The Wide-Awake Princess (7 page)

Annie could feel the old woman’s eyes boring into her back as she climbed the ladder. Her hands were shaking when she closed the trapdoor and she didn’t move until she heard the floor below creak as Granny Bentbone returned to her room. Her heart was still pounding when she lay down beside Clara, but the sound of the little girl’s soft breathing helped calm her and she dozed, only to startle awake at every noise. Suddenly the floor beneath her groaned like an old man with an aching back. Annie’s eyes shot open. Although the floor had been level when she lay down, it was now sagging under her weight. She was confused until she remembered that magic was holding the gingerbread together. Her presence was diminishing the room’s magic, making the whole thing unstable.

The floor creaked when Annie stood up. Afraid to move for a moment, she waited to make sure that it was sound enough to hold them before waking the children. She woke Tomas first, shaking him by the shoulder until his eyes blinked open. “We have to go,” she whispered. “Make sure that Clara knows she has to be quiet.”

Tomas nodded and woke his little sister with a nudge. They whispered together while Annie moved toward the
trapdoor and raised it just enough to see down. When she was sure that Granny Bentbone wasn’t there, she led the way down the stairs and to the door.

Annie had her hand on the latch when Clara said in a loud voice, “I don’t want to go yet. I’m hungry. Can’t we have breakfast first?”

“Shh! Clara, I told you to be quiet!” Tomas told her.

“I wasn’t being loud,” said Clara. “I just—”

“What are you children doing here?” Granny Bent-bone said from the door to her room. “How did you get out of your cages?”

Annie shoved the door open and pushed the children across the threshold as the old woman hobbled toward them. “Remember what I told you, Tomas,” Annie told him. “Run!”

“No!” shrieked Granny Bentbone as the children raced across the clearing that surrounded the house and into the forest beyond.

The old woman moved faster than Annie had thought possible. While Annie was reaching for the satchel that she’d left beside the door, Granny Bentbone hustled across the room and whacked her with the cane. Annie stumbled back until she bumped into the peppermint support post.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” the old woman said, shaking her cane at Annie. “You came here to let those children out of my cages. Well, that’s fine and dandy, because now I have you to take their place!”

Annie recalled what Tomas had said about the woman remembering some things sometimes. If only it hadn’t happened now! She was wondering how she’d get past the old woman and her stick when she realized that she could feel the hard candy post softening under her hand. Leaning back, she wrapped her fingers as far as they would go around the post and squeezed. The candy softened faster now, the surface dissolving just like it did in a child’s mouth.

Granny Bentbone stepped closer, ranting as she tried to force Annie toward the room with the cages. Annie squeezed the peppermint post, digging her fingers into its sticky surface. Suddenly the post cracked and buckled, sending a chunk of the ceiling crashing down in a shower of sugar dust. Annie jumped aside, nearly knocking over the surprised old woman, who staggered and fell across a bench.

While Granny Bentbone screeched and wailed, Annie darted to the door, grabbed her satchel, and ran out into the night.

ANNIE DIDN’T STOP RUNNING until she reached the edge of the forest and began to creep from one tree to the next, hoping to find the children there waiting for her. No voice responded to Annie’s calls, no figure emerged from the darkness under the trees. Although Annie was afraid of what she might encounter in the woods at night, she was too worried about the children being alone in the dark to give up. If the full moon hadn’t been out, she wouldn’t have been able to continue searching, but there was enough light that she was able to make a complete circuit of the woods fronting the clearing, stumbling over roots while twigs scratched her face and snagged her clothes and hair.

Annie heard the fairies before she saw them. Exhausted, she had stopped to lean against a tree for a moment’s rest when she heard sprightly music and the sound of laughter. Thinking she might finally have found
the children, she followed the music deeper into the woods. Rounding an old oak, Annie nearly stumbled on the fairy ring. Made of red mushrooms sprinkled with white polka dots, the ring was aglow with the light of fireflies. At one end of the circle, a strange little group of musicians created the music. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked, and birds sang while squirrels thumped out the beat with their hind paws. Fairies no taller than Annie’s little finger were dancing in the circle, hopping and skipping in time to the music.

