by K. M. Shea
Sleeping Beauty:
Timeless Fairy Tales Book 8
By K. M. Shea
Copyright © K.M. Shea 2016
SLEEPING BEAUTY
Copyright © 2016 by K. M. Shea
Cover design by Myrrhlynn
Edited by Jeri Larsen and Bethany Kaczmarek
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historic events is entirely coincidental.
www.kmshea.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Curse Modification
Chapter 2: Briar Rose
Chapter 3: Princess Rosalinda
Chapter 4: Courtly Lessons
Chapter 5: The Magic Knights of Sole
Chapter 6: Carabosso
Chapter 7: A Show of Courage
Chapter 8: Return of the Enchantress
Chapter 9: Sleeping Beauty
Chapter 10: An Unexpected Outcome
Chapter 11: Crossing Carabosso
Chapter 12: A Happy Ending
Afterword
Chapter 1
Curse Modification
The magic users present for the christening of Princess Rosalinda Talia d’Avalas of Sole were a diverse bunch. The Veneno Conclave had sent an abnormally large number of them to the event. Usually only one or two magic users were sent as envoys, but today there were six—seven if Angelique counted herself.
It was not a show of favoritism but an attempt to boost a struggling country. Princess Rosalinda’s birth had been difficult, and it was unlikely her mother, Princess Alessia—the only child of King Giuseppe of Sole—would have another child.
Angelique watched the cooing princess, who happily gurgled in a cradle gilded with gold and popped her fat little hand in her mouth. Princess Alessia and Prince Consort Filippo stood behind the cradle, beaming with joy.
Sybilla, a fairy godmother, approached the cradle. The plump woman smiled down at the adorable baby and patted her head. “She shall be liked by animals,” Sybilla said. White magic fell from her fingertips, blanketing the baby like stardust.
Another magic user frowned—a young woman named Melody whose magic lay in music. She had been giving Angelique dark looks since she and Lord Enchanter Evariste arrived that morning. “Liked by animals? That’s a useless gift.”
Angelique glanced at the princess and prince consort to see if they had heard, but the magic users, lined up beneath royal banners and standards at the side of the room and a distance away from the royal babe, were out of earshot as long as they spoke in lowered tones.
A short, pixie-thin weather mage snorted. “It’s certainly better than your choice. It is beyond me how you think blessing the princess with the ‘voice of a nightingale’ will aid her in the future.”
Melody sputtered. “It is a perfectly reasonable gift—one that has often been granted to royal babes!”
“Indeed,” Melody’s friend, a shapeshifter, said. “It is much more customary, unlike your gift of courage!”
“Hear, hear,” Melody sniffed. “Courage is not a proper characteristic for a princess to have!”
“Ladies,” Lord Enchanter Evariste said. He hadn’t pushed back the hood of his black cape, so even Angelique couldn’t see the expression in his eyes, but the gentle downturned slope of his lips and the disappointed air to his silken voice expressed his opinion easily enough. “We have been gathered to celebrate the arrival of a future monarch, and each of us are to give her whatever gift we feel will help her the most. It is not our business to question one another’s blessings.”
“Yes, Lord Enchanter,” the other magic users murmured.
Angelique, proud of her master’s wisdom, removed her eyes from the gurgling princess long enough to sneak a peek of him.
Lord Enchanter Evariste was always a grand dresser, and today was no different. His black cloak—edged with blue—fastened at the shoulder with an elaborate wing-shaped pin. Underneath that, he wore black linen pants, a leather jerkin that buckled at the sides—dyed black and edged in blue to match his cloak—and white boots and gloves. He had provided a similar outfit for Angelique, though her colors were white and plum.
He glanced down at her and caught her staring. Embarrassed, Angelique stared at the ground and willed herself not to blush.
“Are you enjoying the christening, Angel?” Evariste asked.
She nodded. “It’s very beautiful.” She felt dwarfed by the immense hall in which they stood—a room encased with marble, fabulous tapestries, a red velvet carpet, and a vaulted ceiling painted with a sun motif.
Evariste nodded. “The royal family of Sole loves any excuse for a celebration.”
Sybilla, the fairy godmother, took her place on Evariste’s other side. “It’s your turn, Lord Enchanter. If I had your power, I would see if I could do something about her personality, or she’ll be an absolute bore.”
Evariste smiled—flashing his white teeth. “I’ve thought of something already.”
“Have at it, then. I’m anxious to end this ceremony and get going. There is work to be done, and this celebration will drag on if we don’t do something to end it.” Sybilla winked at Angelique.
Angelique hesitated, then smiled at the fairy godmother. It was rare for another high-ranked magic user besides Evariste to treat her with familiarity. Most still scorned her, even though she was now a proper enchantress-in-training.
“Don’t you agree with me, Finnr?” Sybilla asked.
Finnr—the only other male magic user besides Evariste who had come to the christening—grunted.
“I’ll be only a moment, Angel.” With another smile, Evariste swept off, his cape unfurling behind him like a pair of wings.
