While Aurora Slept- The Complete Trilogy Read online

  While Aurora Slept

  The Complete Trilogy

  Megan Easley-Walsh

  Copyright © 2017 by Megan Easley-Walsh All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  For Every Princess Everywhere

  People think my name is Maleficent but that isn't true. And as for crimes, all that I am guilty of is loving my sister. My sister is the dawn, Aurora.

  — Midnight

  ◆◆◆

  On the night of my sixteenth birthday, I fell asleep. When morning came, I didn't wake up. It's been a month and I'm still sleeping, but this isn't the story that you think it is.

  —Aurora

  Part One: The Power of a Dream

  Chapter One

  Aurora

  Screams pierced the air, awaking me.

  “Another dream?”

  Midnight looked to me, trying to conceal the truth, but could only nod. She was powerless against me, her sister. Already I was beside her, picking up the brush, pulling it through the long strands of Midnight's hair. Her name was really Asteria, for she was born amid the stars, but long ago I had taken to calling her Midnight and it had stuck. That was my privilege as the younger sister, a hold on my sister's heart and fate.

  “Tell me about it,” I said, my voice soft like the rain on the castle's roof.

  “It was nothing,” Midnight said, shifting in the moonlight that fell across her bed. I paused in my brushing.

  “You were screaming,” I said, beginning to brush again and then I added softly, “You can tell me, you know. I'm not a child anymore.”

  It was true. My birthday was approaching. My sixteenth, a day of crowning glory. For on that day, a crown would be placed on my head and I'd be fully a princess with all that entailed. No longer would I merely weave a crown of roses from below my window, as I'd been doing since I was a child, and place it on my head. Now, I'd stand with all of them: Midnight, Mother, and Father, before the kingdom. Our father was born as a prince to the people and ruled over them with all the kindness that a dutiful king was wise to hold. The earth hummed through Mother's veins. She knew every sacred heartbeat of the drumming river on the shore, every whisper of the spider in his web. Her people had lived among this land, long before Father's had arrived in their ships. With the passage of centuries, their peoples had merged and their kingdoms as well. Midnight mirrored our mother, in the soft fall of her foot and her raven hair. I shone with the light of dawn, at least that's what everyone said. But I could bring no light to my sister now. The dreams carried a darkness of their own, plaguing her with the weight of the stones of the castle.

  Midnight looked at me and nodded.

  “I was running through the forest, wolves nipping at my heels, and briars encircling me. A dragon breathed its fire over me and I could not escape. I kept calling to you, but you couldn't hear me.”

  She pushed aside the memory of the dream, shaking it from her with a slight shrug of the shoulders. Midnight was the older sister. It was her job to protect; she was not supposed to be the one who needed her younger sister's gentleness. But the dawn is always more uninhibited than the night, uninhibited by the shadows, flowing with a truth that breaks free like a vivid burst of color.

  I leaned into her, breathing my love of protection over my sister.

  “Don't worry, Midnight. I'm here. I'll always be here.”

  ◆◆◆

  Two nights later, Midnight awoke, screaming again.

  “It's getting worse, isn't it?” I said, leaning beside my sister. Midnight had no chance of denying it, not as she shook like a leaf in a gale. Besides, there was something else. The dream had left its mark on her. I reached for her hand to comfort her, but Midnight pulled it back, roughly, trying to hide it under the blanket.

  “What's happened?” I said.

  Thorns, as though they'd been soaked in fire, dragged their ugly claws over her skin.

  “Midnight?” My voice quivered in the moonlight, like a candle's flame on the edge of being snuffed out.

  “I'm fine.” She said it, but the words held no conviction. There was nothing that she could conceal from me. I said nothing, but I tucked the words inside my heart and made a vow.

  Chapter Two

  Aurora

  I have waited for this day. It thrills through me, like a sunset painting the sky. Mother says I am always drawn to the colors and that it speaks to my name. Maybe there's something in that, that one born at dawn would always seek out the vivid and turn toward awakening.

