Chapter 25

“P hillip! Wake up!”

The distant voice urged him to come back to life, but he felt as though he were incased in lead. It was hard to move his limbs and his eyes refused to open. Someone shook him and shouted his name in his ear again. He realized, dimly, it was Jeffrey trying to rouse him.

He peeled his eyes open and focused on Jeffrey’s face hovering over him. Firelight flickered over his face creased with concern. He held a torch aloft to give them some light. With his free hand, his friend reached for him and helped to a sitting position. His head throbbed like mad as he tried to focus on his surroundings.

He was not surprised to see Jeffrey and Charles. His friend was an excellent tracker. He only wished they had arrived before sundown and Rosamund was compelled to prick her finger. Perhaps they would have had a better chance at fighting off the dark faery and her deadly Fae magic.

Charles kneeled next to the princess, the worry evident on his youthful face.

“I cannot rouse her,” he said.

Phillip shook his head. “You won’t be able to. It’s the sleeping curse.”

“There are no rosebushes here.” Jeffrey glanced around in the deepening twilight.

Through his haze, Phillip took in their surroundings and realized that, indeed, there were no roses anymore. They must have disappeared along with Rowena when her curse had finally taken hold of Rosamund.

“There were,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “The dark faery was here.”

“Here? Was there treasure?” There was hint of excitement in Jeffrey’s voice as he peered behind him into the darkened cave which was now nothing more than a black opening.

“No.” Phillip climbed to his feet, his head objecting to the movement. “It was all a fiction.”

Regret and disappointment shifted through him. Regret for falling for the dark faery’s spell. Disappointment for not finding anything but one gold coin. He stepped toward Rosamund, falling to his knees by her sleeping form. The coin was in the dirt beside her. He picked up and tucked it in his pocket for safekeeping.

Charles rolled her to her back. She looked to be at peace as she slept. Her cheeks were flushed. The finger she pricked still had a dot of blood. He picked up her hand and held it in his as he peered down at her.

The guilt was almost insurmountable. He should have never led her here. They should have found way to fight the compulsion spell and take her back home where she would have been safe.

Then she would still be awake. Or would she? Would the dark faery find a way to make sure Rose fell under her curse anyway? He was certain she would have. She’d long harbored deep-seated vengeance.

“What do we do now?” Charles asked, his voice hollow and thin.

“How do we break the curse?” Jeffrey asked.

Phillip shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You were there that day when she was cursed,” Jeffrey said.

“I can’t remember if the Fae queen said how to break it.” And that frustrated him, too. “We should probably take her back to her father.”

“Like this?” Jeffrey pointed to her sleeping form. “How do we explain that?”

“We tell the king and queen the truth,” Phillip said. “I will make my apologies to them.”

“It’s not your fault,” Charles said.

“It is,” he insisted. “The moment I knew who she was, I should have insisted we return her home.”

Jeffrey placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort. “The curse was unavoidable, I think. Even if you had returned her home, the dark faery would have found a way to make sure it happened.”

His friend voiced his own thoughts about the curse and the dark faery. It gave him little comfort.

“There’s a town nearby. I’ll see if I can buy a wagon or cart,” Jeffrey said.

Phillip gave him a quizzical look. “Why?”

“To transport the sleeping princess.”

He nodded. Yes, of course, they would need some way to carry her back home. And then he would face the consequences for her sleeping curse. Whatever they may be.

Though he was initially aggravated by Jeffrey’s and Charles’s arrival, he was grateful now that his friend took charge to find a way to return with the princess. He wondered, too, if his parents were still there waiting for his eventual appearance. What, exactly, would they think when he arrived with Princess Rosamund in her sleeping curse?

Jeffrey handed Charles the torch. “Build a fire and set up camp. I will return as soon as I can.”

Charles nodded to his brother as he rode away, leaving the two of them behind with the horses and the sleeping princess.

What was happening to her? Rosamund didn’t understand.

One moment she was standing near the cave inhaling the sweet scent of roses for the first time, the next she was here in this dreadful place surrounded by shadow and darkness. A surge of panic gripped her chest, each breath coming in short gasps as she frantically searched for any semblance of familiarity in the unsettling environment that surrounded her. Where was she?

“Hello?”

Silence was her answer. She moved deeper into the shadows, but still saw or heard nothing. A growing fear pumped through her, making the skin on the back her neck tingle.

“Phillip? Where are you?”

She flung her arms through the shadows as if to swipe them away. The wispy clouds broke up for a moment, then reformed around her, keeping her in that dismal place.

