I enjoy fairy-tale re-tellings. This book is obviously based on the Sleeping Beauty story. It shares with the original a slumbering Princess (or in this case a Queen), a valiant handsome Prince, and an evil sorceress, and the spell broken by loves kiss. That is where I found the similarities to end.
This story has a unicorn who saves the Queen from the control of the sorceress. This book has ghosts who take care of the Queen while her mind is free from the troubles and pain of her Kingdom being brought to ruin by violence. The Prince comes to the rescue, not because he wanted to, but because he is dared by his friends to visit the haunted castle.
The book is well written and has a great pace. I found myself enjoying the unique spin on my favorite fairy-tale. This collection has been on my list of books that I wanted to read, and I am happy with my first venture into Jenni James' rendition of the classics.
CHAPTER
ONE
QUEEN
ALEYNA’S EYES FLUTTERED open and she smiled at the sunlight which
streamed through her bedroom curtains. Another beautifully perfect
day. She stretched and wiggled her toes under the navy-blue crushed
velvet duvet and slipped out of the golden sheets to pad across the
floor to her window.
The
world beneath her castle tower was bathed in a sea of greens and
yellows and glorious multicolored blossoming bushes and trees. Her
village was nestled among rolling hills and streams and winding
cobblestone paths that jutted out all around the lower portion of the
mountain, where her castle was happily situated, and spread to the
valley below. Many homesteads and farms and fields of bounteous
crops covered the great landscape as far as the eye could see.
Indeed,
Aleyna’s kingdom was one of the most sought-after and desired
realms in all the world. She could not believe her good fortune in
having such a prosperous and superior land. Her subjects were also
known to be quite magnificent in their own way as well, and to reward
them for their kindness and diligence, she guaranteed they were
treated above those under the care of the other monarchies and rulers
around.
Her
people were given several holidays each year, and multiple gifts of
food, household supplies, adornments, and even many frivolous items
would find their way into their homes from their dear queen. How she
loved them. How she loved her land, her people, her life.
It
was undeniably faultless.
An
enchanted kingdom to be loved by all.
Aleyna
sighed in contentment as she rested her head against the smoothly
plastered stone wall and looked out the windowpane. The birds
chattered and chirped and flew in delightful winging dances in the
sky as they popped in and out of wispy clouds. Here was joy. Here
was life at its best, and she could never imagine desiring anything
more.
And
yet, if one could step back and see the tragedy behind her
contentment, one would know that all she witnessed below her, all she
imagined above, all her hopes and dreams were were just that—dreams.
An
illusion.
Queen
Aleyna’s life was so desperately heartrending, so tragically
sorrowful, that one needed to enchant the beautiful queen and all
those surrounding her, all her dear subjects, into a state of
never-ending bliss.
She
had to sleep through this horror to allow her to heal from the pain,
to be kept from all those memories that would threaten to own her—she
had to be kept in such a state until one who was worthy could come
along and teach her, hold her, comfort her, release the spell
surrounding her contentment, and more importantly, kiss her awake to
the true being that was hers.
Until
one such worthy man came into her life and bravely fought those
demons who sought to destroy her, Queen Aleyna’s existence was
perpetually on hold.
And
she was forever trapped within a state of no progression, wrapped in
a bubble of peace, almost like a ghost, and eternally asleep to the
harsh realities awaiting her. Ignorant to all but what she knew and
could remember, she would be forever known as the Sleeping Queen…
***
PRINCE
DARIÉN LAUGHED AS he dodged another wayward thrust of the king’s
sword. At this rate, he and Michael, the king of Alemade, would be
at it all night. He hooted as his friend lunged forward again, and
as Darién quickly sidestepped the attack, he could not help but
taunt, “Is this the greatest you’ve got within you? How can you
hope to defend yourself, let alone a whole kingdom?”
The
king grunted and swung his sword, missing the prince by a good six
inches. “Perhaps if you held still long enough, I could show you
how good my maneuvers are!”
Darién
chuckled and took a step back, his foot slipping slightly on the wet
grass of the castle lawn, before deftly lifting his sword and
blocking two more wild attempts from Michael. “Admit defeat, old
man, and I may let you live to see another day.” It was the same
thing he said to the king each week as they practiced, and true to
form, his friend was quick to respond in kind.
“If
you were not such a coward and could fight like a real man, I would
blacken your lights instantly.”
“Ah,
yes, but we are not using fisticuffs, now are we? In fact, we are—”
“And
another thing! I am not
an old man.” The king huffed as he haphazardly sliced his blade
through the air. “I—” he stepped forward, “—am only—”
steel smacked against steel, “—five years older than you.”
