Sleeping Beauty: The One Who Took the Really Long Nap Read online

  “Careful,” Sara warned, coming up from behind. We slowly approached the bird, trying not to make any sudden moves. About two feet away, I realized the bird had not hurt its leg — it had a note tied around it! It was holding out its leg so I could take it. The bird bent its neck down to sample a blueberry and I took that moment to slip the scroll out from under the thin leather band that bound it. I unraveled the thin parchment. “It is about the Prince!” I exclaimed.

  “Out loud, please,” Sara demanded.

  “‘Princess Rose and Lady Sara, the Prince is under house watch and could not come as promised last night. He feels terrible about it, and shall rectify the situation tonight. Please look for him before the midnight hour. Blessings, the falconer, friend of the Prince.’”

  I read it over and over until Sara finally cleared her throat. I looked up, blushing.

  “Shall we send a reply?” she asked. “The bird is still here.”

  “Excellent idea.” I hurried over to the easel and picked out my thinnest brush. I turned to my palette and dipped the brush into some blue pigment. With my hand poised over the back of the scroll, I suddenly stopped. I had never written a note to a young man before. What was I to say? The bird flapped its wings impatiently.

  I wrote: I shall count the hours. Yours truly, Princess Rose. Then I gently waved the paper in the air for a few moments so it would dry before I rolled it back up. I affixed it to the waiting leg, and as soon as I tightened the leather knot, the bird flew straight up and away.

  “What was your reply?” Sara asked.

  I told her and she looked aghast. “Yours truly?” she said. “That sounds so formal!”

  I lifted my chin defiantly. “That is how Mama used to sign her letters.”

  “Yes,” Sara said, “when she was writing to a friend, or ordering more clothes. Not when she was writing to her one true love.”

  I pretended to be absorbed in my painting. I couldn’t very well sign it With love, Rose. After all, I had known him for a day. True, my heart did quicken whenever I thought of him. And I had felt comfortable with him very quickly. But I had never known love for a young man before. How was I to recognize it now? Without taking my eyes off the flower I was painting, I said, “In my defense, I DID say I was counting the hours until his visit. Surely that was bold enough?”

  “True,” Sara acknowledged. “That was in the right spirit. Fine, I shan’t mention yours truly again.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Sara shrugged and smiled in that mischievous way of hers. “You are probably right.”

  That night as darkness fell, Sara and I went into the library to wait. We huddled together on the couch under the warmest blanket we could find, still not daring to light a big fire. I tried to keep myself awake by recalling the Prince’s features one by one. His long, regal nose. His warm brown eyes. His hair the color of sunflower oil. I was just about to dwell on his broad shoulders when Sara grabbed my arm and we both sat bolt upright. Shouting! Someone was shouting outside. More than one someone. My heart pounded in my chest. One voice cried out above the others, “Open the door! Open the door!”

  I could not move.

  I watched out my window as one star after another filled the night sky. When I was younger I used to believe that the night sky was a black curtain with pinholes stuck in it that let the tiny rays of sunshine through. But Jonathan had studied astronomy and said that I was wrong, although he could not tell me what the tiny lights were. Tonight I knew exactly what they meant — that I would be seeing Rose soon.

  I blew out my oil lamps and climbed into bed noisily, so the guards posted outside my door would be sure to hear. Under my nightclothes I was fully dressed. After what seemed like hours, I finally heard the bell gonging in the tower, indicating someone had cause for alarm. The guards began arguing. I could not make out their words through the thick wooden door, but I assumed they were deciding whether to go or not. I quickly began snoring as loudly as I could, tossing in a moan every now and then, like I was having a nightmare. This must have convinced them, because moments later I heard their boots stomping away down the hall.

  I counted to ten, tossed my blanket off, and ran out the door. I kept to the shadows, creeping along the hall and down the stairs. I dared not cross the Great Hall, because I knew Father would gather his men there. Instead, I crossed the foyer and exited through the door the dung cleaner uses to clear the privy. I held my nose until I was through the small tunnel and out into the night.

  Filling my lungs with the crisp, fresh air, I took off at a run, not looking behind me. Had I done so, I would have seen the group making its way to the aviary and I would have waited another minute. As it was, a shout rang out. I had been spotted! I still had the advantage. They did not know the woods and would have to stick to the paths. I did not know if they thought I was the falcon thief or simply myself, the escaped Prince, but that did not matter. They were in hot pursuit.

  I hopped over fallen logs and ducked under tree branches, grateful that the leaves were not crunchy underfoot. I could still hear the guards shouting and calling out behind me, although they had fallen farther back. I forged ahead through the woods and broke into a straight run once I hit the lawn. By the time I reached the gardens, I knew there was not a second to waste. I saw a faint light in the library and called out for Rose to open the door. She must not have heard me. I had almost reached the castle when I saw her face through the window … and then it disappeared.

  A second later, the door flew open.

  The Prince bolted the door behind him and leaned against it, breathless. “Are you two all right?” he asked between gasps.

  I nodded. “I would ask the same of you. What is happening?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said. “We need to hide first. But where?”

  I knew just the place. “Come with me,” I said, grabbing the blanket from the couch. The Prince grabbed one oil lamp, and Sara the other. I led the two of them down the cold stairs to the wine cellar.

  “Ah,” said Sara, “your old hiding place.”

  “You knew about it?”

  She nodded. “Everyone knew about it.”

  Of course they did.

  “I’ve only been down here a handful of times,” the Prince mused from behind me. “I mean, down to our own wine cellar, of course.”

  “Why so infrequently?” I asked, winding through the racks of wine and barrels of ale.

  “My family does not do much entertaining. We have little need of a full larder such as this.”

  From the rear, Sara said, “But I thought all kings and queens entertained. Rose’s mother loved to.”

  “Queen Melinda,” the Prince said.

  I stopped short, and they almost bumped into me. “You know of my mother?”

  He nodded. “Queen Melinda was our kingdom’s most beloved queen. My mother is well-liked, too, but everyone has heard of the generosity and goodness of Queen Melinda.”

  Tears pricked at the back of my eyes and my heart filled with pride. We kept walking. “So why do your parents not entertain?” I asked, forcing myself to remember that this was my life now, here, in the present.

  “Mother is not, ah, shall we say, always great with new people.”

  “Is she shy?” I asked.

  “No,” he said after a pause. “Not shy, exactly.”

  I would have pressed further, but we had reached my nook.

  “This is perfect,” the Prince said when he saw it. “Even if the castle guards get in the house, they would never spot us down here.”

  We crawled into the nook and spread the blanket around us. It was actually quite cozy. The Prince took my hand and my heart started racing. “Now, Prince,” I said, hoping he could not hear the quiver in my voice, “do tell us who is chasing you and what kept you last night.”

  So he told us about his parents putting the guards on him, and the falconer’s plan, and about being chased here. And then he got to the part about the fairy and her cry