Riley

 

“Mmmmh,” I moan, my fingers buried in soft, thick fur, and my face nestled against it as I return from the land of dreams back into my house. Jack was a man when we settled down together in front of the stove yesterday. Did he change into the Wolf overnight?

Slowly, my eyes flutter open. Bright morning light shines in on me from the east window of my hut, making me sneeze in greeting. My jerk doesn’t rouse Jack. Apparently, the Wolf is a sound sleeper.

“Wake up, puppy dog,” I mumble and shake the ball of fur. He feels strange beneath my fingers, far too stiff. And flat. Did I squash him by lying on top of him? Sitting up, I rub the daze of sleep from my eyes and look down at Jack—who isn’t Jack at all!

It’s a grizzly bear skin, the one in front of my couch. Startled, I scan my cabin. It’s empty. Jack is gone. Only the crackling fire keeps me company. He must have thrown a couple of logs into the stove before leaving. My long red cloak is draped over me, too, keeping me warm. It slides from my shoulders as I get up. No wonder I slept so well, tucked in like a baby bear.

Our two mugs from last night are still on the floor. I carry them over to the sink and open the kitchen window. Rain has gathered in the corner of the frame, pooling on the counter as I slide the pane. I wipe it away with a dishcloth and then poke my head out, calling, “Jack? Are you out there?”

The only answer is the merry chirping of my robin as he flutters down from the nest under the roof and settles on the windowsill. He fluffs up his feathers until he looks like a tiny ball of wool before he quickly shakes himself back into his petite form. There’s always a small sack of birdseed in my cupboard. I fetch a few grains and hold them out in my palm. It tickles when the small beak picks them up, one by one.

“Have you seen my friend this morning?” I ask in a soft voice, not wanting to disturb the little bird’s meal. “Tall man, dark hair, eyes like a wolf.”

After he’s done with his breakfast, the robin angles his strawberry-sized head from one side to the other, inspecting me with a beady eye in turn. Then he picks a couple of mites from his feathers, spreads his small, beautiful wings, and flies off.

“Great,” I call after him, frowning. “Next time you’re up to twaddling, don’t expect me to be chatty.”

Snorting, I turn back to the room, and my gaze alights on a piece of paper lying on the kitchen table. The brawny handwriting beckons me closer. My black pen lies next to the note. Jack must have gone on a raid through the chests to find it and the pad before he left.

The note in my hand, I sit down on a chair and read the few lines.

 

Dear Riley,

I need to run an errand outside town, which can’t wait. I’ll be back in a few days. You’ll have to tell me everything about the ball then.

Good luck with the prince hunt!

Jack

P.S.: Sorry for not waking you, but you looked extremely adorable drooling on the bearskin.

 

Quickly, I wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. Heck, I know I drool in my sleep at times. And he saw that? Heat sears my cheeks. Ugh. I want to drop into the hole to Wonderland again.

But what kind of errand is Jack talking about? And why didn’t he mention anything yesterday? Stealing away in the dead of night is strange to the last E. Then again…didn’t he say something about keeping Friday free for an adventure when we sat together by the lake the other day? Maybe it isn’t an excuse, after all.

I put the note and pen away in the same drawer Jack took them from. After washing up quickly in the bathroom, I collect my cloak from the floor and fasten it around my neck. It’s a shame that Jack is gone. I really wanted him to come with me to Rory and Phillip’s masked ball tonight. Nevertheless, something else conjures a wide grin on my face this morning.

I’ve got a trap to check.

My escort to the ball might already be waiting there. Flittering out of the cabin, I slam the door shut and take off in a run along the path to the mill, my cloak flapping after me. Before the last bend, I halt and lean against a tree, catching my breath. If someone is lying in the prince bed, I don’t want them to see me sweaty and panting.

First impressions are everything, right?

When the faint sounds of snoring drift to me, my muscles tense with excitement. I jerk up my head and hold my breath. Is there really someone sleeping in my trap? With Jack’s disregard of my idea with the strawberries, I almost lost faith myself. But heck, here are the noises to prove my ingenuity.

