Free The Grimm Conclusion by Adam Gidwitz Page A

But what are the chances that
I
could get
you
to pay your taxes?”
    â€œNone.”
    â€œHe expected you to kill me,” Jorinda explained.
    â€œI still might,” said Malchizedek.
    â€œOh”—Jorinda nodded—“I know.” And then she added, “But wouldn’t you rather have a friend for life living in the castle? First as the princess and then as the queen?”
    Malchizedek thought about that for a moment. A sly look crept into his features. “Only,” he answered, “if that queen would give me a new house, with a great big meadow. As a gift, of course.”
    She nodded. “I think the queen might be willing to do that. But first she’d have to get to be queen.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWhich would mean you’d have to pay your taxes until then.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œPlus whatever you owe from years past.”
    The ogre looked at her. For a while he was silent. And then he said, “You’re quite an impressive little girl.”
    â€œThank you.” She smiled.
    And they shook hands.
    ----
    The king could not believe the size of the sack that Jorinda handed him the next day. It weighed at least twenty pounds. And it was filled entirely with gold coins.
    â€œThis should do,” she said. “Just leave him alone, and he’ll pay every year, right on time.”
    â€œHow did you do it?” the king demanded. He was gaping at the little girl.
    â€œI just talked to him.” She smiled. “That’s all.”
    The king was not happy.
    But he was impressed.
    And more than a little bit frightened.

Sleeping Beauty

O nce upon a time, some years before the tale of Jorinda and Joringel began, a queen gave birth to a baby girl. She was named Briar Rose, and to celebrate her birth, the king and queen held a great feast, and they invited all the great and powerful people of their land. In particular, they invited twelve Wise Women. There were actually thirteen Wise Women in the kingdom, but the king only had twelve golden plates for them to eat from. So one of them had to stay home.
    I know. That sounds like a stupid reason not to invite the thirteenth Wise Woman. But that’s how the story goes.
    Also, sometimes these women are called Fairies, and sometimes they are called Witches. No one really seems to know what they were.
    You call them whatever you want. Call them Zombies in Tutus, if you want. I’m calling them Wise Women.
    Well, the feast went splendidly. All the guests gave the infant princess the finest gifts they could think of. At last, it was the Wise Women’s turn to bestow their gifts. The first Wise Woman gave the little girl beauty, the second gave her intelligence, the third gave her an impeccable sense of direction, and so on and so forth. The eleventh Wise Woman gave her a blessed childhood, full of happiness and sunshine. The twelfth wise woman had just opened her mouth to bestow her gift, when suddenly the thirteenth Wise Woman swept into the room. She was furious at not having been invited—especially for such a ridiculous reason as a shortage of golden plates; she could have brought her own stupid plate!—so she bellowed, “When this girl has lived for thirteen years, her blessed childhood will end, and she will suddenly sicken, sadden, and mourn. She will feel as if every injury in the world was being done to her and her alone. She will suffer every day of her life!” Then she swept from the hall, muttering, “And get yourself some more stupid plates. . . .”
    The guests stared, horror-stricken. But then the twelfth Wise Woman, who had not yet bestowed her gift, stepped forward. “I cannot undo the curse,” she said, “but I can soften it. The girl will not suffer every day of her life. Only once a month, for a span of a few days. And then the pain will leave her, and she will be as she ever was.”
    Well, this was some consolation to the