Chapter One

The woods are supposed to be lovely, dark, and deep. At least, that”s what Robert Frost said. He was right on two counts. But I don”t think he ever spent time alone deep in the heart of the forest at dusk with a sleeping curse creeping up on him. If he had, I don”t think he would have called them lovely. Terrifying is a more fitting descriptor from where I”m standing.

”Keep it together, Thalia,” I say, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. ”You can do this.” The encouragement would sound far more convincing if my voice didn”t shake, causing the words to slur together.

I blink rapidly, trying to keep the narrow road at my feet in focus. The curse claws at the edges of my consciousness, trying to drag me under its wicked reign.

It”s a feeling I”ve grown intimately familiar with.

For the last ten years of my life, it”s won every night. As soon as the sun sets, I plummet to the ground, dead asleep. For twelve hours, I”m nothing but a body tethered to the earth by an ancient magic cast upon me simply because I”m a Rosewood. I wasn”t even the one cursed. It was my great, great, great, great, great, greatgreatgreat grandmother.

Everyone knows that story. It involves a spindle, a hundred-year curse, and a cranky sorceress. At least, everyone thinks they know the story. The finer details—like the fact that every female born with Rosewood blood since then has carried part of that curse—were lost along the way.

I”m one of those women. Like my grandmother and hers, I live half a life. The other half, I”m doomed to sleep like the dead—unfeeling, unaware, oblivious. Until my true love kisses me and breaks the spell, this is my fate.

You will marry him, Thalia. That”s an order.

My father”s raised voice echoes in my head, his shouted decree momentarily snapping through the fog of exhaustion. Until today, I always believed I had a chance of breaking the curse. He shattered that illusion and my faith.

In a matter of weeks, he expects me to marry a prince I”ve never met simply to strengthen an alliance and grow the kingdom for our family. Never mind the fact that I live half a life. Never mind the fact that I”ll never again see the moon shining overhead or lie on my back and look up at the night sky.

The curse that was supposed to end when I found my soulmate will last forever. Everyone else gets twenty-four hours in a day. But I”ll spend the rest of my life living with twelve, and my own father sealed my fate.

”I won”t do it, Papa! I won”t!”

You will,” he orders, cold authority ringing in his voice, ”or so help me, you”ll spend your days locked in the tower.”

I rear back in shock. He”d lock me in the tower? Imprison me? Simply because I don”t want to marry a man I”ve never met and don”t love?

He”s a monster.

”Fine.” I lift my chin, battling back the urge to cry. ”If that”s your will, Father.”

”Daughter, I…” His expression softens incrementally.

My heart doesn”t. He made his choice. The throne is all he cares about, not me. That”s never been clearer than it is right now. All those years I thought he loved me were a lie—just a fairytale I told myself because that”s what fathers are supposed to do, right? Love their children.

”I”ll prepare the contracts,” he says, turning away from me.

A single tear courses down my cheek.

Is it any wonder why I fled?

The Rosewood Kingdom isn”t my home. It”s a prison.

I”m stuck like a rat in a cage, living out a nightmare.

Branches snap under my boots as I push through the undergrowth growing denser with every step. Shadows stretch like greedy fingers, clawing at the edges of the day. A shiver whispers through me—not solely from the chill in the air. Urgency pulses within me, driving me forward.

The curse isn”t the only thing lurking in the dark, waiting to snatch me. Nightfall is a predator here, and I”m all too aware of its approach.

Every rustle in the foliage feels like an ominous whisper, a reminder of my vulnerability. I”m not just a princess fleeing royal expectations. I”m prey, soft and ripe.

The weight of my decision to run presses down on me, as heavy as the thick shadows overtaking the densest parts of the forest.

Perhaps I should have tried to negotiate my freedom, to plead my case to my father again. But no, I let fear drive me into the heart of Fable Forest, where the rustle of leaves speaks of dark enchantments and darker appetites.

