He exhaled a long breath. “Somewhere safe.”
I dug my nails into the seat of the carriage. “Where?”
“You’re going to have to trust me, Danielle.”
“How can I? You won’t tell me what’s going on! You’ve never told me anything!” I didn’t care if princesses weren’t supposed to yell.
My dad only shook his head.
I stared out the window and let my mind replay a piano piece I had recently composed. I tapped out the rhythm on my arm. Often my music expressed my emotions. For example, right now my fingers fiercely pounded out the fast tempo of an angry sonata from imaginary sheets of music in my head.
Finally, after the sun had set well beneath the edge of the sky, the carriage began to slow. Facing the back, I had to crane my neck to see out. There in front of us was a stone manor, built in an L-shape, with a tall tower. The moon’s eerie reflection on a nearby pond sent chills up my spine.
My dad’s voice broke the silence. “Welcome to Sherwood Manor.”
“What is this place?” I was still mad at him, but my curiosity outweighed my desire to ignore him.
“This home was built by your mother’s ancestors a hundred years ago. It is now owned by Jack’s family.”
“Jack? As in my friend Jack Atwood?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yes. His real last name is Sherwood. After his father died, Jack’s mother, Gretel, moved to the castle to work. She changed their name to avoid a connection to the infamous Sherwood Manor.”
Infamous?
“Jack’s aunt currently resides here.”
“Aunt Maryanne?” I said. Jack loved her and mentioned her often. He’d said she lived in the country, but I had never pictured her in a spacious and elegant manor.
“Yes,” my dad replied.
Rather than stopping in front of the manor, the carriage rounded the corner and parked behind the house next to the garden. I could smell the lavender along the path as my dad led me to the back door. He didn’t knock—he just pushed open the door as if he had every authority to be there. Which I guess he did, being king and all. But it wasn’t like him to just barge into someone’s house.
The moon rays shining through the open door allowed my dad to find a candle, which he lit in the glowing embers in the fireplace. Now I could see we were in a well-used kitchen with cooking pots, dishes, and supplies nicely stacked on shelves and tables. I wondered where the servants might be.
After my dad set the candle on the mantel, he came back and took my hand, nestling it in the crook of his arm. He led me forward a few steps, then stopped and froze like a statue.
“Dad, what’s going on?”
“We never thought the wizard would come back,” he said quietly. “We believed it was only a threat.” My dad didn’t look at me. “In order to conceive you, your mother made a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” I’d wanted the answer to this question all of my life. As a young child, I’d imagined the wizard was some kind of troll who guarded a bridge, like you read about in books, and that before my mom could cross the bridge she had to solve three riddles. Except she didn’t solve them, so the troll vowed to eat her unborn child when it grew up. That’s why I could never leave the castle, because the troll would find me and eat me. Of course, as I got older, I realized that was silly.
My dad stared quietly at the fireplace. “Dad, what kind of trade did Mom make?” I asked again, breaking his trance.
He turned to me. “Your mother promised . . .” His voice faltered for a moment before he went on. “In exchange for a fertility potion, she promised the wizard he could marry you when you turned sixteen. If she did not keep her promise, he said he would poison you so you would go to sleep and never awaken.” My dad touched my arm. “That is why we have kept you in the castle your whole life—we hoped it would protect you. The wizard said he would keep a watch over us, to make sure we did not try to take you away. From what that boy—Matthew, was it?—said to you at the ball, it is clear the wizard plans to enforce his end of the deal and come for you.”
This is worse than a deal with a troll. My mom made a bargain with the devil!
“Can’t I just say no? I mean, I didn’t promise to marry some old wizard.”
My dad shook his head. “There are many things your mother and I haven’t told you.”
“You never told me anything!” I glared at him, almost glad he couldn’t see into my eyes. “Didn’t you think I deserved to know about this?”
“There are things we hoped to never have to disclose, for your own benefit.” He smiled a sad smile. “There are also things we hoped to show you when you were ready.”
