Thornwood Leah Cypess (ereader for android .txt) 📖

“You want us,” I said, “to spin.”

My mother gasped.

The fairy smiled. “The spinning wheel in the tower is ancient and powerful. With human strength poured into it, it can hold off the Thornwood.” She turned to Rosalin. “And you shall have gold thread, too. Enough to wear golden dresses, to sleep beneath golden sheets. The minstrel can call you the Golden Princess.”

Rosalin shrank back.

“Or perhaps not.” The fairy shrugged and rose higher into the air, her hair floating around her inhuman face. “Everything that comes from that spinning wheel repels the Thornwood. Working together, we can harness its power and keep you safe.”

“Keep you safe,” I said. “That’s all you really care about.”

The fairy looked at me. Her eyes had turned black. “But I have to keep you safe in order to keep myself safe. That’s all you should care about.”

“All right,” Rosalin said.

“What?” I said. “No! We’re not staying here. We need to use the spinning wheel’s power to get out.”

“That is not what will get you out,” the fairy said.

The warning was clear: Be quiet, or I will tell everyone how you can really get out.

Everyone. Including the people who hated Rosalin. It would seem perfectly fair to them: She had gotten them into this; her death could get them out of it. If the fairy told them the truth, there was no way I would be able to stop them.

Of course, the fairy didn’t want them to know the truth, either. Did I dare call her bluff?

I shut my mouth.

Rosalin stepped toward the fairy. Her hair hung unevenly around her face, her eyes were puffy, and her cheeks were streaked with the remnants of her tears. She was still beautiful beyond belief. “Prove that you can do what you say. If you can save us, save him.”

The fairy sighed. “You will have your prince.” She tilted her head. “Although I would prefer that you not tell him about my…generosity.”

“Why not?” Edwin demanded.

“He’s a hero.” There was an odd note in her voice—a sullen sort of fear. Then her lip curled contemptuously, and I was sure I had imagined her reaction. Why would the fairy be afraid of Varian when she had chosen him to come here? “Heroes are not very good at being practical.”

She sank to the floor and considered Varian’s still form. One corner of her mouth twitched. She extended her leg, gracefully and disdainfully, and nudged him in the side with her toe.

“When you decide to accept my offer,” she said, “come spin for me.”

Then she vanished.

Varian groaned and sat up, looking puzzled. He glanced around the near-empty ballroom. “What happ—”

Rosalin launched herself at him, threw her arms around his neck, and burst into tears.

At that moment, the main doors banged open and the royal wizard strode into the ballroom.

“I am here!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide. “I sensed the magic in this room and came to answer your summons! Command me, Your Majesties, and I will defend you!”

The ballroom went absolutely silent.

The royal wizard did not look particularly imposing. His eyes were puffy, his hat was askew, and his cape (gold and purple) didn’t match his clothes (red and white). There was also a distinct…smell to him.

My mother rose to her feet, hands clasped. “You came!”

“I always come,” the royal wizard said grandly, “when I am needed.” He looked around the room and frowned. “Did I miss the food?”

Before anyone could answer, he lurched to one of the tables, grabbed a half-eaten drumstick off an abandoned plate, and bit into it.

“Well,” Edwin said to me in a low voice, “I guess we know where the wine from the apothecary went.”

My father had come to the same conclusion. He stood up next to my mother. “Are you drunk?” he demanded of the wizard.

“It only…appears…that I am,” the royal wizard said between bites. He tossed the bone aside and grabbed a roll. “I have been working great and terrible magics to figure out a way to release us from our plight. I had to partake of wine so I could access the depths of…um…” He closed his eyes. “This is the best bread I have ever tasted.”

My parents looked at each other uncertainly.

“No offense to the royal baker! Not his fault. It’s fairy food. They have magic. Unfair advantage.” He burped, then held up an index finger. “We must make a law, Your Majesties, that fairies may not enter baking competitions.”

“Sir Wizard,” my father said carefully, “we are in great peril.”

“I know. I know! And only I can save you.” He looked around the table. “Fortunately for you, I am the type of wizard whose casual sloppiness disguises great power and awe-inspiring wisdom. I have discovered the answer to our dilemma. Meet me in my workshop!”

He grabbed a slice of pie and snapped his fingers. There was a boom, and he was surrounded by thick purple smoke that smelled even worse than he had.

When the smoke dissipated, it revealed the royal wizard still standing there, halfway through the slice of pie.

“Oh, bother,” he said. Crumbs sprayed from his mouth. “There are forces at work fighting my magic. But I know what needs to be done. I will persevere, no matter the cost!”

He plucked a handful of nuts from the table and strode out of the room.

A few tendrils of purple smoke drifted toward me. I coughed and waved them away.

My parents dashed around the table and followed the royal wizard out the door.

“Wait!” I said.

Needless to say, they ignored me.

“Stay here!” my mother called over her shoulder.

“Just wait quietly,” my father added. “Don’t be afraid! We’ll save you.”

They ran through the door, and we heard their footsteps pound down the hall and then fade into silence.

Varian got slowly to his feet. His face twisted in pain.

“My love!” Rosalin said, turning quickly back to him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. But I…” He looked down at her. “What happened?”

“My fairy godmother. She…” Rosalin hesitated. “She offered us a