Excitement is killing me as I tiptoe into the bushes where I tied the rope to a root last night. One quick pull, and the prince should be mine. Hopefully, he’s a cutie-pie. My heart skips wildly in my chest as my fingers close firmly around the rope. I tighten it, ready to snap the trap shut. But then the raucous snoring makes me hesitate. Goodness, did he swallow a chainsaw?

With a man like this beside me in bed, I’m not sure I’ll ever close an eye again for the rest of my life. Silently, I crawl closer to the bushes to peek at my trap. There isn’t much to see, just a rolled-up bundle of a man on the pillow nest with his back to me. Hm. I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe a closer look before pulling the stick away? It can’t hurt.

Rising with the rope’s end in my hand, I shake my hair back, straighten my spine, and nobly walk into the small clearing by the Timeless Brook with my head held high—just in case the man wakes up and sees me. At another strident snore, I wince. Oh, man…

I rub my hands over my face. Get a grip, Riley. There’s a crack in everything, and sleep is overrated anyway. Also, there are many pros to staying awake forever. I can read all the books from the library in his surely amazing palace, for instance. Or binge-watch every cool show I’ve missed out on because I have no television in the woods.

With new courage in my heart, I draw closer, quietly bending over the sleeping prince to catch a glimpse of his face. And freeze.

“Oh, no! No freaking way!” Grabbing one end of the blanket, I shake it so hard, the dwarf dozing in the trap flies off in a high arch. “You…! Get out of my prince bed!”

Sleepy jerks awake as he lands on his behind and stares at me with stunned, saucer-like eyes. He takes his pointed brown hat off and scratches his shaggy white hair. “Red Riding Hood? What are you doing behind the Seven Hills?” He finishes the last word with a mighty yawn.

“This is not behind the Seven Hills, you bumbler. You took a nap in my trap.” My gaze gets stuck on some red sauce in the corner of his mouth. “And you ate all the berry bait!”

“Oh, that was your bed?” Hands braced on the ground, he pushes himself to his feet, butt rising first. “I thought it was a rain shelter for hungry dwarfs.”

What? I narrow my eyes at him. “Who would ever build such an odd thing?”

Sleepy shrugs.

“A prince might have come by last night, and now he’s gone forever because you blocked the bed.” Growling in frustration, I turn around and trudge off into the bushes. Someone needs to go on trap watch again. Only, my foot gets tangled in the rope, and it tightens as I stumble, trying to catch my balance. The stick is pulled free from the ground, and the trap snaps shut over the empty pillow-nest, coming down in a clattering rumble. All the laths fall apart, leaving nothing but a giant pile of wood behind.

Terrific.

My chin drops to my chest, and I stare at the ruins of my wonderful plan. Without Jack’s help, there’s no chance of repairing this, and the Blue Fairy only knows how long he’ll be gone.

Something pulls at my cloak. The white-bearded dwarf next to me holds up his hand as I tilt my head to look down at him. A single strawberry lies on his palm. His bushy eyebrows lift in a sad look, and Sleepy snuffles, “I’m sorry, Miss Riley.”

Expelling a sigh, I sit down beside him, take the fruit from his hand, and stuff it into my mouth.

 

*

 

In the early evening, the failure of plan T for trap is long forgotten. Back to plan B. The ball. After returning all the pillows and blankets to my house, a hot bath with rosy bubbles is on the list. Clean and smelling nice, I put on my finest red silk underwear. Something special will go on top tonight. There’s a chest beneath my bed, holding the treasure of a beautiful velvet gown. My mother’s old wedding dress.

A snicker of excitement escapes me as I step into it. Unfortunately, getting the zipper up in the back is a bit of a challenge. I skip through the room, struggling with it until it’s finally fastened and I can look at myself in the mirror. Dark red velvet hugs my breasts, long sleeves of white voile cover my arms and hands. Under my chest, the skirt flows down to part over white silk in the front. The hem touches my ankles. It’s truly lovely. The only thing that looks slightly out of place is my leather half boots, but they’re better than appearing at the ball barefoot.

