“She never has to be rescued by anyone. Why is it yours?”
“The mercenaries told a lot of rude jokes. So did Cecilia.”
Talia laughed. “I… I am not one for conversation,” she said. “But… if you wanted to tell me some of your stories, I should be glad to hear them.”
Chapter Three:
The Curse Discovered
Briar was ten years old when she found out about the curse. As a princess, her birthday was always celebrated with great aplomb, and her tenth was no exception. Afterwards, when she learned the truth, she wondered whether everyone always went out of their way to be jolly on the day deliberately, to cover up the ticking bomb, the elephant in the room, the unspoken secret.
One of the courtiers set her off, stroking her hair affectionately and sighing, “Only seven years left…” absent-mindedly.
Briar frowned, but said nothing when she saw how distressed the woman became. She comforted her, continued with the party, and cornered her parents at the end of the day, demanding to know what the courtier meant.
Her parents looked at each other, their eyes bright with fear that even a child could recognise, and in that moment Briar knew that whatever the courtier had half-confessed to was serious indeed.
“I’m… I’m sure the courtier was just confused, darling,” her father began.
“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped. “If you do not tell me the truth, I will go back to her, and if she doesn’t tell me, I’ll ask someone else. I will ask everyone in the castle, if necessary. Someone will eventually give me a clear answer if you won’t.”
Her father sighed. “Cursed be the fairy who gave you intelligence,” he said, with faint affection in his voice.
Her mother looked like she was about to cry.
Then it all came out, how she’d been cursed by an evil fairy at her christening, how she was destined to prick her finger on a spinning wheel on her seventeenth birthday and plunge the kingdom into a hundred-year-long slumber. Only a kiss could awaken her.
“Any kiss?” she asked.
They shook their heads. “A special kind,” her mother explained. “Most likely true love’s kiss.”
“But how can it be true love if I don’t know him?”
Her mother smiled sadly, taking her by the shoulders. “Fate? Faith? Hope? I do not know. But you will be saved, my darling, I swear it.”
“And… if no one comes after that time?”
Her parents’ faces blanched.
“I see,” she said. “Just me? Or the rest of you?”
“The good fairies who cast the counter-curse were not entirely sure.”
“And… and what have you done so far, to avoid it? Other than the counter-curse?”
“Well, there are no spinning wheels in the castle,” said the king.
“That’s it?”
“We’re still quite far off…”
“We thought… maybe… when you were older…” started the queen, “trying to find you a suitor to break the curse the minute it was cast.”
“But what if I don’t like him?”
“It’s a long way off, darling–”
“I’d like to learn to wield a blade,” she requested, “because I am not touching a spinning needle of my own accord. So I would need to be forced. I want to learn how to protect myself.”
The king, after a moment’s hesitation, agreed.
“And find a good fairy or a sorcerer or someone who can teach me how to withstand mental attacks, in case I’m hypnotised or something.”
“Any… anything else?”
She paused for a moment, coming up empty. “I shall let you know.”
Few things sounded worse to Briar than sitting back and letting someone else rescue her. She was not about to give up. She was not about to let this dark fairy win, risk letting her kingdom fall to ruin and disgrace.
She would fight her fate until her last breath.
She had no idea how true her resolve would be.
∞∞∞
For the next two years, Briar trained with the best swordmaster her parents could procure. His name was Hakido, a true master of the blade, and she, his ever-diligent pupil, barely missed a day.
At the same time, she trained with a strict, matronly fairy named Margaret, and although the lessons only happened every few weeks while Margaret was visiting, she set her a mountain of tasks to complete in-between.
Margaret was one of the fairies that had been at her christening, gifting her with intelligence. She was initially reluctant to train the young princess, – “There’s a limit to the magics humans are capable of.” – but she had been persuaded by Briar’s resolve and a desire to try and side-step the curse as well. “We can’t have her win, can we? Sets a bad example for the rest of us.”
Training her mind was much, much harder than learning how to wield a blade. She could see and track her progress with a weapon, commit herself to clear, logical exercises that promoted strength or endurance. Mental agility was far harder and required far more patience, not a trait that Briar boasted amongst her repertoire.
Hours were devoted to meditating, breathing exercises, and focusing, all tasks that felt like they were for naught when Margaret visited and slipped as easily into her mind as a knife through butter. She would make her dance around the room, sing on demand, even draw a bow or swing a sword. Briar could not believe the power that fairies had, how easily they could bend humans to their will.
“This is impossible!” she cried out at one point.
“All right,” said Margaret flatly, “then desist. Give up. No one would blame you.”
Briar tightened her jaw. “No,” she said. “I won’t give up. I would blame me.”
Margaret nodded approvingly. “Then try again.”
“I… I can’t practise enough without you. Come and stay here for a while. Or let me come back with you–”
“A human, in the fairy court?” Margaret gasped. “I will never see the day! I suppose… there are no children at home at present… making my visits more frequent wouldn’t deny any fairy child of their tutor. Very well.”
Margaret adjusted her visits so she could be with Briar several weeks at a time, then left for longer periods to ensure her pupil didn’t grow lax in her absence. Slowly, Briar began to improve, resisting Margaret’s attacks for a few moments at first, and finally being able to block her altogether.
The court was somewhat alarmed by the permanent presence of a fairy in their midst. The story of Briar’s christening was legendary, and it had tarnished all magical creatures with a similar brush. The servants were silent in her presence, as if the slightest word would cause her to snap and transform them all into frogs. Margaret, Briar could tell, found the whole thing incredibly tiresome, and occasionally performed complicated hand gestures at dinner time just to spook them.
Only one person found it as entertaining as Briar did; one of the young maids about her own age.
When helping Briar dress one day, she asked her if she could really turn people into frogs.
“Oh, no doubt, but whyever would she?”