Evariste placed a hand on the princess’s cradle and exchanged a few muted words with the proud parents. He removed his gloves and lowered his right hand into the cradle.
Princess Rosalinda wrapped her fat baby hands around his pointer finger and giggled.
“She will be clever,” Evariste said. His blue magic flickered around him like ripples in a pond, brushing Princess Rosalinda’s skin.
Princess Alessia and Prince Consort Filippo bowed in thanks, but beyond them King Giuseppe raised a thick eyebrow.
“Well done, Evariste. That was craftily worded,” Sybilla praised when he rejoined them.
Angelique furrowed her eyebrows. Craftily worded? What did the fairy godmother mean?
“Traditionally, Angel, beauty or intelligence is the last gift given to a princess—it depends on the country and family into which she has been born,” Evariste explained.
“But Enchanter Evariste out-foxed some of the more dopey gifts our comrades granted the princess by giving not intelligence, but cleverness,” Sybilla said.
“How?” Angelique asked.
“Intelligence is, at its bones, the ability to learn well,” Evariste said. “But cleverness is the ability to apply intelligence. Understanding alone is no help if one does not apply it.”
Angelique nodded. “I see. Cleverness will be a great boon to the princess in the future, then.”
“Indeed,” Sybilla said.
The princess and prince consort turned to King Giuseppe. The stately king inclined his head to the magic users—thanking them—then opened his mouth to address the crowd.
The sunlight that streamed in through stained-glass windows dulled as sudden thunderclouds covered the sky. The glittering candles of the chandeliers were blown out by an icy, da
mp wind, and a set of giant doors were thrown open with such force they were almost torn off their hinges.
A man stepped into the darkened room with a hint of a smirk on his lips. His skin was alabaster white, his hair a shiny black, and he wore costly robes embroidered in black and gray. While he was handsome, it was a skin-deep shallow mask, for his eyes were dark as an abyss, and a red mark—the brand of those exiled from the Veneno Conclave—was carved into the skin of his forehead.
“Carabosso,” the weather mage gasped.
The utterance sent a shiver down Angelique’s spine, and she found it was suddenly hard to breathe. Carabosso had once been a promising magic user on the fast track to becoming a fairy godfather—perhaps even an enchanter. But after his schooling…he cracked.
He forsook all the vows he had made, all the promises to abide by the laws and rules of the Veneno Conclave, and had lashed out with his magic and killed an innocent.
The Veneno Conclave had excommunicated him, throwing him from their ranks and turning him into an outcast. They had also sealed his magic, but—if that were the case—how had he made his entrance?
Carabosso chuckled. “I’m hurt. How did it come to be that I was not informed of this wonderful celebration?”
Evariste hadn’t yet put his gloves back on, so Angelique could see his blue magic wrap around his fingers. “What are you doing here, Carabosso?” The usual gentleness and warmth that colored his voice was gone; instead it was as sharp as the blade of a sword.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come here so that I, too, might welcome little Princess Rosalinda to the world,” Carabosso drawled. He sauntered across the hall, approaching the golden cradle.
Sybilla strode in his direction. “Don’t you touch her—you fiend!”
“Sybilla, don’t!” the weather mage grabbed her by the arms and yanked her backwards. “Conclave law forbids the use of magic against him!”
Sybilla—despite her plump, motherly appearance—shook the weather mage off with ease. “Only if his powers are sealed.”
Angelique’s magic crept up her arms, and she found herself agreeing with Sybilla. As her cold, sharp magic tried to flare around the death grip she held on it, she highly doubted Carabosso was entirely sealed.
“Leave, Carabosso,” Evariste said. A blue ring of light flared to life beneath his feet.
Carabosso rolled his eyes. “You’re such a spoil-sport, Evariste. Fine, I will leave. But first, since all of you have, I ought to give the princess a gift.”
“No!” Prince Consort Filippo leaped in front of the cradle and unsheathed his sword.
Carabosso backhanded him, sending him flying. He hit a marble wall with an ominous crack.
Princess Alessia screamed. “Filippo!” She scrambled to pick up Princess Rosalinda, but Carabosso flicked his fingers at her and blew her backwards towards her husband.
“Magic Knights, assemble!” King Giuseppe shouted.
Carabosso titled his head back, laughed, and folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, yes. Please do assemble your little protectors.”
The Magic Knights grouped up and stalked towards Carabosso while Evariste threw his hands out in front of him and started murmuring, calling his magic to him so it pooled around his feet.
The act seemed to rob Carabosso of some of his nonchalance, for he leaned over the cradle and spoke very quickly. “All the gifts given to the princess shall indeed come true—she will be blessed with grace, a beautiful voice, great skill in dancing, and more. But! By her eighteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, and she shall die!”
During the pronouncement of the curse, Evariste shouted a word in the tongue of magic that crackled. Bolts of blue magic sizzled around Carabosso, but he was too late. A flicker of red magic had already dusted the tiny princess’s cheek, sealing her fate.
Carabosso grimaced under Evariste’s attack, but he still managed to laugh. He ran from the room—his robes streaming behind him and several Magic Knights of Sole chasing after him, shouting.
