The Twisted Fairy Tale Box Set Page 7

  And Stilt stood inside a clean stable along with Sylvia.

  My heart sank.

  Stilt was removing his shirt. He tossed it down on the straw and stretched out his muscles. Every line was perfect. Every muscle in his chest, defined. Stilt was like a statue come to life, filled with blood and life and magic. His skin was perfect. Unblemished.

  Then he turned around.

  His back faced me now, and then I saw the horror.

  Scars.

  Lots and lots of them, crisscrossing Stilt's back like lines on a map. Many were red. Angry. Others were more white, faded and old. It was as if someone had taken a whip to Stilt on more than one occasion and beat him within an inch of his life.

  The backs of his arms had them, too. Stilt had tried to shield himself from the blows, but it hadn't done any good.

  Stilt flopped down on the straw, hiding the horror from view. And then Sylvia reached up and went to pull off her robe. She muttered something long and tired and Stilt said something back that I couldn't hear over my heartbeat.

  Sylvia wore a blue dress with a white apron like a servant girl. I didn't get why she was hiding it.

  Then I saw the real reason she wore that hood all the time.

  Sylvia had no eyes.

  There were sunken, black holes where her eyes should have been. Her eyelids hung ragged as if something had eaten them out and left tatters in their place. Only darkness remained where eyes had been. The skin had healed, but I couldn't stop the sickness from rising inside of me.

  And then Sylvia walked over to lie down beside Stilt.

  I turned away from the stable and ran back towards the inn, not looking back.

  Chapter Six

  Terror filled my sleep.

  I ran down a corridor in a castle, trying to escape, trying to get away from the man chasing me. His heavy footfalls fell on the stone, and I ran under wooden supports, searching for an exit. The man insulted me in every way possible. He called me a trickster. A liar and a thief.

  I bolted into a room.

  It was full of straw, piled high up to the ceiling and ready to collapse on me.

  I woke with a start.

  Tiny slivers of sunlight poked through the thatch roof above me.

  They made strange patterns on the floor and the walls of my room. The straw bed poked into me at odd angles, and I made myself get up. My limbs ached, and my head felt heavy from the day before.

  I was in Fable. Stilt had scars on his back, and Sylvia had no eyes.

  And they were lying down together in the stable.

  Well, at least I knew where I stood. That made things a little less complicated. Now all I had to do was find out what Stilt wanted and find a way to get back to the other world.

  There was a knock on the door. "Brie, are you decent?"

  "Not yet." I got up and put on the dress. "Am now."

  The door opened, and Stilt stood there, holding a loaf of bread. "I thought I would bring you breakfast," he said, smiling. "Maybe even breakfast in bed."

  "Thanks," I said, taking the bread. I tried not to look Stilt in the eyes. If he found out I'd been spying on him...that would have been bad. Very bad. "Where are we going today?"

  "We can't keep traveling forever," Stilt said. His inner glow faded, and he cleared his throat. "You need to find a place to blend in. Maybe a King's court. One that could keep you away from Henrik."

  "Excuse me?" I asked. I cracked the bread in half and thrust one half out to him. Did elves like bread? Maybe they just liked breaking hearts. "It's my life, Stilt. I'll do what I want with it. And if that's getting back to the other world and making a life there, I'll do it. I can change my name. Get away from my adoptive parents. I was planning on doing that anyway."

  "It's not that easy," Stilt said. "Your story always follows you. It's hard to break away from it, and if you try--the punishments are severe."

  I think of his scars. He's talking like he knows all about it.

  "Even back on Earth, your story followed you. Instead of being a prisoner of Henrik, you were a prisoner of your parents. It's not right. I think the best way to fight it is to find a way to live your story in the best way you can."

  "People are trying to use me, you mean," I said, taking a bitter bite of the bread. I chewed. It was plain, but a sense of the familiar rose inside me. I'd eaten bread like this before, in all my past lives, many times. "You're saying I should accept my fate, then. Be that girl that everyone wants to use for something."

  "Things might be harder for you if you don't."

