to scoop her up.

  “Really, Henry,” chastised Fanny. “She can see your gift fine lying down. Let the girl be.”

  But Henry ignored her, first lifting Briar up, and then positioning her so she leaned against his shoulder as he gripped her waist. Her lifeless legs dragged on the floor like marionette limbs.

  “Now, Pansy,” Henry said. His voice was urgent.

  Pansy reached into the pack and fiddled with something inside. Then quick as a hummingbird she pulled out a small sack and dumped its contents over the floor. Dirt.

  Before anyone else moved, Henry stood on the dirt and kissed Briar with all the strength and passion that the first desperate kiss had lacked.

  “No!” Isodora darted forward and shoved the two off the floor and onto the bed.

  Briar gasped as she fell, and pulled in enough air to feed her blood. She felt the oxygen push past the poison and enter her lungs. As she breathed out, her mind began to clear.

  “You brought me dirt?” she whispered. Henry was still a strange boy who said and did strange things.

  He nodded, holding her protectively in his arms. “From Ireland. So you could stand on soil from the Old Country, like your mam wanted for you.” His face reddened. “And I mixed it with soil from my family’s Old Country. So we could join our histories and have a new beginning based on the old foundations.”

  Tears welled up in Briar’s eyes. Sweet, sentimental Henry was helping her fulfill her mother’s dying wish. His gesture was better than singing the reel. It was as unique as he was and came from his heart.

  But would it heal her? She tentatively took another breath. The embers burning in her lungs weren’t as sharp as before. She carefully breathed out, bracing for the pain.

  “No!” screeched Isodora again. She kicked at the dirt, spreading it around Pansy’s recently swept floor. “It’s too late. She’s too far gone.”

  Henry wouldn’t look away from Briar. “Is it too late?” he asked quietly. “Breathe with me.”

  Chapter 40

  Briar locked eyes with Henry and breathed. He held her close in his arms, blocking everyone else in the room from her vision. It was just her and sweet, sweet Henry. Eyes locked with hers. With each breath she took, his smile grew wider and wider until he was grinning so wide there was no more room for his smile to grow. It took Briar several tentative breaths to not be afraid of the possible pain.

  “It worked.” Henry threw his head back and laughed.

  Pansy jumped up and down, clapping joyously.

  “I don’t know,” Briar said. “I’m breathing, but I still can’t move my legs.”

  Henry shifted. “It probably doesn’t help that I’m lying on top of you. How about now?”

  “No. Still can’t.” Her heart raced, pushing healthy, healing oxygen to her limbs. However, she was pretty sure her heart crashing against her ribs had nothing to do with breaking the curse, and everything to do with being in Henry’s arms.

  Fanny finally pushed through the door of her cage, the bars shrinking and changing back into pebbles. “You’re getting better, I can tell. Her power is weakening.” Fanny made a move like she was going to transform something else, but Isodora backed outside before Fanny could settle on something.

  “I’ll find a way to fully unblock my magic,” said Isodora. “And when I do, I’m coming for you, Fanny. You’ve stood in my way long enough.”

  Fanny chased her out the door, but came back a few moments later. As she walked in, the spiky trees outside the door shrank down and returned to dried rose petals.

  “So much for the primroses,” she said. “They didn’t work when I needed them most. I lost her. But now that she’s revealed herself, Prudence will be able to track her quickly and take care of her.”

  “The boys,” Briar said, reaching an arm to the door.

  “Are with the Princes. No need to worry. Here, dearie, let’s get you settled back in bed and continue the treatments. You’re going to be fine. Just fine.”

  “But what about Isodora? Henry can stay here with us while you do what you need to do.”

  “My priority is you kids here. Prudence told me in no uncertain terms that I was to stay with you all no matter what. Besides, making you stronger will make her weaker. Let me do my job, yes?”

  Briar shared a look with Henry. She wouldn’t relax until the spindle was safely removed from her frame and locked back up wherever they usually kept it.

  Fanny plumped up the pillow then guided Briar back to a prone position. “The curse was old and slow-moving. Perhaps the cure is as well,” Fanny said. She beamed at Henry. “I’ll get the tea and see if we can help speed things along. Pansy? Your help?”

  Alone in their corner of the cottage, Henry kissed Briar.

  “In case another kiss would ‘speed things along,’” he said, quoting Fanny. “Is it working? Because I can keep going.” He kissed her again.

  Briar laughed, very much enjoying Henry’s doctoring. “It is.” Her voice came out stronger. Henry smiled. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Are you going to ask every minute?”

  “Purely scientific inquiry. I’m curious about how potent my kisses are.”

  Briar tried wiggling her toes. Nothing. Too soon. Her knees? No. But the pins and needles feeling was working its way back down her body. It had cleared her lungs and was now in her middle. The tea might do her some good at flushing out the rest of it.

  Fanny and Pansy had finished their preparations in the kitchen, arranging a high tea service on the kitchen table with selections of all the recent gifts. “Can you sit up, dearie? We’d love to have you join us at table.”

  “May I?” Henry held out his hands to indicate he’d help her.

