Thornwood by Leah Cypess (best value ebook reader TXT) 📗

“You don’t know what you’re saying, child. She is the fairy queen. She is vicious and vengeful and powerful. She wouldn’t let the rest of us have any power, any freedom, at all.”

“But what good did the spell do you? So you were free of her, for just a hundred years—”

I stopped talking even before she shook her head.

“Not for a hundred years,” she said. “Forever.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

“The story about the hundred years, and the prince…” The fairy shrugged. “That was just to pretty it up. To make your sister more inclined to go along with it. I needed her to prick her finger of her own free will, you see.”

Rage rose in my throat, thick and sour. I pushed it down. There was no point. The fairy didn’t care about my anger, or about me.

“And the story about the queen’s original curse?” I said. “You made that up, too?”

She laughed. “As if the fairy queen would care about some petty human wedding! But when I told your parents she had cursed them, they believed me. And when their firstborn child was a girl, they were so scared for her that they were willing to listen to anything I said.” Her smile widened, stretching so far across her face that she had no cheeks left. “And Rosalin was just as frightened. It was so easy to get her to prick her finger, to sacrifice herself and set my spell in motion. The queen was asleep before she had time to realize what was happening.” She touched the side of her mouth, as if suddenly realizing it had grown too long, and stopped smiling. When she smirked, her mouth was normal sized. “And I was free, forever.”

“But it wasn’t forever,” I said. “You woke us up, in the end. Why?”

“That wasn’t me.” Fury flashed across her face, just for a second; but a second was enough to remind me how dangerous she was. “That was your sister. She wouldn’t stay asleep. She kept trying to wake up, dreaming of the princes I’d told her about. Eventually, she roused herself enough to break the spell on the queen…and then there was no turning it back.”

“So Varian’s kiss isn’t what woke her?” I said.

The fairy shrugged. “She didn’t really know she was awake, I suspect, until he gave her a reason to open her eyes.”

If I ever told the minstrel that line, he’d put it in at least three songs. I decided I would keep it to myself.

“Then why did you bring him here?” I asked.

She pursed her lips before speaking. “That’s an answer you’ll have to spin for.”

“Some fairy godmother,” I said.

She spread her wings. There was no sunlight hitting the roof, so they looked stark and black, shadows against the darkening sky. “The whole ‘fairy godmother’ concept is so useful. I’m really glad you humans thought it up.”

I tried to think. “The fairy queen isn’t defeated any longer, is she? She started waking up as soon as my sister woke. Now you need us to fight her for you.”

The fairy hissed, a sound of pure rage and spite. In that moment, I saw how ridiculous it was that we had ever called this wild, vicious creature godmother.

My throat was dry with terror. But I went on. “You need our strength, and you need us to give it of our own free will. Our blood, our…our energy. You need it for your spells. That’s why you want me to spin. The fairy queen is coming for you, and you need us.”

“You need me just as much,” she said. “Our queen is ancient and cruel, and cares less for humans than even I do. She will kill everyone in this castle without a second thought. It is only my spell that keeps her in check.”

“Your spell,” I said, “and Rosalin’s blood.”

“Well, yes.”

“So if Rosalin…” I found it hard to say. “If Rosalin dies in the Thornwood…”

“Then the queen will have that power, and she will break free. The Thornwood will vanish, and the rest of you will be free, too.” She shrugged. “The queen might kill you all just because she feels like it. But she’ll probably be too busy coming after me.”

“So you don’t want Rosalin to die?”

“Of course not. I saved her once already, didn’t I? But we made a bargain, so I had to tell you the truth.” The fairy raised a scornful eyebrow. “Besides, I don’t think there’s much risk that you’ll try to act on that information.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them. “There has to be another way.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t. Not to get what you want. But I have a better idea.” She rose into the air, wings an iridescent blur. “I think you’ll like it. How do you feel about a ball?”

“A what?”

“It’s quite appropriate.” She turned in midair. “Especially since your sister never got to have her birthday party.”

“What are you— Wait! What about Edwin?”

She looked at me over her shoulder, twisting her neck farther than any human could. “He’s really not important, child. And you have time for only one more question. Think carefully about what it should be.”

I gritted my teeth. “Where. Is. He?”

“If you must know, I put him in the second guest room in the west wing. I’m sure he’s enjoying the luxury.”

Then she turned and darted over the trees, disappearing into the dusky blue sky and leaving me alone on the roof.

From my vantage point on the top of the castle, I could see the old watchtower and the thorn branches clinging to it like dark, twisted ivy. They still hadn’t reached the windows, but they were definitely higher than they had been before.

What I couldn’t see, even after crisscrossing every inch of the roof, was any way to get back into the castle.

By now the sky was darkening, stripes of blue and purple streaking the horizon. It looked as if the Thornwood