“Surround him!”
“Activate your shields!”
“Close off that gateway!”
The weather mage and the shifter mage gave chase as well, brandishing their magic.
Sybilla scowled at the golden cradle, where Princess Rosalinda now cried. “So much for his magic being sealed.”
“It, that, that’s impossible,” Melody stammered. Her blossom pink dress was wrinkled, and her eyes were pinched with fear. “He was publically banned and sealed. No one is strong enough to undo such a binding!”
“It seems that someone is,” Evariste said grimly.
“What do we do?” Melody asked.
Sybilla rolled up the sleeves of her powder-blue dress like a mother preparing to clean her cottage. “We undo the curse, that’s what.”
“But we can’t!” Melody clenched her hands over her heart. “We’re allowed to give only one gift each.”
Princess Alessia stood shakily, her eyes wet with tears as she retrieved her beloved baby—her only child—from the cradle. “Please, you must do something!”
Prince Consort Filippo was at her side in an instant. “We’ll give you whatever you want—but please, save her!”
King Giuseppe strode towards his daughter and son-in-law. “I want that creature captured and dragged back here!” His voice was quiet and low, but it sent more guards scrambling. He turned to address the magic users with the same quiet intensity. “Money, jewels, wealth—no expense will be spared for the one who removes the curse.”
“But we can’t help—six magic users is already far more than usually allowed. We’ll upset the balance if we use such powerful magic to help. We’ll have to call for another magic user from the Conclave,” Melody said.
“Pish-posh.” Sybilla rubbed her hands together. “We have taken vows to help those in need.”
“But the other countries will say it is favoritism,” Melody warned.
King Giuseppe frowned, making his angular face sharp and stormy. “My granddaughter was just cursed in front of me by a rogue mage, and you claim you can do nothing to help?”
“We will send for help from the Conclave—Evariste can use his magic and open a gate for us!” Melody said.
“It will take him time to secure a safe enough space as long as Carabosso is roaming around, and we haven’t hours to spare,” Sybilla snapped. “We have to modify the curse now, while it is still fresh.”
“But we have already given her gifts!”
“Both of you are correct,” Evariste said.
Melody blinked. “We are?”
“Stop with your puzzling words, Evariste, and spit it out,” Sybilla said.
“The curse must be modified as quickly as possible, but if we who have already given her a gift grant her another, it will have political repercussions. Unfortunately, it will also endanger the princess.” Evariste turned to face Princess Alessia and Prince Consort Filippo, who cradled their crying daughter between them. “Did you hear the wording Carabosso used? He tied it to the blessings we gave her. If we try to give her another, it is likely that the curse, layered into our magic as it is, will kill her.”
Princess Alessia turned white. “No!” she cried, caught halfway between hysterics and a swoon. “Rosalinda!”
The prince consort handed the baby off to the King of Sole—who rocked her with surprising expertise—then guided his wife away from the magic users. The king followed them.
“But,” Evariste continued, his voice gentle once again as he spoke to the mages. “It doesn’t matter, because there is one more magic user who can grant a gift.”
Sybilla and Melody stared at Evariste.
Finnr moved, reminding everyone he was still there. “Who?” he asked.
Angelique scanned the crowd of nobles and gentry, looking for the mage Evariste had alluded to. She was shocked when he placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Angel.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You cannot be serious, Lord Enchanter!” Melody said. “She is green and untrained—not to mention dangerous. You cannot possibly think of letting her alter the curse.”
“It is true that enchanters and enchantresses-in-training generally do not learn curse modification until they near the end of their apprenticeship, but Angel is a clever girl. She can handle it.” Evariste smiled down at Angelique with gentle affection, but at that moment Angelique did not feel pleased. She was instead filled with the desire to grab him by his fancy cloak and shake him.
“Um, Master, you may be, uh, over-estimating my abilities,” she said.
“Nonsense. He’s right—you’re more than powerful enough, my dear,” Sybilla said.
“Maybe so,” Melody spat. “But she’s an abomin—”
“Finish that word, and you’ll regret it,” Evariste said. The gentleness was gone again, and his voice was as icy and steely as it had been when he warned Carabosso.
Melody gulped.
Sybilla nodded in satisfaction.
Evariste smiled once more. “Come, Angelique.” He glided towards the king, princess, and her consort.
Angelique scrambled to keep pace with him. “Master Evariste?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t think I can do this.”
Evariste stopped walking and tilted his head. “You don’t believe you can do it, or you don’t think you should do it?”
Angelique nervously swallowed. “What if I hurt her?” she whispered.
“Oh, Angel.” He sighed with warm affection. “You would never hurt someone.”
“But my magic—”
“Is strong. Which is exactly what is needed at this moment.” Evariste placed a hand on her shoulder again. “You needlessly fear yourself because of your years at the academy. I wish I could take back all the hurt they inflicted upon you, but even I cannot undo the past. So you must be brave and look to the future. You will be an Enchantress one day, and, as magic users, it is our duty to aid the weak. Princess Rosalinda desperately needs your help, Angelique, or she will die.”