  Briar put her arms around his neck and he swung her up, carried her over to the table, and settled her into her usual chair. She hadn’t sat with the family for days. She was going to live! To think, Henry Prince—the boy who never took anything seriously—had saved her life. At the rate the prickles were traveling, she might have use of her legs by bedtime. Certainly, by morning.

  Fanny bustled about, pouring everyone their tea, and was in the midst of pouring her own when the door banged open again. They all jumped and turned at the sound, expecting an angry Isodora, but standing in the doorway was an angry Prudence.

  Nanny had finally returned.

  Her black bonnet was thrown back on her head as if she had traveled a long way in a great hurry. Her diminutive form seemed to fill the doorway.

  Pansy rose in excitement, but noticing Fanny’s shocked expression, slowly sat back down.

  Prudence stared unwaveringly at Fanny. “Just what is going on around here? Sitting down to tea and cookies as if you have no other responsibilities in the world?”

  Fanny’s teacup began to overflow and Pansy intervened, pulling the teapot out of Fanny’s hands. She mopped up the spill with a rag.

  “I— We— She—” Fanny sputtered. She pressed her hands on the table and leaned fo
rward. “I’m sorry. What should I be doing aside from celebrating? We won. Isodora lost again.”

  Prudence came forward and patted Briar’s shoulder. “I’m pleased to see you up and about, but Fanny and I have business to attend to.” She jutted her chin in Fanny’s direction. “Well, where is it now? Is it secured?” Prudence crossed her arms, looking between Briar and Fanny.

  “It’s attached to one of my frames at the mill,” Briar said. “It won’t come off, I tried.”

  Prudence raised her eyebrows at Fanny for confirmation.

  “Yes, ’tis true. I tried myself to remove it, but it won’t budge.”

  Prudence gaped. “You mean to tell me you’ve left it there? Unguarded? Did you at least think to put up some sort of protection?”

  Fanny looked away. “Of course, I did. I used the same protection we put on the blue cloth we wrapped the spindle in before. I was reminded of it when I saw it in Briar’s pocket. That’s where I was when Henry here came home. This time it’s the frame itself that’ll keep the girls safe. Curious things those mill girls. Perhaps after their recent illnesses some won’t be so nosy.”

  “Briar, will you be all right here?” asked Prudence.

  “Henry, maybe you should take Briar and the children to your house for the night while Fanny and I reclaim the spindle.”

  “How are the legs?” Henry asked. “I could carry you the whole way if you want.”

  Still seated, Briar tentatively wiggled her toes. She grinned. Toes, those largely ignored appendages, had never felt so good. Next the legs, swinging at the knee. “I can move them!” Not even a single shard of pain. She was healing, truly healing. The nightmare was over. “Let’s see if they’ll bear weight.” With a deep breath, she pushed up from the chair, leaning against the table. Her legs wobbled but held. “If I don’t have to run, I can make it.”

  “Excellent.” Fanny clapped in excitement. “Let me get my shawl and we’ll be off,” she said to Prudence as if they were planning a leisurely walk in the woods.

  “And where are the boys?” Prudence asked.

  “With the Princes. I have everything under control,” Fanny said, irritated. “You aren’t the only one who can look after children.”

  “They are not with the Princes. I’ve just come from there.”

  Chapter 41

  Briar’s legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed back into her chair. “She has them.”

  It was like a punch in the gut. All this time Briar had been focused on protecting the girls around her, and she’d not paid enough attention to the boys. If anything happened to them, she’d never forgive herself.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Fanny said. “I’ll go look for them.”

  “And I’ll go look for Isodora,” Prudence said. “She’ll be easy to track now.” With one last withering look at Fanny, she disappeared out the door.

  “Always thinks she knows best. Always thinks she can do everything herself,” muttered Fanny. “Pansy, come help me find your brothers.”

  Briar tried to stand again, but her legs wouldn’t support her.

  “Stay put. Pansy and I will visit all their favorite spots in case the boys got lost in the dark.” She lit the lantern.

  Henry started for the door. “I’ll go home and get my parents to spread the word. We’ll have everyone in the valley looking for them. I’ll come back with the wagon for Briar.” With an encouraging squeeze to Briar’s shoulder, he sprinted into the night.

  Briar stood up and took tiny, shaking steps forward to follow Fanny and Pansy outside, but Fanny stopped her.

  “You need to stay here in case the boys come home.”

  “I can’t. I have to help. Pansy can stay and wait.”

  Fanny took Pansy’s hand and walked her to the door. “No, dearie. I need her to show me all their hiding places in case they simply fell asleep after such a busy day. You stay here. Your legs aren’t strong enough yet.”

  “But—”

  Fanny paused at the threshold. “If the boys come home, bang on a pot so we know we can stop the search.” And with that, they were gone.

  Briar couldn’t just sit there and do nothing! She set to work lighting candles and putting them in the windows as beacons for the boys. Her legs refused to respond to her commands to move faster. Instead, she walked as if through mud, fighting for every inch.

