The Dragon Princess: Sleeping Beauty Reimagined (The Forgotten Kingdom Book 1)

by Lichelle Slater

  Four

  Clad in only my undergarments and a sheer slip, I released my long blond hair from its braid and shook it loose. I dipped my fingers in the small box of crushed lavender before running them through my hair to freshen it. The crimp settled beautifully on my bare shoulders.

  Mother had thrown an absolute fit when we arrived back at the castle, Marigold covered in mud because she’d fallen on the banks. We’d laughed and tried to rinse it off to no avail. Mother told us how unladylike it was, and I’d let out a giggle when Dahlia made a mocking face behind her, which earned me a harsh glare from my mother.

  My ears picked up the sound of footsteps, and my heart jumped into my throat. Instinctively, I grinned and got to my feet, knowing it had to be Mother with my birthday dress.

  As predicted, there was a knock followed by my mother announcing, “I’ve got your dress!”

  “Come in.” I rushed over, but she pushed the door open before I could reach it.

  “What do you think?” Mother raised her hands and, with them, my dress, showing it off.

  My stomach sunk.

  It was pink.

  I expected green, the color of every previous birthday dress, the color that went with my hair and eyes, my favorite color. I told her I wanted it to fade from dark at the bottom to light up top. I’d asked for it to be decorated with rhinestones that would catch the light. I expected the dress of a woman.

  Pink.

  No rhinestones, no fancy lace, or even need for a petticoat. It was simple. Plain.

  This was a dress for a child.

  My mind scrambled to try and figure out why mother would arrange such a dress to be made for me. Had I done something to deserve a punishment? I’d never known Mother to joke. Did she intend this to be Dahlia’s dress? She’s the one who adored pink with all her heart. Or maybe this was the dress for the dinner and I’d get a proper ball gown for the celebration.

  “You don’t like it,” Mother said, her voice flat. She lowered my dress and tossed it onto the bed. “I hoped I would surprise you with the latest fashion. Clearly I was wrong.”

  “It’s pink,” I blurted before I could bite my tongue.

  Mother’s brown eyes stared at me like the cold eyes of a painting. Her lips pinched.

  “It’s just not what I was expecting,” I recovered quickly. “I do love it.”

  A lie.

  “If you don’t want it, don’t wear it.” Mother turned on her heel and marched out the door.

  The tang of anger burned the back of my tongue.

  Dahlia’s birthday cake two summers ago was a lavender, six-tier, vanilla and raspberry cake. My dessert last year was a collection of bite-sized desserts, such as miniature pies, cookies, and brownies. Mother had insisted she’d ordered different kinds of desserts to give me a variety and to please all of the guests who visited the “crown princess.” I’d made the mistake of asking where my cake was. I’d been politely removed, scolded for being ungrateful, and then locked in my room the week after my birthday celebration to read Proper Behaviors of a Queen.

  Tonight, like many times before, I wondered if she knew I would never make it past my eighteenth year, never be the queen.

  Her fears would be confirmed now that black scales adorned my hands.

  I walked over to the dress and touched the fabric. Silk. I wondered if the silk had been imported from Zelig or the northern countries. Was it spider silk? Caterpillar silk? Or could it have come from the silk trees in the Weeping Woods of Arington?

  Wherever Mother had purchased it, my black hand stood out starkly against the pink.

  It’s your last birthday. This is what she gives you?

  I squeezed my lips together until they hurt. My heart twisted. I could wear my new dress and please my mother, as I had every day of the last seventeen years of life, or I could choose one of my previous dresses—a faux pas in any royal court.

  Do what you want for once in your life.

  I walked to my closet and whispered, “Allul.”

  The torches lit, showing the dresses that lined each wall. I wouldn’t wear the dress I’d worn to the autumn or winter balls, it was too soon, and I couldn’t wear the dress from the spring ball last year because certainly Princess Tavia, the princess of Zelig, would remember and make a comment. I needed something none of them would have seen before, or at least not in a while.

