The Wide-Awake Princess Read online

  THE WIDE-AWAKE

  princess

  E. D. BAKER

  Contents

  Cover

  Title

  Dedication

  Prologue

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Also by the Author

  Imprint

  This book is dedicated to my fans, whose loyalty and

  enthusiasm has meant so much to me—particularly

  the fans on my message board, those who send letters,

  and those who send their wonderful entries to my

  contests. It is also dedicated to my family, whose

  understanding about late dinners and a

  messy house enables me to keep writing.

  PROLOGUE

  “WE CAN’T LET IT HAPPEN again,” Queen Karolina said, dabbing at the tears that glistened in her deep blue eyes. “A wicked fairy casting a horrid spell on my firstborn child was almost more than I could bear. Halbert and I have been frantic with worry ever since, and our poor little Gwendolyn has suffered so much. She can’t even visit her grandparents because they refuse to banish spinning wheels from their kingdom.”

  “Tsk, tsk,” said the fairy Moonbeam, shaking her head in dismay.

  “I banished all the spinning wheels from Treecrest the day after Gwendolyn’s christening,” said King Halbert.

  The infant stirred in the queen’s arms. Queen Karolina glanced down at her sleeping daughter, then back to the fairy dressed all in silver. “I don’t know what I’d do if that nasty fairy were to curse my sweet Annabelle, too. It’s time we planned my little darling’s christening, but we wanted to consult with you first.”

  “We were hoping you might be able to suggest something, Moonbeam,” said the king. “You are Karolina’s favorite fairy godmother. Even in Treecrest, the Fairy of the Moonflower Glade is known as the wisest of all the fairies.”

  Moonbeam pursed her lips as she tucked a lock of her silvery hair back in place. She tapped her chin as she thought, then nodded and said, “I have a suggestion, but you aren’t going to like it.”

  Queen Karolina glanced at her husband as another tear trickled down her flawless cheek. When the king nodded, his wife turned back to her fairy godmother. “It can’t be worse than living in fear that our little girl is going to prick her finger and sleep for a hundred years. Whatever it is, we’ll do it!”

  “So be it,” said Moonbeam, taking her magic wand out of a purse made of moonbeams and cobwebs. “Your daughter shall receive only one magical gift, and it shall be mine.” As the parents held their breath, the fairy raised her magic wand and tapped the sleeping infant on the forehead. “From this day on, no magic shall touch you or bring you to harm. You’ll have to survive on your natural charm.”

  Sparkling fairy dust sprinkled down onto the little princess. The baby sneezed, opened her eyes, and began to wail.

  “What did you mean about surviving on her natural charm?” the king shouted over his daughter’s squalling.

  “Neither good nor bad magic can ever touch her now,” the fairy replied as she tucked her wand back into her purse. “She’s going to grow up a normal girl, without magic to make her beautiful or graceful or sweet.”

  Bending over the baby, the fairy kissed her forehead where the wand had touched her, then vanished in a puff of silver sparkles. The baby scrunched her tiny pink face and screamed until she turned red as a beet.

  The queen’s hands began to shake. She glanced down and discovered that a freckle had appeared on the back of one of her own fingers. The king noticed it as well and gestured for the nanny to take the baby away.

  “Oh, Halbert, what have we done?” asked the queen.

  “I’m afraid, my dear,” the king replied, “that we might have just made a very big mistake.”

  CHAPTER 1

  IT WAS PRINCESS GWENDOLYN’S sixteenth birthday and everyone was frantic. It wasn’t that they weren’t ready for the celebration; the kitchen had been in an uproar for days as the cooks prepared all of Gwendolyn’s favorite foods, the floors had been scrubbed and strewn with fresh herbs, and every inch of the Great Hall had been cleaned and decorated until it was almost unrecognizable. Everyone was agitated because it was the last day left for the curse placed on Gwendolyn to come true.

  The people of Treecrest lived in dread that their beautiful princess might still touch a spinning wheel. They had taken precautions and had searched every room twice a week ever since the fairy announced the curse. Although spinning wheels had been banished, one never knew when a nasty witch or evil fairy could plant one in a room, just waiting for the princess to come along and start poking things she shouldn’t. Early that morning the guards had begun to search the entire castle once again.

  Princess Annie, Gwendolyn’s younger sister, offered to accompany the guards, just as she did at least once a week. They’d start with the old tower in the north end of the castle. It had been abandoned years before and had fallen into disrepair, but it was on the inspection list because it was exactly the kind of place that evil people liked.

  They had started at the top of the tower and were working their way down. The top two floors held only three rooms each, but the floors below them were riddled with small rooms, which made searching them that much slower. In order to speed it up, the guards divided themselves into smaller groups. Annie went with Horace, an older man with gray hair and a short beard, and Liam, a new recruit who had come to the castle the week before.

  Like her sister, Gwendolyn, Annie was petite. Liam was only a few years older than Annie and taller than most boys his age; the top of Annie’s head came up only to the middle of his chest. Annie liked his shaggy, dark hair and his deep blue eyes, and she thought that his quick smile made him instantly likable. The only things that kept him from being too handsome were his slightly crooked teeth and a dimple in one cheek but not the other. As far as Annie was concerned, they were the very things that made him more attractive.