  Finally, Briar set the last candle in a window, grateful that her legs had grown stronger with each step. She moved a chair into the doorway to keep watch. It was a dark night. Even the fireflies weren’t playing in the trees. She strained her eyes, looking for any sign of movement. Listening for the faintest of cries. Willing the boys to call for her.

  While Briar sat waiting, a touch of fog descended into the valley. She shivered as the breeze blew the mist into the yard and pulled at her feet. Adrenaline punched her heart.

  She’d seen this fog before. Isodora.

  Briar stood. She wants me to go to her. It’s not the boys she wants; it’s me. With hours to go until Briar turned seventeen, Isodora could still use her to break the curse. Briar started walking to the road to meet Henry and the wagon. Now she understood why Aurora was powerless to stay away from the spindle. Isodora could be very persuasive.

  Soon, the glow of a swinging lantern cut eerily through the fog. The disembodied form turned into legs, then the thick body of a horse, and then the welcome sight of Henry at the reins on his da’s wagon. Behind him, more points of light bobbed through the dark as more of the valley folk arrived to help. As they walked closer, Briar realized they formed a line and were slowly, methodically making their way through the tall grasses and undergrowth.

  Henry stopped in front of Briar. “What are you doing on the road?” He hopped down from the wagon.

  She swallowed hard. “I know where the boys are. I know where she wants me to go.”

  Chapter 42

  Briar rubbed her temples, trying to halt her growing headache and dread. She thought she’d spared her family another heartache, but it was not to be. This terrible ordeal was not over, but it would be tonight.

  “Isodora took them to the mill.” Briar heard her voice rise in panic. “She brought the boys to the spindle so I would go to her.”

  Henry blocked Briar’s path. “No, let’s think about this first. You can’t meet her on your own. We should wait until the others come back.” The flickering glow from the lantern warmed Henry’s face and danced in his eyes, but his set jaw told Briar he didn’t want her to run off alone to save the boys.

  Briar shook her head. “No, they’ll try to talk me out of it.”

  “And they’d be right. Briar, they can do things we can’t.” Henry looked angry. “Isodora wants you dead.”

  “I’m not afraid. I thought I was going to die before. I was ready to die. But I’m alive for a reason. It’s not fair for the boys to be caught up in Isodora’s schemes.”

  He took a deep breath, stared out into the forest. “It isn’t fair for you to be caught up in this, either. I should go and get the boys out.”

  “Can we talk about this in the wagon? Fanny and Prudence can find us later and try to talk me out of it, but we need to move now.”

  He rubbed the tension in the back of his neck. “Let’s go.”

  For being such a warm day, the weather had taken a quick turn to cold. Briar climbed up into the wagon with a boost from Henry. The breeze blew harder, as if trying to snatch away the breath she had finally regained.

  Henry settled beside her, his leg touching hers and his body blocking some of the wind.

  “Ready?” He reached for her hand.

  Briar welcomed his touch. She was still a bit shaky and could use some of his steadiness. What would they face when they got to the mill? Had Isodora hurt the boys? Briar squeezed Henry’s hand before he let go to hold the reins.

  The horses clip-clopped their way down the road, their hoof beats muffled by the fog, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. If people were calling ou
t for the boys, the fog was pocketing their voices before they reached her ears.

  “It’s good the horses know this route so well,” Henry said. “I can’t even tell where we are. If I had to lead them, we’d be stuck in the brambles by now.” Henry continued talking, trying to keep Briar’s mind off the trouble they were about to face.

  “I’m sorry, Briar,” Henry said again.

  “Stop apologizing. It’s Isodora. You were trying to end this for your family and for anyone else she would target. You saw something evil and you tried to destroy it. You didn’t create the spindle. Isodora did.”

  He squeezed her hand. “We will end this.” He clicked his tongue, urging the horses to trot faster.

  Soon they were on the outskirts of town. The buildings materialized out of the fog as if from nowhere. Few lights were shining in the windows at this time of night, so the town was mostly dark shadows as the carriage light passed by, lighting up the fog. The street lamps were mere points of light, but the closer they rode to the mill the dimmer the lights and the more shadowy the buildings.

  “I’ll go in and get the boys out to you,” Henry said, his voice like steel. “Once you put them in the carriage, head straight for home. Give the horses their head, and they’ll take you home to my folks. Don’t wait for me, I’ll be fine. It’s not me she wants.”

  “Henry, I think that’s the point. She won’t let you have the boys. If I don’t go in, she could hurt them.” Henry couldn’t be the sacrifice. Isodora didn’t want Henry. She wanted Briar. They both knew it.

  “Whoa,” Henry said, stopping the horses. He looped the reins on the wagon. “Briar, do you see that?”

  Her mouth went dry. “Yes.”

  They were parked in front of the gates to the mill yard, but you wouldn’t know it from what blocked their way. Thick, thorny vines had sprung up out of the sandy ground and had wound their way around the iron, barring anyone from getting near the gate, let alone the lock. The vines creaked and groaned as they continued to grow thicker and Briar watched in fascinated horror. What were they going to do?