The Puppet Queen: A Tale of the Sleeping Beauty Read online

Late into the night, once the last drunk had been bid farewell, my parents summoned me to their sitting chamber. Nervously, I walked in and was instantly bathed in the heat of the changing firelight. The dim light and the warmth made me want to wrap myself in my covers and fall fast asleep. I suppressed a yawn. My parents sat at a small table, no longer in their finery, but in simple tunics and robes.

  “Come sit down, Selene,” my father said, indicating a chair. My mother stirred sugar into her cup of tea. The spoon chimed against the porcelain. “What did you think of your party?”

  “It was wonderful, thank you very much.”

  My mother smiled, deepening the dimples in the corners of her mouth. “You know what a sixteenth birthday announces to the world, dear?”

  I knew. Readiness for marriage. Something in my chest tightened and I could not say anything. My hands clenched in my lap.

  Mother’s hazel eyes were knowing, understanding. “While you were in the gardens, Gwydion’s father, Lord Wiliem, asked for your hand on his son’s behalf.”

  I remembered that Lord Wiliem had been a great friend of my father’s from the university at Bahart, where my father had met my mother, the charming heiress of Aquia, at a ball hosted by Emira Corrine. My mother had lost her glove during the soirée (my father had filched it). Using the excuse, he found her the next day, returned the glove, and extended an invitation to walk in the gardens. They were engaged in a month.

  “What do you think?” my father asked eagerly

  I could think of many things. While Lord Wiliem was one of the wealthiest lords in Aquia, he certainly was not an emir and had not my sister Evra contracted a match with Darsepol’s heir? Ferdas’ face flashed through my mind too, but then I remembered Auralia and banished the thought. However, if the curse would inevitably doom us to sleep, then what could the long-term point of such a match be? But seeing my parents’ expectant faces and thinking of the impossibility of long-term plans due merely to my birth, I replied, “Whatever will please you, will please me.”

  In a particular lurch of guilt, I thought, This is probably one of the few opportunities I have to make my parents happy. It was the very least I could do.

  My mother appeared a touch hesitant, perhaps sensing the spiritlessness behind my response. Father bore it no mind. “Wonderful,” he said excitedly. “Wiliem wishes to see you two wed by the end of the year, and I cannot fault his impatience! Now, off to bed with you, my love.”

  Obediently, I dipped a curtsy and left, suddenly a woman betrothed.