Five Magic Spindles: A Collection of Sleeping Beauty Stories

by Rachel Kovaciny

  With a solemn nod, Edmond said, “I’m afraid it does.”

  “Well, so long as you understand that, I’ll let you begin courting her.”

  “But how?”

  “Questions later. Right now we need to see to those wounds.”

  She turned to leave, but Edmond said, “Wait. What is your name?”

  “Lona. Now don’t say you’re pleased to meet me or any of that other nonsense. I’ve no time for it. Come along.”

  The two men whispered behind her as she led the way to the kitchen. They must think she couldn’t hear them. So they thought she was mad. Well, maybe she was, but they’d soon learn that she knew what she was talking about just the same.

  In her sternest voice she said, “Come in, and we’ll get you cleaned up. I can’t have you bleeding all over my floor.”

  “I’d prefer not to bleed all over anything,” Edmond said. As he spoke, his sharp eyes roved around the room.

  “All this is worse than useless these days with only myself to feed,” Lona said, motioning to the cavernous kitchen.

  With his eyes still studying the various implements and oddments, Edmond said, “But amazing just the same. I have never seen anything like it.”

  Lona nodded, knowing that Briar Fen castle was one of a kind, built as it was against the stone of a cliff. The kitchen’s back wall was the cliff itself. Its vaulted ceilings soared overhead to allow the smoke and heat of many fires to rise above the army of cooks needed to feed a castle full of people. A small spring trickled out of the stone wall into an overflowing stone basin, wetting the floor all around before draining through a hole rimmed by flagstones. Wisps of steam rose from the basin, for it was a hot spring, the key factor determining the location of the kitchen when the castle was built.

  One of the four fireplaces was so massive that three men could stand comfortably within it. Dozens of fowl and even whole oxen could be roasted on spits across its coals. The once great kitchen no longer belched heat and smoke or clamored with the work of a dozen cooks, but when Lona sat on her stool in the evenings, eating her solitary meal beside a meager fire, the ghosts of the past crowded around her.

  Life emanated from these two men, however. The strength and vibrancy of their presence was a welcome but unsettling change in her world.

  Needing action, Lona filled her cauldron from the spring and swung it over the fire. She threw in some herbs—thyme, cloves, yarrow, and calendula. “Hurry up and boil.”

  “What was that?” Edmond asked, looking up from pulling off his boots.

  “I wasn’t talking to you. Now strip off your clothing please.”

  The men eyed each other uneasily.

  “What are you afraid of?” she asked, fetching clean linen rags.

  “Many things,” Edmond said. “I’m not yet sure if you’re one of them.” Then slowly, as if reluctant to admit his need, he added, “But I do long to be clean and dry again.”

  Handing them the rags and several lengths of linen, Lona directed them to the basin of hot spring water. “You’ll find soap on the rock ledges above the basin. When you’ve scrubbed off the mud, I will tend to your wounds.”

  She then turned back to her cauldron, which was already bubbling, since the water had been hot to begin with. Now that it was infused with healing herbs, she ladled some into a clean bowl to cool then glanced over at the men. Gauntlets, jerkins, and tunics had dropped to the floor, and they vigorously scrubbed at their skin and dumped buckets of water over their heads. Though they were mostly hidden by shadow, Lona still blushed at the sight and looked away.

  When they returned to the fire, clean and loosely draped in linen sheets, Lona examined their wounds. Edmond had only a few puncture marks on his back from the thorns and cuts on his forehead and cheek, but Martin had a deep cut on his side. It no longer bled, but it could easily get infected. Both men were also covered in bruises that would continue to darken, and one of Martin’s ankles was ringed with swollen red lines.

  Lona shook her head. “I guess I’m lucky I don’t need to reattach any of your limbs.”

  “Could you?” Martin asked, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

  Lona blushed. “No. Like I said, isn’t it lucky I don’t need to?”

