Briar & the Dreamers of Midnight

Chapter 1 I was eating a bowl of strawberries and cream, like I used to. I had no idea what was in my future and was happily licking the spoon. The sweet taste of the berries reminded me of summer. It tasted even better knowing that the cook had made it just for me. Life was good then, and even at seven years old, I felt it in my heart. The dining hall was full of banners of every color and sigil. They wafted in the breeze coming in through the open arched windows. The castle was full of knights in shining armor and ladies with pointy hennins perched jauntily on top of their heads. That kind of hat went out of fashion so long ago that I’m not sure anyone remembers it anymore, but it was the height of fashion back then. The dresses were of every color and texture, and I was having a grand time comparing my new dress with those worn by the grownup ladies. The ones that caught my eye the most were the dresses worn by the fairies. They were quite exotic, and I’d never seen anything like it. These fairies were special diplomatic guests. Graceful and fierce at the same time, they flowed through the crowd like sharp ribbons in the wind. Even as a little girl, I knew that these were important guests. I did my best not to drip berry juice on my dress so as not to shame myself in front of them. My father was negotiating a truce in the Wild Wars, and it was deemed a good gesture of peace and trust to invite the fairies to my birthday celebration. He was a good king, my father. Everyone said so. The trumpets blared. Father looked up from the turkey leg he’d been chewing to see what new lord or lady was coming to celebrate my birthday. He looked handsome and splendid with his crown circling his curls and a majestic white robe draped over his shoulders. Those were the days. Sunshine. Laughter. People who’d not only see me but pay lots of attention to me. I was not just little Princess Briar to my doting parents. I was a princess in real life. Gads, I miss those days. Then the usual thing happens, as it almost always does in my dreams. The sky begins to grow dark with roiling clouds. Lightning strikes and thunder booms. All the fine ladies, lords and handsome knights look out through the windows with dread in their eyes. While they’re all looking at the sky and grabbing their hats and scarves to keep them from flying in the wind, I stare at the hall entrance. My stomach clenches into a knot. I’ve had this dream before. I know what’s coming. The doors open as the trumpets blare. All the other times, beautiful people had strolled in with sparkling clothing and elaborate hairstyles. Each dress outshone the previous. Until now, I was eager to see if the next guest would be an exotic fairy. The guests had all been regal and holding a birthday present for me in their arms. Several of the gifts had been so large that they had to be pulled by servants. Even though nothing they brought delighted me more than my bowl of strawberries, it was great fun to see what the next gift would be. But when the trumpets blare this time, I know that the person who is about to enter will bear a gift that strikes terror up my spine. A gift that makes my stomach cramp and my feet itch to run behind my father. I drop my spoon, and it plops into my bowl. A bright red berry splashes onto my dress, staining it. At first, there seems to be no one waiting behind the doors. When it opens, it only frames a gaping darkness. Then black mist oozes along the walkway, too heavy to flow in the wind. Then she saunters in. But I can never see her. I just catch wisps of black mist curling around the hems of her dress and the reactions of the nobles around her. She has many names, and in the dream, I don’t know a single one of them. I wouldn’t be able to pronounce them even if I did. Fairies like their names complicated. Ordinary people often give them simpler names that they can pronounce, like Jane or Joe, or Bringer of Death. But the names of each fairy are never consistent because the people who name them usually don’t live long enough to tell others about them. I don’t know what name this fairy went by at the time, and of course, no one bothered to ask her. The Wild Wars were still new enough for people to believe that there could be peace with the fairies, so people tried to be polite when they met one at an event like this. What no one realized until that day was that fairy intrigue was deadly. Inviting some fairies to a royal event, but not others, could be a fatal insult. My dream always ends there. The lightning, the thunder, the tendrils of black mist coming through the open doors. Then she saunters in. Some people say that this happened on the day I was born. But this isn’t just a dream. This is a memory. A memory I can never quite see to the end. I keep dreaming about it. My mind keeps going through it over and over, and I keep thinking that this will be the time when I see her face. But I never do. Sometimes, I get glimpses of the color of her dress or an inkling of her voice. But I never actually see her. I just get that stupid red stain on my dress and the heavy sense of dread. I know she’s coming for me. I know she’ll curse me in the next few moments. I might even know what the curse will be. But right then, I’m mesmerized by the anticipation of being able to see this newcomer. And then I wake. I wake to the reality of being trapped in a body that sleeps in a tower for countless years. I wake knowing that even though my mind is still fully alert, I’m unable to twitch even a single finger.