“I’ll make sure I don’t fall asleep tonight,” I said.
“Aye, that’s what Sleeping Beauty said before she nodded off. Let’s hope you’re more reliable.”
And with that, he disappeared.
“Wait, come back!” I called. I wanted to ask him if he knew anything about my family. But even though I called several times, he didn’t return.
They’re okay, I told myself, but if I had said the words out loud, my liar’s hat might have gone off. I wasn’t sure I believed it.
I slumped over to the window and watched the workers in the courtyard. I saw women drawing water from the well. Men bringing barrels into the castle. A maid hanging out long white tablecloths to dry. I wondered if these were preparations for the wedding feast tomorrow.
The wedding that I still couldn’t stop.
All that day, I watched the sun make a relentless path across the sky.
When it was dark, Haverton came, and another procession of guards led me to the barn. The wizard walked ahead of me, muttering and waving his wand as though directing an invisible orchestra. Hudson stood guard at the door. His gaze met mine briefly, and then I was ushered into the barn.
Mountains of straw awaited me. Great walls of it were stacked up to the ceiling. It looked like it might avalanche down and smother us. I regarded it warily, while Haverton chained me to the beam. He tucked the key securely in his pocket, like he’d done last night, but the wizard didn’t draw another sand circle around me. He and Haverton had a heated conversation about this. Haverton was sure I would ask my fairy godmother for rescue, not gold, but the wizard insisted that the enchantment couldn’t be given to me if I were trapped in the circle away from the fairy.
“Besides,” the wizard said, flourishing his long sleeves at Haverton, “why would she ask for escape when she’ll be crowned queen in the morning?”
I could have answered that question. In fact, I could have written a five-paragraph essay on the subject that would have impressed my English teacher, but they didn’t ask my opinion.
In the end, Haverton relented. He muttered a few threats against my family should I escape, then placed a candle on the ground near the stool and left. The flame flickered apologetically, throwing out only a small circle of light.
I waited for Hudson. He had come inside the last two nights; surely he would come tonight. But the door remained closed. Perhaps King John had ordered so many men to guard the door that he couldn’t come in undetected.
I sat down on the ground and thought about my family to make myself cry so Rumpelstiltskin would appear. But the tears didn’t come. I had worried so much about them during the day that my eyes felt numb to that pain. Mostly I was just stressed out about falling asleep before I could get gold for Clover.
While I’d been shut up in the castle, I’d tried to figure out what the moral of the Rumpelstiltskin story was. When I had heard the story as a little girl, I thought it was that you shouldn’t brag about things that weren’t true, like the fact that your daughter could spin straw into gold.
That moral didn’t seem right, though. My father hadn’t been bragging about me. I doubted that was a vice he had a problem with. I had been taken prisoner to the castle because Haverton thought my father criticized the king.
Surely the moral of the story wasn’t Don’t criticize the king. King John deserved criticism, although I would wait until I was a safe distance away from him to give it.
Perhaps the moral of the story was something along the lines of “If you’re innocent, then magical forces will help you. Go ahead and take magical help, even though some of that magical help might later want to eat your baby.”
Really, when you think about it, Rumpelstiltskin is a horrible story.
I heard a noise behind me and turned, expecting to see Hudson. Instead, Chrissy sat perched on the straw, her hair falling around her shoulders in a river of glossy pink. She wore her tooth fairy uniform and was reading what looked to be a newspaper—except that instead of normal paper, it glowed like a computer screen and the headlines flashed and pulsed. She also had a sort of glow about her, like she carried her own personal sunset with her. A minty smell wafted over to me.
“Chrissy, you’re here.” Inside me, frustration crashed into relief like competing waves. Relief won out though, toppling and foaming over my other feelings. She had finally come. She could set things right now. I stood up. “Please, you’ve got to help me.”