  And today has arrived, my sixteenth birthday. If Midnight has anything to do with it, it will be a memorable occasion.

  “Mark my words, Aurora,” (She always says that in her most teasing voice, like she's trying to be stern with me and is utterly unable to be.), “you will remember this day, the kingdom will, the entire world.”

  I laughed it off. Perhaps, I shouldn't have.

  With the kingdom looking on and my family at my side, the cake glowed before me. The candles sparkled, not just with fire, but with dancing fireworks. Bursts of glittering color flickered from one wax pillar to the next, before the entire sky outside the window burst into a symphony of color.

  “Perfect,” Midnight said. By the way that she said it, I knew that she'd arranged it all. This was her gift to me, my sister's special project.

  “Midnight, I don't know – ”

  “Shh,” she said, “This is your day. Thank me later. Wish now.” Her eyes shone as she said it, as though nightmares never blazed through her eyes. Then, she moved, ever so slightly. Her dress, the one spun in the perfect silver thread that she'd had made for her birthday last year, her sixteenth, moved. It still shimmered and caught the light, casting a chandelier of prism light like rainbow confetti over the room. It lacked the innocence of that day now, as her sleeve pulled away from her wrist and I saw her scarred skin. From the pit of my stomach, a dragon roared at the hurt of Midnight's dreams. Nothing was supposed to harm her. Even as children, I insisted on it. The horse had once threatened to throw her. It was enough for me to swear off horses altogether. But, Midnight said I mustn't hold it against the creature. The stable boy, Philip, had scared the horse as he moved the straw aside. I blamed him, but she didn't. She thought the horse ought to have had more sense, even if she did think I shouldn't mistrust it. It was the only thing we ever disagreed on. And it was strong enough to convince me that my sister needed protecting.

  “Make a wish,” her smiling face said.

  “Protect your sister,” her scarred arm spoke back.

  The music danced through the room, its notes nearly visible on the wind. Mother nodded and I smiled at her. I could see the burst of fireworks behind her, the purple and blue shimmering against her raven hair. Our mother's eyes blaze with the beauty of the north, dark and deep like Midnight's. Long before Father's people sailed across the sea to land on these shores, Mother's people spoke to the earth and gathered its stories.

  “The wind is in your blood.” She'd say it to us when we were little and the gales knocked against the glass panes. Singing to us, she'd soothe our fears. I took comfort in that, knowing that something in our blood couldn't hurt it. But now, as I stand before the people, their voices rising in song around me, the love of my family surrounding me and the fireworks exploding in a palette of color behind me, all I can do is hear a little voice inside of me. It starts as a whisper, a bit of the wind, and then i
t expands, urging me on. If wind is in my blood, perhaps there's a bit of magic too. At least enough to make my birthday wish come true.

  I've waited for this moment. Midnight told me, long ago, when sixteen seemed forever away, that we had power on our sixteenth birthday wish. I begged her to tell me what her wish was, but she never did. I suppose it was the only other thing we ever argued about. Only, perhaps, that wasn't quite true. We'd not argued. She'd simply left me out. Never mind, though, it was enough to have the promise of a wish, a wish that could save my sister.

  I took a deep breath and then I did it. I wished and as I did, I sealed my fate.

  Chapter Three

  Midnight

  When I woke up, it was light. There was not a trace of clouds left in the sky, not a single shred of night. Dreams, which had plagued me constantly for years, had remained absent. Morning arrived, without any sign of Aurora.

  Aurora. I pushed back the curtains from my bed. The fringed tassels, silver silk spun by Rumpelstiltskin, flicked against the carved oak balustrade pillars of the bed. My feet sank into the plush carpet, embroidered with the tiniest of roses. It was Aurora's rug. Mine had stars. Only, the dimensions had been switched. My room was larger, just slightly, and so Aurora's carpet didn't fit in her room. Father had been furious, steaming that the carpet maker be fired, that the rug be cut down to size. Mother, though, in all her wisdom, had taken it as an omen.