  "What are you hiding?" I asked. "You seem to know a lot more than you're letting on."

  Stilt closed the door, shutting us both in the room. "Brie, have I done something to offend you?"

  "You know something you're not telling me," I said. “I want your story. I want to know who you are and why you’ve taken an interest in me. I want to know what you’re getting out of this. I think that’s fair.” I didn’t mention Sylvia. He had her already. I was in this for some other purpose.

  Stilt jumped back, hair flopping in his face. The faint glow coming from his form wavered. The nerves had returned. But then he got his composure and stabilized, turning his face into a mask.

  “Look, Brie. I’m here because I got tired of my story, just like you have. I used to reside in the dark part of Fable.”

  “You?” I asked. I felt as if someone had punched me in the solar plexus. “You? In the dark region?” Stilt might be frustrating, but evil? Unless he was hiding it well, I couldn’t imagine it.

  And weren’t the villains in fairy tales always ugly? The evil stepsisters. The witch from Hansel and Gretel. None of them were lookers, ever.

  Stilt was none of that unless the tales were wrong.

  Stilt faced the floor. “Evil is never rewarded here. It only took me dozens of lifetimes and Henrik's discovery to notice that.”

  “And?” I prodded. I was getting some answers at last. I couldn’t trust Stilt, even if the lighter region had turned him good...for now. But he was between the door and me. I couldn’t run around him.

  “I wanted to take a stab at King Henrik,” he continued. “I always die horribly in my story, and he let me know. He taunted me about it. I wanted a stab at him. I wanted revenge."

  “And you ticked him off by doing what?” Oops. I couldn't let Stilt know I'd seen the scars.

  Stilt swallowed and his glow faded. “Because sixteen years ago, I took you to the other world after I found out you could spin gold."

  "What?" I exploded. "You were the one who took me there?"

  Stilt's eyes were full of shame. "I was dark at the time. I did it out of revenge. I wanted to take the one thing that King Henrik would seek all over again. Don’t worry. The changeling I left in your place grew into an evil girl who spurned everyone. They always do. King Henrik sent for her, but instead of spinning gold, she could only spin copper. He beheaded her.”

  “A girl had to die because of me? Because of what you did?” Someone lost her head in my place. My throat locked up at the thought. Changeling or not, the girl didn’t deserve it.

  “She was not kind,” Stilt said. “Changelings are never kind, even if they end up in the lighter region. King Henrik discovered the deception and…he found me again and had me punished. He forced me to talk. The king forced me to tell him that you could spin gold, and now he wants you more than ever. Then he began his search for you. I didn't want to speak. He whipped me until I did. And after I spent some time in the dark region again, I became capable of nothing more than thinking of myself. After years of being imprisoned there again, Sylvia helped me to escape."

  I knew I should be furious at Stilt. But how many times had he been whipped? Many. Some of the scars were fresh. Henrik must have kept him for a long time. And what was the horrible death Stilt mentioned? I had a feeling he didn't want to talk about that. "Why have you brought me to this town? Something doesn't feel right about this."

  Stilt cleared his throat.
"It...It was a promise I made a long time ago, while you were still in the other world. In case you had to come back here, I wanted a backup plan to keep you away from Henrik. I made the King here--King Franz--a bargain. He's a kind man who will make sure that Henrik never bothers you again. He lost his Queen several years ago to a witch's curse. You'll be safe with him."

  I stood there for a few seconds as Stilt's words hit me.

  Then I understood the fancy dress.

  Stilt promised this King me. He wanted me to look the part.

  "Excuse me?" I advanced on Stilt, and he backed into the door. "You want just to dump me here and have me married to a guy I've never even met? I'm sixteen, Stilt. Don't you think I need a bit more time to live before I settle down? Don't you think I deserve a choice? Oh, wait. I don't. It's my story to get married to a King. And let me guess. You told this King I could spin gold. Why else would he want me?"

  "Well, yes." He opened the door just a bit. "I had to. He won't use you, Brie. It was a long time ago before I started getting to know you. I didn't know what else to do at the time. We elves have to keep our promises and our deals. It's our nature, light or dark."

