Thornwood by Leah Cypess (read after .txt) 📕

the fairy queen. The minstrels forget that line, but it’s the part that truly protects me. While I was asleep, the fairy queen would also sleep, and I would be safe from her.”

Her eyes were wide with fear. It was exactly the way she had looked when she’d first woken up and seen me.

“That’s why,” I breathed. “That’s why you were afraid when you woke up.”

“I didn’t realize I was awake at first,” Rosalin said. “I thought I was still dreaming. The whole time I was asleep, I dreamed of princes. Hundreds of them. They had nothing in common, except they were all so handsome…”

Her voice trailed off. Normally, I would have rolled my eyes, but now I just watched her.

“…and they all kissed me. Every time, I thought I was about to wake up. I opened my eyes, trying to wake up, just in time to see the prince dissolve and disappear. And then I knew I was still asleep, and still safe from the fairy queen.”

“Rosalin,” I said. My heart hurt.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t believe it was over. I didn’t believe it. When I opened my eyes and he was still there, I thought it was just another trick.” She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Until I turned my head. And then I saw…”

“Me,” I whispered.

“You. You were standing there with your arms crossed over your chest and your hair looking like a goblin’s half-eaten meal, and I knew. I knew it was real. I knew I was awake.”

And she had been afraid. But not of me.

She had been afraid of waking up.

“How did you know?” Varian asked. “Who told you that the fairy queen would also be forced to sleep? If the minstrels never mentioned that part…”

“My fairy godmother. She came to me when I was a child and explained everything. But she said I couldn’t tell anyone, because if the fairy queen found out about her defiance, she would make sure the spell never worked.” Rosalin blinked rapidly several times. “It’s not like I had anyone to tell, anyhow. My father was determined to believe he had beaten the curse with his spinning wheel ban. Anytime I tried to suggest anything else, he told me I was imagining things, that he would take care of me and I didn’t have to worry. I couldn’t get anyone to listen to me. Who would have helped me?”

“I would have,” I said quietly.

Rosalin turned to look at me. Her eyes were bright.

“I know you would have,” she said. “Of course I do. Because in the end, Briony, you did.”

The spinning wheel stood in the center of the tower room.

I staggered away from the door, my breaths coming in harsh gasps. The wheel spun a notch, then stopped, waiting. Its bobbin was empty, the tip of the spindle shiny and sharp.

It was my sister’s sixteenth birthday.

Don’t you wish you could try spinning? You would probably be very good at it.

A whisper in my ear. Or in my memory? It felt like a memory, except I couldn’t imagine where that memory might have come from.

The spinning wheel turned again, ever so slightly. As if pushed by wind, except there was no wind in that small round room.

As if it were extending an invitation.

“Sorry,” I said out loud. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

Then I turned and ran.

I pounded down the tower stairs, around and around, until I staggered to a stop against the door at the bottom. I waited to make sure I wasn’t going to throw up, then pushed the door open and raced down the hallway. A flour-splattered servant scrambled out of my way as I turned into the main hall. Then the minstrel tried to stop me, his eyes bright and excited, but once I got away from him, there was no one between me and Rosalin’s room.

I had to save Rosalin. Nothing else mattered.

She was alone, another surprise. A faint suspicion bloomed, somewhere far beneath my terror—it was as if someone had arranged for this to be easy. Then Rosalin turned to look at me, her dark eyes wide in her perfect face, and said, “Oh, really, Briony. Your hair looks like two gremlins have been using it for a weaving contest. If you need help with—”

I cut her off. “We have to get out of here.”

She was on her feet instantly. “Why?”

“The curse,” I panted. “There’s—in the old watchtower—a spinning wheel.”

Rosalin’s face went white.

“Father’s plan didn’t work.” I was almost incoherent, choking on sobs. “We have to leave the castle, Rosalin. We have to run. We have—”

“No,” my sister said, and the clear coldness of her voice cut me into silence. “No. That’s not what we need to do.”

I could feel her terror, like an icy black fog; yet while my own fear made my legs quiver and my voice come apart, hers seemed only to sharpen and focus her.

I had never admired her so much, or felt more like she was the heroine of this story.

So when she said “Take me to the spinning wheel,” I didn’t argue.

I blinked at my sister as if I had never seen her before.

“You knew the spinning wheel was there,” I said. “You knew, because I told you!”

Rosalin shrank back.

“You knew,” I repeated. I was so stunned I could barely get the words out. “You came to this room, you pricked your finger, on purpose!”

“I had to!” Rosalin said. “The fairy queen was coming after me. If I didn’t put myself under my fairy godmother’s spell, I was going to die.” She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on me. “Don’t you remember that part?”

When we staggered into the tower room, the fairy godmother was waiting for us.

“Hurry,” she said. Her wings were spread wide, catching the sunlight and making colored patterns dance on the walls of the room. “The queen is coming. I can’t help you once she gets here!”

Rosalin’s hand