by D. L. Boyles
THE SLEEPING PRINCESS
Twisted Tales: Crown of Roses Book One
∞∞∞
D.L. Boyles
Cover Design by Victoria McKevitt of Black Widow Books
Edited by Lisa Miller
Copyright © 2021 D.L. Boyles
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.
Prologue
Chapter One - The Curse
Chapter Two - The Hunter and the Rabbit
Chapter Three - A Party and a Plan
Chapter Four - Heartache and Happiness
Chapter Five - Death and Disappointment
Chapter Six - A Little Bit of Reality and Intrigue
PART TWO
Chapter Seven - A Switch of Tactics and a Change of Heart
Chapter Eight - The Farewell and the Curse
Chapter Nine - The Secret and a Ship
Chapter Ten - Stars and Crowns
Chapter Eleven - Danger and a Song
Chapter Twelve - The Mountain Air and Something More
Chapter Thirteen - A Confession and an Embrace
Chapter Fourteen - A Corset and the Conflict
Chapter Fifteen - The Sparrow and the Farewell
Follow
Final Thoughts and Thanks
DEDICATION
For Gram. I said the first one was for you. For the nearly four decades of believing in this deviant you call a granddaughter.
I love you!
Prologue
“A sleeping princess, the Crown of Roses upon her head, will rise up and unite the faerie courts against a common foe, and by her side, the warrior of renown.” She looked up from the scroll and eyed her father. “So, this is the lore of the crown?”
“It is, my daughter, it is. Now you understand, of course, why I cannot give it to you.”
She did not fully understand, to be honest. The crown had been her mother’s and her mother’s before. “It has always been worn by the Winter Queen, Father. And none of them were sleeping.”
Her father sighed, rising from his own throne. “You are right. But it is time the crown be put away. The Wand Star is visible.”
Glancing down at the scroll, she scanned the faded letters. “The Wand Star?” She hoped her father would elaborate, but when he said nothing, she continued to search for those words within the scroll. ‘Wand’ and ‘star’ were nowhere written…oh. Wait! “It says the Wand Star will shine to mark the new time. Seasons will change and the world, though awake, will sleep until the sleeping princess meets her slumber.” She pondered this a moment. “So, the world is about to fall asleep? Until this princess goes to sleep? But if she is a sleeping princess, how will she ‘meet her slumber?’ And, what, the world will awake and she will slumber?” She shook her head in disbelief. “It is not a very clear prophecy, is it?”
“No. But your mother believed in it and ensured I knew where the scroll was.”
“And you believe that both the scroll and the crown had something to do with Mother’s untimely death?”
Her father shrugged. “I cannot say. What I know is that you are now queen of all that was hers and you will need to go to Cheimonas to claim your throne.”
“But I’ve spent my life here with you. Can some other lord or lady, some other royal line take the winter throne?”
A knock to the door echoed through the empty throne room before Vinurien peeked his head inside. “You summoned me, my king?”
“Yes, Vinurien. You are my champion, my most trusted warrior. And you,” her father said, turning to face her, a hand on Vinurien’s shoulder, “are my most beloved daughter. Together, you will go to Cheimonas.” He turned a hard stare on his champion. “You will protect her, Vinurien, and do not let any harm befall her.”
“I will do as you say, my king. My life for hers.”
Chapter One
The Curse
“It’s a lovely day for a party, your highness. Audora will love all that you’ve done.”
Queen Isadora grinned wildly at the maid who flitted about the garden to finalize the decorations. Today was a special day. Audora would be officially introduced to the kingdom today and thus would begin a marvelous new chapter of life for Isadora. While Merriweather, the sweet and loyal maid she was, believed Audora would appreciate such an introduction, she was barely a month old and would never have the least memory of this day. Isadora would remember, however. It had taken a lot of effort on her part to become queen and the mother to the kingdom’s new darling—Princess Audora. She would not let anything ruin this celebration. Nothing. She’d already taken several precautions to ensure the day went smoothly.
The minutes turned to hours and then the time arrived, and the guests began to filter in through the castle and out into the gardens. Isadora’s heart bubbled up with such joy she could hardly stand it. Men and women from across the kingdom had come and were gushing over her, beaming at her quick recovery from childbirth, smothering her with compliments, raving at the lavish decorations and lush gardens, and giving her endless praise for the beauty her daughter was. Of course, she’d had little to do with the baby’s looks, but the rest—well, the rest was definitely all her. She’d transformed the castle and its grounds—in more ways than one—into a sparkling spectacle of grandeur. And when the king filtered in amongst the people, she knew that he even appreciated all of her hard work.
“Everything looks exquisite!” Duchess Leah exclaimed. “King Stefan, your queen is a wonder. And your daughter. Oh, that child is the most…well, the most adorable thing I have ever laid my eyes upon.”
