Sleeping Beauty

by K. M. Shea

  Too late for that. Briar shrugged. “He’s going to be angry already with me for pricking my finger—what’s a little more rage to top it off?”

  Princess Alessia made a noise of distress, but they had reached the correct room, so Briar went in without waiting to hear her protest. If she waited much longer, she would lose her nerve.

  Briar was not above baiting her grandfather. She enjoyed irking him with little things that didn’t matter—the occasional snappy phrase or insult to a mouthy lord. She knew by the suspicious twinges around his eyes that even he found humor in them—though he coldly corrected her.

  This was not going to be one of those times. In fact, if he did not chain Briar to her room, she would be surprised.

  “Greetings, everyone.” She breezed inside with as much false bravado as she could muster. Her father stood at a window, speaking with Donaigh and Firra who smiled broadly when they saw her.

  King Giuseppe, however, wore an iron-hard frown. “Rosalinda.”

  Briar curtsied. “I hope you are refreshed after your nap?”

  Prince Consort Filippo crossed the room and embraced her. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

  “Who woke you?” King Giuseppe asked.

  Isaia ghosted into the salon with Princess Alessia.

  King Giuseppe’s face went from hardened to ice. “No.”

  “No, what?” Briar asked.

  “No, he cannot be the one who woke you. He is not your—” King Giuseppe enfolded his hands and peered down his nose.

  “I believe he shares your sentiments.” Though her throat ached with unshed tears, Briar kept her voice light and airy. “But his protests and your temper will not change the fact that Isaia is my true love.”

  The king stood. “What do we tell the people?”

  “Why, the truth I suppose,” Donaigh drawled.

  King Giuseppe lowered his icy-purple eyes to the mages. “You two, leave or be silent.”

  Donaigh scratched his chin but said nothing. Firra leaned up against the wall and made a show of studying her nails.

  Her grandfather clasped his arms behind his back. “We will tell everyone your mysterious true love does not yet wish to be revealed.”

  “What will that accomplish?” Briar asked. She looked back and forth between her parents, surprised they weren’t asking questions as well. They avoided her gaze.

  “It will give us the time we need to find a proper marriage candidate.”

  Briar frowned, her anger with Isaia momentarily pushed aside. “You don’t intend to reveal it was Isaia.”

  “Of course not,” the king snapped. “You can’t possibly marry him!”

  “Why not? He’s my true love.”

  “I told you before, Rosalinda,” King Giuseppe said. “I will determine your marriage partner.”

  Briar gaped at him, too shocked.

  For all their rambling on, Briar knew her father, mother, and grandfather all respected Isaia. She didn’t expect them to give their blessing—and as it stood, Isaia seemed like he would be a very unwilling groom—but she had not thought they would be upset with him. Instead, it was as if they thought she loved him just to spite them.

  “It will be for the best, darling,” Princess Alessia said.

  Her father couldn’t look at her.

  Briar spun around, expecting Isaia to chime in that he didn’t want her anyway. To her surprise she saw…resignation in his eyes.

  “Though Sir Isaia is an honorable man, he cannot provide what you need,” the king continued.

  “Which is?”

  “Someone to rule the country for you.”

  Briar laughed harshly. “I see. Still displeased that I’m not the perfect princess you want me to be.”

  “Rosalinda, darling.” Her mother took her hands. “You’re upset.”

  “Yes, I’m upset! You intend to lie to the country and bend me to your whims—marrying me off to someone because I am not what you think I should be.”

  “This is one of the things you must trust us in,” Princess Alessia said. “It is for the good of everyone.”

  Briar felt like the floor fell out from under her. She had gone and stuck herself with the spindle to begin repairing the country…so why did she feel like everything was worse?

  “If you will excuse me, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses.” Sir Isaia bowed.

  “Of course. Thank you, Sir Isaia,” King Giuseppe said. “Though the world will not know what you have done, we appreciate your loyalty.”

  Isaia hesitated at the door, his hand gripping the frame. He nodded without turning around and slipped into the hall.

  His retreat took the last bit of fight out of Briar. She choked on a silent sob.

