The Sleeping Princess: Twisted Tales: Crown of Roses Book One Read online

  “Do you mean to kill all the creatures there?”

  “They are evil, Princess Audora. There is no way to tell which would—”

  Prince Lionel was interrupted by the arrival of the king. Audora curtseyed to her father but before she could utter a word, he dismissed her—abruptly. She did not like the way he ignored her, looked past her as if she did not matter. Generally, her father was quiet and kind, slow to speak and quick to listen, but other times, he moved about the castle like a wraith, treating her as though she didn’t matter at all. That was the way he addressed her now. With her head hung low, Audora left her father with Prince Lionel, her mind churning with thoughts about The Wilds and the poor creatures Prince Lionel thought deserved to die.

  ∞∞∞

  Audora crept quietly through the servants’ stairway at the back of the castle, pausing every so often to ensure that no one followed. There wasn’t a sound of footsteps, so she continued until she reached the cellar. The room smelled of pickled beets; cook must have recently made a batch and stored it here. Gently, she pushed the wooden door open and emerged into the dark alleyway. She ought to have been frightened, but she was too determined to allow the fear to emerge.

  Staying close to the shadows, she quietly but quickly made her way to the stables. The horses nickered soft greetings to her as she entered but none were loud enough to cause anyone to pay attention. At the end of the row of stables, a hallway branched off to the left and one to the right. The left hallway was her destination, where the steep stairs would lead her to the second story. It was in this section where the wood groaned from her weight that she feared someone might be alerted to her presence, but when she reached the top, there were still no pursuers, no one watching or peering out of their rooms to see who’d entered the upper hall.

  At the third door, Audora debated whether or not she should knock but decided that knocking would most definitely draw attention. So, with bold determination, she took a deep breath and turned the knob, pushing her way into the room.

  Inside, she could hear the steady breathing of sleep and she wondered if this were such a good idea. Rather than allow herself to question the sanity of her own plan, she stepped closer to the bed and pressed her hands over his mouth.

  His eyes flew wide at the same time he reached up and grabbed her arms. Audora hadn’t anticipated his reaction and he flipped her over his body until she crashed beside him with a thud, a quiet exclamation escaping her lips with the contact.

  “Audora?” he hissed. His body launched so fast from the bed it nearly made her head spin. “What are you doing?”

  He sounded angry. Very angry. She risked looking up at him in the shadowy room. His face looked angry, too. Honestly, the insanity and all of the reasons she should not have been there overwhelmed her at that moment and she couldn’t even find the words to answer his question, because she didn’t really have a good answer at all.

  Peter drug his hand through his hair and it was then that Audora realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. When he looked at her again, he caught her staring at his chest and quickly reached for his tunic, which was draped over the post at the bottom of his bed.

  “Do you intend to get me killed, Audora? Because that is precisely what will happen if Florian or Eric—or anyone else for that matter—find you in here.” Audora swallowed, still staring at him, remembering what he’d looked like without his shirt. Peter exhaled heavily then stepped toward the bed, kneeling next to it. “Why have you come here, Audora?”

  She bit her lip, unsure really, of her answer. “To ask you to change your mind.”

  “To change my mind?”

  “About riding with me.”

  “Riding with you?” His whispered exclamation made her feel as ridiculous as her statement sounded out loud. “Surely you do not wish to go riding now?”

  The idea actually sounded thrilling, but she opted for a simple shrug.

  “Come on,” he sighed, “let’s get you back to the castle.”

  He reached for her but she backed away. His bed was much smaller than her own and pressed up against the wall, so there was really nowhere for her to go. “I do not wish to leave until you take it back.”

  “Take what back?”

  “What you said earlier. About no longer being able to go riding with me. We can still go, Peter, even if we have to allow Florian and Eric to accompany us.”

  He shook his head and let out an exasperated laugh. “Fine, Audora, we can still go riding together, but I think it will take a lot of convincing for Captain Florian to agree to such a thing.”

  “It is not up to Florian.”

  “You know,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hand and guide her to her feet, which she allowed him to do, “we could have talked about this during the day. Maybe even with Captain Florian present.”

  “Maybe so, but I think you’re much more agreeable now. Less stubborn.”

  “You do know that we could both be in a lot of trouble—me more than you—if you are caught here in my room,” he said.

  She smiled at him and shrugged. “It was fun sneaking through the castle, though.”

  He shook his head at her again. “Well, it won’t be so fun if we get caught.” Peter grabbed her hand and led her quietly back out of his room and through the dimly lit stables. Once again, the horses greeted them with soft nickers and curious stares. As they slipped through the courtyard and to the alleyway that led into the cellar, Peter whirled her around to face him.

  They stood there staring at each other for a long moment, that strange look from earlier in the day returning to Peter’s eyes. Audora’s breath caught in her throat, but she said nothing, not even daring to move for fear of breaking the spell. Then, Peter bowed to her and backed away, dropping her hand. “Good night, Princess Audora.”

  She could barely contain the smile that spread across her face, a blush creeping across her cheeks when his smile grew to match hers. Peter lifted the door open and she crawled into the cellar and tiptoed back to her room.