  I ran my fingertips along the dresses, taking time to caress the fuzzy velvet, bumpy lace, cool cotton, and slippery silk until they rested on the lovely sensation of raised fabric. I pushed the dresses apart to reveal the most colorful dress I owned. Orange, yellow, and brown pieces of fabric gathered under the bodice and flowed outward. It wasn’t at all what I expected to catch my eye. I’d wanted it made for the autumn ball in September, but Mother didn’t want me to clash with Dahlia and Marigold’s happy yellow dresses and had a different one made.

  Without hesitation, I took it off the hanger and slipped it over my head. It was everything I never typically wore—no sleeves, layers of fabric that flowed and stretched to the ground, and no petticoat needed. Princess Ismae of Arington would have been very proud to have it in her court last year, and maybe I would have caught her brother Keltin’s eye.

  The thought made me blush.

  Keltin would never throw a second glance at a cursed princess.

  Perhaps Mother disapproved because it would draw too much attention, and attention meant a risk of people seeing my new hands. But I wanted something to catch everyone’s attention tonight. I wanted to be different. For once, I wanted to find me.

  I looked at myself in the mirror and grinned.

  I heard a scoff. “You’re not wearing that are you?”

  I looked over my shoulder and put my hands on my hips. “I think I am, Marigold. Do me up, will you?” I moved my hair out of the way so she could button the back.

  But she didn’t move. “No way. That’s not springy at all. You have to wear something bright and fun!”

  I rolled my eyes. “This has orange and yellow.”

  “And brown. Gross.” She made a gagging noise.

  I rolled my eyes and faced her. “Well, it’s barely January, and I’m not wearing pink!” I gestured dramatically to the dress lying on my bed.

  Marigold gasped and ran over to it. “Why not? It’s lovely!”

  “Pink is Dahlia’s color. Not mine.” I glanced again at my reflection, my stomach sinking. Marigold was right. This dress would make me stand out for the wrong reason. It was an autumn dress, not something appropriate for the crown princess of the spring kingdom.

  I wiggled the dress over my head and replaced it where it belonged. I’ll never get to wear it, I thought miserably.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Marigold said.

  “What’s that?” I didn’t mean to sigh and sound annoyed, I just really didn’t want to wear a pink dress with absolutely nothing charming about it.

  Marigold walked over and held it up to me. “Put it on.”

  “Marigold …”

  “Just do it!”

  Once I had it on, even I had to admit it didn’t look that bad. It hugged my body, but the material flowed beautifully. There was even a little bit of a train on it. Had it been any other color …

  “What’s your great idea?” I asked.

  “Come on.” She took my hand and dragged me through the castle, using the back hallways instead of the normal route. “We’re going to take you to Jarrett.”

  “The old wizard? Why?”

  “Just trust me, okay?”

  “How are we going to get there? He lives at the edge of the city—”

  Marigold halted. “Do you want to be stuck in a pink dress or not?”

  “Well … no,” I admitted.

  She nodded once and confidently led me outside, right to Dahlia who stood
with her arms folded and foot tapping, looking very much like our mother.

  “And where are you two escaping off to?” She eyed my dress.

  “None of your business.” Marigold skirted around her.

  “We’re supposed to be preparing for the ball!” Dahlia snipped, trying to grab Marigold before she could escape.

  Marigold easily darted away and hollered over her shoulder, “And we are! We’ll be home in time for the celebration!”

  Dahlia narrowed her eyes at me. Again, her gaze moved down and back up. “Well I’m going with you, or I’m telling Mother. Why are you wearing a pink dress?”

  I sighed. “Mother had it made for me. It’s to be my gown tonight.” I ran my hand over the front and grimaced. I’d forgotten gloves. “Marigold thinks Jarrett will help.”

