[Fairytale 02] - Asleep (2013) Read online

  Asleep

  A reimagining of the sleeping beauty tale

  by Elizabeth Darcy

  (A pen name for Nicole Ciacchella)

  Chapter 1

  “Ah, ceremony,” Dev drawled, leaning against the wall, one leg crossed over the other.

  “Don’t care much for it, Your Highness?” Lord Shantan Delhurst asked.

  “Have I ever?” Rolling his eyes, Dev pulled a grimace.

  “Oh to have the problems of a prince,” his friend replied, his tone heavy with false sympathy. “Especially a prince about to announce his plans to wed Princess Jessmyn.”

  “It’s a rough life indeed.” Though he spoke with gravity, Dev could not contain the gleeful grin that spread over his face.

  Shan rolled his eyes. “It’s not too late for Jess to come to her senses—and I am still available.”

  “Find your own woman like Jess.”

  “There is no other woman like Jess.”

  The declaration pleased Dev because he knew it was genuine. He and Shan had the sort of relationship where empty flattery was neither required nor desired, and it pleased him to know that, even if she did raise eyebrows every now and then, his family and friends esteemed and admired Jess.

  “If I had my way, I’d do away with all this public ceremony and Jess and I would ride off to a meadow to exchange vows privately,” Dev said.

  “So you’re a romantic, is it?”

  “But of course.”

  “I don’t buy it. We all know how he loves to be the center of attention,” scoffed Earl Mahir of Wandenfeld, looking up from his game of dice.

  “That is true,” Dev conceded, grinning. “But I prefer it to be a spectacle of my own making.”

  “Now that I do believe,” Shan said.

  Though Dev was enjoying the banter, he suddenly wished he were alone. Why did these insipid things always require an extravagant retinue? He’d have preferred to make his way to the dais on his own. And he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d prefer to wed Jess in the middle of a meadow. If he closed his eyes, he could picture it: her in a traditional blue gown, her thick, satiny dark hair partially concealed by a filmy veil, birdsong providing their wedding music. He would have her all to himself, be able to hold her in his arms and stare at her for hours, kiss her until they were both love drunk. It pained him to open his eyes and face reality. He wished the crowds would disappear and leave him alone with her. Instead, the feasting would have to go on for days with him and Jess expected to be in attendance the entire time, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  Being away from Jess, forced to endure the distance imposed on them by a lack of privacy, was driving him mad. The two of them had precious little time alone together and it was the only time when all the noise stopped, when the world went quiet and he could just be himself, think for himself, without the constant chatter of unwelcome and unwanted voices. Though there were many things Dev loved about Jess, above all else he loved the peace she made him feel. When he was with her he felt real, unlike the façade of Dev he maintained around others.

  At this point, he’d have settled for a glimpse of her beautiful face, just one glance from her soft, almond-shaped brown eyes. Even with all the noise surrounding them, those eyes offered a haven of calm, and he was anxious to sink into it. As much as Jess frowned and urged him to at least feign the proper reverence for the pageantry, he knew she was every bit as covetous of their private time as he was.

  “Has our summons arrived at long last?” Dev asked, hearing a scuffle in the corridor. He pulled away from the wall, standing straight and adjusting his cape, tunic, hose, and breeches. He mustn’t look disheveled or his poor mother might perish from shame.

  Mahir frowned. “Something doesn’t seem—” His hand went to his sword, but before he could unsheathe it, the door burst open. A blinding flash of light filled the chamber, and Dev threw his arm over his eyes, squeezing them shut, but it wasn’t enough to shield them. An afterimage burned on the backs of his lids, as bright as if he’d just stared straight into the sun.