How had she ended up here? She tried to think back to the last moment she recalled. She stood near the cave with Phillip. The coin was clutched in one hand. Phillip held the other. She looked around for the coin but it was nowhere to be found. Neither was Phillip.

Think, think! she admonished.

She was holding Phillip’s hand and then he was about to kiss her. Yes! That was it. He cupped her face in his hands and all she thought was how warm his palms were against her chilled cheeks. And the scent of roses wafted over them, making it a beautiful, sweet, perfect moment. She was ready and willing and waiting for his lips to meet hers. Her heart did a funny thud in her chest and there was a curious sweeping of emotion in the pit of her stomach. Oh, how she wanted him to kiss her.

But then the dark faery arrived and interrupted. Phillip released her and shoved her behind him. He drew his sword. But the dark faery was having none of that. She swept his sword away with magic, then turned into a giant beast of a dragon.

All the while, Rosamund was enamored with the enormous roses with their soft petals dotted with dew and their aromatic scent drawing her closer and closer and closer.

Phillip shouted something to her. She wanted to turn to him, but couldn’t. She wanted to cry out to him to help her, but couldn’t. She wanted to stop herself from reaching out her hand, but couldn’t.

Reach for it. Touch it.

But it was not the dark faery who spoke. It was the dragon. Her breath plumed around Rosamund in a misty fog, pushing her toward the branch with the wicked looking thorns. It swayed in the breeze toward her, reaching for her, beckoning her.

Rosamund gasped and pressed her fingertips against her lips.

“The curse. The thorn!” she whispered.

A sob escaped her as she clutched her elbows. The tip of her forefinger was sore. She glanced down at it to see a red dot where there appeared to be a prick from a thorn.

“No…” she whispered. “It can’t be.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

The female voice startled her. She peered into the shadows looking for the person who spoke, but she saw nothing and no one. She clutched her elbows, her heart ramming hard in her chest.

“Who’s there?”

The misty shadows swirled and a woman emerged. She was tall, beautiful, with a regal looking face and bright green eyes. She wore a velvet gown that matched her eyes. Her long red hair hung in waves over her shoulders as she approached. On her head she wore a silver circlet with intricate scrollwork that rested on her forehead.

“Hello, princess.” Her deep red lips formed a smile.

“Who are you?” Rosamund resisted the urge to step away, but there was something calming and reassuring about the presence of someone else in her strange surroundings.

“I am Queen Elara of the Celestial Court.”

Rosamund’s eyes widened as she looked her over once more. She saw then, the delicate point of her ears. “You are from Faery.”

She gave a slight nod of her head. “I am.”

A strange sensation went over Rosamund as she peered at her, her skin prickling with gooseflesh. “Am I sleeping?”

“You are.” She reached for her and took her hand in hers, turning her hand upward. She traced her forefinger, pausing at the sore spot. “By a thorn.”

“That was the dark faery’s curse, wasn’t it?”

“I’m afraid it was,” she agreed. She released her hand. Their eyes met. “Rowena is a vengeful faery. When she was left off the invitation list, she exacted her revenge on King Stephan and Queen Eleanor.”

“Why would she curse me? I was an innocent child,” Rosamund said.

“You were, indeed. But Rowena has a dark heart. Her court is the Eternal Court in the far reaches of Faery and she often feels as though she is not part of the Faery Realm. Not receiving an invitation to your christening was the final breaking point for her,” Queen Elara said. “Rowena’s curse was to have you prick your finger and die.”

Panic bubbled through her. “She…wanted to kill me? Phillip said it was a sleeping curse. Am I dead?”

“No, child!” she said quickly. “Rowena wanted to make an example of you. To show her might and her power to us, the other Fae royals. However…” A small smile tugged at her lips and delight twinkled in her eyes. “I outwitted her. My Fae gift to you, princess, was that you would not die, but instead fall into a slumber.”

Rosamund stared at her a long moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She was thankful she wasn’t dead. Something, though, occurred to her.

“Rowena doesn’t know you changed the curse, does she? She thinks I’m dead.”

“It is conceivable she thinks that, yes.”

Rosamund wasn’t sure if that was good news or not. If the dark faery thought she was dead, then perchance Rowena would leave her and her family alone for the rest of their days. But there was still the issue of her in a deep slumber.

She thought of her father, then. If he hadn’t invited the Fae royals to her christening, then she would never have been cursed. She huffed her displeasure.

“Why did my father invite the Fae royals anyway?”

“Because he fears us,” she said. “He fears we want to expand our borders. He fears we will invade and take away his land. That is why he betrothed you to the prince in the north.”