  “Ooh, that’s a good idea.” Dahlia relaxed and stepped aside so we could walk down to the stables together. “Didn’t you tell Mother what you wanted in a dress?” She gave me a sideways glance. “She always asks us.”

  “Yes, I was very specific. I wanted flowers on it, layers of color, rhinestones, and no sleeves.”

  Dahlia nodded. After a brief moment of silence, she softly said, “I’m sorry Mother always treats you differently.” Her words surprised me. I didn’t know either of my sisters had noticed.

  “What else would you expect for the crown princess?”

  “I think it’s also the curse. I think she’s afraid and doesn’t know what to do, so she thinks having higher expectations will prevent you from transforming.”

  We arrived at the stables, and Philip was already walking out with a single horse-drawn carriage. He cleared his throat a little, and the embarrassed blush returned to my cheeks. I hid my hands behind my back.

  “I should escort you,” he said.

  “But you won’t,” Marigold said with finality. She motioned for Dahlia and me to get up into the carriage. “I know where to go.”

  “How?” I asked, getting into the front seat beside her.

  Dahlia climbed up on her opposite side.

  She smiled. “I’ve been learning about magic.”

  I arched my brow. “You know how to use magic?”

  Marigold’s smile fell. “No. But I’m learning about how to identify enchanted objects. I think I might be able to collect some. It’s only for fun.”

  Philip handed me the reins, much to Marigold’s chagrin, but he dropped them when he saw my hands. He took an abrupt step back, and my throat tightened as if he’d grabbed it. I snapped the reins, urging the horse forward and away from Philip.

  We barely made it around the castle before Marigold snatched them from me. I’d never driven a carriage. I doubted she had either, but she was far more experienced with horses than I was.

  “Tell me more about your plan?” Dahlia asked, and I was grateful neither of them said anything about Philip being disgusted by me.

  “Wizards have magic. Magic that can change things.” She smiled up at me as if she were the most brilliant person in the world.

  I gave her a hug because, in that moment, she was the brilliant one.

  We arrived and clamored off the carriage. Luckily Jarrett wasn’t busy and allowed us into his humble wooden home splattered in once-green paint and half overgrown with vines. His beard nearly reached the floor, and his back hunched over, but his eyes sparkled with youth.

  “What can I do ya fer?” he asked, smacking his lips.

  “We need you to change Elisa’s dress,” Marigold said.

  “What kinda wizard are ya thinkin’ I am?” He filled his cheeks with air and furrowed his bushy brows.

  Marigold put her hands behind her back and sweetly moved her shoulders left and right. “A very wise one. You’ve shown me how powerful you are.”

  He blew the air out and turned his full attention to me. “I can give ’er a try. What’n ya wantin’?”

  I described what I wanted—a flowing gown with sparkles and color. Without warning, he jabbed his crooked thumb into my forehead.

  “Owe! What was that for?” I rubbed the sore spot hastily. “That better not leave a mark for tonight!”

  “Relax, Princess.” He held his hand up, and I realized there was a small orb of light between his thumb and index finger. He hobbled to the rickety table and dropped the orb into a bowl.

  I leaned on my toes to try and see what he was doing, but his shoulder was in the way. Dahlia, Marigold, and I exchanged silent looks and shrugs while we heard the man whisper something.

  He turned and threw the orb at me. It struck my dress and the material began to glow. “Naw think what yer wantin’.”

  “Make sure it’s got blue!” Marigold said.

  “And pink, just a little.” Dahlia chimed in.

  I tried to envision what I wanted while the fabric shifted and took on new shapes.

  “It would look cool with blue and pink,” Marigold said to Dahlia, though loud enough for me to hear.

  “Oh and a splash of green!”

  “All of our favorite colors!”

  They both giggled. And then they gasped.

  I looked down at myself, and my eyes widened in horror.

  “Well …” the wizard Jarrett rubbed his chin. “You like?”

