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

  She calculated for a moment and then answered, “A few years short of a hundred.”

  I thanked her heartily, and she sat back down. “Have the rest of you heard the same story?” I asked.

  Most of the people in the room nodded. One man stood up, took off his hat, and said, “I know a bit more, Your Highness.”

  I nodded my encouragement.

  “The castle was moved during the time of King Bertram and Queen Melinda, Lord rest their gentle souls. It was right after their daughter disappeared. They were never the same after that. When they died, the castle went to your father’s grandfather, who was from the finest family in the kingdom. Your family has been ruling ever since. Quite well, may I add.” He bowed creakily and sat back down.

  The story of the daughter rang a bell. My nursemaids used to talk about a missing daughter of Queen Melinda. “Does anyone know more about the girl?” I asked, searching their faces.

  One man called out, “I think she was named after some kind of flower. Don’t know more than that. I think she was ill or something.”

  The woman who had spoken first suddenly stood up again. “I remember something else! Grandmother said that when the castle moved, the forest grew triple its size and completely covered the area where the castle had originally rested.”

  Another woman added, “I’ve heard those woods are haunted. Ain’t natural for woods to grow up that fast.” At this, everyone nodded.

  Soon they all returned to munching on their cakes and sipping tea. No one seemed anxious to leave, so I sat with them, mulling over what I had learned. Moving castles? Forests that bloomed overnight? When the last person finally left, I knew what I should have known instantly: King Bertram and Queen Melinda’s castle had not moved. An exact duplicate had been created on their fields, and the original was covered by such dense brush and vines as to be virtually invisible. But why? And who had such magic at their disposal as to keep it impenetrable nearly a century later?

  I was about to head up to my chambers to ponder further when one of the men came hobbling back inside. “Did you forget something, sir?” I asked.

  He shook his head and whispered, “I did not want to say this in front of the others, but I was a friend of your grandfather’s, Lord rest his kind soul. When he was a bit older than you, he told me of a vision he had of a beautiful young woman asleep in the woods. He packed a bag and went to find her.”

  Wide-eyed, I asked, “And did he?”

  The old man shrugged. “He wouldn’t say. I used to kid him about it, but he would simply smile sadly and say, ‘I was not the right one at the right time.’”

  “Not the right one at the right time?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”

  “I am sure I do not know, Your Highness. I simply thought you’d like to know the story, since you never knew your grandfather.”

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “My grandfather was lucky to have a friend such as you.”

  “You are a fine young man, Your Highness. He would be proud of you.” The man bowed, put his hat back on, and hobbled out.

  I could not think of anything I’d done to make anyone especially proud, but I would certainly try to in the future.

  That night I dreamt about a girl, except she wasn’t a regular girl. For one thing, she had pink wings. For another, she was only about two feet high. In my dream she was handing me a book. I could barely make out the title. Flora and Fauna of the Northeast Region. I joked about it sounding very exciting. She did not laugh. I did not remember the dream until I was washing my face in the basin. I stopped in mid-splash and ran it back through my mind. What had the girl-creature been trying to tell me?

  I hurriedly finished dressing. Normally Jonathan would be helping me — not that I needed it, of course. I was headed downstairs for breakfast … but then I found myself passing the kitchen and heading toward the library. I stood in front of the painting of the girl reading on the lawn. The maids had dusted the painting when they’d been through the castle the day before, and I noticed for the first time how beautiful the girl was, even though the painting was still much more faded and cracked than the one I had glimpsed in the old castle. I tried to make out the artist’s name, but some tiny cracks in the paint ran through it. The two initials were either B’s or P’s or R’s, or some combination of them. It didn’t truly matter, since I would never have heard of the painter anyway.

  But I had not come into the library for the painting. Starting in the far back, I began to carefully search the shelves. I found many books on politics and battles and even a cookbook on how to make the perfect loaf of bread. All the books were covered in a thick sheet of dust, like they hadn’t been taken off the shelf in decades. Father was not much into books, and due to my tutors’ lackluster performances, I had never been motivated to read much. But now all I wanted to do was find the book from the dream. Three shelves down, I found it. The title ran down the spine, faded, but definitely the same book. I knew it should feel very strange that I dreamt about something and it came true, but at this point I was surprised by little. I pulled it off the shelf, blew off the dust, sneezed, and sat down with the book on my lap. I turned to the first page and held my breath. What secrets would it tell me?

  Well, it basically told me all about the flora and fauna of the northeast realm. I already knew what types of trees and vegetation grew here. It was so boring I almost fell asleep. I had to shake myself to stay awake. In the process, I shook something out of the book. I bent down to retrieve it.

  It was a thin pamphlet titled “The True and Fascinating Story of a Certain Fairy Who Saved the Princess.” A drawing on the cover showed the same girl-creature who was in my dream. I eagerly opened it. In flowery handwriting was a single paragraph:

  I, the youngest fairy in the realm, am recording what will likely be my greatest deed in a long, long life. Due to my quick thinking, I was able to lessen a cruel curse made by the eldest fairy in the realm who everyone thought was dead. I alone have ensured Princess Rose’s safe passage through these ten decades. I can say no more, for I do not want the wrong suitors disturbing her. Blessings be on the head of the right one at the right time.

  That last line sounded familiar. My grandfather! That’s the same thing he told his friend upon returning from the woods. Everything began to fit together. The new castle was created almost a hundred years ago — ten decades. No one saw Queen Melinda’s daughter after that. The name of a flower — Rose. Princess Rose. P.R. The name on the painting! I twisted my head until I could see it again. That must be her lying on the grass. Did her parents order a duplicate castle from the fairy because they needed the old one to hide her? Could she possibly still be alive behind all those vines?

  There was only one way to find out. I ran into the cloakroom and threw on my traveling cloak. The season had grown cold, and I planned on staying in the woods until I got inside that castle. Never had I had such a worthy goal, such a grand mission. My body tingled with anticipation. I was about to tell the bailiff that he was in charge again until my return — but then the bugle blew announcing a visitor. Could my parents be home early from their trip?

  A young man stepped in and shook the snow off his cloak. A page came up behind him, holding two suitcases. The young man spoke. “How have you been, old friend? Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

  I gaped. “Percival? What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I suppose I’ve had worse greetings,” he said with a grin, draping his wet cloak over his page’s outstretched arm. “Did not your father tell you? He invited me to stay at the castle until I am eighteen. He said something about you losing a good friend to the knighthood and that you were taking it very hard. Since there is little chance of me becoming a knight, he thought it would benefit both of us if I came to live at the castle. So … where’s my room?”

  For my fifteenth birthday I decided to perform again. Now that I no longer felt defined by my gifts, I