Thread and Spool (A Twisted Fairy Tale #1) Page 14

  The bird lapped it up. The glow transferred to the bird and its feathers shone. I realized the bird was changing color.

  Turning completely gold.

  Stilt let the bird go and it flew up into the trees. Perched there. Sang a song. Meanwhile, Stilt walked away, his shoulders sagging with relief.

  "We need to go," the real Stilt said next to me.

  "What did you do to the bird?" I asked.

  "Nothing. We need to go."

  It sure didn't look like nothing. The nerves in his voice made me want to watch this even more. Stilt's energy tensed. It raced up my arm, a mixture of warm and cold. The darkness was creeping up on him again, and Stilt only had a matter of time before he went back to his original state. To the real Rumpelstiltskin.

  Another person entered the vision in the crystal ball. A man--the one from the cottage.

  My father.

  And he held a rifle.

  He spotted the bird and Stilt ducked into the bushes, hiding. He raised the gun and fired, and the bird dropped to the ground, dead and golden as ever. My father picked it up and studied it, then carried it back to the cottage. The vision shifted, showing my father plucking out the feathers while my mother butchered the bird and cooked the meat. The house was almost in shambles. Falling apart. A crooked chair leaned up against the table. This was the house I was born in.

  "Brie, come on!" Stilt's terror grew.

  My parents ate the meat of the golden bird for dinner. Savored it. My father counted the gold feathers. The vision shifted, and my mother sat in the chair, bouncing a small child in a bonnet on her lap.

  Me.

  It had to be. The child had my blond hair. She played with two pieces of straw, twisting them together. A golden flash erupted, and a gold chain hung from my fingers. My mother's mouth fell open as she gasped.

  I whirled around so fast that I knocked the crystal ball on the floor, shattering it. Stilt let go of my arm and waited.

  "You gave me this curse," I said, gripping the table as hard as I could.

  "It was an accident!" Stilt said. "I only meant to give it to the bird, go off, and avoid Henrik. I didn't know your parents would kill it and eat it. It was a selfish thing for me to do. I was still dark at the time. But after I spent some time in the lighter region, I came to feel for the horror you experienced every time King Henrik kidnapped you, and I knew I couldn't let that happen to you again. So I took you to the other world. That time, it was for you, Brie. Not myself. After that, Henrik captured me again, and I took far more whippings than I should have because I could no longer spin gold for him."

  His scars.

  That was how he got them.

  I was shaking. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  Stilt frowned for a second. "Because I knew you'd react like this?"

  "No," I said. "It would have cleared a lot up. I can see that you didn't do this on purpose. You should have told me sooner."

  Sylvia ducked her head into the room. All the color had drained from her face. "Alric."

  The word made me forget all about the revelation in the now-shattered crystal ball. Footfalls raced down the hall and I knew it was already too late. A large hand seized Sylvia by the sleeves and pulled her back. She screamed.

  And Alric stood in the doorway.

  He reached up and lowered his red and black hood. He was a well-groomed middle aged man with a mustache and a neat beard. He looked more like a professional businessman than some crazy magician and that made him scarier in a way.

  "Well," he said. "I see you have decided to explore my personal space. Out, both of you."

  He sounded like a teacher giving us a reprimand. I didn't dare move.

  "You heard me, did you not? Out. Or I will make you."

  "Leave her alone," Stilt said, stepping in front of me. What could he do?

  "Get back," I told him. Alric wouldn't kill me. I was too valuable. But Stilt and Sylvia were worthless to Henrik.

  "You think you have claim on the future Queen?" Alric asked. "You? You've forgotten your place, elf. Henrik will be interested in hearing about this as well." And then Alric raised one hand and waved us towards him.

  A tremendous force knocked into me from behind, pushing me into Stilt. We went crashing into the hallway as Alric stood out of the way. Sylvia already stood pinned against the wall. Whether she was there on her own or trapped there by magic, I didn't know.

