Five Magic Spindles: A Collection of Sleeping Beauty Stories

by Rachel Kovaciny

  “Who goes there?” called the gatekeeper.

  Martin answered, “Prince Edmond of Stone Haven.”

  There followed a creak and groan as the guardsmen raised the portcullis, and they rode through into the courtyard.

  “I’ll take your horse, sir,” a boy said, shouting above the tumult of rain and thunder. Edmond relinquished the reins to him as he dismounted. His boots sank into mud, and the wet wool of his cloak clung to his shoulders as he followed a guard across the wide courtyard. The guard hauled on an iron ring set into one of the heavy doors; and as it opened, sounds of music and revelry spilled into the miserable night.

  Eager for shelter from the rain, Edmond strode inside and paused just beyond the threshold to peel off his dripping cloak. He wished he might remove his boots as well, but the thought of vermin in the rushes on the floor dissuaded him.

  A dozen or more men seated on benches around the hall ate steaming pottage from trenchers and drank spiced ale. In one corner, a minstrel played a lively tune on his lute; a few soldiers joined their voices with his.

  Soon after Martin entered, carrying their packs, the chamberlain, a portly man with receding hair and beady eyes, appeared and welcomed them. He directed a page to lay their cloaks by the fire to dry, and said, “Your Highness, we are honored by your presence tonight. Do you intend to travel through Timber Vale, or do you pass along our border?”

  “We will travel though. I desire to see if the legends about the sleeping princess are true.”

  The small man’s head bobbed as if his neck were a spring. “Oh yes, sir. They are true—though it is unlikely you will see her. Regardless, the Lady Regent wishes us to offer hospitality to all foreign princes, so I’ll give you food and lodging for the night with her great goodwill.”

  “Lady Regent?” said Edmond with some surprise. “What has become of Lord Galloran?”

  A shadow seemed to pass over the chamberlain’s face. “He died recently,” he said, but something in his voice implied there was more to the tale, perhaps something sinister. “His daughter, Lady Rhoswen, is now regent of this land.”

  Edmond nodded. He had heard of Lady Rhoswen before now: Lord Galloran’s beautiful russet-haired daughter. He wondered if she would prove as iron-fisted as her father had been, and how she would view any attempts to break the curse on the sleeping princess, for surely it was not in her best interest.

  “On the morrow,” the chamberlain continued, “you must journey to White Thorn Castle and present yourselves to her.”

  Although he disliked the highhanded tone of this statement, Edmond nodded politely. When the chamberlain bowed and left to see to their dinner, Edmond strode over to warm himself at the massive hearth, standing with his back to the fire and keeping a wary eye on the soldiers around them. Martin sat on a bench nearby and leaned back against the stone wall, but Edmond knew that he, too, would stay alert.

  Soon, a girl with a tattered dress and downcast eyes brought trenchers of pottage and jugs of ale. She set the food on a table near them and slunk away. As they sat down to their meal, the chamberlain returned to inquire after their comfort. Before he left, Edmond asked, “What can you tell me of Lady Rhoswen?”

  With a small nod, the chamberlain said, “She is all things lovely and wise, though she is well over a century in age. ’Tis said she drinks a fairy potion to keep young so that she might guard our kingdom until the sleeping princess may take her throne.”

  Edmond kept his voice light and pleasant. “And Lady Rhoswen will relinquish all her power if the spell is broken?”

  “Yes, for such has always been the desire of the good lady’s heart. The princess is her very own cousin, and she loves her as a sister. Indeed, it was well known that Lord Galloran wanted nothing more than to take her life and thus become king, for the chains of law fettered his power as regent, but Lady Rhoswen has protected her all these long years.”

  “She sounds a good and worthy lady,” said Edmond, keeping his doubts to himself.

  After eating, Edmond and Martin wrapped themselves in thin blankets provided by the chamberlain and lay near the dying embers in the fireplace of the great hall. Because of his nobility, a cot was found for Edmond, with a goose-down mattress and even a linen sheet, but Martin was left to sleep on the rushes.