  She carefully cleaned their cuts with the herbed water to prevent infection then told them to stand still. With studied care she pulled her wand from her hair where she’d stashed it for safekeeping. Directing it toward their worst wounds, she sent out a blast of energy to seal them. It was the surest way of healing she knew, so she ignored their gasps and groans.

  “That is amazing,” Edmond said, running his finger along his cheekbone where his cut was now closed. “Why bother with medicine when you could heal all our wounds with magic?”

  Lona carefully applied a salve to the smaller cuts on Martin’s arms. “Because it isn’t worth the cost. Don’t you know anything about magic?”

  “Very little,” Edmond said.

  “It drains her life to use it,” Martin said.

  Lona narrowed her eyes at him. “You know all about it, do you? Then you should know what a gift I gave you just now. All living things possess within them a portion of spirit, or energy. Fairies are born with an abundance of this energy. We are able to use this well of power to act upon the natural world, but when we do so, it is spent and cannot be regained. We can live for centuries, but each use of magic shortens our life until it is gone and we are left shriveled and wasted. Death comes quickly after.”

  “Why use it at all?” Edmond asked, his shrewd eyes trained on her, bright with curiosity.

  With a smile Lona said, “Some fairies use it to gain power, to manipulate and enslave. Most of us use it to serve—to heal, protect, or cheer. We believe it is our calling in this world.”

  Martin stared into the fire, pensive. Edmond sat down on the stool, though it looked as if it could crumble beneath him, and stretched his feet toward the flame. “I never knew that dry feet were a luxury.”

  “In the fens they are. Your boots will take longer to dry than your clothes, and I want you to visit the princess this evening,” Lona said. “I will dry them for you.”

  As Lona fetched her wand from her hair again, Edmond held out a hand to stop her. “Nay, dear lady. I would not ask that of you.”

  Flapping a hand at him, Lona said, “Tut now. I give only what I feel is wise. Indeed, my sisters often mocked me for my parsimony. But I spare nothing in service of Princess Arabella.”

  Lona tilted her head to the side and considered how best to dry the leather boots. Then with a nod she twirled her wand slowly around them, concentrating hard, and brought forth each drop of water that had soaked into them. The droplets shimmered and spun in a whirlpool in the air until she flicked her wand and flung them against the hot stones of the hearth. They sizzled and steamed away. She did the same for Martin’s boots, pleased with the results. “You will need to brush the dust from them though.”

  “’Tis better than a show at the fair,” Martin said.

  “Of course it is, simpleton,” Lona snapped. “Do you dare compare me to a common magician?”

  “Only favorably,” Martin said, tugging at his nose.

  Mollified, Lona sniffed. “There are some who know a fair bit about herbs and minerals, though most are frauds. It takes a great deal of study to use such things safely. I mix a great many potions and elixirs myself. By using ingredients that hold the power of life within them too, I am able to use less of my energy.”

  “And what of your wand?” Edmond asked. “Does it hold its own power as well?”

  “No. We create them ourselves. They are enchanted to direct and store our magic. The spell costs us dearly, but we can strengthen the wand’s power with our tears and blood when they spill out so that none of our energy is lost.”

  Edmond nodded and sighed deeply. “It is a wonderful gift your kingdom has to be blessed with fairies. Stone Haven has no such gift.”

  “Few places do, and Timber V
ale is not as blessed as it once was. I am the last in the kingdom.”

  Martin looked up sharply at this. “But there were still half a dozen or so of your kind left when I was sent away.”

  Feeling her bottom lip tremble, Lona pursed her mouth tightly. Once her emotions were under control she said, “Even they are gone now, sacrificed for the sake of the kingdom, so Lady Rhoswen says. They aided the armies and saved failing crops, for the people had as much as they could bear with heavy taxes and little trade. But much of their magic was also used to aid Rhoswen as she hid from her father. Over the years, the fires and food and a dozen other things that might have been done by hand, leached their life away. It was the effort to train that infernal dragon that finished them off.”

