Annie Nodded to the messenger and hurried up the stairs to the queen’s chamber. Ordinarily she would have been surprised and delighted to be summoned to her mother’s rooms, but this time she knew why her mother wanted her, and it wasn’t to thank Annie for finding the witch.

Annie almost never entered her mother’s rooms. It wasn’t by choice, however. In accepting the fairy Moonbeam’s gift, the king and queen had unwittingly accepted a second “gift” on Annie’s behalf. The same spell that prevented magic from touching her worked as a damper on other people’s magic. Should anyone be close to Annie for any length of time, whatever magic gifts they had been given began to fade, whether it was beauty, charm, or something as simple as the ability to unravel even the most difficult knots. Gwendolyn hadn’t been the only member of the family to be given magical gifts at a christening. Both the king and queen had as many magical attributes as their elder daughter. On the rare occasion that Annie entered the chamber of one of her family members, she was expected to sit in the back as far from them as she could without climbing out the window. The same was true of the Great Hall when everyone assembled for meals; Annie had to sit in the opposite end of the room with the daughters of lesser nobles, none of whom had much magic.

More than anything, Annie wanted to feel as if she belonged. But instead she felt as if she were a remote and not-too-fondly regarded cousin who was allowed to live in the castle. Although she’d tried very hard to please her parents, nothing their ordinary daughter could do had ever been enough to earn her the same affection that they showered on Gwendolyn.

Annie sighed, and knocked on the door. When one of her mother’s ladies-in-waiting let her in, Annie found her mother waiting for her in a chair by the fireplace. Although she was over forty years old, the queen looked as young as her daughters. The only time she showed her age was when Annie came near, which the queen was careful to avoid.

“I want you to go straight to your sister’s chamber,” said Queen Karolina. “I’ve heard that you spent the morning looking for spinning wheels, when the guards are quite capable of doing it without you. Today is Gwendolyn’s birthday. The least you can do is sit with her while she opens the rest of her presents.”

“But I’ll have to sit in the back of the room and I won’t see a thing when everyone stands up.”

“I’ll be there and I’ll make sure they stay seated. Your sister wants you there today and so do I. We don’t do enough together as a family.”

“Will Father be there, too?” asked Annie. She saw her father even less than she saw her mother and sister, and looked forward to talking to him.

Queen Karolina appeared puzzled. “Why would he be? He hates this kind of thing. We’ll see him during the jousting and races this afternoon. You’ll sit on the other side of the field, of course, but we’ll all be there. Now go attend your sister. You know I do everything I can to make you feel included. It isn’t as though I ask very much of you.”

“Of course not, Mother,” said Annie. She would have liked to have kissed her mother’s cheek as she’d seen Gwendolyn do, but she knew it wasn’t allowed. Even the mention of it would make her mother angry, not at Annie, but at the situation, as the queen told anyone who would listen. Annie was the one she would take it out on, however, lecturing her on being considerate of others and how awful it would be for the kingdom if she, the queen, were to lose her beauty.

Once she was dismissed, Annie bowed to her mother and escaped from the room. She still didn’t want to go to Gwendolyn’s chamber, however, and when she arrived, the first thing she said was, “Maybe I shouldn’t stay. I don’t want to make you look less than your best on your birthday.”

“Pish posh!” said Gwendolyn. “Just sit in the back like you always do and nothing bad will happen.”

Annie glanced at the ladies-in-waiting. She could tell by the expressions on their faces that they didn’t want her in the room any more than she wanted to be there. The daughters of high-ranking nobles, they each had been given magically enhanced qualities like beauty and charm, although none of them were as beautiful as Gwendolyn.

“We were just admiring the gowns Prince Digby sent me,” said Gwendolyn as Annie made her way to a chair by the back wall.

The ladies-in-waiting watched her go, their expressions turning to one of approval when she finally sat down. Annie knew that they would be friendly, as long as she didn’t get too close.

“He sent twenty gowns of the finest linder cloth!” announced Lady Cecily, the youngest of Gwendolyn’s attendants. She held up a gown of violet trimmed in silver. “Isn’t this lovely!”

“It certainly is,” said Annie. “The color matches your eyes, Gwennie.”

Gwendolyn blushed, her perfect cheeks turning a lovely shade of pale rose. “I’ve asked you not to call me that. It doesn’t sound very regal.”

“Neither does Annie, and you’ve called me that my whole life,” Annie replied, and turned to look out the window. She didn’t want to see her sister pout or let tears gather in her eyes or any of the other ploys Gwendolyn used to get her own way.

“There you are, my dear,” said Queen Karolina from the doorway. “I’m delighted to see that you decided to join your sister while she opened her presents.”

Annie sighed and turned away from the window. If her mother wanted everyone to think that Annie had come there voluntarily, that was her business. “Good morning, Mother,” she said, getting to her feet just as everyone else had already done.

“Please be seated,” the queen said, taking the chair closest to Gwendolyn, causing the young woman who had been sitting there to find another seat. “This is an informal gathering, after all.”