  Normally, Annie wasn’t impressed by a handsome man, because nearly all whom she’d met had been made that way by magic. Liam was different, however. Although his glance was respectful and nothing more, it was distracting to have him there, and she had to force herself to think about the reason she had gone to the tower.

  While the guards shoved doors open and peered around corners, Annie wandered through the rooms, paying more attention to what she heard than what she saw. She was walking along the corridor when she heard a faint sound like pieces of metal clanging together a long way off. Although magic couldn’t touch her, she could sense its presence. The strength and type of magic determined how it sounded; the stronger the magic, the louder it was, and the good kind didn’t sound anything like the bad.

  Annie followed the sound, trying to pinpoint where the magic was strongest. There, behind the door with the cracked frame. Annie knew that the door opened onto a room that was too small to be of much use—but big enough to fit a spinning wheel.

  When Horace started toward her, Annie shook her head. “Stay back. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

  “What is it?” asked Liam as he came up behind her.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied. She could hear the older guard murmuring to him, but their voices were drowned out when she placed her hands on the cracked wood and the clanging metal sound grew
louder in her head. Annie shoved the door open and discovered an old woman sitting before a spinning wheel inside the tiny room, her fingers moving with expert skill as she spun a long silver thread.

  “Welcome, my dear,” the old woman croaked, turning just enough that Annie could see her wrinkled cheek and the glint of an eye beneath the concealing cape and hood. “Come in and see what I’m making just for you. See how the thread shines? Go ahead and touch it. Feel how soft it is.”

  “You have got to be joking!” said Annie. “I’m not touching that thing!”

  The old woman turned toward her, letting her hood fall away. Her wrinkled face was contorted in an angry scowl as she pointed one of her gnarled fingers at Annie and said, “You’re not Princess Gwendolyn! You’re not even beautiful. Why, I have rats in my poison pit that are prettier than you!”

  “I’m not Gwendolyn,” said Annie. “And you’re an evil old hag.”

  “You little whelp! Talk to me that way, will you? Just for that, I’m going to turn you into a beetle and squash you where you stand!” Reaching into the depths of her cloak, she pulled out a slender stick and aimed it at Annie.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Annie warned. She stuck her fingers in her ears to block the sound of clanging that she knew was about to get louder.

  Eyes flashing, the old woman muttered something under her breath. The air around the tip of the stick glowed and crackled. A bolt of light shot out of the stick, hit an invisible wall in front of Annie, and hurtled back the way it had come, knocking the old woman off the stool.

  “No!” screamed the old woman as her hands scrabbled at her chest. “This isn’t supposed to happen! What did you—” Her voice turned into a moan as her body shrank and her skin hardened into the carapace of a beetle. Her hair seemed to get sucked into her head as her face grew pinched and narrow.

  Annie thought it was revolting, but she couldn’t make herself look away until the two guards edged past her and into the room.

  “What happened here?” asked Liam as a normal-looking beetle scuttled across the floor.

  “She turned herself into a beetle,” said Annie. “Be careful where you step,” she told Horace, who was walking around the spinning wheel. There was a loud crunch and he stopped to look down.

  “I guess I found her,” Horace said, inspecting the bottom of his shoe.

  Annie swallowed and looked away. She thought she should probably feel sorry for what had happened, but she hadn’t hurt the woman herself. That bug had been a human just a minute ago and had planned the same fate for her.

  Liam grabbed the spinning wheel and began to lug it toward the door. It was bigger than the opening, however, so he turned to Horace, who was busy scraping the goop off his shoe.

  Horace grunted, and together the two guards hauled the spinning wheel into a bigger room. “We should probably keep searching the tower,” said Annie, following them. “That woman’s magic sounded like a witch’s, not a fairy’s, although I don’t know why a witch would come when a fairy cast the curse. Maybe the fairy is still coming.”

  Liam looked from Annie to Horace, a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Our princess can tell when magic is around,” Horace said, sounding proud. “There’s not many that can do that.”

  “It is an unusual skill,” said Liam, “and most useful.”

  Annie noticed the look in his eyes, more interested now and not just respectful.

  “You go with the other men, Your Highness,” said Horace. “Liam and me are going to break this up and burn it.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of a fireplace in the back of the room.

  Annie joined another pair of guards and stayed with them while they finished inspecting the tower and the rooms below it. She knew she should go see her sister, who was probably still unwrapping presents, but she wanted to avoid having to listen to her go on and on about Prince Digby, the man Gwendolyn would probably marry.

  Her parents both said that Gwendolyn and Digby were suited for each other. The magic of his own fairy godmothers had made him as handsome as Gwendolyn was beautiful. But Annie was convinced that by concentrating on his appearance, the fairies had forgotten a few very important qualities: Digby had as much intelligence as a block of stone and an equal amount of compassion for others. Annie didn’t like him, and he didn’t like Annie.

