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

  Rose went into the sitting room for a moment and returned with a wet cloth. “Here,” she said, gently laying it across my forehead. “Keep this on for a while. It will help. I hit my head recently, too.”

  I wanted to correct her, but I did not have the heart. I could tell that the full gravity of what had happened had not yet fully sunk in. “How did you hit your head?” I asked.

  A wistful look crossed her face. “Riding a horse. I could not control it, and a tree branch did me in. It was my first — and only — time on a horse. I loved it.”

  This surprised me. “I thought princesses grew up riding. I know you have a large stable at your castle.”

  “Most princesses do ride. My childhood was not typical. You probably would not understand.”

  “Trust me, Princess. I would understand better than you could imagine. I —”

  She cut me off. “Wait a moment. You just said you knew I had a large stable. How could you know that if my castle has been hidden?”

  “How can I explain this? My castle is an exact duplicate of your castle. We have huge stables, so I know you must, too.”

  She stared at me. “How could your castle be an exact duplicate of ours? Do my parents know about this?”

  I did not answer right away. “Perhaps you should rest, and we can talk about all this later? This cannot be easy for you and —”

  “Now,” she pleaded. “I need to understand.”

  “Very well. Let us go into the sitting room, and I shall fix you a glass of water.” I led the way, deftly opened the cupboard, took out a mug, and filled it with water.

  I handed her the cup. She took it, sat down on the couch, then quickly stood up again. “How do you know where everything is?” she asked, a bit suspiciously.

  I sighed. “This is my room, also.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  I sat on the opposite end of the couch and faced her. “Let me start from the beginning.”

  “Please do.”

  And so I told her a bit about my early childhood, leaving out the ogre part and other unpleasant times, and focusing on the parts that had to do with her. I told her of finding the castle when I was a boy, and being determined to find out its secrets. I told her about the rumors of a ghost and the research I did to find out the truth. I told her how the fairy gave her parents the duplicate castle to live in and how my great-grandfather came to inherit the kingdom when they passed away. I told her how my grandfather had tried to get in to find her when he was a boy, but the fairy had sent him home. At this part in my story she turned white and dropped her mug onto the floor.

  “My … my parents are dead? Since the days of your great-grandfather? Everyone I know and love is gone?”

  I knew she wanted to hear me deny it, but my silence told her everything. “I am truly sorry, Princess.” I wanted to do something for her. To make it all better. But I was at a loss for what to say.

  She stumbled to her feet. “May I have … may I be alone for a bit?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I will be downstairs. I shall fix you something to eat.”

  She nodded absently. I did not think she even noticed when I closed the door behind me.

  I walked over to the looking glass above the cistern and stared at my reflection. I could see Mama’s eyes and Papa’s jaw. I did not look a day older than when I had pricked my finger, while they were now bones in the ground. I would never know what they went through when I fell asleep, or how their lives turned out. If I dwelled on that pain for too long, I knew it would consume me. Sara’s face floated across my mind and it felt like a punch in the belly. Sara! I could not bear to think of us not growing old together. Did she find love? Did she have babies? Was she happy?

  I was completely alone now. Not a single lady-in-waiting to watch out for me. Not a soul in the world to love me, not a soul for me to love. I turned away in despair and saw the mug I had dropped on the floor. Maybe there was someone after all.

  I hurried into the hall and down the stairs. The whole castle was lit up, but it was so very quiet. Never had I heard it like this, even in the middle of the night. I could see out the windows that it was still daylight. Everything looked exactly as I remembered it. If the Prince had not told me a hundred years had passed, never would I have believed it. I found him in the Great Hall, setting two plates of food on the table. It smelled delicious.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked. His concern came through with every word.

  I nodded, for his sake. I knew I would never get over the losses I had suffered. I think he knew this and did not question me further. He just pulled out my seat for me and placed a silk napkin on my lap.

  “How did you learn to cook?” I asked. “I do not think my father can make … I mean, I do not think my father could have made a loaf of blackbread.”

  “I have to fend for myself a lot. I had a close friend — my page, Jonathan — who taught me how to cook and store food. I apologize for the cold salmon and rice stew. I would have roasted something, but I did not want to alert anyone by sending smoke up the fireplace.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said, already halfway done. Between bites, I asked, “Does Jonathan know about me?”

  The Prince shook his head. With a pained expression, he said, “I was going to tell him, because I knew he could help me. But he left unexpectedly and I never got the chance.”

  I could tell whatever had happened to his friend pained him greatly, and I knew how that felt. I reached out and put my hand over his. We sat like that for what felt like an hour. Eventually I said, “Shall we walk in the gardens? I would love to visit my flowers.”

  “I would love that, too,” he replied. “Our garden has only one rosebush, and even that is hidden amidst the weeds.”

  “Didn’t you say your castle was an exact replica of mine?”

  He nodded. “Mother is not the best at upkeep.”

  Once again, I could tell he was holding back, but I did not press him. I could not wait to feel the breeze on my face again. The Prince led the way down the corridors and into the library. It was still odd that he knew his way around so well, having never been here. He pushed open the door that led to the garden, and the vines melted away from the door, and the garden appeared before us. I stepped through the door and inhaled deeply. The whole garden was in bloom, perfectly manicured and tended. The Prince looked around carefully for a moment, like he was making sure no one was there.

  Apparently satisfied, he ran through the paths like a little boy, sniffing one flower and rubbing the petals of another. “Never have I seen such beauty!” he exclaimed. Then he blushed. “Well, except for you, of course. You outshine even your namesake.” With that, he picked a red rose and handed it to me. I recalled my first meeting with a rose’s thorn, and my eyes filled with tears when I recalled Mama kissing my finger. I turned away before he noticed, though.

  “And here’s the swing!” he was saying. “And the fountain! Look at her spit that water, it is so wonderful!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “You truly love nature, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “When I was younger, I would watch the grass grow for hours.”

  I laughed. “Me, too.”

  He took my hand. His grip was firm. It felt right. “Tell me more about your childhood,” he said. We began to walk through the gardens, with me telling him about the fairies’ gifts, and how I was always so protected. I even told him about my failures at painting and cooking. When I told him how I had tried to dislodge the painting in the library from the wall, he laughed and said his mother had tried to do the same thing. I could not believe that painting had hung in the new castle for four more generations. Ugh!

  It was nice to relive my childhood by sharing it with him. Every once in a while he would interject with something from his youth, but only rarely. Simply from what he didn’t tell me I knew it must not have been an easy childhood.

  As we stepped out of the garden, the brush and leaves c