And Phillip’s father, King Reginald, agreed to the match. Rosamund understood, then. But why keep their betrothal a secret? That was something Queen Elara could not explain.

The queen reached for her again, taking her hands and holding them tight. “But there is nothing to fear. Please tell King Stephan that is not the case. Faery does not wish to conquer Stonebridge lands.”

“How can I tell him when I’m under a sleeping curse?”

“Dear child, the curse can be broken,” she said.

“How?” Rosamund asked.

“With true love’s kiss.” She squeezed her hands one last time before releasing them.

Immediately, Rosamund thought of Phillip. But did she love him? And did he love her in return? Certainly, she had felt something for him over the last few days as they traveled together. Was it something more than the spell they were under? Was it real? She wanted it to be real. She longed for it to be real, for after traveling with Phillip and getting to know him, it was difficult to deny the affection she felt for him. Her heart thumped a wild beat thinking about it.

“But I…how do I…” She paced the small area of shadows.

“You must tell him,” she urged.

Rosamund spun to face her. “How can I tell him?”

A knowing smile crossed her face. “You are a resourceful girl. You’ll find a way.”

“But—”

“Farwell, princess.”

And then the queen was gone.

True to his word, Jeffrey returned with a cart in which to transport the princess. He arrived late into the night while Phillip was still awake keeping watch. Charles was fast asleep, curled in his bedroll near the fire.

Phillip used his own bedroll and hers to make sure she would be comfortable. Then he and Jeffrey lifted her into the cart. Phillip carefully tucked a blanket around her. When they were finished, he peered down at her still awash in his guilt.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Jeffrey said, his voice quiet.

“I know that. But perhaps I should have tried harder.”

“Tried harder to defeat the dark faery? You said yourself when she was in dragon form and she blew her breath at you, it paralyzed you,” Jeffrey reminded him. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle pat. “Do you know how to break the curse?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been trying to remember the exact words of the curse when the dark faery placed it on her. But that was a long time ago and I was a child.”

Frustration edged through him. He was trying to recall the words of the curse. All he remembered was that she would prick her finger and fall asleep. He recalled it was the second Fae queen who changed Rowena’s curse from death to slumber. But was there something more? Was there a way to break the curse?

“It’ll come to you.” Jeffrey sounded so sure of it he almost believed him. “We should get some sleep.”

“You go ahead. I’ll keep watch,” Phillip said.

His friend was about to object when he merely nodded and made his way toward the circle of firelight. He settled down in his bedroll next to his brother. Phillip couldn’t sleep anyway so he stayed awake to keep an eye on the princess.

Not that he thought the dark faery would return. The damage was already done. He told himself it was because it was the right thing to do. That it had nothing to do with his feelings for her. He refused to believe there was anything more than friendship between them.

Though the way she looked at him sometimes made him think otherwise. The way she allowed him to take her by the hand. She never pulled away.

He wasn’t sure what came over him when he cupped her face in his hands. A sudden urge to kiss her tugged at him. Her heart-shaped red lips beckoned. He would have kissed her, too, if Rowena hadn’t interrupted.

Now, he was faced with an impossible task. Telling her parents she had pricked her finger on a thorn and fallen under the curse. He was not looking forward to that.

Phillip was still awake as the sun broke the horizon. As it rose, he moved to the cart where Rosamund—his Rose—slumbered on. As the sun emerged, the first rays fell upon her face, lighting it in a golden glow. For a moment, he thought her skin shimmered. He moved closer. Pale pink color was high in her round cheeks. Her lashes were long and dark. Her lips red as the rose. Strands of her hair golden hair sparkled in the dawn. As he peered closer, the sparkles of what could only be faery dust glistened on her cheeks.

Touched by Fae magic.

She’d said Charles told her that. He wasn’t wrong. She truly was touched by Fae magic.

When he left Haven Castle, he was determined to forge his own way. He wanted nothing more than to be his own person, to forsake the betrothal to the princess.

And now…now his feelings had changed. Gazing at her, his heart lurched. He found himself eternally grateful the faery queen had altered the curse to keep her alive. He reached a hand toward her face, lightly brushing her cheek with his fingertips. Her skin continued to sparkle in the golden light of morning.

“Have you been awake all night?”

Jeffrey’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to see his friend rolling up his bedroll.

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

Jeffrey nudged Charles awake. As his brother yawned and stretched, Jeffrey ordered him to break down camp while he made the horses ready.

“It’s going to be a long day of hard riding,” Jeffrey warned. “I hope you’re ready for that.”

Phillip inhaled a breath to quell his ratting nerves, then expelled it. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They broke camp and soon were on their way to Myst Hall where he would, at last, face his destiny.