“Why did you bring me here, Dad?”
He reached out to the door directly adjacent to the fireplace. “There will be time to explain when this nightmare ends.”
He turned the knob and pushed open the door, so I stepped next to him to see what was on the other side. From where we stood in the kitchen, I’d assumed the door led to the garden outside, but even in the near-darkness I could see it was another room.
“I’ll come for you when it’s safe.” My dad began to push me through the doorway.
“No, Dad, please!” I panicked. “Why can’t I stay with you?”
“This is the only way.” He pushed me again, his hand at my back. “The wizard won’t be able to find you.”
“Find me where?” Tears ran down my face. “Please don’t do this.”
He bent to kiss the side of my head. “I love you, sweetheart.” He urged me the rest of the way into the room and gave me one last smile. “Look for Aunt Em and the three fairies,” he said. “They’ll help you.”
Then, as my heart began to drop in my chest, he closed the door.
Chapter 3
The Timeless Tales of Sleeping Beauty:
Dornroschen (Little Briar Rose)
Germany, 1812
As for the girl, all the wishes made by the wise women came true, for she was so beautiful, kind, charming, and sensible that everyone who set eyes on her grew to love her. On the exact day that she turned fifteen, the king and the queen were not at home, and the girl was left at home all alone. She wandered around in the castle, poking her head into one room after another, and eventually she came to the foot of an old tower. After coming up a narrow winding staircase in the tower, she ended up in front of a little door with a rusty old key in its lock. As she turned the key, the door swung open to reveal a tiny little room.
Locked Out
For me, there was no key. Like a spoiled two-year-old, I flailed my arms against the door and begged my dad to open it. “Please, don’t leave me,” I yelled.
I turned the knob and jerked on it in frustration, but it wouldn’t budge. “Please, Dad,” I whimpered. “Please!”
I whirled around and melted to the floor, with my back against the door. My hair had escaped the bun on my head, so I shoved back the long strands hanging in front of my face. The carriage ride had rumpled my dress, and ink stains covered my fingers. I didn’t even bother to wipe the tears from my face. I was angry. And confused. And sad. But mostly I was terrified.
In a play, this is where the orchestra would perform a song of struggle. I could almost hear the violins blast out powerful, lingering notes. If the bow were brought closer to the bridge of the instrument, it would sound as if the violins were screaming.
What was I supposed to do? Oh yes, find Aunt Em and the three fairies. The three fairies? Thanks, Dad. Very helpful.
And why, I wondered, hadn’t Jack ever told me his mom owned a manor and that his true last name was Sherwood? Why did my dad say the wizard wouldn’t be able to find me here? Where was here, anyway?
The moonlight coming through the windows was better than nothing, and once my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I stood and slowly took a few steps. As far as I could see there was no furniture, just bare wood floors. When I reached the other side of the room, all I found was another door. This one opened easily when I tu
rned the knob.
I cautiously moved through the doorway and stopped. My breath caught in my throat as I realized my feet were on the edge of a broken flight of stairs. The house was a giant heap of rubble. A fireplace still stood in the corner, and there was an outline of a staircase that led to where I stood, but nothing else was recognizable in the low light.
I tried to calm myself by taking slow, steady breaths. What was it my mom always said? Oh yes—“A princess must never fear. Fear is only afraid of itself.”
Mom, where are you? I’m way past the point of fear.
I looked at the door I had come through, and then down at the pile of what used to be a house. There was no way to go but down, and that was what I would do. Many people didn’t know it, since I was a proper princess and all, but I never shied away from a dare. Jack could testify of that because of our many pranks.
Mustering up my courage, I hiked up my skirt and said out loud, “I will not be afraid.” I bent down in preparation to drop to the floor below. As I maneuvered myself and scooted to the edge, the hem of my dress caught on a nail. Thank goodness my mom wasn’t here to lecture me about decorum and etiquette. Then again, a ripped dress would be the least of her worries when I demanded to know why she and my father had left me in the dark concerning the curse.