  “Now, Rosalinda. We’ll have to move fast to procure a proper husband for you,” her mother continued. “We will keep you informed, of course, but we have a few top candidates.”

  “I thought no one liked me because I am so rustic,” Briar spat.

  Her grandfather pushed a teacup across the table. “It seems your little act against Carabosso gained you a bit of respect.”

  “Indeed!” her mother chattered happily. “Like Lord Bettino. He’s the heir to a dukedom and Sir Artemio’s nephew. He spoke up in your favor the day before the spell was cast on Ciane.”

  Prince Consort Filippo spoke for the first time, though he still stared at the door Isaia had left through. “Isn’t he a little old for her?”

  “Perhaps,” Princess Alessia said. “But he has an excellent lineage, lands of his own, and experience in ruling.”

  Briar closed her eyes and tried to shut everything out as her heart shattered. She wished Isaia had never woken her up.

  “Pst, Little Rose.”

  Briar, sitting in a cushioned armchair in front of her sitting room fireplace, stirred to find Donaigh and Firra peeping in at her from the cracked door.

  She offered them a brittle smile. “Come in.”

  They slipped inside with the silence of mice. Briar almost cried when Donaigh picked her up as he used to and hefted her high. When he set her down, Firra hugged her.

  “I’m sorry, Briar,” Firra said. “You were so brave and…” She trailed off and kissed Briar’s temple. “You knew it was Isaia?”

  “Yes.”

  Donaigh adjusted his hat. “So you set it off, thinking he would wake you up shortly after?”

  Briar mashed her lips together, but a few tears escaped her control. “I asked him to wake me up. I told him.”

  Firra sighed. “It was the right idea. With Isaia in place, it would have spared you, your family, and the country quite a bit of drama.”

  “But it failed,” Briar said. “Isaia ignored my request, and the city was put to sleep for a year.”

  “It seems odd to me that it took Isaia a year,” Donaigh said.

  Firra shot him a look. “Not now, Donaigh.”

  “No, no, I mean it. Isaia’s bones are made of honor and justice…yet it took him a year to kiss Briar and awaken her? He treasures you, Briar.” Donaigh ignored her snort of disbelief. “I know you are hurt right now, but think of all the moments he has stayed with you. He spent a year alone—and it wasn’t because it was the just or honorable thing to do. But…a year?”

  Briar sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes.

  “I hate to do this to you, Little Rose, but Donaigh and I are leaving,” Firra said.

  Briar pulled back from her. “You’re leaving? Now?”

  “We’re going to seek out Angelique and ask her to return to Sole. She might be able to help smooth over some of the problems now that everyone is awake,” Firra said. “And we’re hoping she might have news of what happened to Carabosso.”

  “And between your grandfather’s strange insistence over your husband-to-be and Isaia’s dodgy attitude, something isn’t adding up,” Donaigh added.

  “Why is it strange?” Briar asked bitterly. “Grandfather is insistent in everything that pertains to me.”

  “That
is the oddity.” Donaigh thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Your mother chose her husband—they were heralded as a great romantic story when they were married. So why is he so strict with you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Isaia has rejected me anyway.” She tried, but couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.

  Firra smoothed Briar’s hair. “We won’t be long,” she said. “Last we heard, Lady Enchantress Angelique was in Loire. With luck, she’ll still be there. But stand strong, Little Rose. I know you are tired and upset, but you can’t let them flatten you like this.”

  Briar shrugged. “Maybe they’re right.”

  “They’re not,” Donaigh said firmly. “They’re just being foolish.”

  “Take care,” Firra said. “Our hearts are with you.”

  The pair slipped from Briar’s sitting room as stealthily as they had entered.

  Briar sat in her chair and listened to the crackling fire. Her mind felt as mashed and listless as unsweetened gruel. She didn’t even know what she wanted anymore. She liked who she was, but with so many people dissatisfied with her it was hard to bear.

  So who was right? The royal family, or the mages?