  That night, she lay in her bed grinning wildly up at the ceiling, picturing Peter’s brilliant smile as she eventually drifted off to sleep.

  ∞∞∞

  The morning came and Audora dressed as quickly as she could. She inhaled her breakfast, leaving Rebecca and Sloane to try and catch up. They, however, would not deign to appear less than ladylike in their eating habits, especially with several newly arrived lords at their table. Audora ignored them all, however, and hurried in the direction of the stables.

  “Princess Audora,” Eric huffed, “I do not think it a wise decision to go riding today. Your mother is expecting you to greet your guests as they arrive.”

  “I will have guests arriving all day today and tomorrow,” she said flatly. And she had no intention of greeting every one of them.

  “Well, Captain Florian will not like it if I allow you and the stable boy to go galivanting across the country after you disappeared yesterday.” His face was pinched, and his eyes darted around the courtyard.

  “You are invited, Eric. There is no reason why you cannot come along. Besides,” she told him, turning to face him with her most charming, sweet smile, “we will not be gone long. Just a short ride.”

  In the stables, she found Peter as expected. They shared a smile and for some reason, that smile felt different to her today. Something had shifted last night; she was sure of it. She couldn’t say what it was, but seeing Peter this morning made her insides flutter, her heart hammer, and a warmth spread across her cheeks.

  “Good morning, Princess Audora,” Peter greeted. “I see you’ve brought a proper escort this morning.”

  “Yes.” Audora turned to smile at Eric again. “Eric is excited for a brisk morning ride as well.”

  Peter glanced past her at Eric then flashed her a look that said he doubted Eric’s excitement, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he saddled two horses while Eric saddled his own. Then, as they had the day before, took off for the
Pinewood Forest and Lonely River.

  Every bit of their ride was exhilarating. They hardly spoke at all, Audora not willing to say anything to upset Peter or give Eric a reason to complain, but she could not help but stare at Peter. After seeing him shirtless last night, she found herself examining his arms and the muscles at his back. He was not sheer muscle like some of the soldiers and guards she knew, but his years working with horses and shoveling had toned his body rather nicely. That idea made her blush wildly. As if he sensed her eyes on him, Peter turned and wrinkled his brow, an unspoken question lingering between them. Rather than acknowledge it, she kicked her horse into a fast charge and after winding along Lonely River for a way, turned her mount and laughed as she hurried back to the stables—both Peter and Eric racing to keep up.

  The morning was invigorating. There were no stops today or stream crossings—despite her increasing curiosity about the campsite she still sensed across the river—or strolls through the flowery fields. She knew her mother would be irate if she showed up disheveled. It’d be bad enough to have her hair tangled as it currently was, but Audora was too thrilled with the morning to care. They returned to the stables, a grin on her face and a lightness in her heart.

  Her idyllic morning came to a screeching halt, however, as soon as she saw Captain Florian with two additional guards standing just outside of the stables.

  “Peter Achenyule, you are hereby charged with kidnapping,” Captain Florian spat as soon as they dismounted.

  “Kidnapping?” Peter shoved at the guard, who was reaching for him. “How can I have kidnapped anyone?”

  “Did you or did you not take the princess from the castle grounds without express permission?”

  “Express permission? Captain Florian, I do not need permission to leave the castle grounds. That is why I have guards,” Audora snapped. She turned and pointed to Eric, who was beginning to dismount, looking just as nervous as Peter. “And as you can see, Eric, my personal guard, was with me.”

  Florian scowled at her. “I’m afraid, Princess Audora, that your mother is not happy in the least with your morning jaunt when you were expected to be greeting your guests.” He turned an icy stare next at the two men, Peter and Eric. “The two of you should have known better as well. I cannot protect you from your consequences.”

  Captain Florian nodded to the two guards, one of whom drew his sword. “You’ll have to come with me,” the one said, grabbing hold of Peter’s arm and motioning for Eric to follow.

  “Captain Florian!” Audora shouted. “Do not do this. What honor is there in such a thing?” The captain did not answer, however, standing mute as Peter and Eric were led away. One of the young stable boys rushed out to take the horses.

  When everyone was out of hearing, Florian stepped closer to her, his voice low. “I will do what I can for them,” he said. “For your sake.” His eyes met hers, scanning her face. His proximity to her own person made her warm and the way he looked at her made her face flush. “Come,” he told her, “I am to take you to your mother immediately.” Her guard took her hand, guiding her out of the courtyard. No one saw them as they walked slowly from the stables, but her cheeks flared as though the world saw her holding a man’s hand. Part of her was jittery from excitement and another from lamentation that she should find even a splinter of enjoyment from the warmth of his hand in hers; especially after the way she’d just been thinking about Peter.

  ∞∞∞

  Snow slinked silently through the castle. The outfit she’d stolen was only partially believable. If anyone noticed her boots beneath her frock and apron, they’d know she was no castle maid. With the current preparations, however, she doubted that anyone would notice her so long as she did not act suspicious.

