by Alex Flinn
• “The Golden Bird”: Three sons try to find a bird that has been eating their father’s apples. The first two fail. The third listens to the directions of a fox (or wolf) who tells him to stay at a poor inn, steal the bird but not its golden cage, and to perform several other tasks. The son eventually gets the bird, a horse, and the hand of a princess, but the fox asks a final favor: that the son kill him. When the son does, the fox transforms into a man.
This story is originally from Russia, where it is called “The Firebird and the Gray Wolf.” It was adapted by Russian composer Igor Stravinsky for a ballet, The Firebird.
• “The Valiant Tailor”: A tailor kills seven flies and makes a jacket bragging about this achievement. People believe he has killed seven men and ask him to kill two giants. He tricks them into killing each other.
This was actually made into a short film, The Brave Little Tailor, starring Mickey Mouse as the tailor. However, I loved the story and believed the movie to be obscure enough that most teens would still be unfamiliar with it.
• “The Salad”: In exchange for a kindness, an old woman gives a huntsman a magical cloak that takes him where he wishes and a bird’s heart that produces gold. A lady and her daughter trick him out of them, so he changes them to donkeys with the help of a magical salad. He eventually relents and marries the daughter.
• “The Fisherman and His Wife”: A man catches a magic fish and does not kill it but asks it to grant his wishes. His wife asks for more and more extravagant items until the fish takes everything away.
May you enjoy discovering these and other tales. A good first place to look is on the web at www.surlalunefairytales.com, which includes most of the fairy tales I’ve mentioned here, and many others.
Credits
Cover art © 2012 by Howard Huang
Cover design by Sasha Illingworth
Copyright
CLOAKED. Copyright © 2011 by Alex Flinn. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Flinn, Alex.
Cloaked / Alex Flinn. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Johnny is approached at his family’s struggling shoe repair shop in a Miami, Florida, hotel by Alorian Princess Victoriana, who asks him to find her brother, who was turned into a frog.
ISBN 978-0-06-087422-3
EPub Edition © 2011 ISBN 9780062069610
Version 11272012
[1. Missing persons—Fiction. 2. Magic—Fiction. 3. Animals—Fiction. 4. Characters in literature—Fiction. 5. Shoes—Fiction. 6. Princesses—Fiction. 7. Miami (Fla.)—Fiction. 8. Key Largo (Fla.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F6395Clo 2011
2009053387
[Fic]—dc22
CIP
AC
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11 12 13 14 15 CG/RRDB 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
Alex Flinn
A Kiss in Time
Dedication
For Joyce Sweeney. Thanks for everything!
Contents
Dedication
Part I
Talia
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Part II
Jack
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part III
Jack and Talia
Chapter 1:
Talia
Chapter 2:
Jack
Chapter 3:
Jack
Chapter 4:
Talia
Chapter 5:
Jack
Chapter 6:
Talia
Chapter 7:
Jack
Chapter 8:
Talia
Chapter 9:
Jack
Chapter 10:
Talia
Chapter 11:
Jack
Chapter 12:
Talia
Chapter 13:
Jack
Chapter 14:
Talia
Chapter 15:
Jack
Chapter 16:
Talia
Chapter 17:
Jack
Chapter 18:
Talia
Chapter 19:
Jack
Chapter 20:
Talia
Chapter 21:
Jack
Chapter 22:
Talia
Chapter 23:
Jack
Chapter 24:
Talia
Chapter 25:
Jack
Chapter 26:
Talia
Chapter 27:
Jack
Chapter 28:
Talia
Chapter 29:
Jack
Chapter 30:
Talia
Chapter 31:
Jack
Chapter 32:
Talia
Chapter 33:
Jack
Chapter 34:
Talia
Chapter 35:
Jack
Chapter 36:
Talia
Chapter 37:
Jack
Chapter 38:
Talia
Chapter 39:
Jack
Chapter 40:
Talia
Chapter 41:
Jack
Chapter 42:
Talia
Chapter 43:
Jack
Chapter 44:
Talia
Chapter 45:
Jack
Chapter 46:
Talia
Chapter 47:
Jack
Chapter 48:
Jack
Chapter 49:
Talia
Two Years Later
Talia
Acknowledgments
Credits
Copyright
Part I
Talia
Chapter 1
If I hear one more syllable about spindles, I shall surely die!
From my earliest memory, the subject has been worn to death in the castle, nay, in the entire kingdom. It is said that spindle, rather than Mama or Papa, was my first word in infancy, and I have little doubt that this is true, for ’tis the word which lights more frequently than any other upon my most unwilling ears.