Squealing in anticipation of tonight, I twirl around, holding my arms up in the position of having a handsome dance partner. I smile at the air where his head would be. Oh, he’d surely have a beautiful face. Blue eyes. Sweet lips. A slim crown perched on his hair... Dancing ever so lightly around the room, I sway my head and start singing.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…”

The smell of something burning makes me stop two seconds later. Where the heck is that coming from? Rooted to the spot, I scan the area around me. Odd, there’s nothing on the stove, and the fire’s banked, yet the smell is unmistakable. When a strange heat licks up my legs, I angle my head and look down.

“Oh, my Goodness!” My mother’s gown is on fire! I leap backward in reflex to escape the sneaky flames but, of course, the dress comes along. “Crud!” Hysterically patting at the sizzling fabric, I jump around in the room until I stumble out onto the porch. Puddles from last night’s rain still litter the forest in many places. Without thinking, I dive into one, belly-flopping on the squelchy ground.

The cool water and mud assure me that I’m not going up in flames like a freaking match. Catching my breath, I sit up and examine the dress. Yep, the fire is extinguished. Sadly, so are my plans for tonight.

Half of my mother’s velvet gown is charred, the rest of it is stained with mud. The hem must have brushed an ember and started the terrible destruction. Going like this, I would be the swineherd at the masked ball. Tears spring to my eyes.

Dabbing at my cheeks and thereby smearing sludge from my fingers all over my skin, I scramble to my feet and shuffle back to the three stairs leading up my porch. Since the dress is ruined beyond repair, it doesn’t matter that the rags hang into another puddle as I sit down.

Elbows braced on my thighs, I bury my face in my hands. Now I’ll never find a prince or a happily ever after for myself.

Jack will be so gleeful. He’d thought it was crap all along. I can just imagine his taunting sneer when he comes back saying, “Told you so.”

With every breath, my heart hurts more.

As if feeling my grief, my little robin friend glides to my side and plops down on his behind, stretching his fragile legs in front of him, the claws pointing up into the air. Wings hanging, he tilts his head up to me and gives a pathetic chirp.

Seriously, I don’t know which of us looks more miserable at the moment. The weeping bird, or the muddy-faced scarecrow in the burned rags. The thought almost coaxes a smile from me.

Carefully, like touching a butterfly, I brush my fingertips over the robin’s back. “There, there… Don’t look so sad. Some things just aren’t meant to be, are they?”

He opens his beak to let out another sad chirp then rubs his head against my hand, wiping away a tiny bird tear. With a deep sigh, I rise and walk inside, taking my little friend with me. I put him in his favorite spot on the open window ledge before trudging into the bathroom. Time to clean up the mess I made.

As I come back a while later, clad in my simple red dress again with a white blouse beneath it, Alice’s clock on the chest shows a quarter to five. That means it’s past eight already. The ball has begun. Since my friends arranged the feast not only for Phillip’s birthday but also for me, I should let them know I won’t make it.

Barefoot, I traipse outside and lift my face to the purple evening sky. In the dimming light, sporadic storks zoom through the colorful streaks of clouds. Like before, I raise an arm and tap my fingers twice to hopefully call down an envoy. Within seconds, a tall, black-and-white-feathered bird lands in front of me, adjusting his blue vest. “Good evening. What can I do for you?”

I can’t message them all. Since Princess Cinderella always arrives late to celebrations, it’s probably best to pick her as the recipient. She can pass on the news to the others when she gets there. Clasping my hands in front of my stomach, I clear my throat.

“This is a message from Riley Redcoat to Princess Cinderella.” A pause should mark the real text. “My dress caught on fire. I can’t come to the ball tonight. Have fun with the girls and wish Phillip happy birthday for me. Riley.”

With a nod, I finish my speech, and the SMS takes off into the sky. Melancholy eats at me as I watch him fly until he’s long out of sight. My feet are getting cold in the grass. It’s probably wise to go inside before I catch a cold, but a rising round of robins keeps me rooted. First, the ten or so birds fly in wild arcs, which is unusual at twilight. However, they soon form a solid ring. A chill runs down my spine.

If robins fly in circles, it means one thing. Magic is in the air.

On the horizon, a dot appears inside the dancing ring. I squint to make out what it is, which is impossible. It looks like a birthmark in the sky.

As the robins continue their circles of flight, the dot grows bigger, and a strange noise sets in. The sound is high-pitched like a rocket, but far away. It gets louder, deeper, and the spot grows to a white… Heck, is that a speed stork?