Isadora reached for Stefan’s hand, but he seemed oblivious to her presence. He blinked at Duchess Leah several times and Isadora worried that her carefully laid plans for this lovely party might crumble around her. “The child?” he asked, looking slightly confused. He glanced around the group of people as though he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. His clouded eyes took in the garden around them, his brows furrowing in momentary confusion.
Bless Merriweather’s heart, she hurried forward, curtseying before him, a tray of crystal drinkware in her hands. She quickly handed the drinks to each of the guests in the circle, putting special emphasis on the king’s. “Your Highness, this is your favored wine. The master of celebrations selected it especially for today.”
“Today?” He glanced down at the drink in his hand then back up at the guests, whose smiles were beginning to falter.
“Are you feeling well, King Stefan?” Duke Hubert asked. “It could be the sun. Perhaps you’d better drink up.” To emphasize this, the duke saluted both Isadora and the king with his crystal glass then swallowed a hefty drink.
Stefan murmured something Isadora could not discern then lifted the glass to his lips. “It is divine,” he told Merriweather. “The master of celebrations did a wonderful job.” He turned to look at Isadora the
n, and she could see that the cloudiness in his eyes had faded, replaced with a golden sheen.
She smiled up at him and placed her hand gently on his arm. “Everyone has worked so wonderfully for this day, my dear. None more than you.”
The nearby guests cheered, raising their glasses in agreement with Isadora. She flashed a brief nod of thanks to the maid, who slipped away into the crowd. She left the king standing there, discussing hunting with Duke Hubert, and slinked away to the ornate crib sheltered from the sun and insects beneath billowy curtains and netting. The darling little girl blinked up at Isadora much in the way the girl’s father had done moments ago. Only there was no fog in the little princess’s eyes. Isadora smiled down at her. She was standing there, admiring the sweetness of the child, when she heard the cawing of a crow. Glancing up, she discovered that the bird with feathers as black as night was sitting in a branch just above the crib.
“Shoo!” she said, swatting a hand in the bird’s direction. To her great relief, the bird fluttered away and she released a shaky breath. “I thought for a moment that the bird might try to take you from me,” she whispered down to Audora. “But it was no special bird. Just an ordinary black bird who cannot harm either of us.”
The party progressed wonderfully until it was finally time for everyone to file by the crib to give a royal welcome to Audora. Guests lined up and the herald called them forward. Each one laid a gift upon the wrought iron table near the crib, openly declaring their loyalty to the girl and the purpose of their gift. Some brought perfumes, unique to their part of the country to give Audora ‘a scent of pride,’ others gifted her with rare gems mined from their lands, and others laid out baskets of goods from fruits to artwork to pottery to crystal to silk and fine linens. Isadora smiled as the pile grew and graciously thanked each of the guests, standing beside a quiet but thoughtful Stefan.
Some people regarded the king curiously, but he’d always been secretive and quiet, so they dismissed his behavior as typical. This was the first time, after all, in their memory, that the castle had been opened up to the kingdom in more than a decade. So, many of the nobility complimented Isadora on her work, not only with the celebration, but also with the king for influencing him from his life of seclusion. She accepted all of their praise easily.
A loud screeching and a rush of wind disrupted the party just as Duke Ferimore was complimenting Isadora on a job well done. Isadora searched the panicked faces of her guests for Merriweather but could not find her.
She pressed close to Stefan’s side, who was now glaring at the trio of birds fluttering before them. The crowd of guests stepped far back as one of the birds, a black crow with feathers shining with a blue aura, shimmered into human form. Isadora had expected his presence, had hoped that perhaps this confrontation would not occur, but had expected it, nonetheless. Guests screamed and some of the ladies swooned as Prince Malecinth loomed over Audora’s crib, gazing down curiously at the little girl. Thankfully, there was no trace of recognition on his face. Merriweather had done her job well.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Stefan’s voice boomed with authority, another unexpected but much appreciated addition to Isadora’s plans. She slinked closer to the king, not having to feign her trembling arms in the least.
Malecinth frightened her more than she cared to admit. In the tree behind him, a small robin and a snowy-white owl perched, their heads swiveling in all directions, alert and prepared for danger. The tall, muscular male before her would not need much assistance if he decided to slaughter them all. His power practically sizzled in the atmosphere. His delicate, well-manicured good looks belied his viciousness.
“Who am I? Stefan, what is the meaning of this?” Malecinth glared at Stefan, observing him from head to toe. Malecinth, the powerful fae that he was, would not be fooled too long, but thankfully, Stefan did not falter.
“This is my castle, and I will be the only one demanding answers here. Why have you come? You were not invited.”
