PROLOGUE
On the day of the christening, mere moments after the thirteenth fairy arrived uninvited and unannounced, an ill-omened quiet filled the room. The crowd was hushed and waiting, all eyes on King Vladimir, Queen Olga, and the fairy Carabosse.
The tales told of this day speak of an evil spirit, of a vengeful fairy bent on revenge for her exclusion.
The tales told of this day are untrue.
Carabosse cradled her niece, the one and only princess Eliana, petting the child’s precious head. She took one of Eliana’s fingers in her own, admiring her beauty, and the babe wrapped her little finger around her aunt’s.
The tales told of this day say that Carabosse cursed the child. That she proclaimed that the child would grow to be sixteen, only to prick her finger on a needle and sleep for a hundred years.
The tales told of this day are untrue.
Carabosse held her sweet niece, leaned down, and breathed in the soft baby hair, the sweet baby down. Her sisters had already given the child their blessings. A thousand and one blessings I bring to the child, said her aunt the storyteller. I wish you a party to end all parties, said another.
It was her turn.
What blessing would she give? Beauty? Health? Riches? The princess had all of those already.
“My darling child, I bless you…” She was about to murmur a spell, one that would bring happiness to the little princess for all her days, when she had a vision … a vision she could not unsee …
A terrible vision of a terrifying future.
The vision faded, and Carabosse stared down at her niece in her arms. How long had she stood there, watching this dark future unfold? If only there was some way she could protect her niece from the impending doom and oversee her safety for all eternity.
There was so little time.
So little time to change things.
But time was all she had.
Up on the throne, Queen Olga watched with growing irritation, impatience plain on her beautiful face. She was about to rise in fury, but King Vladimir held his arm out to stop her. She remained seated; however, she would not bite her tongue, not even if the king ordered her to.
“Give me back my child,” Queen Olga demanded imperiously. “Now!”
“No! Not until I’ve cursed her!” cried the fairy Carabosse. “Not until I’ve cursed you all!”
The court reeled and gasped.
The evil fairy, cursing the princess! Cursing the kingdom!
Because Carabosse knew she had only one gift left to give, one final blessing to bestow on the child, one last chance to save her beloved sister’s baby … And her gift was both a blessing and a curse.