Twist: A Fairy Tale Awakening (Spindlewind Trilogy Book Two)

by Genevieve Raas

“What about her thread?” I asked. “We made a deal.”

  “Once you uphold your end of the bargain I will happily place it back in her. Consider it added motivation to hurry,” Fate said.

  Disgust broiled in me that he should be so cruel as to keep her soul departed from her body for such a length of time.

  “Tell me more about this princess,” I said. “Where will we find her?”

  “It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Fate replied. “She is locked away in the tallest tower of a tumbling castle. The gardeners have let it go, I’m afraid. A thick forest of thorns and brambles surrounds it. Unbreakable, in fact. Only Tristan will be able to make it through. He must then find her and wake her from the spell. A simple kiss should do the trick.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Fate only smiled.

  Chapter Twelve

  Laila and I stood outside the door of my home. She stared at the grain of the wood, frozen. On the other side waited her son, and I could sense her anxiety.

  “I’ve thought of this moment so many times. Countless times. Here I am, only having to open a door and I’m terrified,” she said. “I’m afraid to meet my own child.”

  My chest swelled wanting to comfort her.

  “There is no need to fear him.”

  “How can you be sure? He will either think me a monster or mad,” she said. “To tell him what he now must do, because of us. The danger he is in…”

  She had a point.

  “He is reasonable and magic is not passed his understanding. He will come around, just have faith in him,” I replied.

  I needed to put my own faith in him. We hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms, and I wasn’t sure how he would take the news that I not only returned with his mother, but that he had to rescue a princess to save their own lives.

  “All will be well for you and Tristan,” I said. “I told you, trust me.”

  She faced me, and her eyes bled with concern.

  “And what of you?” she asked.

  I stiffened.

  “Do not concern yourself with me,” I said. My voice trembled, quaking from my gut. “My destiny is decided.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t say such things. We will find a way to save you, too,” she said.

  I chuckled at the nice thought. I wasn’t sure a happy end was quite in my future.

  “I am a villain, remember? Villains don’t usually fare well at the end.”

  Laila placed her hands against my cheeks and stared into my eyes. I thought I would catch fire from her touch.

  “You want me to trust you, and now I ask you to trust me,” she said, her voice firm. “I will not give up on you, so don’t give up on yourself.”

  She was so beautiful. So powerful. I couldn’t stop myself and took her hands from my face and squeezed them. I moved her against me. Her skin remained chilled. I hated it. I wanted to feel that vibrant soul of hers burning her blood.

  Her cheeks flushed and she pulled back and out of my grasp.

  “Don’t,” she said. “I...I can’t. We can’t.”

  My heart sunk. Nothing I did would ever convince her we could have love. I wasn’t sure if this knowledge saddened or angered me more.

  “Forgive me,” I said, perhaps a bit colder than I intended.

  I supposed my love was of little consequence anymore. I would soon be a drone of Fate, spinning lives eternally. I wouldn't have time for such mortal problems.

  All that mattered now was reuniting mother and son. Reuniting what I once tore apart.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  She sucked in a deep breath and nodded.

  I gripped the brass handle and turned. Opening the door, it took everything in me not to have a stroke.

  Mounds of books covered the floor, while others were stacked precariously on chairs and the damask divan. Creases cut through once pristine spines. Bent corners ruined crisp pages. Fingerprints of ink smeared and distorted the texts.

  My cheeks heated realizing these were from my private collection.

  Tristan remained seated at the table, hunched over a parchment filled with diagrams.

  “What have you done?” I managed to spit out.

  “Only what you told me,” came the reply. “I filled the time with some light reading, and you’ll never guess what I found.”

  He tossed a book of red leather behind him, the binding splitting as it hit the floor. My scar prickled. I had no time to deal with his defiance. I bent down and picked up the book, wondering how hard I could hit Tristan over the head without causing too much injury.

  But as the emblem of a lion gleamed, I knew. My blood chilled. I had been an utter fool to have kept such a dangerous relic.

  He had found the heraldry book with Edward’s bloodline.

  Tristan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  “Is it true?” he asked. “Am I the lost prince? Am I Prince Tristan, son of King Edward?”

  For once, I was speechless.

  “Tristan…” Laila’s voice cracked.

  Tristan turned, his gaze locking on hers. He scooted his chair away and rose to his feet.

  His brow creased and confusion filled his eyes, though I doubted he knew why. But I saw the reason. They shared the same chestnut hair and slender nose. Though his cheeks and chin were his father’s, he was undoubtedly her son.

  “Pater, who is this?” he asked.

  I cleared my throat.

  “The answer to all your questions. Tristan, this is your mother.”

  Silence.

  A tear skated down Laila’s cheek as she approached him. She spread her arms open as if hoping to catch him in an embrace.

  He took a step away. His head shook back and forth and his mouth opened. She stopped and lowered her arms to her sides.

  “It’s not possible,” he said. “She’s not much older than I am.”

  “All will become clear. Let me explain,” I said.