  "Then why is he so interested in a girl he's never met?" Stilt didn't have an answer for that one. I looked for something in the room to throw, but there was nothing but the candle holder, so I seized that, the melted blob of wax included. "What did you get out of the deal?"

  "Asylum here. Away from the dark region, forever. Away from my story. It was all about me at first. I didn't want to be dark or be Henrik's slave anymore. But I regret this deal now. I really, truly do. I have no choice but to deliver you to King Franz." His inner glow died. Stilt was hating this.

  "How old is King Franz?" I asked.

  Stilt paused, and his gaze flicked around the room. I wondered if he could shrink and vanish through the walls.

  "Well?"

  "Forty-two."

  Stilt earned the metal candle holder to the head. It banged into the border of his scalp, and he doubled over, cursing. "Brie!" he shouted. "I thought you would be a little older before you had to come home."

  "There are laws in my world about forty-two-year-olds and sixteen-year-olds, well, being together, and trust me, the penalties aren't good," I shouted, letting the holder fall to the floor.

  "This is your world," Stilt said. "Arranged marriages are the norm here among royalty. You never had a problem marrying Henrik in your past lives, and he's much older now than Franz is." Stilt took a breath and straightened up. "I just have to deliver you, but you can still escape. You're right. You shouldn't have to do this." His expression softened, though he kept his hand to his forehead. "What's the point of your freedom if you can't even do what you want, right?"

  I tried to find some words, but they all stuck in my throat. A red welt rose up on Stilt's skin.

  Stilt's skin.

  It hit me.

  "You're Rumpelstiltskin," I managed. My voice came out as a croak. "You're the one who spun the gold for me and wanted my firstborn." No wonder he came from the dark region and knew King Henrik. "King Henrik figured out you could spin gold instead of me, so he made you work for him, didn't he? That's why you wanted revenge."

  He jerked. His eyes got big, and he reached up to cover his ears.

  "Yes," he said. "Don't speak my name!"

  "Well, that's what it is! You didn't even do a good job of hiding it. Did you think I wasn't going to figure it out? I have every time if the story's right, and it was your downfall every time. Going to tear yourself in half now?"

  "Not again," he said. He dug into his hair, and for a horrifying second, I thought he was going to rip himself down the middle and that I'd have guts and blood to step over. That, and I didn’t want to see that. Stilt’s face turned scarlet, and he gritted his teeth in rage. “Don't make me do it again!"

  I froze.

  Could I make him rip himself in half?

  "Hold on," I said. "I'm not going to make you do that. Get your hands off your head, please."

  He obeyed. Stilt's eyes were wide with horror.

  “So much for escaping your story.” I was livid. I almost fell for this guy. Maybe he just wanted me to marry this other King so he could steal my firstborn from that instead of Henrik. It was safer for him. Easier for him. “You know what? Get out of here!”

  Stilt managed to let go of his hair. He breathed a sigh of relief as if he'd expected something else. He opened the door, almost as if he were a robot, and left the room. His footsteps squeaked back at me as he departed. "Brie, you don't realize--"

  “And don’t talk to me!” I shouted.

  Stilt said nothing to that. I heard the front door of the inn open and close.

  I stood there, catching my breath, and let my arms fall to my sides. I couldn’t believe Stilt just got up and gave up the fight like that. Did it have something to do with my guessing his real name? I knew that real names had power in the fantasy world. Hardy told me that once. What if they did here, too?

  “I can’t believe it,” I managed. I had to get out of this village before King Franz found me and tried to sweep me off my feet. I checked out my dress. It was silky and beautiful as ever. Ready for a wedding. Ready for a celebration.

  I almost trusted Stilt.

  A big lump grew in my throat, and I had to hold back a sob of rage. Once again, I had a use. Nothing else. As long as I had this curse—wherever it came from--I would never be free of this. Would never be free of my story.

  I had to get rid of it, then. Go back to the other world and live where there were no kings and fae. I couldn’t imagine my story creeping up on me again if I did that. There would be no reason to.