  We crashed into the floor and pain surged up my elbow. I managed to stand and I reached for Stilt's arm and grabbed it. Alric stood there, staring at both of us, and I went to run, but I found that my feet were stuck to the floor. I felt as if someone had nailed them there.

  Stilt's, too. He looked at me with wide eyes.

  We couldn't move. Alric had all three of us prisoner here.

  I begged the pain in my elbow to calm down and the throbbing started to abate. Alric leaned against the doorway of his office and smiled. I really hated the guy. I wondered if he smiled like that when he shrunk that entire village and put those people in jars. Where were they? Maybe they were trapped somewhere in this castle as part of Alric's collection or something.

  And then I heard the worst possible sound.

  More footfalls.

  I turned my head. I could still do that, at least.

  King Henrik walked towards us, Lavine and the cook leading him.

  "There they are!" Lavine shouted. "She's the one who hit me over the head with the platter!"

  I balked, but molded my expression into a neutral one. Lavine had to save her own life, after all. She couldn't let on that she'd let me do it. The cook, too.

  "Very good," Henrik told her. "I will take care of this. What were they doing?" he asked Alric.

  "Getting into my office," he told the King. "I believe they may have been searching for your magic mirror."

  But Henrik didn't seem to notice. His gaze crept to me and he shook his head.

  And then he noticed my hand still on Stilt's arm.

  I let go, but it was too late.

  "I see," he said, approaching. "You like the elf. You really like the elf. You, my future queen, like the elf!"

  He raised his hand like he wanted to strike me and I flinched. I couldn't help it. Like the elf? Stilt wasn't worthy of a name? Maybe Henrik didn't know his true name.

  Henrik held his hand up for a long time. I about memorized the lines in his palm. He breathed out with rage and finally, he lowered it.

  "You like the elf," he said, smiling.

  That was worse.

  He really had a way to get to me now.

  And then he laughed. It was loud, cutting over the howls of the wolves outside.

  "Alric," he managed at last. "Place the elf and the former kitchen girl back in their cell, and make sure that you keep a more personal watch on it. I could use this to my advantage." Henrik took a step closer to me. "You left a lot of straw in the spinning room, my dear. It needs to be finished by morning."

  The air around him hummed with the cold, sharp magic. He had even more of it than Alric did. I just hoped he wasn't as good at using it as the wizard was. That he didn't realize his full potential. Henrik took up everything. He smiled. There was no hurt in his eyes. No jealousy. He didn't care for me at all--just what I could do. The man might not be capable of feelings. And he definitely wasn't capable of compassion.

  "If you step out of line again, dear, ever, then I will have the elf and the former kitchen girl both beheaded, and you will make up the audience. I will ensure that the executioner takes more swings than normal to remove their heads. Why don't you go back to the spinning room and continue your work?" Henrik looked at the cook and at Lavine, who had bruises on their heads. "And by the way, the two of you must be punished for allowing her to escape. Surely the two of you should have overpowered Brie easily, especially with such a strong man present. I believe the Queen and I will begin our honeymoon by watching the two of you lose your heads."

  The color drained from the cook's face
and Lavine's as well.

  Henrik was a monster.

  I wanted to yell at him and tell him what he was, but I kept my mouth shut. Lavine stood there and bit her lip, trembling.

  The two of them would die right after Henrik and I got married.

  And I would be watching.

  Finally, I found words. "Do you really think that's necessary?" I asked. "You're going to punish your own employees because I hit them with a platter? I don't care for them, either, but I think this is a little over the top."

  Henrik stared at me. "You need to rule your servants without mercy, or they will trample all over you."

  He knew.

  He knew that they were working with me. It was there in his eyes. Maybe Alric had seen the truth after all, and gone to tell Henrik while the three of us were in his office. He did have that crystal ball, after all.

  And then Henrik backed away.