  Drawing a shuddering breath, she caught the two teardrops spilling from the corners of her eyes with her wand then shoved it back into her hair. The two men’s faces were solemn in the flickering firelight.

  Edmond leaned forward, clasping his hands over his knees. “Dragons are not uncommon in my land, but I have never heard of one being trained. How did they do it?”

  “It’s a spell, of course. Dragons are intelligent creatures but fiercely independent. When Lord Galloran bargained with your father for a dragon, he commanded my sisters to create a spell binding the dragon’s mind to his. But when they realized that he meant to use the dragon to put an end to Princess Arabella, they stole the dragon and harnessed it to Lady Rhoswen instead, for after all, she was Arabella’s fiercest defender.”

  Lona sniffed but blinked back any threatening tears. “Rhoswen can see through its eyes and command it at will with no more than a thought. The spell is bound with a golden chain around its neck. But she has found that her control is not complete, for it fights against its captivity.”

  “I saw the chain you speak of. If it were removed, the spell would be broken?”

  “Yes,” Lona said. “There is always a way to break a spell, but never an easy one.”

  “No, getting a chain off a dragon’s neck would certainly not be easy.”

  Tired of standing, Lona sat on the floor between Martin and Edmond, and only then realized how far she had to crane her neck to look at them. “Now tell me about yourself,” she said to Edmond.

  Edmond straightened, and Lona remembered that he was not likely accustomed to being commanded like a servant. But he merely nodded his head and said, “I have had but one purpose in life, one given to me by my father. From the time I could hold a knife, I’ve been trained for this quest. My father wishes to unite this kingdom with ours through marriage.”

  “Such is the way of kings,” Lona said, nodding.

  “But I wanted nothing more than to try and to fail. My goal was to survive and find my freedom. I no more believed in a sleeping princess than I believed in true love. Clearly I was wrong about the first. I am left to wonder if I was wrong about the second.”

  “I pray you are, good prince, else my princess will never awaken.”

  “Martin has told me the story of the curse, but certain aspects of it intrigue me. I don’t know what is legend and what is real. Will you tell me the story from the beginning?”

  “That I can do. I’ve known Arabella since she first drew breath, for I and six other fairies attended the birth to make sure it went well. The queen had waited long to have a child, and she was fearful because of her age. The king asked us to ensure the safety of the queen and the baby. It was a long night, but the baby girl was born healthy and strong.

  “The king held a banquet to celebrate the birth and to thank us for our service. We were invited to eat at the royal table and were made her godmothers. After the dinner we each wished to give the princess a gift. I nearly walloped some of my sisters for the useless gifts they gave her.” Lona snorted. “She was already a pretty baby and a princess. She would be spoiled and petted enough, I thought, but they were determined to give her every perfection. It would have made her insufferable, so I intended to give her the gift of snoring.”

  Edmond burst out laughing, and Lona glared. “What? I tell you, it never did anybody any good to have no faults!”

  “I take it you changed your gift then, for she isn’t snoring now.”

  Lona briefly reflected on her disappointment and then said, “I was not given the opportunity. I was hiding behind a curtain, afraid of the reaction my sisters would have if they suspected my plan—for I was the youngest of them—when the ceremony was interrupted. Unbeknownst to us all, the king’s brother, Galloran, conspired against the new heir. He bargained with Sybil, a fairy who was old and feeble, withered of heart from her years of performing dark magic, to come to the feast and curse the princess. She entered the great hall, and before we knew her intent, she cursed the innocent baby to prick her finger on a spindle on her sixteenth birthday and die.”

  “Why did this fairy not kill her that day?”

  “No fairy can kill with magic, for magic gives life. They may, however, set into motion events that will lead to death.”

  “Why did the other fairies not force her to undo the curse? With so many there, you must have been able to compel her to do so.”

  Lona shook her head sadly. “When she spoke the curse, the hall erupted into confusion and the king commanded the guards to clap Sybil into irons. But the spell had cost her dearly. She dropped to the stone floor and withered before us until her last breath rattled from her throat. It seemed hopeless, but I could not bear the tears in the queen’s eyes and offered to do what I could to save the baby.

