Free Sleeping Beauty, the One Who Took the Really Long Nap by Wendy Mass Page A

the garden and sat onthe old swing. I had grown much too big to swing anymore, but sitting there brought me comfort. I watched the marble mermaid spit her water into the air, over and over again. She would spit that water forever. I, on the other hand, had no secure future. I figured the old fairy’s warning could mean only one thing: Time was running out.

I could not believe Father had sprung Percival on me in this way. No doubt he thought he was doing what was best for me. I had to force myself to be a gracious, princely host. I tried to smile, but I am sure it came out more like a grimace. “Bailiff will show you to the finest guest room, Percival. I must run out, and I am not certain when I shall be back. Please make yourself at home.”
    I turned toward the gate, but he reached out a hand. “Where are you going? May I accompany you?”
    I shook my head. “Just an errand for my father,” I lied. “Royal matter. Boring. You shall have more fun here.” I knew I should warn him about Mother, but since she was to be away for at least another fortnight, I saw no rush. Hopefully by then he’d have heard it from someone else in the castle. I could not bear to be the one to have to tell him.
    â€œYou are the Prince,” he said, bowing low. “I shall do as I am told.”
    I was not so certain of that, but I had more importanttasks on my mind. I left him in the foyer and hurried out the gate. Huddling against the storm, I made my way across the Great Lawn and into the woods. The wind was less brutal here, as the trees offered some shelter. I stopped in at both forts only long enough to collect the tools I had stashed there. While I had tried many times before to cut the vines, perhaps I wasn’t trying in the right places. Or perhaps now that I knew the importance of getting in there, it would be different.
    I decided to start at the library window. Since there was already that tiny peephole, I figured the vines might be weakest there. I hacked and sliced, careful not to break the window in the process. But it was no use. The vines did not loosen even an inch.
    â€œShall I give it a go?” a voice behind me asked.

Every morn I awoke and wondered if I would be waking again the following morning, or a hundred years later. After a few months of this, I decided enough was enough. I would live my life to the fullest while I had it. Every day I took a walk with Mama in the gardens. Or if the weather was bad, she would brush my hair and tell me stories of her own childhood. Papa let me sit in on meetings and taught me to play chess. I began to pay more attention to nature. Sometimes I would sit on a blanket and stare at the grass, just to watch it grow. I helped Mama plant new rosebushes, chrysanthemums, and lilacs. I prayed I would still be around to watch them bloom.
    I often went with Sara to visit her family. As crowded as that house was, I loved the boisterousness of it. Children were always laughing and getting themselves into trouble. I wondered sometimes if my parents wanted more children but were scared after the old fairy cursed me. More than anything, I dreaded the fact that sticking myself with that spindle would leave them all alone.
    One autumn afternoon I came across the list I had written about the tasks I wanted to undertake. I’d completed that painting (even though the fairy ruined it) and I’d made a whole meal by myself (even though the fairy ruined that, too). The last item on the list was horseback riding. Even though I no longer felt I had to prove myself, I was still eager to feel the wind against my cheeks.
    I knew Mama would never let me do it if I asked, so I did not ask. One afternoon I told Sara I only needed to run downstairs for a moment, and instead I ran out to the stables. I had pulled some riding britches out of Mama’s closet and wore them under my dress. I quickly shed the dress and asked a stable boy to saddle a small horse for me.