Prince of Thorns & Nightmares, page 1
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Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Buena Vista Books, Inc.
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First Edition, October 2023
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022951028
Hardcover ISBN 978-1-368-06912-0
eBook ISBN 978-1-368-09607-2
Designed by Scott Piehl
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Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
1: Nighty Night
2: An Unusual Prince
3: Into the Woods
4: A Harsh Awakening
5: So Fair and Foul a Day
6: Hedge Witch
7: Strangers
8: The Curse of Gallantry and Glibness
9: Temper
10: The Tower and the Knight
11: So Familiar a Gleam
12: Heart to Heart, Thorn to Thorn
13: Seldom What They Seem
14: The Fairies’ Plan
15: One Gift, Friendship Rare
16: Once Upon a Dream
17: The Fish and the Shark
18: The Pricking of My Thumbs
19: Fairly Hopeless
20: No Rose Without Thorns
21: True Love’s Kiss
Epilogue
About the Author
To everyone chasing their dreams.
—L. M.
AROSY DAWN spilled across the kingdom of Ald Tor. The forest encircling the castle on the hill was a tangle of pale greens and golden browns, its paths speckled with well-dressed travelers. They marched in neat little lines like ants toward the gate, and knights in freshly painted armor cantered ahead of them on horseback. Gable hoods bobbed in the crowd, gowns dotted with pearls glittered in the sunlight, and banners rippled in the morning breeze. Voices grew louder near the castle, mixing with the music drifting over the drawbridge. Each creaky opening of the throne room’s towering doors cut through the comforting sounds as sharply as a blade.
Prince Phillip swallowed, shifting in the confines of his heavy silk tunic, and scratched his leg with a foot. The new hose itched. His freshly washed face felt red and tight. The gift gripped in his hands was heavier than it had been that morning.
“Bow, say hello, congratulate them, and give them the gift for Princess Aurora,” Phillip whispered to himself.
“What are you muttering about, lad?” his father, King Hubert, asked, eyeing Phillip over his shoulder.
Phillip swallowed. “Nothing!”
The two of them were at the front of a long line of visitors before the doors to the great hall of the castle. They had spent the last few moments waiting to be announced to those gathered in the hall, giving Phillip plenty of time to worry. Earlier, he’d had the walk to distract him from his thoughts.
“Can’t be talking to yourself when you meet Stefan,” said the king. “This is the first time Stefan and Leah will have seen you since you were a baby, and you want to impress them, don’t you?”
“Of course,” said Phillip.
Phillip had to impress King Stefan and Queen Leah. The tales of his father’s time as a knight with King Stefan—long days on the road with nothing but a sword and evildoers for company, best friends hunting down magical villains and their minions, and a final battle against the wicked fairy Maleficent before the human kingdoms finally won and trapped her in her mountain prison—were the most interesting things Phillip’s father ever told him.
And the only things he talked about.
“Good lad.” His father leaned down and straightened Phillip’s new blue tunic and cape. “Are you ready to be a proper prince?”
Phillip sniffed, gripped the gift tighter, and nodded.
The great doors before them opened, trumpets blared again, and someone announced, “Their Royal Highnesses, King Hubert and Prince Phillip!”
“Finally,” muttered King Hubert as he hustled toward the thrones at the other end of the room.
Phillip startled at the announcement and scrambled after his father, hoping the king hadn’t noticed his near trip.
The thrones were nestled in an alcove at the other end of the room, green-and-blue silk brocade draped behind them like a treetop against a clear sky. The black-and-gold coat of arms of His Majesty, King Stefan of Ald Tor, hung from the high rafters. Even sitting, he was as tall and imposing as his castle, all sharp angles and stone. He smiled only when he glanced at a crib beside the thrones.
Phillip took a deep breath and ignored the fluttery feeling in his stomach. This was the first time he had been before so many people and the king and queen of another kingdom, and he knew his father was watching for any little mistake. He squared his shoulders the same way his father always did before court. “Hail to Aurora” became “Hail to our hero” if he thought hard enough. He was Prince Phillip!
He didn’t need to be scared.
Phillip bowed to the two seated monarchs, like he had been told to, but his father didn’t. King Hubert held out his arms to his old friend, and King Stefan rose. The two embraced.
One day, Phillip would be just like his father—loved and happy, invited to important parties and looked up to. The anticipation made him feel equal parts thrilled and anxious.
Phillip’s father beckoned him, and Phillip bustled over, holding up the gift to King Stefan. The king smiled politely and patted Phillip on the head. Up close, the king of Ald Tor looked warmer and more welcoming. Queen Leah came forward and took Phillip to Princess Aurora. He peered over the edge of the crib.
The babe was small and pale, chubby fists clenched around the blue blanket swaddling her. Phillip hadn’t seen any other babies, but his father said he had been a handsome, bellowing thing. This one sniffled and smiled.
She was like a wrinkly, toothless turnip. A turnip he was supposed to marry. His father had told him over and over that it was his duty as a prince to wed the princess, and Phillip wanted to be a good prince. He just wasn’t sure what marrying her meant, and no one would explain it to him. His father said he would tell him when they were older, but what if the princess didn’t want to marry him? It wasn’t like they could ask the baby.
