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

by Lichelle Slater

That led me to wonder more about Gerard. Where would we live after we were married? Would I go to his kingdom? I paused mid-chew on my chunk of dried and seasoned deer meat I’d grabbed to snack on. He’d never been introduced as Crown Prince, which meant someone else was before him in line to the throne. Because of that, he would live with me. Perhaps he and I could get to know the kingdom a little better together.

  At lunch, I retrieved a small satchel of cheese, some crackers, and a little handful of dried berries. I hoped Tao was eating enough, and that thought alone caused me to stop and climb off his back.

  “You need to eat, Tao,” I said. “And this is the perfect time for me to stretch my legs.” I put my hands on my hips and leaned from one side to the other.

  He didn’t object, though he continued walking down the path.

  “Wait, where are you going?” I hurried after him. “You need to eat.”

  We turned down a bend in the road, and the ambiance of the forest suddenly changed. My fingertips prickled. The breeze changed directions. A meadowlark gently warbled somewhere in the distance, but there was something … special about this place.

  Tao’s ears shifted backward, and he slowed to a stop without my prompting. I didn’t understand what had prompted Tao to stop here, of all places, until I walked a few steps to see around the thick trunk of a tree. Although the road bent eastward, just beyond the trunk was a small pathway. Tao had stopped there and looked at me as though telling me to go that direction.

  It looked like no more than a game trail. Yet it beckoned to me.

  The instant my foot touched the trail, a rush of peace washed over me. Yes, this is the way, the voice in my head told me. I walked a few paces and looked over my shoulder at the horse. In the rays of the sunlight, he seemed to glow. And then I blinked and the mirage was gone.

  “Are you coming?” I asked.

  Tao shook his head with a snort and began to nibble on some pink flowers.

  I carried on alone. The worn stones on the path were organized in rows and each was the beginning of a long, leveled section. These created a natural staircase that had been covered after years of neglect. One section was ruined from obvious signs of mountain runoff.

  All around me, the tall trees gently swayed, their leaves shifting overhead. I was beginning to grow accustomed to the peace of the forest. I tilted my face up to the sun and let out a heavy breath, releasing stress with it.

  As I watched the trees move, I inclined my head. I felt no breeze. It wasn’t uncommon to see the trees ripple before a breeze touched my skin, but I didn’t feel a thing.

  A chill ran down my spine, and I stopped walking.

  My shoulders tightened and my gaze darted from the trees on one side of the path to the other. Only then did I hear their whispers. The human side of me wanted to turn around and flee, but the dragon side of me was instantly curious.

  The dragon side won out.

  Carefully, I began walking again. This time, I was more alert than before.

  I’d been raised on tales of trees that could talk, back in the days of faeries and dragons. I’d also heard faeries had once been able to speak to the trees. Perhaps the trees were excited about my presence. Somehow the lack of birds tweeting and other forest noises told me otherwise.

  In spite of their warning movements, I relished in the sounds of the trees.

  At the top of the small staircase, I turned to look the way I’d come. The path had curved around the front of a hill. I hadn’t noticed the path from below. Tao chewed on a mouthful of thick green grass, and lifted his gaze to me as if he’d felt it.

  I took the last step and faced the open space before me. The knee-high grass was being over taken with spindly weeds, and flowers poked up here and there. Everything was still, once again confirming there was no breeze.

  Beyond the open meadow stood a large, beautiful ivory building.

  I didn’t need to be a fae to see this building must have been significant.

  The alabaster wood had aged and had nearly been reclaimed by the vines engulfing half the building, but it still stood out from the dark trunks of the spruce and pine trees. I couldn’t recall having ever seen a building more beautiful. Like the castle I’d grown up in, the windows were tall and narrow, closing to a point at the top. Most of the panes were missing or broken. The frames of the windows had been carved to look like a spiraled rope. No, vines, and now and then leaves poked out. The edges of the roof were also carved, and the roof itself curved into a low dome with a spire at the top.

  The building had clearly been abandoned.

  From the carvings of leaves on the askew doors, knots of wooden symbols between the windowpanes, and mere architecture, I knew this had once been a fairy cathedral. I tentatively approached, mesmerized by the vines guiding their way along the gaps in the wood like the veins of a hand.

  The door sat ajar, beckoning me to enter.

  I halted at the threshold. My heart clenched. My throat tightened.

  The faeries had run away from their homes, their lands, their places of worship.

  I was the cause of their fleeing to safety.

  I was responsible for their deaths.

  I couldn’t bring myself to step inside. I was unworthy to be there. Tears stung my eyes. I didn’t want to be disrespectful or irreverent. If there were any fairies here, would they even show themselves to me?

  I wiped at my tears and turned away.

  Don’t go!

  “Oh hush,” I told myself.

  The faeries could have a magical spell on the place, making it appear as though it’s abandoned, to keep it hidden from the world. You’ve come so close!

  It was true. This was the closest sign I had to faeries even existing in the first place, aside from the stories I’d been told my entire life. If the faeries had seen me as I traveled, they likely would have avoided me—if they knew I was the cause of their suffering.