  Digby did like beautiful people, and while Annie was many things, she knew that she was hardly beautiful. Her bottom lip was a little too full and her brown eyes weren’t striking like Gwendolyn’s violet ones. Although Gwendolyn’s silken locks were a glorious buttercup yellow, Annie’s tangled curls would have been a muddy brown if she hadn’t spent so much time outside, where the sun bleached them yellow white like a goat girl’s.

  Annie knew that there was another even more important reason why her parents wanted Gwendolyn to marry Digby. He was from the wealthy and militarily strong kingdom of Shimshee, to the east. The marriage would create an alliance between the two kingdoms, benefiting Treecrest, which had been made poor by years without spinning wheels. Of course, King Halbert was already planning to bring spinning wheels back into the kingdom after Gwendolyn’s birthday, whereupon they could once again make the yarn and hence the cloth from the fiber of the linder tree, the most valuable natural resource located within the kingdom’s boundaries. Even so, it would be years before Treecrest could call itself wealthy again.

  Thinking about Digby put her in a sour mood, so when the guards spread out into the rest of the castle, Annie decided that she needed to be by herself. At least Digby isn’t here, she thought, relieved that she wouldn’t be running into him in the hallways. For many years, guests had been discouraged from coming for fear of one smuggling a spinning wheel in with their luggage. Unlike most princes, who expected a formal invitation, Digby had come to visit the first time uninvited and unwelcome. After they got to know him, her parents thought he was harmless, and then he visited all too often. Annie had been delighted when Digby’s father had summoned him home shortly before Gwennie’s birthday.

  Even without guests, so many people lived in the castle that it was always full. Knowing that the garden was usually empty in the morning, however, Annie was taking a shortcut through the Great Hall when the singing began. She groaned, having forgotten the minstrels for the few hours she’d been upstairs.

  Minstrels of every description had been flocking to the castle for the last week, planning to sing at Gwendolyn’s birthday celebration. They had been allowed in provided they carried nothing but their instruments, which they immediately began practicing every day. There were so many of them now that it was hard to find a quiet place in the public areas of the castle. All the minstrels had written their own songs praising “the most beautiful princess in the world.” Annie thought that any sane person would consider them pests and want to hide in a trunk until they went away, but Gwendolyn would probably bask in their songs and wonder why there weren’t more of them.

  Blocking out the voices wasn’t easy. “Your beauty is like a summer’s day, remembered in the winter,” began one song. She smiled and nodded as she passed the minstrel leaning against the wall, trying to avoid meeting his eyes. If they made eye contact, politeness would dictate that she stop and listen, and being polite was the last thing she felt like doing just then.

  Another minstrel was seated in front of the servants who were hanging the last of the flower garlands. “You smile at everyone you see, when all your smiles should be for me,” the minstrel sang. Annie grimaced, and had almost made it to the door when a poet who had arrived the day before stepped in front of her. “Would Your Highness like to hear my latest poem?” he asked, moving to block her as she tried to walk around him. “I’d love to hear what you think of it.”

  “No, thank you,” said Annie. “I have urgent business I must attend to.” Although lying made her uncomfortable, she thought that listening to fools was worse.

  “This won’t take but a minute,” the young man said. Rais
ing his hand in the air, he struck a pose and began, “I saw you first just yesterday, sweet Gwendolyn, divine …”

  “I really do have to go,” Annie said, edging past him.

  The poet scowled, brightening when he saw that a group of people had come up behind her. “And thought your face perfection...,” he continued as Annie slipped through the door.

  The garden had been created in what had once been an otherwise empty area between the keep, the curtain wall, and two outbuildings. In a space where pounded earth and stone had been all there was to see, flowers now grew in abundance regardless of the time of year. A gift from the fairies of Floradale, Queen Karolina’s home kingdom, the flowers in the garden never faded. If cut, the stems regrew overnight and bloomed again by morning.

  In coming to the garden, Annie had hoped to find a quiet place to think, but there was no quiet in the garden that day. Gardeners carrying woven baskets snipped flowers for bouquets, talking among themselves as they moved from plant to plant. Three young men had been given the special chore of stripping the rosebushes of their blossoms; roses were Gwendolyn’s favorite flower.

  Unable to stay in the garden, Annie climbed the nearest set of narrow stairs to the battlements. With the castle grounds on one side of her and the outside world on the other, there was always plenty to see. The Crystal River flowed along the western side of the castle, making a natural barrier against attack. A moat dotted with water lilies bordered the castle on the other three sides, thereby surrounding it with water. There were two drawbridges, but only one opened to a road that led into the town of Shelterhome. The other drawbridge set down on a road that led across open fields to the woods, and it was in that direction that Annie was looking when the cart came into sight.

  Because most carts were driven directly to the town of Shelterhome, seeing one headed for the castle was enough to make Annie pause. The cart itself didn’t look like much; it was a typical farm cart with two horses pulling it and a man perched on the seat. The only thing on the back of the cart was a large trunk, its metal hasps shining in the sunlight. Annie watched with interest as the cart approached the drawbridge and waited for the guards to let it pass. She could hear the wheels rumbling across the wooden planks. In less than a minute they were clattering over stone.