  Long after Martin fell asleep, Edmond stared at the vaulted ceilings above him, thinking. The people here believed in magic, even as Martin did. But could there really be a regent who never aged and a princess that never woke?

  Chapter 3

  THE LANDSCAPE BEFORE ARABELLA swirled with images and colors, but one spot of clarity remained fixed before her: a man’s face, half illuminated by firelight. His features were carved in noble lines, though his skin was darkened and weathered by sun and wind. He was accompanied by an older man seemingly fashioned of leather and stone, who treated him as his master. From the obsequious bows of the chamberlain, she knew that the younger man was a lord—perhaps even a prince.

  And all of her hopes rested on him.

  Would he survive the treacherous journey through Briar Fen? Perhaps, for he looked to be made entirely of sinew and steel. Only two other men had ever made it to the castle. One had been carried off by the dragon as he tried to find a way through the thorns. Arabella had watched helplessly from her dream window, unable to call to Lona to help him. The other man had made it as far as her chamber, and Lona suspected he had come through the tunnel, though how he had known of it they never learned. He had certainly not come through the thorns.

  She had only known he was coming when she heard the scrabble of loose stones disturbed on the stair and the heavy tread of boots across the floor. Lona came and went with sure steps that fell like a whisper, so Arabella had instantly known that a stranger approached her.

  She cringed, remembering the indignity and helplessness she had felt as hard lips rammed against her own, bruising them. Paralyzed yet fully aware of the smell of sour breath and stale sweat, she had wished for the first time that she might actually be as dead to the world around her as she appeared. But it was her curse to experience every dragging, eternal moment of the century as it passed, eternal moment of a passing century, and every discomfort of a kiss so desperately unwanted.

  When his first kiss did not awaken her, the man had tried again, sure that success must only require a different technique; but still the enchantment remained upon her. Apparently he then remembered the requirements of the spell, for he’d said, “O beautiful princess, I do truly love you with my whole heart and soul,” then kissed her again. She was as helpless against that as she was against the ringing slap he had dealt her cheek when she didn’t wake up.

  Lona had burst into the room then in a fury of words and magic. She’d turned him into a fish and released him into the murky water of the fens. There, Arabella knew, he would spend the rest of his life hiding from the herons and snakes that stalked the shallow waters in search of easy prey. In her opinion, it was the perfect fate for such a man.

  “Where is he now, Your Highness?” Lona asked from behind her.

  Arabella turned to her. Lona had changed little in all this time. She was as dainty and spry as most fairies were (or as they started out, anyway), and though she was half out of her mind from her hermitic existence, her eyes still sparkled with an intelligence and pragmatism that had helped spare Arabella’s own sanity.

  “In the keep at the edge of the forest,” Arabella said.

  “Do you think he is a nobleman?”

  “He is highborn, though he is no stranger to work or to battle, I believe. As to whether he is noble . . . we shall see.”

  The next morning dawned bright, though the storm of the evening before had left its mark in the form of damp boots and clothing. After a loaf of rye bread, salted cheese, and a jug of ale to break their fast, Edmond and Martin readied their horses for the day’s ride. Though the stable boys had done a fine job of brushing mud from the horses’ legs and seeing them fed and warm, the two men p
referred to saddle up for themselves.

  A short while later they led their horses across the quagmire of mud and straw in the courtyard. The inhabitants of the keep barely looked their way, bustling about on their own business. Only the chamberlain wished them a good journey as they mounted on the open drawbridge and rode away.

  They followed the road that led through a village behind the keep and into the thick forest of trees bordering it on three sides. Edmond trailed warily behind Martin. His whole life had been spent on the sparse crags and slopes of his home, exposed to wind and sun but open to the freedom of the sky.

  Sparrows and finches flew and twittered around them, disturbed by their presence, while squirrels ran across their path and scolded them from the safety of high branches. Pale morning sun filtered through the branches of soaring trees, sending shafts of light between their columns. Edmond cast his awed gaze at Martin and caught a hint of pleasure upon the older man’s face as he took in the beauty around them with eager eyes.