“Talia, dearest, you must never touch a spindle,” Mother would say as she tucked me into bed at night.
“I will not, Mother.”
“Vous devez ne jamais toucher un axe,” my tutor would say during French lessons.
“I will not,” I told him in English.
“If ye spy a spindle, ye must leave it alone,” the downstairs maid said as I left the castle, always with my governess, for I was never allowed a moment alone.
Every princeling, princess, or lesser noble who came to the castle to play was told of the restrictions upon spindles—lest they have one secreted about their person somewhere, or lest they mistakenly believe I was normal. Each servant was searched at the door, and thread was purchased from outside the kingdom. Even peasants were forbidden to have spindles. It was quite inconvenient for all concerned.
It should be said that I am not certain I would know a spindle if I saw one. But it seems unlikely that I ever shall.
“Why must I avoid spindles?” I asked
my mother, in my earliest memory.
“You simply must,” she replied, so as not to scare me, I suppose.
“But why?” I persisted.
She sighed. “Children should be seen, not heard.”
I asked several times more before she excused herself, claiming a headache. As soon as she departed, I started in on my governess, Lady Brooke.
“Why am I never to touch a spindle?”
Lady Brooke looked aggrieved. It was frowned upon, she knew, to scold royal children. Father was a humane ruler who never resorted to beheading. Still, she had her job to consider, if not her neck.
“It is forbidden,” she said.
Well, I stomped my foot and whined and cried, and when that failed to produce the desired result, I said, “If you do not answer, I will tell Father you slapped me.”
“You wicked, wicked girl! God above will punish you for such deceit!”
“No one punishes princesses.” My voice was calm. I was done with my screaming, now that I had discovered a better currency. “Not even God.”
“God cares not for rank and privilege. If you tell such an awful lie, you will surely be damned.”
“Then you must keep me from such a sin by telling me what I wish to know.” Even at four or five, I was precocious and determined.
Finally, sighing, she told me.
I had been a long-wished-for babe (this I knew, for it had been told to me almost as often as the spindle speech), and when I was born, my parents invited much of the kingdom to my christening, including several women rumored to have magical powers.
“You mean fairies?” I interrupted, knowing she would not speak the word. Lady Brooke was highly religious, which seemed to mean that she believed in witches, who used their magic for evil, but not fairies, who used their powers for good. Still, even at four, I knew about fairies. Everyone did.
“There is no such a thing as fairies,” Lady Brooke said. “But yes, people said they were fairies. Your father welcomed them, for he hoped they would bring you magical gifts. But there was one person your father did not invite: the witch Malvolia.”
Lady Brooke went on to describe, at great length and in exhausting detail, the beauty of the day, the height of the sun in the sky, and the importance of the christening service. I closed my eyes. But when she attempted to carry me into my bedchamber, I woke and demanded, “What of the spindle?”
“Oh! I thought you were asleep.”
I continued to demand to know of the spindle, which led to a lengthy recitation of the gifts I had received from the various guests. I struggled to remain attentive, but I perked up when she began to describe the fairies’ gifts.
“Violet gave the gift of beauty, and Xanthe gave the gift of grace, although surely such qualities cannot be given.”
I did not see why not. People often remarked upon my beauty and grace.
“Leila gave the gift of musical talent…”
I noted, privately, that I was already quite skilled on the harpsichord.
“…while Celia gave the gift of intelligence….”
It went without saying….
Lady Brooke continued. “Flavia was about to step forward to give the gift of obedience—which would have been much welcomed, if I do say so myself.” She winked at me, but the wink had a hint of annoyance which was not—I must say—appreciated.
“The spindle?” I reminded her, yawning.
“Just as Flavia was ready to step forward and offer her much-desired gift of obedience, the door to the grand banquet hall was flung open. The witch Malvolia! The guards tried to stop her, but she brazened her way past them.
“‘I demand to see the child!’ she said.
“Your nurse tried to block her way. But quicker than the bat of an eyelash, the nurse was on the floor and Malvolia was standing over your bassinet.
“‘Ah.’ She seized you and held you up for all to see. ‘The accursed babe.’
“Your mother and father tried to soothe Malvolia with tales of invitations lost, but she repeated the word ‘accursed,’ several times, and then she made good the curse itself.