  “The girls are connected. This is no mistake.”

  Mother's word was final and that was set. Now, as I crossed the carpet, the strands interwoven with the miniature roses, I felt the pull. Connected. I'd wanted to tell Aurora of my peaceful night, to share the good news. Now though, I felt the pull of something larger. Though there was lightness in me, an absence of the nightmares, there was Aurora – Aurora in peril! Yes, that was it.

  I gathered my nightgown in my hands, causing it to pull away from my skin. My ankles flashed with tiny snakes. They leaped from my skin, harsh marks of red from the tyranny of nightmares. I saw none of it, though I'd noticed the marks that had affixed themselves into my arms. I'd been unable to hide them from Aurora yesterday. I'd nodded at my sister, given her an encouraging smile to get her to make her wish, to take her mind off all that had happened, but still Aurora had seen. Determination, that was what had flashed through Aurora's eyes. Determination bathed in love. Not pity. No, that wasn't Aurora. I loved her all the more for it.

  A burst of light, flooding through me, propelled my feet forward now. I knocked on Aurora's door. No answer. A knot tightened in my stomach. Reaching for the doorknob, I pushed it open. No calamity met my eyes. All lay still around me, not eerily, but serenely. As if all of Aurora's room had been suspended from a cloud, I stepped into the peace that had run from my body moments before. Outside her window, a blue bird began to sing. Its melody wrapped the room in a veil of magic. Embroidery danced on the silk curtains, as they blew gently in the breeze, encircled around Aurora's bed. I pushed the curtain aside, its silk sliding over my hand and soothing where the fire breath of dreams had left their mark. I hardly noticed though. All I saw was Aurora. Peaceful. Perfect. Asleep.

  Chapter Four

  Philip

  Princess Aurora has been asleep for twenty hours. Midnight returned to her room three hours after she first checked on her, but nothing happened. Aurora still slept. At noon, their mother came to see why she'd not yet come to the table. Yes, she'd eaten mounds of cake and confection yesterday, but surely she'd be hungry by now. Still, Aurora had not come. At two-o'clock, when all had tried to rouse her and failed, the doctor was called. Phillip was sent for him.

  “Philip, fetch the doctor immediately.”

  “What's happened?”

  “Aurora's ill.”

  The words fell over him, with an odd sort of currency, a weightiness that he couldn't quite explain. Aurora hated him. She always had. Or, at least it seemed as if she certainly did. Once, long ago, Midnight slipped on a horse that he was holding for her. Midnight was fine, one of the best riders in the kingdom, and she'd not held it against Philip. Aurora had though. Inside of her, behind her smile, she kept her grievances.

  That made her sound malicious though and she wasn't. Everyone loved Aurora; she was the darling of the kingdom. Well, both girls were, he supposed. Aurora was younger though, lighter, fairer, but more importantly, she held the light. That is to say, she adored the spotlight, standing before the kingdom and being seen. It wasn't vanity; it was vitality. No, she was only cold toward Philip, unwilling to forgive his grievances against her sister. If only Aurora had known that, while the kingdom watched her, Philip watched Midnight. He needed only her scraps of moonlight, her intensity of character to hold his interest. But none of that mattered. Midnight smiled at him and he'd leap at the chance to help her. Her lips pulled tight, there was no familiar curve beckoning to him now. It didn't matter though. Midnight need only say the word and he'd jump into whatever hoop she required. But no, that wasn't even true. She didn't have to say a single word. The absence of her smile was enough to have him mounting a horse to find the most elusive berry or bit of herb to grind into a potion to save Aurora. Whatever it took, he would do it.

  Chapter Five

  Aurora

  I can feel myself falling, not from a building or cliff, but through layers. They billow out around me,

  And then it hits me, not the ground, not the imaginary boundary of nothingness, but the truth.