“Not invited?” Malecinth’s voice was smooth and controlled, but somewhere in the depths of that control, Isadora sensed a deep anger. “Well, that is a fact.” He reached out and brushed the curtains over Audora’s crib aside and everyone gasped. Three guards dashed forward but they stopped as soon as Malecinth raised his hand. They didn’t stop as much as freeze in place. This, of course, was met with further gasping amongst those gathered, followed by another round of swooning from some of the more…delicate ladies. Isadora knew she should step forward and take on the role of a concerned mother, but she could not force her feet forward. Despite expecting the man’s arrival at this party and the preparations she’d taken for such a thing she was still frightened. She’d be a fool not to be. And it was now, only now in this moment, that Isadora was afraid, truly afraid that her plan might not work.
“Step away from the child,” Stefan grumbled.
“I don’t think I will.” Malecinth bent over the crib and inhaled deeply, taking in the child’s scent. It was then that Isadora spotted Merriweather and a sort of ease swept over her. The two exchanged glances and the maid smiled. That smile was the most reassuring thing Isadora had ever known. The fae, with his dark eyes and delicate features, gazed back over at Stefan then glanced at Isadora. It was the first time he’d looked in her direction. “You are the child’s mother?” He looked so confused that Isadora wanted to laugh. Instead, she simply nodded, not trusting the humor in her voice to remain hidden. Malecinth glared back toward Stefan before turning back to her. “And you are his queen?” he asked, pointing to Stefan. Again, Isadora could only nod. “Stefan, what have you done? The shame of this!”
Stefan took another step forward but stopped abruptly, tilting his head to the side as if he were trying to recall whether or not he knew the man before him. “You should leave.”
“I will.” There was an audible sigh of relief amongst the crowd. “However, I feel it would be rude not to give the princess a gift on such a special day.” He turned to stare down at the baby once more. Isadora held her breath. “She will be a true princess, grow beautiful like her mother the queen and graceful like a rose.” Malecinth emphasized the last word with a glare in Stefan’s direction. “But! My true gift is this: As the vines of the briar rose twist and turn, its thorns prickly and sharp to guard the delicate beauty of its flowers, so shall be the future of this girl, who will, by her eighteenth birthday, prick her finger on their lovely vine and fall into a deep sleep, never to waken, to slumber for eternity…the life of one child for the other.” His words, spoken with such authority and coldness, frightened Isadora and even Merriweather slunk back several feet until she disappeared amongst the crowd of guests. A swirl of magic filled the space above the crib, blue lights twinkling and sparkling in a fine mist that settled over the child. Once again, the crowd sputtered with fear and more guards tried to rush forward but they, too, were left frozen in their desperate flight to save their princess.
“You should have taken better care, Stefan. You were entrusted with a gift—one I was loathe to see given to you—and you have failed. Stay away from the Northern Wood, Stefan. Neither you nor your people will be received there and none who step foot within its shade shall ever return.”
With that, Malecinth lifted his arms, the black cloak he wore transforming from cloth to feathers, and then with a screech louder than any crow should have been able to master, flapped his wings, leaving behind a gust of wind that caused Isadora to duck her head and close her eyes. When the wind ceased and she was able to focus, she caught sight of Stefan quickly scooping Audora from the crib and huddling her close to his chest. Her heart beat erratically for a moment, fear seeping back in, until he turned and gently placed Audora, who was sleeping sweetly, into her arms.
Isadora had not held the child until that moment and as soon as the warm weight of her pressed against her bosom, she knew that her plan had worked, everything she’d strived for was almost complete. She smiled down at the sleeping girl and
nearly cried with delight.
Chapter Two
The Hunter and the Rabbit
The Hunter crashed through the underbrush of the Briar Patch’s outskirts in hot pursuit of his prey. It was much smaller than he was and able to fit between the twisted branches of the briar roses, which grew in abundance here. He, on the other hand, had to take precautions. The rose was not simply beauty to him but a curse. One prick of the thorns would make him violently ill and, if not treated quickly, send him into a deep slumber, never to wake. The roses were a boundary between his world and that of the humans and had once kept the two worlds separated.
Now, he was slicing wildly at their vines with his sword, intent on moving forward but not so intent as to make a grave mistake. He was fast—enough so that he would eventually catch his quarry without a doubt.
It took him the better part of the day to slash his way through the vines of the briar rose, but he eventually managed it and found himself in the open meadow that sprawled on for miles before disappearing into the thick forest of the Northern Wood, the true heart of Malesia, the home of the Autumn Court. It was in those woods it would be difficult to track his prey, but not so much as to cause him worry. His senses were well-honed and he could hear her, even now, breathing heavily with determined exertion as she darted for the safety of the woods. The Hunter smiled. He had expected this to be an uneventful hunt, but it was turning out to be much more entertaining.
With an easy gait, he ran through the meadow, its tall grasses and wildflowers brushing against his waist as he went, emitting the sweet fragrance of jasper and emolia—rare flowers native only to this meadow. Bees and other insects in search of nectar flew up into the air as he disturbed their busy work, their buzz echoing loudly around him. It was these innocent little creatures that gave his prey away—that and her breathing, her scent. There would be no escape today. None. The Hunter would catch her and his reward would be as sweet as the perfume surrounding him.