While Aurora Slept- The Complete Trilogy

by Megan Easley-Walsh

  “Excuse me, Your Highness, are you quite all right?”

  It was Tilly's voice.

  “Oh yes!” I said, standing quickly from the bed, gathering Tilly into my arms and twirling her around the room.

  “Oh!” Tilly said, caught off-guard and now quite convinced that I was anything but all right.

  “I had the most marvelous night,” I said, stopping in the dancing now, “I found the perfect man, not just to help with awakening Aurora but for me.”

  “Oh!” Tilly said again, not quite sure what to make of my gush of happiness.

  “And I wasn't even looking!” I added.

  “I told you, Your Highness,” Tilly said now, smiling, “I said that there would be many fine men there last night.”

  “You did, Tilly! You did!” I said, becoming more excited. I was talking to her nearly the way that I would have talked to Aurora. Only, Aurora wouldn't have needed so many explanations to understand all the points. But oh happiest of happy days, Aurora would soon be awake! I knew it, knew it with every fiber of my being, thanks to the wonderful prince!

  Chapter Twenty

  Tilly

  “And what lucky young man caught your eye, Your Highness? If you don't mind me asking,” Tilly said now. Midnight smiled at her, seeing that Tilly was on the edge of equal giddiness for the princess and yet having enough decorum to hold back.

  “Guess!” Midnight said, making it something of a game for them both.

  “Prince Harken, perhaps? He was looking most handsome in his blue velvet with his dark hair last night. Was he not?”

  “Yes, I'm sure he was, but that's not him. Guess again!” Midnight said.

  Tilly really wanted to just shout,

  “Out with it already!” But she could hardly do such a thing to the princess and so she indulged her.

  “Prince Sebastian is a fine dancer and made more than one witty quip. Perhaps, it was him?”

  Midnight shook her head.

  Tilly wracked her mind, trying to remember the names from last night.

  “Do you give up?” Midnight said.

  Thank goodness!

  “Yes! Do tell!” Tilly said, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Prince Philip!” Midnight said, loudly, unable to contain herself and then collapsing backwards onto the bed with an enormous smile plastered on her face.

  “Prince Philip?” Tilly said, her voice taut, quieter than it had been moments before.

  Midnight didn't notice. Instead, she was gushing on,

  “Yes, and he had the most lovely carriage. You'll never guess! It was made from a pumpkin! How clever he is to think of such a thing!”

  Tilly reached into her pocket, clenched her fist and her fingers brushed the emerald and jade necklace that she'd not realized was still in her pocket from when she'd picked it up to clean from the dressing table.

  “You don't say,” she said, trying her best to contain her real feelings. Philip was not clever for having such an idea. It was her idea! Moreover, he was certainly not a prince! And he was the last of all people that Midnight was supposed to be falling for!

  “Yes, and he really is the most kind-hearted and so handsome and not at all shy and aw, he really does make my heart sing.”

  Tilly couldn't answer. She nodded, mechanically, though Midnight was still reclined on her bed and could see none of it. The tears were rising to the surface of Tilly's eyes. If she didn't exit soon, then she'd be unable to contain herself any longer.

  “Sorry, Your Highness, I have something I must attend to.”

  “Fine, yes, aw, what a lovely morning!” Midnight said and stretched luxuriously deeper into the covers.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Philip

  “You have to kiss Aurora.”

  Philip blinked.

  “I don't understand.”

  Everything inside of him whirled up in confusion. He had to kiss Midnight, surely. That was what his heart had told him, what his mind had convinced him of, what saving her all those years ago and then confirming his silent vow to her last night had meant. He had to kiss her mind, her heart, to caress her in gentle perfection, to show her the princess that she really was, the one who could be defeated by none, who needed no protection and yet would always have him at her side.

  “You were betrothed as children.”

  Philip's skin prickled with ice.

  “How is that possible?” He could barely choke out the words. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. He was merely a horse groom and she was –

  “You are a prince.”

  “No, I played one last night, for whatever reason you had. I – ”

  “Your identity has been concealed for your entire life, Philip. It had to be. To protect you and me and all of us.”

  Philip stood from the stool, pushing away this new knowledge, needing to be free of it. He started to laugh, shaking as he did. There was no humor in it, only utter confusion, frustration, shock that was too great to remain inside his body and so his entire body shook. That's what being told he was a prince that was betrothed to Aurora did to him; it rattled his entire world and all that he knew.

  “Protect you,” Philip said slowly now, “Surely, Father, you do not mean to imply that you are a king!” Now he laughed all the more, a biting tone of irony creeping in. It was so unlike Philip, this acrimony. But, he was so accustomed to the truth, to dishing it out and to receiving it. Yes, last night he'd lied to the king, lied even to Midnight, but that was – well, that was merely doing his father's bidding. It wasn't – It wasn't –

  He couldn't breathe. He sat down in a dizzying fall, landing with a thud against the stool.

  “Explain.”

