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

  Sara nodded. “Of course. They begged the fairy — and you know how hard it is for anyone to say no to your mother — but the fairy was firm. She said it was their destiny to rule kindly and justly for many years. Your destiny was different. She told them to take comfort in the fact that you were not dead. You would still have many years of life ahead of you. I think that helped ease their pain a bit, but they insisted on remaining nearby. With a wave of her wand, the fairy made a duplicate castle out in the fields, and your parents and all the staff moved there. That is, of course, the castle the Prince’s family now inhabits. I had a chance to visit it before the fairy agreed to allow me to stay by your side. Truly an exact replica in every way, except that you weren’t there. The fairy said she’d keep an eye on you over the years, to make sure no one entered before it was time. She did not say anything about coming back.”

  “That figures,” I said, adding a deep sigh. “Fairies are notoriously vague.”

  “So what should we do?” Sara asked.

  “Everything we can to find her,” I said, determined to free us from these walls. No matter how comfortable and safe it was there, it was not freedom. I yearned to see the world outside the gates. How had the passage of a hundred years changed my beloved countryside? And the town itself? Was it thriving? Did anyone remember the good works my parents had done so long ago?

  Sara followed me into the center of the Great Hall. I stood in the exact spot where the fairies had bestowed their gifts (and the curse) upon me a hundred and sixteen years earlier. We held hands. “Good fairy,” I chanted, eyes closed. “Young fairy who was so kind to look out for me, can you hear me now? We need your aid one last time.”

  We strained to hear even a slight fluttering of fairy wings. Nothing.

  “What if you gave a little display of your gifts?” Sara suggested. “Maybe that would bring her.”

  “Good idea.” So this time instead of chanting to the fairy, I sang my request and added a little dance move. I wiggled my hips and spun in perfect circles. I tapped out a tune with the silverware on the table. Sara clapped, but the fairy did not show. Dejected, we sat on the lowest step of the stairs, chins resting on our hands.

  “Smoke signals?” she suggested.

  I shook my head. “We cannot get a big enough fire going.”

  I noticed through the large windows that the sun had long ago set. “The Prince will be back soon,” I said, feeling a glimmer of hope enter me again. “We can ask him to send out word for us.”

  “Excellent idea,” Sara said. “Why don’t we go wash up? I feel like I haven’t bathed in a hundred years!”

  I laughed and followed her upstairs. Without being able to light a fire to heat the water, it was the coldest bath of my life. But I did feel refreshed. Sara helped me pick out a gown to wear for when the Prince returned — one that was not too flashy, but that complemented my eyes. I had never dressed for a young man before. After that, we went downstairs to the library to wait.

  We waited and waited. I could feel my eyelids droop. How was it possible I was tired after sleeping a hundred years?

  Sara yawned and curled up in her big chair. I could tell she was straining to keep her eyes open, too. “I am sure he’ll be here any minute,” she said.

  I nodded. And that’s the last thing I remembered until the sun awoke me. I got up from my chair and went to the window. The dew shimmered on the tips of the flowers. The sky was still orange over the treetops.

  The Prince had not come.

  When I returned to my own castle, one of the young pages told me Father was waiting to see me in the library. I really wanted to go looking for Percival, but I did not want to ruffle any feathers with Father. When I arrived, he was going over some documents with one of his barons. He waved me over and told the baron they would resume their conversation later. The baron hurried out, head bowed.

  “Sit down, son,” Father instructed. He snapped his fingers and a page brought me some cold water with a lemon on the side. I was usually only served lemon water when I was ill. I began to get nervous.

  “We need to talk,” he continued.

  “We do?” I asked. “Because I am in quite a hurry. I need to find Percival. Have you seen him?”

  Father nodded. “That is what we need to speak of. Percival has left the castle and returned home.”

  My heart leaped. One less problem to deal with!

  “However,” Father said, “before he left, he delivered some very disturbing news to your mother and me.” Father paused for a deep breath, and then continued, “Percival told us you have been obsessed with an imaginary castle in the woods, and that you have become very unstable, believing you see things — something about a sleeping beauty and fairies. We are very concerned. I knew your behavior the last few years was odd, but I did not realize the depth of it.”

  I had to grit my teeth to keep from screaming. Percival had devised the perfect plan to assure he would not be punished for striking me. “Excuse me, Father, I must go find Percival. You must not believe a word he says.” I tried to get up from my chair, but two castle guards appeared from nowhere and held me down.

  “What’s going on?” I said, squirming under their grasp.

  Father put up a hand and the men released me. “Your mother and I have decided it is in your own best interest to remain here in the castle for a while. You are obviously not well.”

  I stared at him in shock. “You are keeping me a prisoner?”

  Father looked pained. “Please do not think of it that way. All your comings and goings are very disruptive. The castle physician will help you get to the root of your problems.”

  I could not believe this. “The root of my problems?” I shouted, unable to help myself. “How about the fact that I’m in love with a beautiful princess who I cannot marry because my mother might eat her! Is that a big enough problem for you?”

  “Don’t say that about your mother!” Father exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “She hasn’t eaten anyone in years, and you know it.”

  I felt chagrined. Perhaps I did not give Mother enough credit for fighting her ogre urges as well as she did. “I am sorry, Father.”

  “Yes, well, let us worry now about this imaginary girlfriend of yours.”

  I opened my mouth to argue that Rose was hardly imaginary, when I realized it would actually be better if he believed her to be, at least for a while longer. I shook my head. “I am tired, Father. May I be excused? I should like to take a nap.”

  “Of course, of course,” Father said. “We will see you at supper. But first, go see your mother.”

  She was in her sewing room, surrounded by her latest crop of ladies-in-waiting. Mother may have been the only queen in history to darn her own socks, but she said it relaxed her. And in my case, a relaxed ogre-mother was definitely the best kind.

  “There you are, son,” Mother said, laying the darning needle across her lap. “I want you to meet Giselle.” One of the young women hurried to her feet and bowed low. This took some effort, considering she weighed about four hundred pounds. I smiled as graciously as I could, said, “It’s been lovely to meet you.” I gave a quick bow, and muttering what I hoped was a good excuse, rushed off to my room. The guards were never farther than ten paces behind.

  I shut my door, thankful they seemed content to wait outside. I looked around the room helplessly. I stared at my wardrobe and realized it was the same as Rose’s. That gave me some comfort. Then the most horrible realization hit me: How was I going to get back to her while under constant guard?

  I hurried down to supper although I was not the least bit hungry. Mother had not arrived yet, but Father greeted me with a warm smile. His smile faded when he saw the traveling cloak in my arms. “Father, please, I must go back to the woods. I have an errand to complete. I promise I shall not be long. I’ll be back before —”

  Father did not even let me finish. “Absolutely not. You will sit down and have a relaxing dinner with your parents, and we can talk