The trumpets sounded again, and Phillip’s father ushered him away. A beam of light shot down from the ceiling, and a gentle breeze rustled the many banners hanging from the high arches. Three figures appeared, small bodies glittering with magic.
“Their most honored and exalted excellencies, the three good fairies,” cried the announcer. “Mistress Flora, Mistress Fauna, and Mistress Merryweather.”
“Fairies,” Phillip whispered, and his father laughed.
Phillip had heard stories about fairies but never met one. Now there were three fluttering right in front of him. They were powerful and reclusive, more so after Maleficent’s failed takeover of the human kingdoms. They looked like the stories, fairy wings thin as glass fluttering behind them and their feet floating slightly off the ground. Phillip crept closer.
The three women flew toward the crib on stained glass wings.
“Always stay on the fairies’ good sides,” said King Hubert, tugging Phillip back by his collar. He patted Phillip’s shoulder. “There’s not a thing we can do against most of their magic, but their promises last forever. Once you make a deal with one, you can hold them to it.”
He tapped the side of his nose, and Phillip nodded as though the king’s counsel made sense. His father smiled.
The fairies were small, and each was clothed in a different color. The green was tinged with brown, like a leaf or moss. The red was more like holly berries than fire, and the blue had the same grayish quality as fog on a summer morning. They flitted to the crib and cooed over the princess before greeting the king and queen.
“Each of us the child may bless with a single gift. No more, no less,” said the one in red. “Little princess, my gift shall be the gift of beauty.”
She waved the bright yellow wand in her hand. Magic gathered and glittered like stars over Princess Aurora. It peppered down on the crib like fresh snow.
Beauty? Phillip scrunched his nose. Beauty was nice, but it wasn’t a gift.
He had wanted to gift her a bear, like the one on the coat of arms for his home, Artwyne, but his father had said bears weren’t appropriate gifts.
As quickly as she had approached, the fairy in red moved away, and the one in green fluttered to Aurora. Phillip tried to move closer again. He had seen magic once or twice, when his father called in a wizard, but that had been ancient runes, bloodred potions, and boring incantations. No amount of studying runes would make a true knight, his father always said. A hero relied on themselves and nothing else.
But it was still magic, and Phillip gasped as the fairy’s wand sparkled. They could gift the princess anything—cunning, stalwart companions, or even magic itself! This one had to be more exciting than beauty.
“Tiny princess,” said the fairy, “my gift shall be the gift of song.”
“Song?” Phillip asked, looking up at his father. “What good is that?”
“A lovely face and voice make for a lovelier wife,” whisp
Phillip wasn’t sure what a wife was, but the golden music box he had given the princess had been pushed aside for the fairies’ gifts. They would never have been able to push a bear aside.
“Why does that matter to me?” Phillip asked. “You said gifts are for the person you give them to. Those aren’t for her. What if she doesn’t like singing?”
“Hush.” His father flicked his ear.
Next, the fairy in blue raised her wand, and a burst of wind nearly ripped it from her hands as she prepared to give the baby her final gift. The doors blew open, clanging against the walls, and people scattered across the hall. Phillip’s father yanked him behind the thrones and squared himself next to King Stefan. Phillip peeked around his father’s legs, hoping his shaking wasn’t noticeable. The sounds had scared him, but his father’s reaction scared him more. Nothing ever frightened his father.
Thunder crashed despite the clear skies, and lightning struck the ground outside the swinging doors. A sickly green fire sparked to life in the center of the room. Smokeless and shifting, the flames twisted in on themselves until they formed a lithe figure taller even than King Stefan. Her headdress rose over her, and her cloak moved like flickering shadows. She smiled, her sneering mouth a red slash across pale skin. A raven perched on the orb at the tip of her staff.
“Why!” cried the red fairy. “It’s Maleficent!”
The name shot through Phillip like an arrow. Maleficent was supposed to be trapped, restricted to her mountain to reflect on her misdeeds. It had taken years for Phillip’s father and his cohorts to beat her back to the Forbidden Mountain, and now she stood before them all. Phillip tried to be brave and not flinch, but when she looked at him, it was like a cook eyeing a ham hock. He shuddered.
Then he made sure no one had seen him.
“What does she want here?” asked the fairy in blue, who had been interrupted.
The green one shushed her.
“Well,” drawled Maleficent. Her voice was like brambles brushing together or ice grinding in a frozen river. She was taller and sharper than the other fairies, wearing a pointed headdress like goat horns and a sweeping gown, and she carried herself with an arrogance that made Phillip shiver. “Quite a glittering assemblage, King Stefan. Royalty, nobility, the gentry.” She glided toward the thrones and stared down her nose at the other fairies. “And—how quaint—even the rabble.”
She scowled, and the other fairies had to hold the blue one back.
“I really felt quite distressed about not receiving an invitation.” Maleficent stroked her raven and stopped at the foot of the thrones.