  “What—” he tried shouting but inhaled a lungful of smoke. Gasping and choking, he fell to his knees as his lungs screamed. Fortunately, the air near the floor was clearer, and he took in great gulps of it, trying not to keel over as a wave of dizziness washed over him, making him glad he wasn’t standing upright. Opening his eyes, he blinked rapidly to clear his vision, but colored dots danced before him, and the air seemed strangely opaque. It took his mind a minute to register that the air was smoky, and his blood ran cold. Glancing from side to side, he was relieved to find there were no flames, but what had caused the smoke? His eyes alighted on a small mass in the corner of the chamber, smoke billowing out of it.

  “Dev,” a voice hissed near his right ear.

  Turning, Dev saw Mahir lying flat on the floor, his belly pressed to the stone. Mahir’s eyes watered and he coughed, his eyelids fluttering for a second before he managed to refocus on Dev. Tugging his tunic up over his mouth, Dev used his forearms to drag himself over to Mahir.

  “What’s happening?” Dev whispered. Other than the commotion in the corridor, he’d heard nothing but the cries of his companions as they were assaulted by the flash of light and the smoke. Periodically, he heard a cough and shuffling noises but, other than that, things were eerily quiet.

  “We’ve been attacked. But who—”

  Mahir fell silent, and they both turned their heads to the door. Straining his ears, Dev heard it again, and this time he knew the sound was stealthy footsteps making their way toward him. Glancing at Mahir, Dev saw his friend’s face tense. Dev reached down to his waist before remembering he wasn’t wearing a weapon, thanks to the ceremony he’d been about to attend. Biting back a curse, he looked around for something he could use as a weapon and settled on a small but heavy iron candle holder that had tumbled to the floor. He looked back at Mahir, who had drawn the dagger he kept in his boot. The pommel of Mahir’s sword was still visible at his hip, and Dev cocked his head, signaling to Mahir. They both rose into a crouch, freezing for several long seconds. When nothing happened, Mahir attempted to straighten up, letting out a muffled cry as he was hit from behind.

  “Mahir!” Dev’s voice came out a weak croak, a consequence of the smoke inhalation. He lunged toward Mahir, intent on braining his friend’s assailant, but Mahir’s attacker had melted back into the smoke. Adopting a fighter’s crouch, Dev’s eyes darted around, desperate to find the assailants. His breath came in quick pants, which meant he took in more of the smoke with each inhalation, and his head began to swim, making it difficult for him to focus. As he attempted to move the candlestick from one hand to the other, it slipped from his grasp and fell with a clatter, telling him the extent to which his reactions had been dulled. Weakness ate away at him, and no matter how hard he fought it, he could not beat it back. His limbs began to tremble, and it took an exhausting amount of effort to keep his head upright on his shoulders. He barely felt the pain as his knees gave and he fell to the stone floor, his head striking it with a dull thud. Ears ringing, Dev did his best to fight off the blackness that crept over his vision.

  “Prince Devaran,” a low voice purred.

  Forcing his eyes open required a feat of will, and he put the last of his remaining energy into it, managing to open them enough to see a narrow slice of the chamber. A cloaked and hooded figure knelt before him, and at first he thought he was hallucinating, because the face looked so strange, like that of a scarecrow. His confused brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing, and he finally realized that the other person wore a mask, which might explain why he or she didn’t seem to be all that bothered by the smoke.

 
“Who are you?” Dev ground out, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

  “We’ll have time for introductions later,” the voice said, each word like a caress. The sound made him want to shudder but he didn’t have the energy for it. It wasn’t a voice he recognized, and the accent was neither Estorian nor Lyranian, which meant the speaker wasn’t from his Realm or Jess’s.

  “You’re from Moritan,” Dev whispered.

  “My, aren’t we a clever prince?”

  “That would explain the sudden stench of sheep. Baa.”

  Another pair of footsteps appeared, and Dev sucked in a breath as someone struck him across his face. His head snapped back, his teeth clamping down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The tenuous hold he had on consciousness began to slip away as a metallic taste filled his mouth.

  “Enough,” growled the first voice he’d heard. “We need him alive.”

  “He’d be just as good to us dead,” a guttural voice responded. Was it the man who’d struck him?