  The castle had changed since she’d last been inside. Portraits that once hung on the walls were now gone, no trace that they’d ever existed. In their place, new paintings hung on the walls, capturing the beauty of Queen Isadora in various settings and in the seasons—notably, only three. Snow growled low at the sight of them. There were other portraits, of course, but they all included Queen Isadora. It made her want to wretch. She had no time to linger over portraits, however. Her goal was to get upstairs and into the queen’s private chambers. There, she hoped to find something to…

  “You there!” Whirling around, she discovered an older, severe-looking woman pointing in her direction. Dropping into her best curtsey, she lowered her eyes to the ground and contemplated how long it would take her to dash out of the room and down the hallway to the nearest balcony. It was fifteen steps from the room’s doorway to reach the balcony doors and then a twenty-foot drop to the one below. She could manage it if she must.

  “Come along, girl, there’s no time to dawdle.” Snow shuffled quickly towards the older woman, who mumbled beneath her breath about useless maids. “I don’t know why the queen insists on hiring extra girls for her parties. You’re all too stupid and overwhelmed by the big rooms to remember your way about.” The woman rolled her eyes then glared at her supposed young charge. “Lost, were you?”

  “Yes, mum.” She hadn’t been, but the old woman had no idea the help she’d given.

  “Well, try to remember. The main stairway is for the royal family and their guests, not the servants. Which means this room is not to be accessed by you from the main hallway but through the back hall—which leads down to the kitchens and to my office should you find yourself lost again.” The woman walked her towards a semi-hidden panel in the wall and gave it a little shove. “This is your route then, be off with you. And be sure that you stop off at the third floor to put those fresh linens on the guests’ beds,” she said, pointing to the pile of linens Snow was holding. “The royal quarters are on the fourth floor and there’s no way the queen would tolerate even a new maid making such a mistake as putting the wrong sheets on her bed.”

  Curtseying and offering a brief apology and assurance of being more careful, she slipped away from the older woman and hurried up the stairs. The third floor was bustling with maids, who were cleaning and dusting rooms. She entered one only to be told to wait until the dusting was complete before putting clean sheets on the bed. For this, she received a firm reprimand and a brief slap to the face from the woman who was apparently in charge of the proceedings here on the third floor. It took all she had not to launch herself at the woman. Instead, she ground her teeth together and moved further down the hallway to the room the woman indicated. She hadn’t made a bed in years; hadn’t slept in one either. Her fumbling with the sheets was met with more disdain and sharp words as another maid rolled her eyes and stomped off after having to redo all the work Snow had done.

  As soon as she suspected that no one was watching, she slinked away once more towards the back stairwell and, with a deep breath to steel her resolve, she marched up to the fourth floor. No one needed to tell her the way, but each step as she moved forward felt foreign, even though it should have given her the comfort of familiarity. Other than the layout of the castle, however, nothing was at all as she’d remembered it. The portraits were only a fraction of the changes. The floors were different, now covered in exotic rugs from one wall to the next and furnished with elegantly carved tables, overstuffed chairs, and gold-plate on almost every surface. If ever there was extravagance, this was it to the extreme. The residents of this castle lacked nothing and their guests, judging by the sheets, would be treated to the finest the kingdom had to offer despite the atrocities of life beyond the castle’s walls.

  She paused when she reached the door, listening for any movement. There was none; no maids bustling about, no guards patrolling the hallway, no sound whatsoever. That was strange and called for caution as well. If there were no maids on this floor, it would be harder to explain her presence.

  Slowly, she exited the hallway. Everything remained quiet as she stood there for several heartbeats hoping that her presence had not alerted anyone. No shouts of alarm came, so she stepped forward. Little by little, she mad
e her way towards what she hoped were the queen’s rooms. The carpet here was thick and the walls were painted a cheerful yellow. Tall windows at the far end of the hall, redone in stained glass and depicting a purple sunset, gave an otherworldly glow to her surroundings. Large sculptures of animals lined the hallway, potted trees of various heights alternating amongst them making it seem as though Snow were walking through an enchanted forest, not a castle hall.

  Tiptoeing around a corner, Snow continued in her search. She wasn’t sure which room was the queen’s, but she knew she had to find it. If there was any way to…

  A strange sensation tugged at her insides, causing her step to falter slightly. Was this an inner alarm telling her that danger was nearby? She rubbed her hand over her heart. No, it wasn’t a flutter of fear or anxiety, but one of…warmth.

  “And what is a mouse doing roaming about the castle?”

  She whirled around to see a man wearing a cloak, hood drawn over his head and shadowing his features. The dark gray material buttoned at his neck down to mid-chest where it opened, allowing her to catch a glimpse of his attire. He wore all black, the material giving no indication of his body beneath, but the way he stood there with a hand on the hilt of a sword, she knew he was no typical soldier. He was a Hunter—she’d seen one before. And that feeling she just had? As soon as she turned to face him, the tugging sensation returned…and it was pulling her in his direction.

  Using her best accent, she drawled out, “If you please, sir, I’ve gotten terribly mixed up. Could you…”

  He tisked loudly, interrupting her. “We both know that is untrue.”

  She tamped down the strange pull towards him and gritted her teeth. She had taken the tongue lashings and the insults and even the slap across the face with a resolved resignation, but to be called a liar? That was almost too much, even if it were true. “Are you calling me a liar, sir?”