“I am,” she said without taking her eyes from the paper. “At least for the duration of my break. Then it’s right back to the wonderful world of swiping teeth from children.” She flipped a page in the paper and let out a disgruntled sigh. “Honestly, this moonlighting gig is killing my social life. You’d think there would be more jobs for a fairy with my talent, but apparently art doesn’t have to be inspired anymore. Now it’s all about the gritty reality of life. Like anyone wants to pay to see that.”
I tried to keep my voice calm. “My family is missing.”
Her wings swept open, lazily fanning herself, and she flipped another page of her newspaper. “They’re fine. Your father packed up his camping gear and they’ve been running around the forest having a grand time.”
I imagined they weren’t actually having a grand time, but at least they were alive. My heart had been strung tight in my chest, and now it relaxed a little. “We need to talk about my wish, Chrissy. If you remember, I never wished to be chained up in the Middle Ages or forced into a marriage with a half-mad old man.”
“Look at this.” She rustled the paper, still staring only at it. “Clover has put a rent-a-leprechaun ad in the classified section.” Reading out loud, she said, “Does your event need a little luck? Let an experienced leprechaun host your next wedding, bar mitzvah, or high school reunion. Please, no children’s birthday parties. Extra charge for events hosted on St. Patrick’s Day.” She shook her head. “He is so pathetic.”
“You made a mistake, and I—”
“Speaking of pathetic, what are your pathetic numbers these days?” Chrissy folded her paper. As soon as she did, it vanished from her hands.
“I don’t know.” I gritted my teeth. Frustration was back, and it was the winner now. “I left the pathetic-o-meter at home, and I haven’t been back since I was dragged out of there by armed guards threatening to kill either me or my father.”
“No problem.” Chrissy snapped her fingers, and the blue and yellow disk appeared in her hand. She stared at it. “Hmmm,” she said, sounding like a doctor diagnosing a patient. “Your numbers have increased instead of decreasing. When were you yelling at inanimate objects?”
“Chrissy, I wished to be able to turn things into gold. Instead you sent me, my family, and a random guy who was on my street to the twelfth century.”
Her gaze shot over to mine. “A random boy got sent here too?” She frowned and let out an irritated huff. “Well, that won’t look good on my evaluation.”
I held out my shackled hand to her. “Just send us home. Put everything back the way it was before. That’s all I want now.”
She stood up and brushed stray pieces of straw from her skirt. “I’ll send you home when your fairy tale is through. Until then, I’m duty-bound to fulfill your wish. You asked to have the power to change things into gold.”
“Right. That’s another problem with being in this fairy tale. The miller’s daughter never spun anything into gold. It was always Rumpelstiltskin who did it for her.”
Chrissy flicked a piece of straw off her sleeve and it fell, fluttering onto the floor. “Nonsense. Rumpelstiltskin gives the miller’s daughter the enchantment on the third night. You didn’t think she would trade her baby for anything less, did you?”
I felt a prickling sense of dread. That’s what King John had demanded—that I get the ability myself. But the original story wasn’t that way. “The fairy tale never said she could spin the straw into gold herself.”
Chrissy spread her wings out like a butterfly and they
shimmered in the darkness of the barn. “I thought after our conversation about Robin Hood’s story, you would have learned that you can’t trust writers. They’re a shiftless and unreliable bunch who spend their time making stuff up. Didn’t it ever occur to you that the queen wouldn’t want everyone to know she could spin straw into gold? It’s bad enough that she had to spin it to get her husband. Can you imagine the friends, relatives, and salesmen who would have come out of the woodwork to pester her? You know what mortals are like.”
Chrissy laughed as though she’d forgotten who was standing in front of her. “Of course you know. You asked for gold yourself.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Money is easy to create, but gold is tricky. The leprechaun union has a monopoly on those enchantments. You can’t just hand them out. I’m not sure how I would have granted your wish if I hadn’t known of a certain leprechaun who lost his gold enchantment in a poker game to a disgraced ex-fairy.”
“Ex-fairy?” I asked. “What’s that?”