  “Stony silence is not much better than being glib and freely insulting, Your Highness. Many will interpret your silence as haughtiness if you do not wear a gentle look or a smile,” Briar’s manners instructor said. “Your conduct towards Lord Bettino was reprehensible. Responding in monosyllables is rude and inelegant.”

  Briar sat on a settee with her hands folded on her lap.

  “Do you understand, Your Highness?” The teacher—a male this time—stood in front of Briar with his hands propped up on his hips. “Your Highness. Princess Rosalinda!”

  “I understand,” Briar said.

  The teacher looked unconvinced, but he turned his back on her and continued his lecture.

  Briar sat listlessly, unmoving and unbothered. It had barely been a week since Firra and Donaigh had left, and she was ready to give up.

  She was tired of being a disappointment, tired of being a failure. She didn’t want to change her personality to suit her grandfather’s ideal, but the fight in her was gone.

  Isaia avoided her; her grandfather imposed an even stricter lesson schedule on her, and her mother had portraits and paintings of possible suitors to show her at every meal.

  Perhaps I really am unlikeable.

  “Please excuse my interruption, but I have a very important question,” Velvet said.

  The teacher frowned. “What is it?”

  “Do you believe Loire fashion will soon impact Sole? Its styles have reached as far as Ringsted, after all,” Velvet said.

  The teacher’s frown turned into a scowl. “Ringsted takes its cues from Loire because it is an inelegant country filled with merchants and fishermen. Sole is a noble country—famous for our knights and chivalry. We create our own fashions!”

  He rattled on, but Briar stopped listening when Jewel sat down on the settee next to her—something she had never done before.

  “Your Highness, are you well?” Jewel asked in a low murmur.

  Briar blinked. “I’m sorry…what?”

  “You’re…subdued,” Jewel said. She glanced at Velvet and Silk, who were working together to keep the teacher distracted. “That is, you don’t seem like yourself.”

  Briar smiled wryly. “Perhaps it is only that I am taking everyone’s wishes to heart and am molding myself into the princess they desire.”

  Jewel tipped her head. “But why would you want to do that?”

  Briar blinked again, dumbfounded by the honest question. “What do you mean why? Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

  “What everyone wants is not important,” Jewel said. Briar could barely hear her over Velvet’s airy laugh. “What do you feel is right?”

  Flabbergasted by Jewel’s insight, Briar gaped at her. She was saved from responding by a gentle tap at the door.

  Delanna opened the door and curtsied. “Excuse me, I’ve been sent to summon Princess Rosalinda to the throne room—by the king’s command.”

  The instructor gave a long-suffering sigh. “Very well, go on. You’re not even listening to me anyway—I can tell by that dopey look on your face. When you return tomorrow, I expect you to be full of vinegar and spite, as usual.” The way he said it, it sounded almost…fond.

  Briar paused in the doorway, but the instructor had already retreated to the far side of the room. Shaking her head, she joined her ladies-in-waiting in the hallway. “What does my grandfather want?”

  Delanna closed the door and smiled cheerfully. “I lied. You haven’t been summoned.”

  Velvet and Silk gasped.

  “Delanna,” Jewel said in a warning tone.

  She shook her head. “The ends will justify the means in this case. Mage Donaigh and Mage Firra returned with Lady Enchantress Angelique and some of her companions. They are in the throne room.”

  “And?” Briar asked. She was surprised by the quick pace Delanna set as she led the way down the hallway.

  Delanna flicked her skirts into place. “It is not going well.”

  Briar raised an eyebrow. “So you thought adding me—the surest way to set my grandfather off—into the situation would help?”

  “Though you do not see it, your grandfather is absurdly fond of you,” Delanna said.

  Briar laughed harshly. “Oh, is he? What has he ever done that has given you that idea?”

  “Lady Delanna is right,” Silk said. “You have only known His Majesty for a few months. We have been visiting the palace since we could walk. We know he loves you based on his conduct when you were gone.”

  Briar shook her head. “Fondness doesn’t mean anything helpful. If my mother can’t talk any sense into him, I won’t be able to either.”

  “You are wrong. Your mother is too gentle to go against his wishes,” Velvet said. “If he is angry, she will not succeed.”