A few more rips and scratches and I was hanging on the edge with my fingers. All my talk of not being afraid dwindled away when I realized there was still a great distance between my feet and the floor below. I closed my eyes and wished I were taller, but my hands got sweaty and I started to slide. Finally, I couldn’t hold on any longer.
I landed hard on my right foot and tumbled onto my backside. “Ouch!” I cried out at the sharp pain in my ankle. I pulled up my skirt to assess the throbbing joint. It was tender to the touch, but thankfully I could still move it.
Sitting in the broken pile of brick and wood, I contemplated my next plan. “Look for Aunt Em,” my dad’s words sounded in my head.
If only there were a sign saying, “Aunt Em is this way.”
I limped across the rubble and stepped out onto what was left of the porch. I peered into the twilight and saw a barren, flat land. Maybe there were some trees or mountains in the distance, but Sherwood Forest, and the pond near Jack’s aunt house, had vanished. My heart cried as I realized I had no idea where I was.
A noise brought my attention to an approaching animal—a large one. I glanced around, hoping to find a good place to hide, but finally just ducked behind a pile of wood and prayed the animal would move by without noticing me.
“Whoa, girl,” came a voice.
I sneaked a look around the stack of wood and saw someone sitting astride a horse.
“I don’t know why that woman makes me come out here every single night,” the rider said, then started to leave.
Not wanting to be left alone, I emerged from my hiding place and said loudly, “Please, wait.”
The horse halted but the rider did not turn around, so I wondered if he had heard me. I moved onto the steps and called out, “Please wait, milord.” He wore a hat, and since servants didn’t wear such head coverings, he must be of a titled position. Besides, my mom had always taught me to address a gentleman as if he were of a high rank.
The rider turned the horse and rode closer, then dismounted and walked toward me. Though I suddenly realized getting his attention may not have been a good idea, I couldn’t seem to budge from where I stood. Oddly, he wore only long trousers and a pale shirt. Where I came from, men wore white tights, black buckle shoes, knee-length trousers, and long jackets.
Before I could protest, the stranger stepped onto the bottom stair and peered at me. Being this close, I could tell he wasn’t much older than me. “Who are you?” he asked.
Even in the near darkness, I could see he was handsome. His dark hair peeked out from under a peculiar hat, and his shoulders were broad.
Oh, blessed day! I swooned. Then I got a grip on myself and curtsied. “I am Princess Danielle Channing.”
He quirked up an eyebrow but didn’t bow. Not even a head nod to acknowledge my nobility.
“And your name, sir?” I couldn’t help sounding a bit snippy after his lack of respect.
He chuckled. “My name is Nathan.” His gaze traveled down the length of me, taking in my unruly hair and my tattered, dirty dress. “How long have you been sleeping out here?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not sleeping here.”
By his skeptical expression I could tell he didn’t believe me. “Where might I find Aunt Em?” I said, interrupting his gawking.
“Aunt Em is dead.”
I gasped.
“Are you all right?” He reached out to steady me.
I took a step back, tears suddenly streaming down my face. What am I going to do? The person who can help me is dead!
I turned to retreat into the broken house. There had to be a way to get back to my dad. But before I could limp away, a strong hand grabbed my elbow.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” the stranger asked again.
My shoulders fell and I continued to quiver. “I don’t know how to get home.”
“Can I take you somewhere for the night?”
I slowly turned. He now stood on the same step as me, and I had to look up to meet his eyes. “I don’t know where I am.”
He lifted an eyebrow again. “You’re in Shelley, Idaho.”
Idaho? What a strange name for a place.
“You’re not from around here are you?” he asked as he scanned my attire once more.
I shook my head. “I’m from Fenmore Falls.”
“Hmm . . . never heard of it. Is it far away?”
Farther than you know.