”Come on, Thalia,” I mutter to myself, my breath misting in the cool air. ”Pull it together.” A little independence never comes without its own set of thorns. But desperation has a peculiar way of sharpening a girl”s resolve. I refuse to let mine dull on the blunt edge of fear.

I sway on my feet, stumbling into a massive pine. My dress snags on the bark, the shoulder ripping. I force myself upright, clutching at the sharp edges of anger to keep myself awake.

I have to stay awake. If I fall asleep out here, I might never wake up again at all. The curse won”t simply last a lifetime. It”ll be the death of me.

I don”t know how much longer I stumble forward, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Every step grows more difficult. My vision fades in and out.

Hope begins to wane, replaced by desolation and regret. Maybe I shouldn”t have run. Maybe I was never destined to find love like the women who came before me. Perhaps my lot in life is simply to do as I”m told—an obedient little princess.

I”m so tangled in my dark thoughts that it takes my mind a moment to process the sight before me—a hunting cabin veiled by an overgrown copse of trees.

Relief floods through me, warm and heady. The small cabin might as well be an oasis. It certainly feels like one in this moment.

I stumble toward it, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and triumph. It”s not just shelter. It”s a promise of respite, a chance to breathe, to plan, to survive.

”Thank you,” I whisper, though there”s no one to hear but the birds nestled in the trees. But if the universe listens to cursed runaway princesses, hopefully, it hears my appreciation. A girl could use a break.

The door resists at first, mocking my desperation. Or maybe that”s the universe telling me to take my thanks and shove it. Either way, the door puts up a fight.

I refuse to let it deter me.

With a surge of rebellion, I shove as hard as I can. The lock gives way with a resentful groan.

”Ha!” I cry, triumph surging through me as I fall through the door into the cabin. I barely manage to stay on my feet, but I don”t even care. I”m inside, out of the danger zone. As far as I”m concerned, I just won a war.

I kick the door shut behind me, taking a quick glance around.

For an old hunting cabin, the place is really nice. The walls are made of sturdy wood, the floor covered in a plush rug. The furniture is elegant and well-crafted, with a large sofa in one corner and a cozy armchair in another. A small kitchen takes up the far wall.

A narrow hallway leads deeper into the cabin. I stagger toward it, searching for the bedroom as my vision fades in and out again. I pass a bathroom before coming to the spacious bedroom. It”s simple—a large oak dresser and a massive bed piled high with fluffy pillows and soft sheets.

I nearly cry with relief at the sight.

My hands tremble as I reach for the hem of my dress, the fabric torn and soiled from my frantic journey through the forest. It falls away, a cascade of cloth pooling at my feet. I strip out of my bra and panties too, leaving them littering the floor as I stumble eagerly toward the bed.

”I hate you,” I whisper to the unseen force that chases me, my voice quivering with defiance and fear. My hands slide over my body, tracing the lines of my belly, my thick hips—proof of life and vitality. Not even the curse can take those from me. In these moments, stripped bare, I”m acutely aware of every breath, each beat of my heart an act of defiance against the curse”s impending inevitability.

I stand alone for a long moment, the chill of the cabin air caressing my skin—a cruel lover”s touch. It”s a stark reminder of the solitude that grips me, the isolation as tangible as the shackles of sleep that await me.

Was running the right thing to do? Should I have stayed and accepted my fate?

No. No, I”ll never believe that.

The chance of freedom is worth any price, even if it means I”m on the run forever.

The weight of the curse settles over me, a dark coronation for a princess forsaken by her own father.

As I collapse on the bed, surrendering to exhaustion, I am every inch a woman touched by enchantment, ensnared by the darkest of fairytales, and yet still fiercely her own.

”Find me,” I plead as the darkness takes me—the same plea I issue every night to my one true love. ”Please, find me.”

Wherever he is—whoever he is—I need him to find me, or I”ll never truly be free.