Perhaps Cindy’s already sent me a message—a flash telegram that’s obviously going to detonate on my porch! I duck my head, shrieking, as the thing races past me and knocks into the potted plant next to the door. The clay pot explodes in a loud clatter of shards.

Carefully, I take my hands down and turn around. An interesting woman lies sprawled in the mess, legs jammed up against the wall. My mouth drops open in silent shock.

A painful moan drifts from the jumble on the floor. “Dear me…” Then a pair of starlight blue eyes beams at me from upside down. She waves. “Hello there.”

Wariness tenses my muscles. Cautiously, I draw closer, pitching up my eyebrows. “You battered my ficus…”

“Ah, sorry.” She climbs to her feet and brushes leaves and dirt off her bottom. “That definitely wasn’t one of my best landings.”

Judging from the chaos on my porch, someone had better take away her flying license. There’s no telling what else she’s been battering. Halting on the top stair, I cock my head and throw her a sideways glance. “Who are you?”

Her face lights up. “Why, I’m the Fairy Godmother, my dear!”

Thick strands of her white hair are wound around pin curlers, a purple bathrobe covers her body, and her feet are stuck in yellow crocs. “You don’t look like the Fairy Godmother.”

She glances down at herself, and a snicker makes her curlers wobble. “Oh. Yes. That’s because Cindy’s message caught me at the spa. Pinocchio was just giving my back a massage.” Her lids flutter shut as she expels a dreamy moan. “Those wooden hands work magic, trust me.” In the next moment, her eyes shoot open again. With the little stick in her hand, she taps herself on the head and—poof!—the crocs and curlers are gone. Stars zap around her, brightening up my porch, as the bathrobe turns into an ostentatious, shiny white gown with gold embroidery around her voluptuous waist.

Startled, I trip back, knocking over the second ficus beside the door.

“Mmm, tsk tsk tsk,” she mutters, slapping the wand into her palm as her brows knit with a skeptical frown. “A little clumsy, aren’t you? Cindy said that you burned your dress. Now I can see how that might have happened.”

Excuse me? She was the one who bolted into plant number one. Quickly, I get back to my feet. “Cindy talked to you about me?”

“Yes, my dear. Of course. Why else do you think I’m here?”

I actually have no idea.

She takes my hand and drags me into the house, chattering away. “Tonight is the grand masked ball at Briar-Rose and Phillip’s castle, is it not? Princess Cinderella told me it was the girls’ idea to bring you a fine selection of princes.” As she looks around my small home, she scratches her head with the pointed wand. “What you want with them all, I don’t quite understand. Isn’t one prince adequate for you?”

“One is definitely enough,” I answer fast and nod vigorously. “I just didn’t know where to find one, so they thought the ball might be a good place to start.”

“Oh, right.” Another smile sugars up her face. “And why did you set your dress on fire tonight, my dear?”

My gaze slides to the embers in the stove. “Er…” I work my lip between my teeth.

The fairy tracks my glance. “Hmm. You didn’t try to use them as transportation, did you?” Her puzzled frown meets mine but eases just as fast. “No. You didn’t.”

I squeeze my eyes tight. “No, I didn’t for sure.”

“Good. Because it doesn’t work in our world.” She leans in close and whispers with a hand at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve tried.”

The lady is nuts.

Something behind me catches her attention next. She whizzes past me and grabs the clock from Alice. “Oh, isn’t this lovely?” With her index finger, she moves the minute hand around two circles, and the thing goes off with three grandfather clock-like chimes all of a sudden. “Well, it’s late.” Putting it back, she claps her hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Like a ficus in my own house, I stand rooted and just follow her strides with my wary eyes. “What are we going to do?”

“Oh, didn’t I say?” Using her wand, she lifts my chin and beams at me. “Cindy sent me to your rescue. We’re to give you a new dress.” Then she cocks her head. “If you still want to go to the ball, that is.”

A dress? The ball? Gripped by a bolt of excitement, I grab her hand holding the wand with both of mine. “I do!”

“Careful, dear child.” She works her wand free of my grip. “We don’t want this to go off by accident and turn you into a naked-ass baboon.”