  I am asleep. I know it, but I'm frozen. I can't move. I mean, I can move, but not escape. I'm falling, dancing nearly through these wispy colors of silks and charmeuse. Colors that ebb and flow like the tide begin to slow. Their torrents, swirling voraciously like autumn leaves in a gale, now melt into soft downy flakes. Splats of color whisper past. They settle around me, like discarded confetti. Last night, as I stood in the ballroom, the crystal chandeliers winked with dozens of hues. Now the colors sizzle on the floor, like oil frying in the cook's pan. Leaping higher they begin to encircle me, pulling me from the ground. I hover there, near enough the ground to step back and yet floating in a way that I could never do while awake.

  I try to open my eyes, prying them apart from the jaws of sleep. Despite my best efforts, though, nothing happens.

  Come on, Aurora. Open your eyes. Wake up. Wake up.

  I can nearly hear Midnight's voice calling to me and not only my own internal monologue. If I were awake, I would be panicking now, frozen in the inability to have command over the simplest of tasks: opening my eyes. Because I am asleep, though, all is utterly still. I am safe and so no desperation creeps across me.

  The colors fall back to the ground, depositing me there softly. They lay discarded at my feet, as if they are creating a floor for me. Not as perfectly ordered or planned as a mosaic, but just as intricately placed, they glow in kaleidoscopic symphonies. The colors lack opaqueness and a light, more brilliant than the sun but less blinding, shines through them, illuminating the expanse around me. Like cathedral stained glass, they disperse a rainbow array of light. Bright beams of color flicker over my white nightgown, painting it in a palette that changes each time I slightly turn. Still, I am unable to open my eyes and yet I can see all here in this colorful expanse. I resign myself to this, knowing that I will soon awake. Morning must be moments away. It feels as if I've been asleep for days, but of course such a thought is ludicrous.

  Chapter Six

  Midnight

  “Hang a dreamcatcher above her bed,” Mother's voice carries down the corridor. Tapestries, woven with fine strands of silver and gold, catch the firelight.

  “Your Highness?”

  “Aurora's trapped by creatures of the night.”

  The courtiers exchange glances behind her back. They are of Father's people, transplants from the east into this land. They do not believe in shadow creatures and dismiss Mother's way as superstition. She is their queen though and so they leave to fetch the dreamcatcher, one of those that hung above our beds when we were child
ren. But then, then the unthinkable had happened and –

  “Mother, are you sure?”

  She turns, surprised by my presence.

  “Of course I am sure,” she says, her voice authoritative but gentle.

  “But, I – I mean, what happened, with me, and...” My words trail away, losing their certainty.

  “Asteria,” she says.

  I blink because she never calls me that. It's a signal, that all has changed. And in that moment, all I want is for everything to be the same as it always is and for my dear sister and truest friend, Aurora, to be calling me Midnight.

  “It's the only way,” she continues, “Now, my girl, I have an errand for you. You must go to Rumpelstiltskin.”

  ◆◆◆

  Ten years ago, Aurora and I went to sleep as we always did. Our dreamcatchers, spun with gold threads for Aurora and silver for me, kept guard as we slumbered. But that night was not at all like other nights. Winds pounded the glass panes of our room and rattled the shutters. The maid, in her haste to see her beloved, had not secured our windows properly and the gusts unhinged my dreamcatcher from the wall. Before the sunlight had a chance to burn away the bad that had been entangled there, I fell into a deep trance, with no protection. The nightmares spilled out over me, as the threads fell onto my bed. And that is how my sleeping curse began. Nightmares haunted me from that day forward, increasing in intensity as I aged. On my sixteenth birthday, I wished that nothing would befall Aurora as horrible as –

  My eyes go wide. I know what's wrong with her. She's wished something terrible. Somehow she's wished to take away my dreams and now she is the one with the sleeping curse.