Michael wiped his brow. “And the last time I checked, you were
twenty-four years old.”
“Yes,
but twenty-four is still much younger than you!” Darién took two
steps forward, arching his blade in the air and popping Michael’s
sword right out of his hand. It flew gracefully, allowing the handle
to be caught up by the prince, signifying the game was at an end.
Michael
was drenched in sweat, while Darién looked as though he had merely
taken a leisurely stroll upon the grounds. “One of these days, I
am going to learn your secret,” said the king after he wiped his
mouth on his shirtsleeve.
“My
secret?” Darién walked over to the bush where they had hung their
royal coats twenty minutes earlier. “And what secret is this?” He
raised a brow as he handed Michael’s bright green coat back to him.
The
king shook the garment and waved off the servant who had run up to
help, slipping his arms into the sleeves. “Your ability to look so
dashed cool and unaffected—so debonair—whilst in the midst of
dueling, no less.”
Darién
winked as he put on his coat of navy with silver trimmings. “I must
practice these things in the looking glass at home for such an
occasion as this. Who is to know whether a stunning female will come
by and catch us looking a spectacle.” When the king grunted, he
continued, “You have Cassandra, and she is by far everything on
this good earth that is praiseworthy indeed. With such a woman at
your side and as your queen, you do not have to practice like I do.”
Michael
raised his eyes heavenward as he straightened the coat over his
tan-colored breeches. “If I believed half the nonsense you
sputtered out, I’d be a very foolish man,” he said before walking
to the bush, collecting his sword, and sliding it within its sheath.
Darién
laughed as he buttoned his coat. “You’d be a very foolish old
man.”
“I’d
watch your crowing if I were you.” The king smirked and turned
around. “Remember, boy, I know what truly does put you out of
countenance—what you are most afraid of in all the world. So do
not keep spouting your old jokes, for I guarantee I can make you
squirm and sweat just like the rest of us.”
The
prince snorted and walked over to his sword. He tilted his head to
the side and grinned as he slid the blade in its scabbard. “There
is nothing I’m afraid of on this globe. Nothing at all—so
whatever you have against me, remember it is merely a child’s
imaginings.”
“Oh-ho!
First I am too old, and now I am a child who imagines?”
“That
is not what I meant, and you know it.” Darién’s gaze settled on
his friend. They were almost brothers—had been raised like
brothers—and there was no one he trusted more. The redheaded king
was handsome, extremely so, and had a beautiful blonde queen at his
side to prove it. They’d begun to have a score of adorable little
redheads and blondes of their own, and with the birth of the last
one—a little girl all fiery curls and giggles—Darién founding
himself longing to settle down as well. If only he could find a
woman half as agreeable as Cassandra.
But
this sort of thinking would get him nowhere. He cleared his throat
and explained, “Whatever you believe me to fear is most likely
something you conjured up back when we were boys. So if in reality,
I am afraid of
it—which I highly doubt—then it was something that I’ve long
past put behind me.”
The
king smiled and patted him on the back. “I’m not discussing
spiders or girls here. I’m talking about something much more
terrifying. In fact, I know you would change color at this moment if
I were to speak of it, so lifeless and cold would you become.”
Darién
pulled away, laughing, and began to head back toward the castle.
“There is nothing you could say that would frighten me. Nothing.”
He glanced back and waited for his friend to catch up to him.
“Though, I am very curious what you believe you have got against
me. Indeed, this may be the most intriguing thing I’ve come upon
all morning.”
“Should
I tell you, then?” asked the king as he stepped in stride with the
prince.
“Oh,
most definitely. You look too sure of yourself; I must take that
smirk off your face. So out with it, man—do your best! I dare you
to find something that would startle me.”
Michael’s
grin grew. Truly, Darién was too easy to bait sometimes. He may be
the better swordsman, but his own pride got in the way of rational
thinking. Hesitating only a moment or two, he went ahead and
satisfied his young friend. It was time the man realized he was not
invincible. “Ghosts, Darién. You have and will always be
decidedly against the visitations of anything of the spiritual,
ghouly, phantom, or specter realm—the realm of the dead.”
The
king watched Darién’s face pale as his feet stalled. “No matter
how old you or I become, that night of our first haunting will
forever ring through my memories. And you, boy, would be a fool to
deny such aversions.” His voice grew low and sinister just to
guarantee the prince squirmed. “To deny it only warrants their
return even more…”
Whispers of the Past by Lena Roach