  The black space in the doorway called to me, like when you stand at the edge of a dark pit and something feral inside you tells you to leap.

  I drew a deep breath and followed my feet across the threshold.

  The trees went silent.

  A huge weight pressed in on me as if my mother’s eyes were watching my every movement. I reached out and gripped the frame of the door, feeling the brittle wood break under my fingernails. The sunlight behind me lazily peeled away the darkness, allowing my eyes to adjust to the sudden dimness. To my right, the room was far more narrow than it appeared outside. Rows of broken benches lined the path to the stone altar, and light shone on it from the broken panes. Had it not been for the domed roof and intricate carvings, one might have argued its purpose had once been that of a greenhouse.

  I wet my lips, taking in the weeds that had broken through the stone floor and the wooden benches that had been reclaimed by the roots of trees. In my mind’s eye, I could see faeries garbed in glittering robes, sitting in the chairs, singing words to songs I didn’t know, giving their offerings on the altar before a priest.

  Their entire culture had been lost to us.

  I turned to my left. A shallow space I assumed had once been a pond was now bone dry. The sunlight glinted off golden frames. I stepped into the darkness and turned to look at the paintings on the walls to my left and across the room. Most paintings were images of people or places.

  One painting in particular caught my attention. Hidden beneath the vines, a lavender eye peered out. I walked around the dried pool, branches and leaves snapping and crunching under my feet. I tugged the vines away to reveal the image hidden behind it.

  Stunning lavender eyes looked back at me with such intensity I staggered backward. She could have been real. The woman sat straight, but she looked more regal than a queen. Even in the painting, she had an air of grace. Her long blond hair was braided on the left side, her dress was silver and white,
and her hands rested on the pommel of a sword with a purple stone set in the hilt.

  My heart jumped. That had to be the spring stone.

  The stories of the faeries didn’t do the painting any justice, and I doubted it truly captured the real beauty of the mysterious woman.

  The sound of something hitting the ground made me jump, and I wheeled around to survey the room. No dust appeared to be settling from the ceiling, there were no new holes, so the roof hadn’t fallen. No trees had broken or benches had collapsed.

  I swallowed hard. My insides were screaming at me to run, get out in the sunlight, but my body moved against my will toward the direction the sound had come from—a small alcove to my right. I peered over a tall weed and stopped when I saw a foot.

  My eyes widened. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

  This was the one thing I’d wanted my entire life—to find a fae. But the thought this could be that moment, that I could truly have found a cure … I didn’t believe it. It seemed too surreal.

  I took one step.

  Then two.

  With a final step, I saw beyond the wall, to the form of a young man in a heap on the floor. I rushed over immediately and fell to my knees but could only stare.

  His skin was pale but, unlike mine, it looked like it had a glow, not that he’d been locked in a castle his entire life. His hair had a soft blue hue, and his clothing was far different than any I’d seen in Griswil. The material reflected the sunlight like the sun glistening off a lake.

  My heart raced so hard, my hands trembled. I reached out and brushed the hair from his face to look at the curve of his thin nose, his pointed chin, soft blue brows, and then … pointed ears. They were pointed.

  This was a fae boy.

  A real fae.

  A living fae.

  At least, an unconscious one. The sunlight blinded my eyes, waking me from my stupor. I reached out and shook his shoulder, but his eyes only shifted behind closed lids.

  “Hello?” I asked. “Do you need help?”

  No answer.

  I heard whispering again and lifted my gaze to the window nearby.

  The tree just beyond shifted a few of its branches, whispering again.

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  Stop listening with your ears, my inner voice instructed.

  I closed my eyes and felt peace wash over me, like when I’d first begun up the trail. As I relaxed, the muscles in my body tingled and my heart calmed. I opened my eyes again. The sunlight spilling through the window focused only on the boy’s lips. I looked at the window. The tree’s leaves and branches blocked out all other light.

  “You want me to touch his lips?” I reached out and touched my fingers to them. “He is still breathing.”

  The tree trembled as though to say “no” and moved back into the shape it had been in, once again directing the sunlight onto the stranger’s lips.

  I pursed my lips to one side of my face. “He cannot speak.” Again, I glanced at the tree.

  I could have sworn its branches were made into lips that puckered.

  “You want me to kiss him?” I gaped.

  The tree stretched its branches.

  I blinked. Kiss the boy? One I’d never met? I felt a blush crawl into my cheeks.

  “But I am betrothed,” I tried to argue.

  He won’t know. He’s asleep! my inner voice yelled at me.

  I touched his cheek and turned his face. This boy was the most handsome being I’d ever seen. I almost dared think he was more handsome than Gerard. If the tree wanted me to kiss him, who was I to argue?

  But I’d never been kissed.

  Grateful no one else was near, I leaned down. Oh, for the sake of all the stars in the heavens! I crushed my lips to his, entirely too hard and not a beautiful moment at all. Our teeth tapped against each other, and I jerked back as suddenly as I’d moved forward. I wiped my mouth. I didn’t dare look at the tree. It was probably laughing at me.