“If a fairy breaks magical laws, the Unified Magical Alliance strips him of his fairy power and locks it up. An ex-fairy still craves magic, though. It’s part of our essence, and without it, we shrivel away and eventually die. So ex-fairies are known for stealing magic from anywhere they can take it—from wizards, pixies, unicorns, trolls—and especially other fairies. As you can imagine, ex-fairies aren’t invited to many parties.” Chrissy smiled airily. “I’d like to see Mistress Berrypond find fault with my methodology on this one. I’m not only granting your wish, I’m taking an enchantment away from an ex-fairy who shouldn’t have it in the first place. It’s killing two birds with one stone. Except you won’t actually be killed. Well, probably not anyway.”
“Probably?” I sputtered.
Her wings closed. “I have no control over what happens after you make your wish. Giants, kings, and pirates tend to kidnap things that can produce gold. And Rumpelstiltskin is ruthless. You know what they say, ‘An ex-fairy is a vengeful fairy.’ ”
This didn’t make me feel better. “How would I know that anyone says that?”
“Oh. Well, they do.” Chrissy checked her watch. “My break’s about over.”
I held out my hands, trying to keep her from leaving, trying to make her understand. “You can’t make me go through with this. I didn’t know any of this would happen when I made my wish.”
She looked at me benevolently. “Well, that puts you on par with the rest of humanity, doesn’t it? Wishes are powerful things. You can’t expect them to change the world without changing you too.” Her eyes didn’t leave mine and she let out a sigh.
I thought she’d taken pity on me and would help me somehow.
Instead, she pulled her wand from her purse and swished it in my direction. “Really, with your fair complexion, you shouldn’t go without lipstick.” She gave me a satisfied smile, and then the light around her drew in on itself, shrinking into a pinpoint until she disappeared.
I was alone and still chained up, but now I was wearing lipstick.
Stupid fairy.
I tried to walk over and kick the stool, but the chain held me back and I was only able to kick uselessly at some stray strands of straw.
After this brief and pointless flare of temper, I sank down to the floor and glared at the walls. No wonder Chrissy needed extra credit. Her fairy godmother skills were woefully lacking. Which meant I couldn’t count on her. I was on my own, grappling with a fate I didn’t want. Again.
No, I wasn’t completely on my own. Hudson was here. He was trying to help me. I looked to the door, hoping he would come in.
It was easy to conjure up images of Hudson, easy to picture his dark brown eyes and square jaw. Too easy. I made a quick, panicked inventory of my feelings.
Hudson and I were in the same situation, and it had created a bond between us. It was the only reason I wanted to see him so badly right now. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was tall and handsome, or that he had an air of confidence about him, a sturdy competence … that he was the type of person who could be dropped into a completely different world and still find a way to survive, to get what he needed.
The girls at school had said he was sullen and didn’t date anymore, didn’t socialize. He clearly didn’t want a girlfriend, so he was the last guy I should start getting romantic ideas about.
I forced myself to turn away from the door. I had no guarantee that Hudson would help me get home. He might just use my help to get the Gilead and then go home without me. I couldn’t let myself fall for him. Bo had said he loved me, and it hadn’t been real. My parents had said they loved each other, and that hadn’t been real either. Romantic love was as unreliable and dangerous as fairy magic and should be avoided at all costs.
I wrapped my arms around my knees and let my chin sink into the silky material of my dress. Despite the warning to myself, I still wanted to see Hudson. I watched the closed door and felt downright needy. I didn’t know how to make the emotion stop. How did you take away a longing that lay deep inside—a longing to love someone else?
Would he come in if I called him? Why wasn’t he coming on his own?
“Hudson …,” I whispered. But I didn’t call his name. And he didn’t open the door. A single tear rolled down my cheek. The next moment, I was staring at a pair of pointed leather boots in front of me.
Rumpelstiltskin had come back.
Chapter 13
I gulped and looked up at Rumpelstiltskin. He bent down and wiped the tear from my cheek, shaking his head slowly. “What a wicked man to treat you thus.”