  Alric took his place, and nausea filled my stomach. He muttered some low words and the room grew larger and larger and the ceiling much farther overhead. It became the sky and the floor, a vast stone plain. The night sky here had no stars. No light. Only the moon shone through the clouds like some demonic half smile.

  We were shrinking.

  Me, Stilt, Sylvia and the servants.

  Henrik's boots met my vision and towered over me. He could lift a foot and crush me right now. Crush Stilt and Sylvia, too. He would be rid of us. I had to hope that he was right that he still wanted Stilt as a bargaining chip.

  The nausea intensified and darkness pushed in on my vision, swallowing everything.

  Chapter Eleven

  When I woke, all I could see was straw.

  I lifted my head from the floor and looked around. I had returned to normal size, but no one was there with me. The rabbit meat was still on the floor along with the veggies that Lavine had brought for me. She wouldn’t be bringing me any more meals.

  King Henrik had found her out, and now she and the cook were going to die.

  Heck, maybe he was planning on killing Stilt and Sylvia as well, even if Stilt returned to evil by then. I didn’t want to see the past Stilt. Meet the past Stilt. If he stayed here much longer, I might. But could I still order him around tomorrow if he asked for something I couldn't give? I should be able to if I knew his true name.

  Unless something had changed since I came here.

  Or he'd just tear himself in half in rage to avoid it.

  That would be just as bad as watching him get beheaded, unless I could get him to the lighter region again.

  “Is anyone here?” I asked, sitting up.

  No one. I reached for the meat and felt it. It was cold. Room temperature. I had been here for a while.

  And the straw was higher than ever. Henrik had someone pile more in here, just to send me a message.

  I got up, screamed, and sent a kick at the spinning wheel. It slid a couple of feet and came to a stop next to a pile of golden thread. I was going to drown in this stuff if Henrik kept having more piled in here. I waited for someone to come in through the door, but it never opened. My stomach roared in hunger and I realized I only had the scraps on the floor to eat. I wouldn’t touch them. Maybe if I made myself hungry enough, my magic would fade. Sputter out, and I wouldn’t be able to spin gold anymore.

  But I had to keep going.

  If I didn’t finish this, Stilt and Sylvia would die right along with Lavine and the innocent cook. They had let me beat up on them and I’d need Stilt’s and Sylvia’s help to get them freed. I wasn’t going to give up on them.

  I had to keep my curse.

  I couldn’t do anything without it.

  With tears blurring my vision, I went back to the wheel, jammed in a bunch of straw, and worked to the howling of the wolves. They quieted as I worked as if satisfied with my progress. I peeked out the bare window, but it was night. How late? I didn’t know. My hands ached and I imagined Henrik ordering the deaths of Stilt and Sylvia if he didn’t find this done in the morning.

  I worked. And worked. The piles of golden thread grew next to me and the piles of straw, smaller. I went faster and faster until my mind went numb and I could no longer feel the buzzing in my hands. The light outside turned gray and I hurried, shrinking the piles before me. My heart raced. Henrik would come in any second, expecting the gold, and I wasn’t even done. He had set me up for failure.

  But when the door opened again, two gruff men stood in the doorway. They had a wheelbarrow full of more straw, enough to make me want to scream.

  And this time, Alric stood behind them, arms crossed. He had his hood on, hiding his face and giving me a silent dare.

  The men dumped the wheelbarrow in the room, right on top of a pile of golden thread. The straw mixed in and sank into the pile. It would make it much harder to pluck out.

  Then the men retreated from the room and brought in another wheelbarrow, a different one piled just as high with straw. They dumped that one, too.

  And then a third.

  I felt suffocated in it. I barely had enough room to sit among the straw now. The piles pushed against the base of the spinning wheel and against the legs of the stool. My back ached. My stomach ached even more. My hands had cramped so much and gone numb. I might never feel them again. I had become a machine. A bank, just like Hardy always wanted. I had ceased to be a person.