  “I conferred with my sisters, and we all agreed that the curse could be altered to put her to sleep instead of killing her. But Sybil’s curse was powerful. It had seeped deep into Arabella’s soul and carved itself in the lines of her fate. The best I could do was alter the chains of death into chains of a profound one-hundred-year sleep. Isemay, one of my fairy sisters, kept mumbling about true love’s kiss. I would have nothing to do with that, I tell you. Was there ever anything more foolish? But as I was pronouncing the spell, Isemay said those words behind me, and in my nervous state I repeated them before I knew what I was saying.”

  “A pity that happened.”

  “Yes. And such an uproar as there was! The king and queen were devastated that she would sleep for a hundred years, for they would not live to see her awakened. They had every spindle in the kingdom destroyed so that the kingdom had to trade for every scrap of new cloth and everyone quickly became ragged. Secure in their efforts, they thought all would be well, but on the days leading up to her sixteenth birthday, everyone grew nervous. Arabella was kept in the dark about everything because we did not wish her to live in fear, but we should have told her. If we had, disaster might have been averted.”

  Edmond leaned forward and asked, “How so?”

  “Rhoswen invited the royal family to stay at her father’s holding here in Briar Fen for the impending birthday. The King and Queen were desperate to do something and thought it the perfect place to guard her closely because it was the most fortified castle in the kingdom, being built into the stone ridge as it is. How could any of us have known that here, in a dusty, unused tower, was the one spindle left in the whole kingdom?”

  Edmond stood up and paced around the shadows of the room. “So Lady Rhoswen invited her here, and by chance Arabella came across a spindle. Has no one wondered at that coincidence?”

  Lona stood as well and felt the fabric of their tunics to see if they were dry. But as Edmond’s question sifted through her brain, she spun around to face him. “No. Lady Rhoswen has always protected Arabella. She learned of her father’s role in the curse when she heard him speak of it in a drunken rage. She was still a child and afraid to speak out against her father, and she told no one. Then, when Arabella fell into this cursed sleep, Rhoswen found the king and queen dying and discovered her father’s greatest betrayal: He convinced them to take a youth potion so that they might live to see their daughter wake, but he gave them poison instead.

  “Gal
loran took the regency upon their deaths, but he had lost his daughter’s loyalty. For over a hundred years Rhoswen and I have kept her safe from Galloran’s many attempts on her life.”

  “And yet Lady Rhoswen herself now conspires to murder her.”

  Lona’s heart sank and cold fear ran down her spine. “Yes. But how do you know this?”

  “I will tell you of my audience with Lady Rhoswen and my meeting with thieves in the fens, but right now I need to see the princess. There is a deep game afoot, and we must keep her safe.”

  Chapter 7

  LONA WALKED BEFORE HIM carrying a torch, and Edmond carried a pail of hot water from the spring. The fairy wished to bathe the princess’s face, which seemed an odd thing to do at that moment, but he was content that they would be near her. Foreboding ran through his veins.

  Once they entered her chamber, Lona directed him to light a fire on the shallow hearth. As he did so, she plucked a few roses from the vines on the walls and pulled the petals from them. After dropping these into the water, she bathed the princess’s face and neck. “It gets very dusty in here,” Lona said as she worked. “She feels everything that touches her and cannot stand the dust since she is unable to brush it away.”

  “How do you speak to her?” Edmond asked, beginning now to believe that she might really be able to do it. “With magic?”

  “Yes, but not my own.”

  With the fire now caught, Edmond walked over to the bed. “Will I be able to speak to her?”

  “I see no reason why not, though I do not know for certain. Lady Rhoswen would never try.”

  “Does Lady Rhoswen visit often?”

  “No. A few times a year perhaps. Though she was here only days ago, the same day you crossed the border into this land.” Lona waved a hand to stop him from speaking. “Do not ask me how I know. Ask her. It will give you something to speak of.”