“What?” For a moment I thought he’d peered into my mind and read my thoughts about Hudson. Could fairies do that?
“Giving King John a taste of gold has been akin to giving a wild dog a taste of blood. He won’t let go of a fine morsel like you.” His sorrowful tone didn’t match the glint of pleasure in his eyes. He had wanted King John to make more demands of me.
Rumpelstiltskin’s hand was still on my cheek. I stood up so I could step away from him.
He gazed around the room at the towering stacks of straw and tsk-tsked. “He’ll have no straw for bedding if he keeps this up. No doubt about it. Does he plan to make you spin every night? What did he tell you?”
“He said I had to get the ability to turn the straw into gold myself, or he would execute me and my family. If I do spin the straw into gold, he’ll marry me. I consider the second fate only a little better than the first.”
Rumpelstiltskin laughed, but I wasn’t joking.
He walked around me with what I imagine was supposed to look like a thoughtful expression on his face. His motion reminded me of the way a shark circled its prey. “Has King John taken your family?”
“No, but he asked Haverton to find them.”
Rumpelstiltskin stopped in front of me and pulled a small hand mirror out of his breast pocket. It sat in a decorative frame with such lifelike gold leaves entwined around it that I knew it had to be magic. “I can show you your family, if you’d like.” He placed the mirror in my hand. It felt light and warm as though it had been lying in the sun. I looked into it, but instead of seeing my reflection, I only saw smooth blackness.
Rumpelstiltskin leaned over my shoulder. “Say their names, and the glass will show you where they are.”
I hesitated. It seemed dangerous to take gifts from Rumpelstiltskin, but I wanted to see my father and Nick and Sandra so badly—to know they were okay. I gripped the warm mirror and said, “Frank Miller.” Wherever he was, the others would be too.
The glass fogged with blurry shapes and colors flitting across it; then the picture cleared, grew sharp. And there was my father, his face painted a camouflage green, standing in front of Nick. My father still had the paintbrush in his hand and was painting Nick’s face too. A fire must have been going nearby because there was enough light not only to see them, but to see the trees around them.
I hadn’t noticed the words that appeared on the bottom of the
glass until Rumpelstiltskin read them. “River Bend. That’s not far from here. I wonder why they’ve come so close to the castle.”
“Why are they painting their faces?” I asked.
Rumpelstiltskin frowned as though it were of no consequence. “Mortals do such odd things. They’re hard to understand, aren’t they?” He took the mirror from my hands, and it clouded, then went blank.
I had to fight the urge to snatch it back. I wanted to see my father and Nick again, to try to figure out what they were doing.
“The important thing,” Rumpelstiltskin went on, “is that they’re alive and safe. Now we must worry about your safety.” He leaned so close his breath brushed against my cheek. It smelled of fires and autumn leaves. “I can give you the enchantment that turns things into gold, and then King John will not only spare your life, he’ll elevate you to queen. As his wife, you’ll be protected and cherished.”
Protected and cherished? Rumpelstiltskin had either never met King John, or didn’t think I had.
“As fond as I am of you,” Rumpelstiltskin went on, “I would hate to part with such a powerful enchantment. I’m not certain what I’d ask for it.” He made a show of looking me over. “You have no other jewelry, but after you marry the king, he’ll give you many things. You’ll have so many treasures, you won’t miss one. So, in exchange for giving you my gold enchantment now, I’ll come back in a year, and you must consent to give me whatever I choose.” He smiled and it sent chills down my spine. “Do we have an agreement?”
That’s how it happened then. Rumpelstiltskin had saved the miller’s daughter’s life twice and asked for trinkets in return. Why wouldn’t she have trusted him? Why would she have expected him to ask for her child? I had always thought she cared more about her own life than her baby’s. But perhaps selling away your children didn’t happen all at once. Perhaps selling your children, your future, just happened one bad decision at a time.