  The dress looked like I had gone into an art studio and allowed Marigold to throw paint at me. Pink, green, and blue splotches were everywhere, and where the colors overlapped there were even purple hues. The bottom of the dress had taken on various layers of these same colors, but it was broken up by a hem of white flowers that reached upward on my right side.

  “That’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen,” Dahlia gasped.

  I looked at my sisters and saw both of them were mesmerized.

  Marigold clasped her hands in front of her and squealed as she jumped up and down. “Oh, you look perfect, Elisa!”

  “Everyone is going to stare,” Dahlia insisted.

  “I suppose we should get to the ball,” I said, running my hand over the light fabric.

  Marigold giggled. “Mother is going to be so mad.”

  My heart leapt with giddy excitement. I’d defied my mother. And I didn’t care.

  Five

  By the time we arrived back at the castle, the sun had begun to set, and I knew guests were already gathered in the Great Hall waiting for us to be announced. Likely, Mother was running around, frantically trying to find us. The entire ride back, I hadn’t been able to keep from running my hands over the gown. Even under the fading light of the sun, it was miraculous. Instead of rhinestones, it somehow glistened like tiny stars trapped in the fabric.

  We dropped the carriage off with Philip, who gave me a once-over like I might bite him, and Marigold led the way as we slipped through the kitchen doors. The smell of seasoned potatoes, sweet chicken, vegetables fried in oil, and all sorts of other foods and desserts washed over us. The cacophony of smells made my stomach rumble.

  Abby, the head cook, pushed past servants, her face red from the exertion of the task of preparing such a large feast. Everyone, even extra hands, were furiously at work. “Your mother has been searching for you three for the past hour! Where have you been?” Her tone wasn’t scolding but worried. She grabbed the towel on her belt and wiped her forehead.

  “Don’t worry, we’re here now,” Dahlia chimed.

  “And everything smells wonderful,” I added.

  Dahlia gave my back a nudge, and we rushed through the kitchen, down the hall, and up a back staircase. After all, we had to be presented at the top of the grand staircase. When we entered the hallway at the top of the grand stairs, three servants stood side by side with pillows in their hands and crowns upon the pillows.

  “Where were you?” the first servant gasped. Her eyes darted to her right. “Your mother—”

  “We know,” Marigold interru
pted. She fluffed her hair and faced us. “Is everything in order?” She gestured to herself.

  After we checked each other to make sure we were all satisfactory, we faced the servants and stepped forward so they could place our crowns on our heads.

  Marigold’s crown was a simple golden band that looked like small vines of new leaves entwining all the way around her head. Dahlia’s was the same but had beautiful little flower buds on it. My crown had large leaves adorning it with little purple stones in the centers of each flower. The stones were representative of the spring stone, a magical stone once in possession of the faeries.

  Mother rushed around the corner. “Where have you three been?” She crouched in front of Marigold and ran her hand down her cheek. “You’re safe?” She reached out and took Dahlia’s hand. “Not a scratch on you?” She examined them, including their dresses. “No speck of dirt.”

  “No, Mother.” Dahlia pulled away with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “We are fine. All of us are fine.”

  Mother straightened and looked at me. Her cheeks grew red, and her eyes narrowed. At first, her mouth opened, clearly to scold me, but eyes widened when she saw my dress. “What happened to your dress?”

  “Isn’t she lovely?” Marigold grabbed part of my skirts and held them out so Mother could see all of the colors. “That’s where we were, you know. We had to go and meet with Jarrett, the wizard. Her other dress was just too boring for her birthday celebration, so we had him fix it!”

  I might have been the only one who saw Mother’s expression sour. But I smiled and acted like I hadn’t seen it. “It is rather unique. Just like I wanted.”

  “You could say that,” Mother replied blandly. She then tugged off her gloves and held them out. “Put these on. Everyone is waiting. Your father is already out there in the crowd keeping everyone calm.” She sauntered past us, though the doorway, and to the top of the grand staircase. She leaned over the railing to tell the herald to begin announcing us.