  “Explain? You must think me stupid if you expect me to believe this. You say so many things. You say I’m a common orphan, then I find I’m a prince. Then you say my parents are dead, and now you say my mother is alive and eternally youthful?”

  He had me. I didn’t know what more to say.

  “It was for your own safety,” Laila cut in. Her words were strong and clear, and their directness washed Tristan in puzzlement. “There were certain circumstances that made it impossible to be any other way. This man only did what I swore him to do. To protect you from the truth that now threatens us all.”

  His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head.

  “What circumstance?” he asked. “What threat?”

  Laila looked at me and her flame flickered. I broke in to get him off the scent. I didn’t want him asking further questions that would reveal all our sins. We couldn’t afford to lose his allegiance.

  “Fate,” I said.

  He laughed.

  “The deity? You’re mad,” he said. “You expect me to believe a myth is seeking revenge or glory, or whatever?”

  I knew not to expect him to believe us right away, but his complete dismissal irritated me. Especially when time was already running out. He had to understand, and now.

  I slammed the table with both fists, the wood creaking beneath my force.

  “You always beg me for answers. To tell you the truth. Now that I do, you tell me I’m mad? This is why I kept such knowledge from children.”

  He bit his lip and his skin flushed red.

  “I’m no longer a child,” he said, his words colder than I’d ever heard spoken from him. In fact, he did look older. Hardened. What else had occurred to him during my absence?

  “Then prove it,” I said. “Open your mind that there might be things beyond your simplistic notions of ‘sane’ and ‘logical’.”

  He sighed.

  “If what you say is true, what villainy has Fate committed that deems him an enemy?”

  “The death of yo
ur father, for one,” I replied, the words still delicious on my tongue. “I thought your mother dead as well, until I learned otherwise. Since your birth Fate kept her a prisoner. This is why she’s retained her youth. This is your proof. Fate destroyed your family. Fate made you an orphan.”

  I knew I spun lies, but were they really? Fate had been behind every one of my actions. If Fate hadn’t made the first move, I would not be standing where I was, trying to persuade a youth to save his mother’s soul, and perhaps I dared to hope, my own.

  “This is absurd,” he said.

  “Is it?” I replied. “Now Fate wants to destroy free will and set in a new world order. He wants to rule and take dominion over every living creature.”

  He was still shaking his head. Refusing to believe. He had to understand.

  I stuck out my open palm to him. The wound was even deeper than before. More garish. My hand appeared filleted, mutilated flesh flayed open on either side of a trench of gore.

  His color drained to white and he gulped with what I assumed to be nausea. Hell, looking at it made my own stomach queasy.

  “This is the mark of a man touched by Fate. Of a man who made a deal with Fate to save those he loves,” I said, my voice cracking.

  “What did you do?” he said.

  “He sacrificed his soul, Tristan,” Laila answered. “For us.”

  He met my gaze and worry riddled his eyes.

  “Pater?”

  “I told you to never doubt I care for you,” I told him. “But this deal I made will only protect you both if we deliver what he wants.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  I sighed.

  “Your mother’s soul will be severed and you...will be killed.”

  He gave a dark chuckle and shook his head.

  “Perfect,” he said. “The news everyone wants to hear. What must be done to prevent this?”

  “We have until the Blood Moon of Phlegethon. You must save a princess and return her to Fate, then I will become his slave and ring in this new age beside him. At least you and your mother will be saved.”

  He swallowed hard.

  “This is ridiculous. Surely we can do more? What about magic? Can’t we do something to stop Fate from this horrible vision?”

  “I’ve done all I can,” I said. “I am resigned to my destiny.”

  He shook his head, determination etching the lines of his face.

  “I refuse to believe that’s it,” he said. “I won’t let it.”

  “You’re a good lad,” I said. “I’m sorry. My only wish is to see you and your mother unharmed.”

  Silence.

  “What of his sisters?” Laila asked.

  “Sisters?” I replied.

  A brightness fell over her features. Like victory.

  “Fate cannot be destroyed, but that means neither can his sisters Clotho and Lachesis. They must be trapped somewhere. If we can find them before the blood moon, perhaps they can stop Fate. They’ve succeeded once before,” she said.

  “That’s brilliant Laila,” I said. “It won’t be easy, but it’s all we have.”

  Hope pounded in my chest. My clever Laila! It would be a long shot, but it was our only chance. Fate was a formidable foe, and I doubted he hid or banished his sisters in a convenient to discover place.

  I neared Laila wanting to pull her into an embrace, but when she stiffened I stopped myself. She didn’t want my touch any longer and I would respect her wish. Even if it killed me inside.

  Tristan’s brow furrowed at our awkward behavior.

  “Is everything ok?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, rather too quickly.

  “Well then,” he said, not believing me. “I can prepare books for research.”

  “Prepare anything we can use. We will need everything to win this battle,” Laila said.

  He started to go for the bookcases when he stopped. He turned and faced me.

  “It really is true, isn’t it?” Tristan asked. “All of it.”

  I nodded.

  He looked at Laila and his cheeks flushed red.

  “Mother?” he said to her.