The blue fairy snarled, “You weren’t wanted.”
“Not want. . .” Maleficent gasped, dark eyes rolling up, and laughed. “Oh, dear. What an awkward situation. I had hoped it was merely due to some oversight. Well, in that event, I’d best be on my way.”
Phillip didn’t understand what was happening. His father’s fists were shaking by his side. He turned slightly and caught King Stefan’s gaze. The pair shared a look of fear that shook Phillip’s heart.
Maleficent turned as though to leave, but her raven stayed twisted to glare at all of them.
“And you’re not offended, Your Excellency?” asked Queen Leah.
“Why, no, Your Majesty.” Maleficent stopped, as if she had been waiting for the question, and smiled. “And to show I bear no ill will, I, too, shall bestow a gift on the child.”
King Stefan and Queen Leah moved to the crib, and the trio of fairies threw themselves over it to protect the princess. Maleficent spread her arms wide. Phillip, trembling, couldn’t take his eyes from her.
“Listen well, all of you,” she said, and her voice echoed terribly. Unnaturally. Until it was all Phillip could hear. “The princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her, but before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die.”
The raven took flight, and Maleficent swirled her fingers around her staff. Monstrous silhouettes sank from the green magic growing around it, and Queen Leah gasped. Phillip ripped his gaze from Maleficent. The queen scooped up Aurora into her arms.
And Maleficent only laughed at her fear.
“Seize that creature!” King Stefan yelled.
His guards surged forward, but Maleficent’s staff glowed green again.
Laughing still, she said, “Stand back, you fools.”
Lightning flashed, and she was gone, a green orb of dripping magic hanging in the air where she had been. Her raven cawed once and vanished into it. The magic faded.
Phillip started repeating to himself what had happened, pinching his thigh to make sure it was all real. It was like a nightmare, and no one had done anything to stop her. Two legendary kings in a hall full of knights, and Maleficent had cursed Princess Aurora and left like it was nothing.
It wasn’t at all like the stories. His father and the king hadn’t struck out to meet Maleficent with their swords drawn. Phillip’s father only kept a firm grip on Phillip’s arm and kept shuffling them away from where Maleficent had stood.
King Stefan and Queen Leah looked over Aurora with frantic eyes, and the red fairy approached them slowly. The crowd crept forward at the edges of the hall, people trying to see the princess or talk to the guards. He heard someone ask how this could have happened. He wanted to know that, too. He tugged at his father’s tunic and was ignored.
“Don’t despair, Your Majesties,” the fairy in red said. “Merryweather still has her gift to give.”
“Then she can undo this fearful curse?” asked King Stefan, and Phillip was shocked to hear the king’s voice waver.
“Oh, no, sire.” The blue fairy, who Phillip now knew was called Merryweather, shook her head.
“Maleficent’s powers are far too great,” said the one in red.
“But she can help!” cried the third fairy.
“But. . .” Merryweather looked from the other fairies to the king, and the other two nudged her closer to the princess.
The one in green patted her shoulder and said, “Just do your best, dear.”
Phillip crept out from behind his father’s legs, the fear seeping out of him. Anticipation tinged the air like magic. A fairy’s best would surely be the best.
“Sweet princess.” Merryweather shook out her arms and raised her wand. “If through this wicked witch’s trick a spindle should your finger prick, a ray of hope there still may be in this, the gift I give to thee. Not in death but just in sleep the fateful prophecy you’ll keep, and from this slumber you shall wake when True Love’s Kiss the spell shall break.”
King Stefan deflated with relief. Queen Leah kept Aurora clutched to her chest, smiling down at her as she thanked the fairies. King Hubert clapped Phillip on the back.
“See, lad?” his father asked. “Stay on their good sides.”
Phillip didn’t see at all.
“I thought Maleficent couldn’t leave the mountain,” said Phillip. “How could she come here?”
But no one was listening to him. The queen laid the baby down into her crib, and his father spoke with King Stefan.
“. . .no indication that she could leave,” King Stefan was saying. “None! My scouts have reported nothing unusual, and the fairies clearly had no inkling of her escape.”
Phillip’s father huffed and rubbed his chin. “I’ll ask Barny. Her power’s returned faster than expected, or she burned it all in order to escape today. Barny will know.”
King Stefan’s hand never left the cradle. The fear was gone, but a tension had taken hold of all of them. Phillip peeked over the edge of the cradle, prodded the princess’s cheek, and huffed. Beauty and song!
“I’ll still get you a bear,” he whispered to her. “Sounds like you’ll need it.”
IN A DINGY inn dripping with rain and choked with the scent of hunter’s stew, in the middle of his first throw for the penultimate round of darts, His Royal Highness, Prince Phillip of Artwyne, knighted the year before and skilled in all manner of princely things, missed the dart board entirely.
Half the crowd groaned. A few threw copper rots at him, the coins clattering to the floor. Phillip caught one, kissed it, and bowed to his opponent. A miller with suspiciously good aim and a good few years on him, she saluted him with her dart.