Goodness, no! We definitely don’t want that. Keeping my hands to myself, I start rocking on the balls of my feet. “What do I have to do?”

She takes a step back, still smiling. “Undress, darling.” Next, she starts to fiddle her wand like a conductor’s baton and, in a shower of stars, the enchanting light-blue ball gown from Cindy’s personal fairy tale appears on an invisible hanger in the middle of the room. “And then slip into this.”

Oh, holy Christmas tree! I clap my hands over my mouth, simply overwhelmed. “It’s beautiful.”

The glass slippers materialize beneath it on the floor. “Go, put it on,” she prods me, waving her hands to usher me forward.

I strip as fast as I can, carelessly tossing my clothes aside. My blouse lands on the chest and knocks a photograph of Bellina and me to the floor. In my underwear, I rush over and pick it up. Whoops. The glass frame shattered into a mosaic of a thousand cracks.

The fairy casts me a look of reprobation. Sheepishly, I grin back and return the frame to the shelf.

“Come over here, child, before you damage the entire house in your flurry.” She holds the dress out to me so I can step into it. When she tugs it up and ties the laces in the back, sparkles suddenly whizz around the wide, bell-like bottom. They change the material to a deep rose red. In wonder, I watch the glowing stars spiral up around me. As if a paint pot was tipped over the dress, the new color seeps up along the fabric, getting fainter toward the waist and finally coloring the bodice a soft hue of pink.

As the sparkles move down my arms, the long, sheer sleeves of Cindy’s dress disappear. A pair of elbow-length satin gloves replaces them, dyed in the same morning-sky pink. Stretching my arms out in front of me, I run my hand up the smooth fabric. My mouth is open all the while.

“Whoops. This is new,” the fairy chimes out, giggling as she steps in front of me and inspects me from head to toe. “But it suits you well, I have to say.”

I dash to the corner of the cabin that is my bedroom and open the door of the wardrobe with the tall mirror attached to the inside. In front of it, I twirl left and right, making the gorgeous, multi-layered, rosy gown swing and sway like a snowdrop in the winter breeze.

“Even though you seem to have personalized the dress, don’t forget that it comes with a handicap, my dear.”

The fairy appears behind me in the mirror, but I can’t pay her any attention. Carefully, I run my hands over the little diamonds worked into the bodice that fade as they run down the gown. The light reflects off them like a sea of stars.

“At the twelfth strike of midnight, the gown and accessories will return to the magical closet of artifacts again.”

The sleeves of the dress are now two simple, rosy voile bands that run around my upper arms. They keep my neck and shoulders bare.

“So you must leave the ball before midnight.”

I can’t breathe, steamrolled by so much beauty. It really is a miracle.

“Are you even listening?” The fairy bops me on the head with her wand. “This is important, girl.”

“Ow!” Torn out of my admiration, I zap around, rubbing the sore spot on my crown. “Why did you do that?”

Her strict look bores into me. “Because you need to remember the rules. It would be disastrous to stay at the ball too long.”

My eyes roll behind closed lids. “Okay, okaaay…” No need to whack out. “I don’t intend to crash at the castle.”

I lift my skirt, about to slip a naked foot into one of the beautiful glass shoes, but the lady slaps her wand on my chest and shoves me backward. “Uh, uh, uh!” Quickly, she bends and picks them up, protecting them against her décolleté as her gaze slides to the broken glass frame on the chest. “We’d better not give you those.”

“No?” My face falls, voice weak from disappointment. “You want me to go to the ball barefoot?”

“Hmm.” Scratching her chin, she drops the shoes.

I scream in terror, uselessly reaching out my hands. But the slippers vaporize into thin air before they hit the ground. Rubbing my fingers over my face, I expel a breath. Oh, man…

“There’s only one other pair of shoes I have access to. They might not be as dreamy and elegant as the glass slippers”—she swishes her wand, pointing it at my feet, and her mouth curves like a banana—“but at least they’re the right color.”

Pulling up the skirt, I bend forward and look at my new footwear. Glittery red and wonderfully comfortable. I know these ruby slippers. Enthralled, I lift one foot and roll my ankle, marveling like a child in a candy shop.