  “Long ago, there was an evil man who threatened to kill you on your eighteenth birthday. So we hid you away. But now your eighteenth birthday has passed and the time has come for you to take your rightful throne.”

  Philip shook his head.

  “If you're king, then be it. What do you need me for?”

  “That's not the way it works,” his father said.

  “That's how it's worked in every book I've ever read.”

  “Well every book you ever read had nothing to do with our kingdom.”

  Philip looked at his father. Dressed in the clothes that he'd worn all of Philip's life, he looked anything but regal. Straw clustered around his feet.

  “What are we kings of, then, horses? Sheep? Cows? That's about the kind of kings we'd be!”

  The laugh had returned.

  “No, Philip. We ruled a land larger even than this one. Our palace was greater. Our treasure far exceeded the king's own. And the time has come for us to return. You must kiss Aurora. Betrothed to her, you are the only one that can save her, and then you must marry and return to our kingdom to rule. You are eighteen, of marriageable age and you may begin anew. Once you are king, there can be no threat to you any longer. The oath that was sworn against you was to destroy a prince. You will no longer be one.”

  The words fell on Philip now, with such decisiveness that he knew his father couldn't be making this up, that he wasn't delusional and that nothing was as he'd ever thought it had been.

  “You're serious?”

  He looked at Philip, straight into his eyes.

  “I'm serious.”

  “Aurora hates me.” It was a flimsy objection, maybe one that didn't even matter, but at this moment it was all that Philip could think to say. The biting sarcasm was gone, so too the laugh. Now he only said it with practicality.

  “I hardly think that's true. Besides, what does it matter even if she does?”

  “What does it matter?” Now Philip laughed again, “I should think it matters a great deal! Just how do you expect her to agree to marry me?”

  “Whatever idea of her hating you that you have is no doubt from when you were children. You've grown up. So has she. Things change. All of that is far behind you. Besides, she will be so grateful that you have awoken her, that she will insta
ntly agree to it.”

  Philip eyed his father suspiciously now.

  “So grateful that I awoke her? Did you plan this all?”

  “What?” his father said, looking as though he'd been struck, “Of course, I didn't plan this!”

  “Then who did? Why does she lay asleep?”

  His father shook his head.

  “I don't know. I honestly don't. I just know that you have to kiss her to wake her up.”

  Philip shook his head,

  “I really don't think – ”

  “Philip. You must. If you don't awaken Aurora, marry her fulfilling your pledge of betrothal that allowed us to stay in this land in safekeeping all these years and become king, now that you are of age, then you are in as much danger as she is, even more. It is your only chance at safety.

  Part Three: Beast Seeking Beauty

  Chapter One

  Aurora

  “I know you,” I said now. He stepped closer, as though my words were invitation.

  “Do you, princess?” He didn’t know my name. How was it possible that I should know him? How was it possible that he not know me? Everyone knew me. Certainly, everyone from the kingdom knew me. It was possible, of course, that he was not from the kingdom. It was possible, wasn't it? Was it possible?

  My head swam in a fog of trying to sort out what was real and right and made any sense. Since waking up, all seemed removed from me, as though I were standing on a shore, looking at it through a haze.

  He looked at me, calmly but intent and it was then that I knew.

  “Yes, I know you. I was with you, once, in a dream.”

  I said it, then turned away, afraid that he would laugh at me. What would a stranger think of such an impossibility? Only, he didn't laugh. No, not at all. He stepped in front of me, so that I was no longer turned away from him and he smiled.

  He said,

  “Yes, I know.”

  I looked at him then, really into him. There, were the edges of the golden-tipped hues of his hair. There was the steady smile and the look of a friend.

  “You.”

  He nodded.

  “May I kiss you, Aurora?”

  I blinked.

  “You know me.”

  “You know me too.”

  I nodded.

  He leaned in to kiss me, his lips barely brushing mine, as though waiting for me. I put my hand to the back of his head, pulling him to me, kissing him soundly.

  “I've been wanting to do that.”

  “Oh, have you?” The words fell softly onto my lips, like dew onto a rose. Though how close he was to me blurred his image, I could hear the smile in his voice.

  I didn't answer, but only pressed my lips to his again, erasing all space between us.

  Now, satisfied, I pulled back slightly to look at him. I kept my hand on his arm, as if there were a magnet pulling me there to him.

  “What is your name?”

  “My name,” he repeated, as though the concept was foreign. Indeed, it was, for he said to me now,

  “I've never had a name. I'm merely a beast, a bird.”

  It was then that the light rained down upon me and I recognized him fully for what he was.

  “You were the hawk.”

  “I am the hawk,” he corrected gently, “but now I wear the clothes of man.”

  It sounded so much like something Mother would say, so much like the roots of my family that had been planted in this land so long ago, long before Father's had settled here and built these walls and this palace.

  “How?” I said. The word rushed out, though my voice from not talking for so long, had utterly abandoned me by now. I wondered if he'd even hear it. He was a hawk, though. Of course he would hear.