  “No, you idiot, he would not. We need the upper hand against Jessmyn. If he dies, we’ll lose our leverage, and her focus will be on assuring our destruction. If you can’t understand that, I will replace you with someone who can.”

  “Of course. My apologies, Greatness.”

  Fear for Jess’s safety lanced through Dev, jolting him from his stupor. All fatigue forgotten, he lashed out at his two attackers, his swings wild. His fist struck something solid, and he heard a grunt and a thud as the guttural-voiced man dropped next to him.

  “Subdue him,” the first voice ordered, and now Dev could tell it was a woman speaking.

  His flailing took on a new desperation as two more pairs of feet approached. Who would want to harm Jess? As far as he knew, her Realm was on good terms with Moritan. Moreover, Mallaric valued honor above all else, and Dev couldn’t imagine he’d stoop to kidnapping. If he felt any ill will toward the Lyranian royal family, he would have made it plain.

  Desperate, Dev tried to call for help but his voice failed. The other two assailants descended on him and, though he fought savagely using his fists, feet, and teeth, he was too weak to beat them off. They pinned him to the floor, and he sucked in great gulps of air that did nothing but make him breathe even more heavily, as if what flowed in wasn’t sufficient to feed his lungs. The black edges of his vision closed in, his lips forming Jess’s name as he lost consciousness.

  Chapter 2

  I don’t have time for this. I have drills to run, that supply issue needs to be resolved, those new squires need practice weapons… I wonder if security is tight enough. I hope my father didn’t entrust it to that useless buffoon Wynart—he better have closed that gap in the north tower by now.

  Jessmyn tugged at her gown. She had to admit it was stunning, but she’d have preferred to be in her armor. How a gown of satin and lace could feel more confining than sixty pounds of plate, Jess didn’t know. She’d have to keep that question in mind for the next time her seamstress asked her what sort of gown she would like, so that she could instruct the woman to fashion something a little less encrusted with pearls and small jewels, one that would allow for greater freedom of movement. And why did the waist have to be so tight it pinched? Squirming, Jess took on the impossible task of trying to find a more comfortable position.

  The truth was the weight of her gown had nothing to do with the disquiet state of her mind; it was nerves that were eating her alive. Though she’d been schooled in royal protocol until she could practice it in her sleep, Jess had never before been a part of something so monumentally important to her Realm—nor had she ever experienced anything of greater personal importance.

  Forcing herself to stand still, Jess closed her eyes and thought of Dev. She pictured his long, lean frame; his mussed, unfashionably short black hair; the rakish, disarming smile, his teeth white against his deep olive skin, lighting up his thin face and showcasing his chipped tooth. He wasn’t handsome like his brother Tanvir, but she’d always found his boyish looks appealing, and there was no other man she would ever have chosen over him.

  The exercise achieved exactly what she’d hoped, and Jess felt herself relaxing. Dev always had that effect on her. It was part of what made him so essential to her life.

  “Are you ready, Your Highness?” Lady Lilia Vindar asked, breaking into Jess’s thoughts. She stole a shy glance at Jess, searching the princess’s face. Jess could tell from the look in Lilia’s eyes that she was caught up in the romance of the occasion, and it made Jess smile in spite of her worries.

  “I am,” Jess confirmed.

  Jess’s ladies dropped low curtsies and fell into their positions behind the princess. Jess squared her shoulders, tilted her head at a regal angle, and began her slow procession out to the great hall. Even at this distance, Jess could hear the noisy crowd, boisterous and jubilant due to the celebration. Music and chatter competed with one another, creating a blend that somehow still managed to please the ear. It was impossible to make out what anyone was saying, but Jess could still hear unfamiliar tones, evidence of the attendance of the mighty and influential of the other Realms. This was the biggest celebration in the history of the Five Realms, which was why Jess’s nerves hummed. Having so many important people in any one place was an enormous security risk, and her eyes darted around as she walked, looking for evidence of guards. She’d trained most of them herself but it didn’t put her any more at ease.