“Well, it’s getting late.” The young man looked out into the growing darkness. “Let me take you somewhere for the night, and in the morning you can figure out how to get home to . . . Fenmore Falls.”
I curtsied. “Thank you, Sir Nathan.”
His chuckle rumbled in his chest—I liked the sound. “Ma’am, I’m not Sir Nathan. Nate suits me just fine.”
I curtsied. “Well then, thank you, Sir Nate.”
This time he laughed out loud. “No, just Nate. And please stop bowing. We don’t do that fancy stuff around here.”
Embarrassed, I hung my head, but he lifted my chin with his finger. Goosebumps trickled down my arms as I raised my eyes to meet his. “So, where can I take you for the night, ma’am?” he asked gently. “Do you have any family in town?”
I swallowed slowly, completely entranced by the pull of his finger under my chin. No man of any age had stood so close to me, touched me so intimately, or stared at me so thoroughly. It was downright shocking.
Nate’s mouth lifted in a grin. “I know you speak English, Princess Danielle.” He said my royal title with a touch of mockery.
“Call me Dani,” I whispered. “Just Dani.”
Why did I give him my nickname?
“Dani?” Still smiling, he released my chin. “I’ll call you Dani if you stop with all of the ‘Sir Nate’s and the curtsying. Sound good?”
I nodded, still feeling a bit dizzy from his nearness.
“Now that’s settled, let me take you to Dorothy’s house. She’ll know what to do with you.” He retreated down the steps toward his horse.
My feet did not follow. “Dorothy? Who is Dorothy?”
“Aunt Em’s niece,” Nate answered over his shoulder. “She’s the one who sends my brother and me on this wild goose chase to make sure Aunt Em’s lands aren’t being vandalized.” He pointed a finger at me. “You’re not vandalizing, are you?”
I didn’t know what vandalizing was, but I shook my head.
“Well, Princess . . . whoever you are, I don’t know why you’re here. All I know is Dorothy wants this place checked every night. I never imagined I’d stumble upon a crazy girl who thinks she’s a princess, though.”
He doesn’t believe I’m a princess? Who does he think
he is? He definitely wasn’t a lord of anything. I doubted he even had a title—he was more like an ogre who shoveled pig manure for a living. That would explain his unlearned manners and his clothes.
“Are you coming or not?” Nate asked with a frown.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I spat. After all, he thought I was crazy.
“Suit yourself.” He turned and mounted his horse.
“Fine,” I muttered. Trying to open the locked door to get back home would be a much better use of my time than trusting a man with no manners.
I watched him ride down the path. I could hear the steady rhythm of the horse’s hoofs striking the ground. Was he really going to leave me, a princess, alone in this awful place? Then again, he didn’t believe I was a princess. I shivered.
Then he stopped, turned his horse around, and headed back toward the house. I probably should have gone inside, but instead I waited for him. When he was about five feet from the porch, he stopped the horse and said reluctantly, “I can’t just leave you here.”
“Please provide me the directions to Dorothy’s home,” I said, “and I’ll be on my way.” With any luck, it was the house I could see peeking up just down the road.
Nate let out an exaggerated sigh and slid off his horse. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I know you’re somewhere safe.”
“I can take care of myself.” I jutted out my chin.
“I don’t care if you can sprout wings and fly there by yourself. I’m taking you to Dorothy’s.”
I gasped. He isn’t an ogre—he’s a monster! “I will not go anywhere with you,” I said through gritted teeth.
He stepped in front of me. “Oh yes you will.”
I stomped my foot. “No I won’t. You have no right to tell me what to do. You cannot make me go anywhere with you.”
He grinned wickedly. “You underestimate me, Princess.”
In a blink of an eye, he wrapped his arms around my legs and threw me over his shoulder. “I have every right to tell you what to do,” he mumbled. Then he walked over to his horse and tossed me onto the very odd-looking saddle. “When you’ve trespassed on someone else’s property there are consequences. Especially here in Idaho.”
Finding Sleeping Beauty Page 2