  He gave a little shake of his head. It didn't mean he didn't understand. He didn't know. I squeezed his hand. If he had become a man, did that mean he could be turned back into a hawk? Would I lose him?

  “We will find out. I will make sure that you remain a man, that you will never be a hawk, that you will never fly – ”

  I wanted to say the words, but I didn't. How could I, when I realized their complexity? If he remained a man, then he could never fly again. Perhaps, he'd rather be a hawk.

  I looked at him, trying to see through this hawk-man or man-bird or beautiful beast, whatever he was. What did his heart say? I'd heard his song so vividly while still I'd been asleep. If only I could hear his deepest desires so sweetly and perfectly attuned now. I could ask, but I didn't trust myself not to give away the breaking in my heart. What was it that he had said? He was the part of me that I didn't yet realize. It was like that. Though I knew so little of him, I felt the dread of perpetual loss if he should turn and flee. It was that. Perpetual loss. For to lose a part of oneself meant that it would be repeated again and again. It was not a once and for all, finished thing. It was continual, like a circle, like the dreamcatcher and its power. It was that way with Midnight, when we'd been apart. Perpetually, I felt myself ripped from my sister's side, as if we were a single rose being cleaved apart. But, I'd been unable to think on it, lest Midnight should be joined to me, and forever captured in that dream world. Was it like that with the hawk? By drawing him to me would he be torn from his world of safety, from his place of freedom? Would it be eternal banishment into a pit of despair, as it would have been for Midnight, if she had joined my side? Did love sometimes really mean that being apart was better, for the health, for the sake, of the one that was beloved?

  I felt the heaviness of heart pounding down on me, as though I'd been buried by a landslide. Perhaps, that was my curse. For nothing can grow and live if it is forever joined only to the dawn and I am Aurora and, well, Aurora is the dawn.

  Chapter Two

  Edora

  The deer awoke, shivering in the cold. She stumbled to her feet, unable to stand. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, as though it had been days since she'd eaten and not merely hours. She shouldn't be so ravenous. Standing shouldn’t be so impossible. And why was she so frightfully cold? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Looking down, she gasped.

  Where four spindly, but strong, legs should have been, she saw only two pale protrusions. She tottered over, landing ungracefully on the chalky earth. Never before had the ground seemed so hard. Never had her bones ached. What had happened? How was she even –

  The deer froze. Piercing the forest came the most dreaded sound of all: the hunter's horn. A pack of hounds barked with all the ferocity that a thunderstorm unleashed onto the quivering trees, shaking their dried leaves to the forest floor below. A thunderstorm was not malicious though. It was simply being itself, doing what it had to. Assuring the forest of its presence, that was all that Grandfather Thunder did. But, the hunter, the hunter who came in packs, with his dogs and his seething horses, he made sport of the hunt. He was not like those who used to roam this land, who picked up a bow, drew it back in arching beauty and then unleashed its one perfectly-placed arrow. No suffering accompanied that hunt. It was over, in merely a moment. And as the deer's spirit was unleashed from its tiny body, to dance among its ancestors, to frolic in the changing seasons of its forest home, it would witness the hunter bending low over its body, sometimes singing to it, thanking it for its gift of sacrifice. And then the deer would not mind, the deer would be free to roam and the man would be free to live. This, though, this was different. She darted behind a tree, as best as she could. Only, two legs were so much harder to walk on than four, and she landed in a tangled heap, her chest, which felt oddly out of line as it was no longer parallel with the earth, heaving heavily as she tried to breathe.

  A hand reached out to her shoulder now. She'd not heard it. How had she not heard? Her hearing was acute. She trembled beneath the man's hand, waiting for the hunter to inflict his terrible weapon. She closed her eyes and breathed in heaving pants.

  “There now, it's all right. I won't hurt you.”

  He spoke to her in words that made little sense, but still she understood his ton
e. Was this part of the game? Did hunters lure their prey before pouncing? Still shivering, part from fright and part from the increasing cold, she felt a heavy hide fall against her shoulders. It was somehow strangely comforting to be covered, to feel the familiar texture of the bits of hair. For yes, it was a deer pelt that he draped her body in. This she had never seen before. Perhaps, he was not a hunter. Maybe, it was not part of the game. Cautiously, she lifted her eyes to him now. He looked at her, not in anger or hate and not as if he wished to harm her, but rather out of concern.

  “What's your name?” he said gently. His words felt like the first breeze of spring, welcomed after the turbulent drifts of snow.

  She looked at him, blinking slightly; the sun felt brighter than usual and the colors, they were so intense as though she'd fallen into a vat of dye.

  She didn't answer. Somehow, she felt as if she could speak, but she had no idea how to form her mouth, to create the letters and to compose the words.

  He nodded at her, careful to keep a friendly smile on his face as he did so. She was so skittish, as though she were convinced that at any moment he might turn the dogs on her. Those dogs. Those blasted dogs! They were howling, their teeth gnashing in her direction.