Annie backed away, hoping she hadn’t been seen. After hearing so many stories about the mischief that fairies could do, she had no desire to meet them. It was too late, however, for a cry went up before she’d taken a second step, and suddenly the air around her was filled with curious fairies, their brightly colored wings fanning the air.

“It’s a boy!” cried a fairy dressed all in yellow.

“No, it’s not,” said the fairy beside her. “It’s a girl dressed as a boy. Can’t you tell the difference?”

The first fairy shook her head. “They all look alike to me.”

“She’s come to join our dance!” cried a third fairy.

“Step into the ring!” sang out a chorus of fairy voices. “You can dance with us until dawn!”

“No, I can’t,” Annie hurried to say. “Thank you for asking me, but I’m too tired to dance with anyone. I just want to—” She staggered into the ring when a dozen fairies pushed her from behind.

“Dance like this!” a fairy dressed all in green cried, twirling on her toes.

“No, like this!” another wearing a hat of moss shouted as he flailed his arms and hopped.

A fairy with pink hair and a dress made of pansy petals flew into the air in front of her to say, “It doesn’t matter how you do it, just dance!”

Annie sighed. She was so tired that all she wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, but she doubted the fairies would let her. Perhaps if she danced with them for a few minutes... Shuffling around the ring, she followed the fairy in front of her. She flapped her hands now and then to make it look more like dancing than walking, but paid little attention to the dancing fairies other than to try not to step on them. The fairies seemed to think that was enough and continued to cavort around her. After a time her eyelids drooped and her pace slowed until she was doing little more than swaying on her feet.

She scarcely felt the fairy who landed on her shoulder until he shouted, “Wake up!” directly into her ear.

Annie’s eyes shot open as she clapped her hand to her head, missing the fairy by inches when he flew out of the way.

“You have to dance!” the pink fairy shouted, stamping her foot on the toe of Annie’s shoe. “No one’s allowed to sleep in our fairy ring!”

“I’m sorry,” Annie said, stifling a yawn. “I told you I
was tired. I’ll just lie down over there and get out of your way so you can dance.”

The fairy wearing the mossy cap fluttered his wings and darted up to hover in front of Annie. “We never said you could sleep. You sleep in the daytime, not now. If you’re too tired to dance with us, we can help you.” Opening a tiny pouch, the fairy flew above Annie and sprinkled sparkly dust over her head and shoulders.

Annie sneezed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “That isn’t going to do anything.”

“Why isn’t she dancing?” asked a fairy with white hair like a dandelion puff when Annie didn’t move.

The fairy with the mossy cap flew down to look in Annie’s eyes. “I don’t know. I used the right fairy dust, but her eyes aren’t glazing over.”

“She has to dance! Everyone has to dance when we tell them to!” said another fairy.

“Honestly, your dust won’t work on me,” Annie began, but the fairies didn’t seem to be listening. When she tried to step out of the ring, a group of them gathered in front of her and batted their wings in her face while others sprinkled her with more dust. The fairy dust settled on her shoulders like drifts of pink and purple dandruff. It trickled into her collar and made her itch. She opened her mouth to tell them how useless it was to sprinkle fairy dust on her, but when she inhaled she started coughing so hard that she couldn’t stop. Dust fell
off her with each cough, making the ground around her sparkle.

“She’s wasting our dust!” cried a fairy with blue hair. Scowling, the fairy flew close enough to tweak Annie’s nose. Annie swatted at him, knocking the fairy away.

“I’ll teach her!” shouted the dandelion-puff fairy. Flying at head height, the fairy pointed her finger and ordered Annie to turn into a pig. The air sizzled between Annie and the fairy for just an instant before the magic rebounded and struck the fairy full force. The other fairies gasped with horror when their friend’s wings disappeared and she fell to the ground grunting, a tiny pig no bigger than Annie’s little finger.

