Prologue
She should not have gone to the wishing well.
It was a thought that would haunt her for years afterwards, a regret that stung every moment she felt a twinge of happiness. But she did not know then, what true misery was like. She did not know true fear. She was not yet a mother.
Eleanora couldn’t remember not wanting to be one. There must have been some time in her childhood where such a thing hadn’t really mattered, but those days were as dull as a rusted blade. Her desire had nothing to do with her duties as queen; the longing went deeper than that, the emptiness of each barren year swelling into a cavern inside her. Her grief for something she had not even lost carved out riverlets where a child should have been.
She had dreamed of having several. Now she thought she could be content with only one.
So when she heard that there was a well nearby that could grant wishes, how could she resist? It did not matter that the locals warned her the well had a way of twisting those wishes, distorting them until you regretted ever asking. It did not matter.
Anything for a child. Anything at all.
How could she ever regret holding a healthy babe in her arms? That was all she needed, all she craved. She would have been willing to pay with her life, the emptiness consumed her so.
She dithered a little, her fingers shaking over the darkness of the pool, as if that blackness were a tangible thing she could feel on her skin. A cold, creeping sensation spread up her arm.
Don’t do it.
She dropped the coin.
It broke the surface of the water far below, sharp and sudden and endless. That moment went on forever.
“What did you wish for?” asked a voice.
Queen Eleanora startled. At the edge of the glade was a beautiful woman in a gown the colour of night. Her white skin shone iridescently, making her violet eyes glow. Thick chestnut hair fell around her shoulders. She flashed the queen a radiant smile, filled with flawless teeth. She was not human. A fairy. There were a few still living within their realm. Eleanora had been tutored by one herself. But there was something… different about his one. A chill that her smile couldn’t mask.
“I… I...” Eleanora’s words fell away from her.
“I hear there’s some myth around the human folk that if you tell someone a wish, it won’t come true,” said the fairy, “but I assure you, that is not the case. You made a wish. I might be the answer. If you tell me.”
Eleanora saw no harm in it. She had made the wish already. Surely that meant it would come true regardless of her next actions?
She swallowed. “A child,” she said. “My husband and I have been married for many years now, but we… we have never been able to conceive. I… I must have one. I must.”
The fairy tilted her head. “For your kingdom?” she asked softly.
Eleanora bristled. She was not wearing a crown. Her clothes were fine, but not ostentatious. There might have been a Verona royal crest somewhere–
“Do not worry yourself, Your Majesty. The face of a queen is not one easily forgotten. But please do answer; do you seek a child for yourself, or your kingdom?”
She should have lied. Perhaps things might have been different. Perhaps not. “For myself,” she admitted.
“And what would you give for such a blessing?”
“Anything,” said the queen, without hesitation. “I would give you anything you wanted.”
The fairy smiled. “I can cure your infertility. But in return, I will hold you to that.”
The queen glanced back at the well.
“You made a wish,” said the fairy. “I have an answer. Your fertility. Any one thing. Do we have a deal?”
The emptiness inside her swelled. “Yes,” she said. “We have a deal.”
∞∞∞
A year later, Eleanora sat in the throne room, the gleaming halls bedecked in banners, the guests flocking in to welcome the new little princess. Briar-Rose lay in her cradle, gurgling and babbling, blue-eyed and rosy-cheeked. She was the most perfect creation Eleanora had ever seen, a view echoed by her husband, who promptly declared a feast in her honour and invited every fairy in the land to attend.
A quiet dread padded inside her. She had not heard from the one who met her at the well. She had not demanded her payment.
She glanced back at her daughter.
Whatever it is, it was worth it, she convinced herself. As long as I have her.
Twelve fairies pooled into the hall and made their way towards the cradle to coo over the princess and bless her with their gifts. The thirteenth was not amongst them.
“Strength,” said the first fairy, as the infant wrapped her fist around her long, elegant finger. “She can work out for herself what that means.”
A small, green-haired fairy, half the size of the others, crept up to the crib. “Song,” she said, “so that she may find joy even in the dark.”
A stately, eagle-eyed fairy placed a hand on her shoulder, nodding approvingly. “Intelligence.”
“Resourcefulness.”
“Courage.”
“Determination.”
“Sass–”
“Ariel!” snapped the stately woman. “You can’t gift a princess with sass!”
“Why not?”
“It’s unbecoming!”
The yellow-haired fairy pouted, her gold wings flickering. “Fine. Wit, then. Be funny, human child. Find laughter when there is little to be laughed at.”
The stately fairy seemed to approve, and backed down to let the remaining five impart theirs. ‘Patience’, ‘kindness’, ‘practicality’, and ‘beauty’ followed, the last receiving a tut from some of the other fairies, who considered it to be an outdated gift. The eleventh fairy huffed and said all the good ones had been taken. The twelfth fairy, now looking very nervous, stepped up to take her place.
A cool and sudden wind seized the throne room. The sun slid behind a cloud. The other lights grew dim, and a woman, cold as she was beautiful, appeared in the centre of the room.
The queen stifled a cry.
“Good day, Your Majesties,” said the woman, stooping into a low bow. Her shimmering purple robes brushed against the flagstones, like liquid smoke. “My, my, my. What a happy day we see before us. The queen has finally birthed a child. You must all be so thrilled.”
The queen let out a slight whimper, inching towards the crib.
“You have not forgotten then, I see,” said the dark fairy. “Do you remember what you promised me, Eleanora, if I could cure your infertility?”
The queen shuddered. “I promised you… anything you wanted.”
“Anything I wanted…” The fairy smiled. “Anything. That was our bargain. You said you would do anything, give anything. At the time, I believed you meant it. Do you still, I wonder?”
The king snapped his fingers. A dozen guards pointed their lancets.
“Be gone, sorceress. You were not invited.”
“By the laws of fairy, by which the queen is bound, I will have my payment. I demand your firstborn child.”
“No!” wailed the queen. “Please! Anything but her!”
“You can have another now, you know. You won’t have to wait long. My kind… well, that’s a different matter. You could have a dozen, if you wished. We are not so fortunate. My exchange is more than fair.”