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 wouldnotdie, 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.”