Suddenly the cloud of fairies settled on Annie, pulling her hair, pinching her cheeks, and jabbing her with pine needles that they’d picked up from the forest floor.

“Get away from me!” Annie shouted. Waving her hands, she batted at the fairies, sending them tumbling through the air each time her hand made contact. She twisted and turned beneath their attack, slapping at her back and legs as she tried to rid herself of the more determined fairies, but the more she slapped, the angrier they became, until it felt as if she were caught in the midst of a swarm of bees. As the fairies became nastier, Annie squeezed her eyes shut and covered them with one of her hands, leaving only one hand free for slapping. When she
bumped into the old oak tree, she thought she heard a faint crunch, but didn’t dare open her eyes to look.

The fairies had jabbed Annie with so many pine needles and pinched her so many times that she was sure she must be covered with tiny holes and bruises. It didn’t look as if they’d ever give up, so finally in desperation she threw herself flat on the ground and began to roll. Although some of the more stubborn fairies held on, most of them let go rather than risk being squashed. She was still rolling across the uneven floor when a roar shook the forest. The fairies fled, leaving Annie alone. She lay motionless, her eyes closed as something big lumbered near enough to snuffle her face, swiping it with something warm and wet.

Now what?
Annie thought. When nothing more happened, she opened one eye a crack and peered up. A huge black head blocked the moonlight. At first Annie couldn’t tell what it was, just that it wasn’t a fairy. It had a heavy, musky smell that was worse than wet dog, so she knew it was an animal of some sort.

When Annie didn’t move, the creature grunted and poked her with its paw. Annie peeked at it again. Suddenly she knew not only what it was, but why the fairies had fled. It was a bear, and it was standing so close that its breath warmed her cheek. She would have jumped up and run away if the bear hadn’t set its huge paw on her arm, pinning her down. Certain that the bear was about to eat her,
Annie was stunned when it said in a voice deeper than her father’s, “Are you all right?”

“You… you can talk?” she asked, opening both eyes wide.

“Why shouldn’t I?” said the bear. “I’m not really a bear. I’m Prince Beldegard, heir to the throne of Montrose.”

“I can see that,” Annie said. What had first been a great, shaggy head was slowly changing shape into something more refined and less fearsome. As she watched, the beast began to look less like an animal and more like a young man.

“What do you mean?” Beldegard sat back and lifted his paw to his face. His mouth dropped open when he saw that it was beginning to look like a hand. Annie thought he looked so silly that she couldn’t keep from laughing. “I don’t understand,” said the prince. “Are you a wizard? Have you used your magic on me? This is wonderful!” Beldegard reared up so that he towered over her. “I can return home to Montrose and—”

Annie shook her head. “I’m not a wizard and I don’t have any magic. It’s just the opposite, in fact,” she said. “Whatever spell was cast on you will fade for as long as you and I are touching. You moved away, so you’re already beginning to look more like a bear again.”

Beldegard, who was getting shaggier by the second, plopped down on all four feet and sidled closer to Annie. “Then I guess you’re going to have to stay with me until I get rid of that dwarf.” When Annie looked puzzled, he
sat down beside her and set his paw on her hand. “A nasty dwarf wants my treasure. He turned me into a bear to get me out of the way. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t remember anything if I was a bear, but he was wrong. I’ve spent the last two years protecting my treasure from spring to fall. In the winter when the ground is frozen and I know that my treasure is safe, I sleep on the hearth of a kindly old widow and her two young daughters. I’m going to marry one of the daughters once the dwarf is dead and I’m a prince again. She doesn’t know it yet, so don’t mention it when you see her. You seemed comfortable enough lying on the ground; sleeping in the woods shouldn’t be a problem for you. It won’t be for long—I’ve been hunting the dwarf and I’m getting closer to catching him every day. I haven’t decided if I’m going to eat him or throw him off a cliff, but once I take care of the dwarf, I’ll be a prince again and will reward you handsomely.”