  Alric moved forward and stood in the doorway, staring at me. “Henrik almost has enough gold to bring Fable to its knees,” he said. He didn’t sound the happiest about it. “If you spin the rest of this straw, he will gain the power he needs. All of Fable will turn to darkness. And tomorrow morning, you will give him your vow.”

  And then Alric closed the door.

  “Wait!” I shouted.

  But Alric didn’t return.

  I had the feeling the guy didn’t want Henrik to rise—or he was just jealous of it. Jealous was probably right. But Alric was gone. I didn’t have the chance to sway him to my side. It would be dangerous, but it might be my only chance.

  The piles of straw seemed to close in on me. Part of one toppled, pouring over my feet.

  If I didn’t do this, Stilt and Sylvia would die.

  If I did do this, other people would die. Other kingdoms would fall.

  No matter what I did, people would perish. And I would be a prisoner here forever.

  I stood, pulling my feet out of the straw. I couldn’t let either happen. But how? Stilt would give me one more favor—if he could even get to my cell. I had to find him again and ask for one more. I stared at the door. It was tough wood. I could never kick it down. I didn’t have Stilt’s ability to change forms.

  But could I cut it down?

  Could I make a golden axe?

  I had made a butterfly. A swag chain. Even a potholder and an oven mitt for my adoptive mother.

  Why not a weapon?

  Something to stab Henrik with?

  Then if I could get to Stilt, I could free him with or without a key. Henrik would have it for sure. And if I made an axe and Alric still detected my magic, he’d just think I was spinning gold—right? His crystal ball was broken. We had taken away his extra set of eyes. All we had left was the wolves and ravens outside.

  I grabbed a huge handful of straw and crammed some long pieces together. I made two long cords and wove them, creating a handle. The heat returned to my hands, chasing the numbness away. I might die because of this, but it was better than living the rest of my days with Henrik. Maybe even forever with him. “I’m not done,” I said, begging the golden flash not to come. “I’m not done yet. I have to add the blade.” I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that, but I grabbed a bunch of straw and started weaving a pattern. It was hard work. I had no crochet hook and this was no yarn. The straw kept coming undone, over and over, but at last, I had created a few long rows.

  Something clanged against the bars and I jumped, heart leaping into my chest. I caught the flash of a platter hitting the bars and a bunch of food toppling in.
Veggies and some crude meat hit the new straw and lay there, ready for me to eat. They wouldn’t even serve me like a person anymore. Henrik had seen to that. How would he treat me after we were married? I imagined a life locked in a room like this. He might never let me out again.

  Keep working.

  I had to keep going.

  Another row. And another. A triangle in the shape of a blade appeared, curved on one end. I took two long pieces of straw and tied it, careful not to let the thing undo itself. I trembled. Sweat rolled down the back of my neck and every muscle in my hands was on alert, struggling to get this just right. I tied the blade onto the stick and was rewarded with the golden glow.

  My creation got heavier—much heavier. I blinked, realizing that I held a large axe of pure gold. My aching arm struggled to hold it up. To brandish it. This could cut through wood—right? Gold was soft and this might not be a durable weapon.

  But it was better than nothing.

  I needed weapons for Stilt and Sylvia, too. I couldn’t break out of here just yet. The axe’s blade glinted in the light. I couldn’t let Henrik see this if he came by, so I slid it under the straw.

  Swords, then.

  I had no idea how to use them, but Stilt and Sylvia might.

  I went to work on twin handles. It wasn’t as bad as the axe, but it was hard to find straw fibers that were long enough. At last I was able to get one sword together, a long straw blade that any kid would have laughed at. When it failed to flash and turn to gold, I added a hilt, sliding a ring of straw up to where the handle was supposed to meet the blade.

  A flash.

  Weight.

  I stood up, holding a long golden sword in my hands. It was perfect. Pointed at the end. Sharp. The handle glittered with gold designs that I hadn’t even thought of. Geese. Pumpkins. Birds, and horses. Things from the lighter region. It was like I had brought some of that with me.