  “God bless her soul, Princess Alessia does not have your fire. If anyone can stand against him, it is you,” Delanna added.

  Briar was tempted to turn back down the hallway when they reached a staircase, but when her friends ran ahead of her, she sighed and trailed after them.

  They reached the throne room. Briar could hear the uproar even with the doors closed. The guards posted there bowed to her and hurried to open the doors.

  “Magic users—enchantresses included—are to refrain from meddling in the affairs of countries,” King Giuseppe growled.

  Those standing at the back of the throne room turned to see who had joined them and instantly parted when they saw Briar.

  King Giuseppe was seated on his throne, and Princess Alessia was on hers, with Prince Consort Filippo standing behind her. The king’s face was a mask of fury as he glowered down at a beautiful, breathtaking woman.

  “I know that.” The beautiful woman spoke at a normal tone, but her words were just as loud as the king’s. Her back was stiff with anger. “If Carabosso hadn’t ravaged six of your villages and towns, I wouldn’t be here. But as you have not moved, I am forced to come here and plead on behalf of your own people—do something!”

  Briar’s heart froze at this statement. Carabosso had returned? She had been repeatedly assured that he had disappeared after she nearly blew up the tower with the activation of her curse.

  Delanna brushed Briar’s elbow to get her attention, then shifted her eyes to the beautiful woman. “That’s Lady Enchantress Angelique.”

  Angelique…the enchantress who had modified Briar’s curse when she was a baby and had saved her life. Briar studied her with new interest. Angelique appeared to be approximately Isaia’s age—which was not a surprise given that enchanters aged slowly and lived far longer than regular humans—and wore an exquisite dress that seemed to change colors.

  Firra and Donaigh were nowhere to be seen—odd, considering it was they who had brought the enchantress to Ciane. But I don’t see any of the lady enchantress’s companions either…<
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  “My orders stand. The Magic Knights will be consolidated and posted in the biggest cities with the army. Our greatest resources must be protected.”

  “Your greatest resource is your subjects,” Lady Enchantress Angelique said. (If Briar had felt any less defeated, she would have applauded her.) “If you abandon them, Carabosso will continue his slaughter.” The enchantress looked furious with her narrowed eyes and grim expression.

  Briar had always imagined that enchantresses were beautiful, genteel women—perhaps similar to her grandfather’s ideal princess in temperament. But, though Lady Enchantress Angelique was undoubtedly beautiful and elegant, she had an edge Briar didn’t expect. It didn’t make her dark or dangerous…it just reminded her of the legendary weapons in Aeternum Hall: breathtaking and earth-shattering.

  Briar was nudged from her thoughts when she noticed the nobles standing closest to her looking back and forth between her and King Giuseppe. Waiting for an outburst from me, I imagine. She leaned into Delanna. “So Grandfather isn’t going to protect his people, nor does he intend to stop Carabosso?”

  “He is determined that the best tactic is to remain on defense,” Delanna said.

  “And the Magic Knights?”

  “Will follow his orders.”

  That was not their purpose. Briar returned her attention to the argument. It was clear that Angelique was not gaining any ground, and the conversation was only serving to make King Giuseppe more stubborn.

  Why is he acting this way? He was a model monarch until this year.

  “At least allow the Magic Knights to face Carabosso,” Angelique said. “He is gathering companions. If his company continues to grow, even your fortified cities will suffer.”

  “Sole has outlasted magical attacks before. We will do it again,” King Giuseppe rumbled. “Moreover, Carabosso is a rogue magic user—by default he is the responsibility of the Veneno Conclave.”

  “I have sent word to the Conclave, but it will take time for reinforcements to arrive,” Angelique said, “during which, hundreds of your people will die.”

  Jewel placed a hand on Briar’s shoulder. “Please, Your Highness, you must intervene.”

  “If I do…” Briar trailed off. If she did speak out, King Giuseppe would be furious. Princess Alessia would be disappointed, and Prince Consort Filippo would give her that sad smile he wore whenever he was regretting her childhood.