  The boy’s eyes fluttered and languished open. They widened immediately before he bolted upright and pressed his back tightly to the wall. “Ayan din?” he demanded. His eyes darted and locked on my scaled hand.

  I hurriedly hid it behind my back. “My name is Elisa,” I said carefully.

  I had studied the fae language my entire life, but I’d never heard it with my ears before, and I wasn’t confident by any means in speaking it. I also didn’t feel it necessary to introduce myself as the princess. He was already startled, and if the faeries blamed me for Selina killing them, I wouldn’t tell him I was the princess.

  “What is your name?” I pressed.

  He stared at my face with the same beautiful lavender eyes as the woman in the painting. “Your hands … are black,” he said in perfect English.

  My heart jumped in panic. “They’re only gloves.”

  “Then why are you hiding them?”

  I bit the inside of my lips. If I was honest, he would likely run, and I couldn’t risk that. “It’s … only that—”

  “You’re the princess, aren’t you?” He climbed to his feet in such a sudden movement he leaned and nearly fell.

  I jumped to my own feet. “Please don’t go!” I blurted, reaching out for him.

  “Why not?” He looked like a cat ready to dart at any moment.

  “Because … because I need your help.”

  His lavender eyes narrowed. “Why should I help you?” He emphasized each word and his voice dripped with such animosity it stole my breath.

  I couldn’t swallow, although I tried. “Why are you here?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  “It doesn’t matter to you. And you avoided my question.” He crossed his arms.

  “You avoided mine,” I said back, mimicking his pose. “I asked your name.”

  “Why would I give my name to the woman who could get me killed? I’ve already entertained you too long.” He turned with such grace the leaves under his boots didn’t even shift, and walked several steps before I came to my senses.

  “Please! Please, I’m begging you,” I said, rushing after him. “You have to help me with my curse!”

  “Not my problem.”

  I grabbed his arm before he could make it out a side door I hadn’t noticed before.

  He looked down at my hand, hissed, and pulled away. “Don’t touch me.”

  I expected to freeze and cry. Or worse, snap at him and tear him apart. The conflict between the two emotions forced me to step back and tighten my hands into fists. “Your people promised to break my curse. I would think you have honor.”

  The boy’s jaw flexed, and he glared down his nose at me. “We would never make such a promise.”

  “You have the spring stone! I know it can save me!” I hated that I was begging. “Please, just … try. Once the curse is lifted, your people will be safe.”

  “Is that a threat?” He twitched his blue brow.

  “I helped you just moments ago. I don’t even have a weapon on me!” I patted my sides to point out I wore no weapon belt and then yanked up my skirts to show him I had no dagger hidden on my ankles.

  He stood in the doorway, looking me over like I might tear him to shreds.

  I couldn’t blame him. But I also couldn’t let him walk out.

  “I received a letter the day of my birthday. It said the last of the faeries was found dead. I left on my own to search the kingdom myself. I had to know if there were faeries, and I found you. You’re my only hope of breaking my curse. Please.” I gasped a breath, holding back the tears. “Please help me.”

  His face softened, and for a moment I believed he would relent. “Like I said, I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He stepped outside.

  “It was years ago! When I was born!” I chased after him.

  “I don�
�t care.”

  I stepped in front of him and put my hand on his chest, stopping him. “You will help me. I am the crown princess of Griswil, your ruler.”

  His lip twitched, and again, he moved away from my touch. “Or what?” he sneered. “You’ll kill me too?” He stepped around me. “You are not my ruler. You don’t rule any of the faeries.”

  I didn’t chase him this time, though my feet wanted to. I didn’t beg him to save me. But I wasn’t about to give up. I watched the direction he went, and he disappeared around a tall bush. I sprinted back to Tao, who’d only moved a few feet, and jumped up onto his back.

  “Come on, Tao!” I kicked him in the ribs.

  He gave me a confused snort and looked at me as he started in a walk.

  “No, you need to run! Come on!” I kicked him a few times, harder.

  He skipped into a trot, making his way up the path and around the abandoned building, and I directed him in the same space I’d seen the fae boy disappear. When we broke through the bush, I found a little path and grinned.

  “Keep going, Tao. I found a fae.”

  Eleven

  We got stuck at a crossroads.

  The fae had completely disappeared and left no sign of his passing. If he had, I wouldn’t have noticed it anyway. It wasn’t exactly my expertise. But there was a path leading left, and one leading to the right, and I had no idea where to go.

  Neither direction looked different.

  “What do you think, Tao?” I asked.

  He only snorted in response.

  “I don’t know either.” My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. “To think I was that close …” I looked down at my dragon arms and gritted my teeth. I promptly turned on the seat and dug into the saddlebag until I found the bandages. I wrapped them around my hands, and then arms, ripping the last piece off with my teeth. Only my fingertips were exposed, but at least the rest of the scales were hidden.

  I shoved the remaining bandages in the bag and guided Tao to the right. Unless the road split again, I could turn around and come back this direction knowing all I had to do was continue straight. If I didn’t find a fae town this way, there would have to be one the opposite direction.