  Mist clouded Laila’s eyes. She reached out to him. He neared her with slow steps. He took her hand and then they embraced. Mother and son held each other tight in their arms.

  I knew I should have been happy for their reunion, but in truth only sadness stung my heart. There was no place for me anymore. Tristan no longer needed me, and Laila no longer wanted me.

  Once more, I was an outcast.

  They broke their embrace, and Laila wiped a tear away.

  Tristan turned to me, his face glowing with such fulfillment. Joy. For two seconds I was jealous.

  “We will overcome this,” he told me.

  “I know,” I said, though I didn’t really.

  “You mentioned a princess,” he said. “Does she have a name?”

  If he had trouble believing about Fate, I doubted he would find this equally easy to swallow.

  I paused before answering.

  “Briar Rose.”

  Acknowledgments

  There are so many people to thank who helped me with Twist, I hardly know where to start!

  First, Hannah Stahlhut, you kept me going and helped me make a plan when things got tough. Twist wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you. Your support and encouragement is unbelievable. I can’t thank you enough for everything you do, and continue to do, for me.

  To Cait Reynolds, my big sister, who first saw the magic in the Spindlewind Trilogy and helped me make it what it is. I might kick and scream, but you don’t know the gravity your advice had in the finished product. You help me to kill my darlings, allowing the story to become what it should be. Thank you!

  Kristen Lamb, I cannot express my gratitude for your honesty. You forced me to step back and notice pitfalls and issues I failed to see. It was painful, but with your encouragement and help, I was able to conquer. Thank you, truly, for being there and guiding me!

  To my husband, Rafi, I cannot tell you what your encouragement and support means to me. I wouldn’t be fighting right now to achieve my dream if it weren’t for you.

  To my parents, you are always there for me and just knowing I have your love and support keep me going. Thank you for everything you have given me.

  A special thanks to Lawana Penrod, who designed and created this amazing cover! You went way above and beyond and I cannot thank you enough!

  A shoutout to my other friends who gave their encouragement and advice when I needed it most: Katie, Mallori, and Stephen. Thank you for always being willing to listen and helping me find an answer. You are all awesome.

  To all my other family and friends who give me their continued support and encouragement, simply, thank you. You are all amazing and mean the world to me.

  About the Author

  Genevieve Raas is an international bestselling author living in Vienna, Austria with her husband and rather haughty Russian Toy Terrier, Mr. Darcy. When she isn't writing dark fairytales or fantasy, you can find her plotting out her next travel destination.

  A graduate from Indiana University, Genevieve holds a Master’s Degree in English and a Master’s Certificate in Professional Editing. She has worked as Lead Transcriber on several published anthologies, including: The Collected Stories of Ray Bradbury, Volume 2 and the New Ray Bradbury Review.

  Now, she is venturing out on her own, into the wilds of untamed lands and untold stories.

  Genevieve loves connecting with her readers!

  www.genevieveraas.com

  genevieveraas@genevieveraas.com

  Also by GENEVIEVE RAAS

  SPIN: Spindlewind Trilogy Book 1

  The international bestselling book that brings a dark and sensual look at the tale of Rumpelstiltskin.

  A necklace, a ring, a child...There is always a price one is willing to pay.

  Laila sees her impending death in the mountains of straw waiting to be spun into gold. Faced with t
he impossible, she makes the impossible decision to survive, no matter what the cost.

  A shadowy stranger sees an opportunity for vengeance.

  Born to a nightmarish destiny that crushed and embittered his faith in humanity, he devotes himself to dealing in dark desires and desperate souls, and Laila's is ripe for the trade.

  When the stranger asks his price, Laila is bound by blood and magic to pay.

  His own heart was never supposed to be part of the deal, but when honor drives Laila to break their bargain, he ends up tangled in his own web of deceit and destruction in a desperate attempt to save her life. In the black of night, there are no fairytales, only choices.

  One choice makes a queen. One choice consumes a soul. It's a roll of the dice in a game where love is everyone's undoing.

  Spin, Genevieve Raas' debut fantasy novel, is a twisted, sexy retelling of one of Grimm's classic tales and the first book in the Spindlewind series.

  “Only the heart can twist the thread of fate”

  CRIMP: A Fairy Tale Romance Novella

  Want more Rumpelstiltskin? Crimp can be enjoyed as a stand alone story, or as a companion to the Spindlewind Trilogy.

  Outcast from his home, Rumpelstiltskin lives in a gypsy camp providing tinctures and potions to villagers.

  New to being an immortal, his magic is unstable and he struggles to control this black gift. No one knows the dark deal he made for power, but that doesn’t stop rumors from surrounding him.

  When Zindello decides to rid their camp of his evil, Rumpelstiltskin is dragged away and beaten until they believe him dead.

  A mute young woman finds him washed up on a river bank. Clarice tends to his wounds, and he is overwhelmed by her light and goodness, everything he isn’t.

  He practices magic in secret, determined to grant her a voice. He also dares to hope that love might bring him out of the darkness.

  But when another man enters the picture, he isn’t sure love will be strong enough to save him.

  “Sometimes it’s better to hide who you are”

  The Crown