The fairy giggles. “There’s no chance you’ll break them.” In the next moment, concern swamps her face, and she shapes her palms to my cheeks, staring insistently into my eyes. “But whatever you do, don’t click your heels together.”

Swallowing, I give a firm nod. I don’t want to be swept off to Kansas tonight.

“Now, there’s only one thing left to do.” She takes my hand and drags me out the door, throwing me a wry glance on the way. “You wouldn’t happen to be friends with some mice, would you?”

If she’s thinking about changing some rodents into fine horses and harnessing them to a pumpkin, sadly, she’ll be disappointed. “Sorry, no.”

“Ah, no worries, my dear. We’ll find something else for you.” Pulling the door closed behind us, she scans the porch. Goodness, I hope she’s not on the lookout for any roaches. That would be gross.

Her gaze lifts to the nest under the roof from where my tiny friend watches us curiously. “Hey, you there,” she calls, pointing her wand at the robin, and her face brightens with delight. “Come down, my lovely, would you?” As she holds out her hand, the tiny bird glides into it and moves his gaze back and forth between us. “A little tap of this, and a little swirl of that…” the Fairy Godmother sings as she waves her wand around the robin. In the next moment, the little fella grows and grows and grows—until it doesn’t fit under my awning anymore.

The brown coat has changed into white fur, four hooves have replaced the delicate claws, and when it shakes its head, a silky mane wafts in the wind. The only thing that remains from the bird is the wings, but they, too, have grown substantially.

My chin smacks on my chest.

“Shoo, shoo! We don’t want you late to the ball.” The fairy pushes me gently with a hand on my back, assisting me as the beautiful winged stallion bends his front legs and lowers, allowing me to mount.

The only time I’ve ever sat on a horse was with Phillip a few days ago. My knees tremble, and my hands start to sweat. Holy Pegasus, let’s hope I survive the ride.

“Oh, wait!” Madam Fairy pulls on the elegant reins, keeping the horse back for another moment. “I almost forgot…” Lifting her hand, she twirls one of my locks around the tip of her wand. Over the next three seconds, I can feel how my hair shapes up at the back of my head. Some loose strands hang down and brush my bare shoulders.

As something soft covers the top half of my face, I reach up to feel around my eyes and nose. It’s a satiny mask, and I would bet my cloak that it’s the same color as the glamorous dress.

If only Jack could see me now. He wouldn’t believe his eyes.

With a grateful smile, I lean down and squeeze the fairy’s hand. “Thank you so much for everything.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear. And now…” As she steps behind the horse, a loud smack sounds. “Off you go!”

With a feral snicker, my changed robin friend gallops off, his mighty feathered wings beating the air. A hoarse cry escapes me. I grab the beast’s mane in panic, holding on tightly as, three strides later, we’re airborne and racing across the sky, heading for Castle Grove.

The wind blows in my face, forcing my eyes shut as fear of plummeting to death takes hold and gives me a chill. The flight is smooth, though, and soon, my dread eases. I even dare a look down.

Goodness, this is beautiful. The Wood of 1000 Dawns sweeps by under us, and there, in the distance, the stunning lights of Briar-Rose’s palace appear. We start a gentle descent, and the horse takes the final strides back on the ground, directly into the castle’s pebbled front garden.

Like before, the beast bends its front legs to make it easy for me to get off. As soon as my feet touch solid ground, the mighty white stallion shrinks to bird size and pops back into my cute robin friend. With a happy chirp, he says goodbye before he takes off in the direction we came from. I guess that means a march home for me after the ball.

It doesn’t matter since I usually come here by foot anyway. The two miles through the forest won’t kill me, even after a night of dancing.

When the robin is out of sight, I turn around and stare at the huge, winged doors of the castle that are wide open tonight. Two guards stand watch on the left and right, holding their spears formally by their sides and gazing straight forward. I greet them both with a hesitant nod, my eyes moving shyly from one to the other. Hopefully, they don’t expect the guests to show an official invitation because there’s certainly none stored in this enchanted dress. But neither of them moves a muscle, diffusing my worries.

All right. Here we go. Lifting the front of my dress a few inches off the ground so I don’t trip over the hem, I cross the threshold.

My ever after is waiting.