  “There are twenty guards in this corridor alone,” her father said, coming to stand at her side. He spoke in a low tone that only she would be able to hear. She had been so distracted, she had noticed neither his approach nor that he was watching her.

  Some martial master I am! I don’t even notice when my own father and his ten attendants approach!

  Studying her with some exasperation, as if he could guess her train of thought, her father shook his head. “My love, can you not relax, just for one day? This celebration is meant for you, and for Dev.”

  His chiding words made her look down, chagrined. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

  “Nerves?” he suggested, humor creeping into his voice. Looking up, Jess met his fond expression. “I felt the same way before I married your mother—not that it was an event of as much note as this.”

  Groaning, Jess said, “I thought you intended to help ease my nerves!”

  “You know I do love to keep you on your toes.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then took her by both hands and held her arms out wide, admiring her gown. “Look at you, my daughter. You seem to grow more beautiful every day—though this may have something to do with your normally wearing a helm, which does make it rather difficult for me to see your face.”

  “Oh, Papa.” She embraced him as tightly as she could, what with her wide skirts and bristling petticoats serving as a barrier between them.

  “You’re so like your mother. You always have been.” Both his eyes and his smile were soft as he gently touched her cheek. “I love you, Jessmyn. You have made me so proud. It’s no secret I’ve always doted on you, and it has not been easy for me to think of you marrying. I can’t tell you how much happiness, how much peace, it has brought me to know that you have made such a love match. Our royal blood endows us with a great deal of responsibility, and it was a matter of some anxiety to me to think there might come a day when I would be forced to see you wed to someone of whom you were not fond, solely for the purpose of political advantage. I never wanted that for you, sweetheart.”

  “I know,” she said, her eyes tearing.

  “Dev will make you a fine husband, and a fine king to both his Realm and ours.”

  “Yes, he will.” A brilliant smile spread over her face, and her father’s eyes dampened as well. Holding her face in his hands, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

  “Many blessings upon you this day.”

  “I have already been blessed beyond my wildest dreams.” She took his hand and pressed it between her own. He kissed her forehead
once more and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  “I think it’s time to give the bards material for some new ballads.” His eyes twinkled, and she felt a rush of affection for him.

  “An excellent proposition.”

  Omar led his daughter out into the great hall. The roar of the crowd died down, then rose in an almost collective gasp as everyone caught their first glimpse of a luminous Jess, who seemed to float down the steps in her dazzling silver gown. Her heart raced as her eyes flew around the hall, searching for Dev, but the crowd was so thick she couldn’t see the dais where he waited. As she and her father made their way to the other end of the hall, the audience bowed low. Jess heard a few whispers, pretty words about how lovely she looked, but she had no attention to spare for them. She was tempted to pull her hand from her father’s arm and dash to the front of the crowd. He moved so slowly, and she was so impatient. Instead, she forced herself to walk at a sedate pace, her eyes moving ceaselessly, as if by sweeping her gaze back and forth she could knock the crowd aside and find the object her eyes so hungered to see.

  When they reached the dais at last, King Adar and Queen Nishana were sitting on their thrones, Prince Tanvirous standing to the left of his father. All three looked tense. Puzzled, Jess looked at her mother, who wore the same tense expression. Surely Dev wouldn’t be late today, of all days. Omar looked nonplussed, and Jess became aware of the uneasiness emanating from the crowd.

  “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” a voice rang out. The crowd stepped aside as one of Omar’s knights approached the dais, and Jess gasped as she took in the knight’s appearance. Her surcoat was torn, her armor dented in several places, and her nose was bloodied. She stumbled to the foot of the dais and awkwardly fell to a knee, her tangled hair tumbling over her face.

  “Rise, Sir Pala,” Omar said, his eyebrows drawing together in an expression of concern. Tanvir stepped forward, his hand going to the pommel of his sword, a gesture Jess knew was unconscious. Like Jess, Tanvir’s instinct was to search for threats.