  “It’s a wondrous place,” Edmond said in hushed tones.

  “Yes,” Martin said. “But like all beautiful things, it is dangerous as well. Stay on your guard.”

  “How far is it to White Thorn Castle?”

  “Only half a day’s ride. The keep guards the border. White Thorn Castle guards the fens.”

  “A grand castle to guard a marsh?”

  “The fenlands are rich with mystic power, and their springs are the lifeblood of our fertile lands.”

  “Tales describe the fens as a charming place, with quicksands and bogs and . . .”

  “Blood-sucking devilfish,” Martin added.

  “I cannot express how delighted I am that the sleeping princess lies in Briar Fen Castle.”

  “So you should be. Few people have dared go nigh the place, thus the princess remains undisturbed—almost as if she has been waiting for you.”

  Edmond narrowed his eyes at Martin’s teasing. “Perhaps the castle is closely guarded to hide the fact that the princess does not exist.”

  Martin shrugged and shook his head.

  They arrived at White Thorn Castle when the sun was high overhead. The castle itself burst upon their view suddenly because of the closeness of the surrounding forest. Its turrets soared among the trees’ uppermost branches, and their thick trunks appeared to support its walls. But while the trees were a rich tapestry of greens and browns, the stones of the castle were a brilliant alabaster white. Vines, ivy, and sprays of ancient roses climbed the walls and framed the shuttered windows.

  The road became smoother here as it crossed over a stone bridge spanning a quiet river and ended at the drawbridge of the castle. The great gates were open to those on the road, but entry was delayed as the guards carefully examined each cart and wagon lined up to get inside.

  “Let us ride ahead. They will not expect us to wait with the merchants,” Martin said.

  Edmond nodded and followed Martin in a weaving path around the wagons and carts. At the gate, a guard held up a hand to stop them. “State your name and business here.”

  Edmond did not wait for Martin to announce him this time. He gave his name and said, “I desire speech with the Lady Regent.”

  “I will inquire, Your Highness.”

  The guard waved to another to take his place before he set off through the bustling market of the courtyard and into the great hall of the castle. He was gone long enough that dozens of carts had moved in ahead of them, but at last he returned and motioned to a couple of stable boys. When he had approached near enough to be heard over the surrounding din, he said, “The Lady is pleased to see you. If you will come with me?”

  Edmond and Martin dismounted, turned over their horses to the waiting stable boys, and followed the guard into the great hall.

  There were few windows, so the hall was dim and cool. Edmond could just make out that the carved woodwork on the pillars and ceiling was designed to look like tree branches sweeping out in all directions and generously laden with wooden leaves, fruits, and flowers. Heavy tapestries depicting dancing fairies with blossoms in their hair hung on every wall. Elegant courtiers stood in clusters around the room, and all turned toward Edmond and Martin as they walked behind the guard, who led them down the hall to the raised dais at the end.

  A diaphanous pillar of light fell through a wide, glassed window in the ceiling, highlighting a mosaic depicting the stages of the moon, which was inlaid in the stone floor before the dais. Just beyond the light, Edmond saw the hem of a white gown and the tips of dainty gold slippers, but the rest of the figure was lost in shadow.

  Edmond knelt there on the mosaic before the throne with one hand on his sword, knowing full well that the lighting set him at a disadvantage. The Lady Regent was free to study him at her pleasure while he was kept in ignorance of her.

  “Prince Edmond of Stone Haven?” a sweet, refined voice said. She spoke with precision, lingering over the syllables of his name and title.

  “Yes, my lady. At your service.”

  “I have long waited for your father to send one of his sons.”

  “Indeed, my lady?”

  “Certainly. Ever since I declined to marry your father thirty years ago, I have expected this. He could not have this throne himself, but he intends to see a son upon it. You seek Princess Arabella, of course.”