“‘Before her sixteenth birthday, the princess shall prick her finger on a spindle and die!’ she roared. And then, as quickly as she had arrived, she was gone. But the beautiful day was ruined, and rain fell freely from the sky.”
“And then what?” I asked, far from interested in the weather now that I understood I might die by touching a spindle. Why had no one told me?
“Flavia tried to save the situation with her gift. She said that since Malvolia’s powers were immense, she could not reverse her spell, but she sought to modify it a bit.
“‘The princess shall not die,’ she said. But as everyone was sighing in relief, she added, ‘Rather, the princess shall sleep. All Euphrasian citizens shall sleep also, protected from harm by this spell, and the kingdom shall be obscured from sight by a giant wood, unnoticed by the rest of the world and removed from maps and memory until…’ People were becoming more nervous with each pronouncement. ‘…one day, the kingdom shall be rediscovered. The princess shall be awakened by her true love’s first kiss, and the kingdom shall awake and become visible to the world again.’”
“But that is stupid!” I burst out. “If the entire kingdom is asleep and forgotten, who will be left to kiss me?”
Lady Brooke stopped speaking, and then she actually scratched her head, as persons in stories are said to do when they are trying to work some great puzzle. At the end of it, she said, “I do not know. Someone will. That is what Flavia said.”
But even at my tender age, I knew this was improbable. Euphrasia was small, bounded on three sides by ocean and on the fourth by wilderness. The Belgians, our nearest neighbors, barely knew we existed, and if Euphrasia disappeared from sight and maps, the Belgians would forget us entirely. Other questions leaped to mind. How would we eat if we were all asleep? And wouldn’t we eventually die, like old people did? Indeed, the cure seemed worse than the original punishment.
But to each successive question, Lady Brooke merely said, “That is why you must never touch a spindle.”
And it is nigh upon my sixteenth birthday, and I have never touched one yet.
Chapter 2
Tomorrow is my sixteenth birthday. I do not suppose it necessary to explain the furor this has occasioned in the kingdom. ’Tis a heady occasion. Each year on my birthday, guests come from around the world to celebrate—and they bring gifts! Diamonds from Africa, crystal from Ireland, cheese from Switzerland. Of course, my sixteenth birthday is of special import. Rumor has it that a ship has sailed the world over, collecting items and persons for my pleasure. They say it has even visited the British colony on the other side of the world. I believe it is called Virginia.
But more than guests, more even than presents, is the actual hope that this whole spindle business will end today. Before her sixteenth birthday. That was what the witch Malvolia had said. So tomorrow Mother and Father will rejoice at having completed the Herculean task of keeping their stupid daughter away from a common household object for sixteen years, and then I can live the ordinary life of an ordinary princess.
I am ready for it.
It is not merely spindle avoidance that has been my difficulty thus far. Rather, because of this, I have been effectively shut out from the world. Other young maidens of my station have traveled to France, India, and even the wilds of Virginia. But I have not been permitted to make the shortest trip to the nearest kingdom, lest one of the populace there wished to attack me with a spindle. In the castle, the very tapestries seem to mock me with their pictures of places I have never seen. I am barely allowed outside, and when I am, it is only under the boring chaperonage of boring Lady Brooke or some other equally dull lady-in-waiting. I am fifteen years old, and I have never had a single friend. Who would want to be friends with an oddity who has never seen anything or done anything and is guarded night and day?
Likewise, a young princess my age would ordinarily hav
e dozens of suitors questing for her hand. Her beauty would be the subject of song and story. Duels would be fought for her. She might even cause a war, if she were beautiful enough, and I am.
But though my beauty has been spoken of, raved of even, there has not been one single request for my hand. Father says it is because I am young yet, but I know that to be a lie. The reason is the curse. Any sensible prince would prefer a bride with freckles or a hooked nose over one like me, one who might fall into a coma at any instant.
There is a knock upon the door. Lady Brooke! “Your Highness, the gowns are ready for viewing,” she calls from outside.
The gowns! They have been prepared especially for tomorrow. It will be the grandest party ever. The guests will arrive at the palace door in carriages or at the harbor in ships. There will be a grand dinner tonight, and tomorrow a ball with an orchestra for dancing and a second orchestra for when the first tires. There will be fireworks and a midnight supper and magnums of a special bubbling wine made by Benedictine monks in France, then a week of lesser parties to follow. It will be a festival, a Festival of Talia. I will be at the center of it, of course, courted by every prince and raja, and before it is over, I will have fallen in love—and I will be sixteen, cured of the curse.