  I opened the door to the room and stormed out. I would ask around. Find a way to remove this curse. There had to be one. This world was full of magic, both apparent and not.

  There was one thing I still didn’t understand.

  And that was why I could spin gold, and Stilt couldn’t. Or wouldn't. If King Henrik had Stilt in his court at one point, wouldn't he have forced Stilt to spin for him? It might be why Henrik had kept Stilt prisoner at first. He wouldn't even need me.

  Maybe Stilt would only spin gold in exchange for things? A guy like Henrik wouldn't have paid up. All Stilt had to do was ask for the kingdom or something, and he would have been safe. It was clout I didn't have.

  And now he was gone. I couldn't ask him about it. Not that I could trust him, of course.

  I burst outside into the sun. The village was much busier this morning. Two women walked together, holding baskets of eggs. They talked in low voices. A tired, ragged man walked the gray horse out from the stable area.

  I headed that way.

  Sylvia stood there, holding both of the brown horses by the reins. They were getting ready to take off and leave me here.

  “Sylvia,” I said.

  She jumped and pulled her hood down over her missing eyes. I wondered how the poor woman got around.

  I had to get the answers I needed.

  She kept her back turned as I approached. I couldn’t blame her now. “Do you know how I can remove this curse? And how I got it?” Stilt might have confided everything in her. They were an item, after all.

  She spoke in a low voice. “I’m not sure. Stilt never revealed that to me. I don't even know if the elf has any knowledge of how it happened. You could ask him, but you told him to get out of here. You learned his real name. He can’t refuse your requests when you do that. You’ll have to go and find him.”

  I searched around. Stilt was nowhere.

  “He didn’t tell you where he went?” I asked.

  Sylvia kept her back turned. “He was very distressed. Stilt didn’t tell me. I hope he doesn't go far. I'm not sure how I will navigate my way out of here without his help."

  Her words hung in the air. She didn't plan on taking me out of here. So she knew about Stilt's plan to deliver me to the King.

  “I can help you get out of here. I'm not stayi
ng. I'm going to go out and find someone to remove my curse."

  “You don’t want to associate with the witches and magic users here,” Sylvia warned me. She tugged on the reins of the horses, and they stepped forward. “Or even many of the animals. The birds can be quite vicious.”

  “The birds?”

  “Yes!” She pulled the horses along the side of the building, taking great pains to keep from facing me. “And stepsisters.” She walks faster. “If you want to find something that might help remove your affliction, there’s a mountain close to the dark region that contains treasures of all kinds. It should be farther down this road, but it's dangerous. A group of bandits has been stealing magical treasures for a long time, and they come and go and deposit things there. The mountain is supposed to stand out from the rest of the forest. I’ve only heard stories about it, but as King Henrik has been having trouble finding Fable’s magical treasures, I believe it might exist.”

  She walks off, taking the horses with her. Sylvia strains and walks with one hand brushing the outer wall of the inn.

  “Wait. Can I help you with that?” I asked.

  She stopped.

  "You seem to have some idea of where this mountain is," I said. "Maybe it can help you with--with whatever your problem is. There might be something there that can solve it."

  "You don't know who I am," she said, but Sylvia had quieted.

  "I know I don't," I told her. I took a step towards her, and she reached for her hood like she was going to pull it off. I braced myself not to look disgusted. But she lowered her hand and turned a bit towards me. We were making progress.

  "But I can tell something bad's happened to you," I said. "Maybe there's some magic item in that mountain that can help you, too." Could I make an ally here?

  But I knew even less about this young woman than I did about Stilt.

  "I don't deserve it," Sylvia told me.

  "Don't say that." I searched around for Stilt again, but he was gone, unable to resist what I'd told him, to do. Maybe I'd banished him and he couldn't come back into this village. I should have felt relieved. Glad that my tormentor for many lifetimes was gone. He liked to steal firstborns, after all--or he did. Maybe he tore himself in half all those other lives because he didn't want to spend his existence doing my laundry.