  As Edmond’s mind struggled with this startling new information, instinct warned him to be cautious with this woman who may be guarding her throne jealously. “But surely the sleeping princess is no more than an old wives’ tale,” he said. “Would we not do better to seek stronger ties with the true power of the land?”

  “Your kingdom is not known to be content with alliances.”

  “I hope we have grown wiser, my lady.” Silence met his remark, but a lifetime in his father’s court had hardened Edmond’s fortitude. His face remained impassive.

  Lady Rhoswen leaned forward until the light revealed her face. Edmond’s breath caught at the youthful vision before him. Her skin was as pale and translucent as the light spilling over her, and every line of her face and form bespoke her noble heritage. Fine auburn brows arched as she caught his scrutiny. Then she whispered, “No. You do not seek an alliance.”

  Edmond kept his eyes steady on hers, giving nothing away.

  She stood abruptly, sending her guards and attendants into low bows. “I desire an audience with you, Prince Edmond.” She turned to walk behind a tapestry being held aside for her, and a guard with one hand on his sword motioned for him to follow her.

  Edmond hesitated, feeling he was safer while still in public view, but it was impossible to deny her request. A soft shuffle of feet at his back alerted him that Martin stood ready to follow, but Edmond held up a hand to signal him to stay. Edmond knew with sharp certainty that Lady Rhoswen intended this to be a private conversation.

  Behind the tapestry lay a cozy chamber where Lady Rhoswen sat in a large, cushioned chair. She was attended by several pretty young ladies with carefully downcast faces. After one of these handed her a silver cup, Lady Rhoswen asked, “Will you take refreshment, Your Highness?”

  “I would relish a drink, my lady.”

  Lady Rhoswen took a sip, eyeing him over the rim of her cup. When she lowered it, the wine had tinted her pale upper lip. He found it difficult to look away from the splash of crimson on her fair countenance as he thought of the youth potion she was said to drink.

  Handing her cup to the girl waiting behind her chair, Lady Rhoswen gestured with slender fingers to Edmond. As the girl brought him the cup, Edmond realized she intended him to drink from it.

  “Do not worry,” she said. “It is only wine. The Elixir of Abeyance is much too valuable to share.”

  After taking a drink, Edmond asked, “What is this elixir you speak of?”

  “It suspends my body in time. So long as I take it, my body does not age or change in any way.”

  “Making you immortal?”

  “No. The ingredients used i
n it are toxic and slowly poison the body over time—or all at once, if a careless hand prepares it. But having lived more than a century, I cannot think anyone would enjoy immortality for long.”

  Edmond finished the wine, and the girl who had given it to him relieved him of the empty cup. “Leave us,” Lady Rhoswen said to the girls, who curtsied and scurried out.

  When they were alone, she rose with languorous grace. “You are quite the noble specimen,” she said, inspecting him. With slow, floating steps she walked around him. Her finger brushed his shoulder, tracing across his back and down his arm. “So strong.”

  Edmond remained silent, but his nerves jumped. “No more so than any man.”

  “Humble too. Surely good characteristics for a king.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Lady Rhoswen took her chair again and drummed her fingers on its carved wooden arm. “If you desire a crown, there are alternate paths before you.”

  “Are there?”

  Her nod was slow and deliberate. “You interest me, young Edmond. It would be such a waste to throw your life away in a vain pursuit.”

  “And what pursuit is that?”

  “You cannot deceive me. I know you have come to find Arabella. But do you know the dangers ahead of you? The mires and thieves and dragons? You do not even come with a force of soldiers at your back.”

  “I thought you would be opposed to so many armed foreigners traveling across your land. And I have Martin, of course.” One of the lady’s arched brows lifted in question, so he enlightened her. “The guard your father, Lord Galloran, sent to my father in exchange for . . . other goods.”

  “Indeed? I did not recognize him. If you truly have one of my own countrymen with you, you will fare better than most. But you will fail in the end.”

  “Because there is no princess?”

  Lady Rhoswen laughed. “No. Because you cannot love her.”

  Edmond crossed his arms. “I have heard that you love her. How is it impossible that another should do so?”