Gwendolyn sat with her hands in her lap while the ladies-in-waiting changed seats, vying for the best place to see what she had received. Everyone knew that once the princess tired of a gift, she gave it to whoever had admired it the most. Over the years her ladies had received some beautiful trinkets that way.

Once everyone was settled in their seats, Gwendolyn clapped her hands, saying, “I have a special treat for you.”

At her nod, Cecily ran to open the door, admitting a stream of servants bearing trays. One of the princess’s christening gifts had been a perfect figure, so she could eat anything she wanted to without gaining weight. Her favorite foods were sugary pastries and delicate finger foods, most of which were too rich for Annie. While the beautiful ladies with the perfect figures wolfed down one pastry after another, Annie nibbled the edges of the one she’d taken just to be polite. It was so sweet that it made her teeth hurt, but she smiled and tried to look as if she was enjoying it. After a few minutes her stomach started to gurgle; for once she was glad she was seated by herself.

Gwendolyn began to open her next present. Although the kingdom’s treasury was low, gifts had been arriving from every corner of Treecrest as well as most of the neighboring kingdoms. When the ladies surrounding her tried to stand up to get a better look, Queen Karolina ordered them to sit down, then turned toward Annie and smiled. Even so, Annie couldn’t see the gifts very well. She didn’t really pay attention while Gwendolyn held up jewelry and more gowns. However, when servants brought in the trunk she had seen delivered earlier that day, Annie finally stood. It was a distinctive trunk with etched metal hasps and she wondered who had sent it.

The ladies drew closer as Gwendolyn opened the trunk and reached inside to take out a piece of parchment, which she discarded without reading. Annie craned her neck, trying to see. There was a collective gasp as her sister lifted out a miniature tree about a foot tall. The tree was so delicately carved that even from a distance Annie was sure it had to be the work of an elf-trained master woodworker. She took an involuntary step toward the front of the room when the branches shivered and parted, revealing a jeweled bird no bigger than her fist. When her sister began to turn a key attached to the bird’s back, Annie drew closer. No one noticed, however, because they were all engrossed in watching the bird flutter its wings and tilt its dainty head. Annie held her breath when it opened its beak and began to warble a tune so sweet that some of the ladies-in-waiting wiped tears from their eyes.

The moment the bird stopped singing, the ladies burst into applause. They were still clapping when a seam appeared in the bird’s side, splitting it in two and revealing a small egg of an especially lustrous gold.

“Oh!” everyone breathed, including Annie. She wondered for a moment if it was magical, but decided it wasn’t when she didn’t hear anything that made her think of magic.

Gwendolyn turned the tree around, revealing another, smaller key at the base of the egg. Beaming with delight, she wound the key, which made the egg spin and play a merry tune that soon had the ladies tapping their feet. This time when it stopped, the sides split in quarters, revealing a tiny object covered with precious gems.

“What is it?” said Gwendolyn.

The sides of the egg continued to lower. When they were down all the way, the object tilted to one side and tumbled out of the egg.

Gwendolyn’s hand shot out and caught the object before it hit the floor. “I have it! Look! It’s lovely. What do you think it is? Oh!” she exclaimed, looking at her hand in dismay.

“No, it can’t be!” cried the queen, who had been leaning forward to see the object better.

Annie gasped at the sound of tinkling wind chimes that only she could hear. The air suddenly seemed denser. All the color in the room faded and sounds became muffled; only the faint dinging of the wind chimes remained. Although all the other ladies looked as if they were moving through thick soup, Annie could still run. She was nearly there when Gwendolyn’s eyes drifted shut and she slumped in her chair. A moment later, the queen, who had started to stand, fell to the floor as limp as a rag doll, while the other ladies collapsed around her.

Somewhere in the castle, something crashed and shattered, but the sound was muffled and Annie couldn’t tell its direction. “Help!” she yelled to the guards. “Come quickly!” But there were no answering footsteps. The only sounds that Annie could hear were the soft snoring of the sleeping women and the continued tinkling of wind chimes.

The long-ingrained habit of not touching members of her family was difficult to break, but Gwendolyn had become so pale that Annie was afraid. Taking her sister’s wrist in her hand, Annie breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a strong, steady pulse. A hint of color returned to Gwendolyn’s cheeks, making Annie think that there might be reason to hope that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

Gwendolyn stirred, her eyelids opening a crack. “What happened?” she asked, her words slurred.

“I’m not sure,” said Annie. She glanced at the jeweled object still held in her sister’s hand. Although Gwendolyn hadn’t recognized it, Annie knew what it was right away. Someone had crafted a tiny model of a spinning wheel only an inch tall, yet perfect in every detail, right down to the tiny spindle, where a drop of Gwendolyn’s blood quivered.

“It was a spinning wheel,” Annie explained. “Someone sent it here to make the curse put you to sleep. It looks as if it’s put everyone else to sleep, too.”

“That’s nice,” Gwendolyn murmured, her eyelids sagging.

“No, it’s not!” said Annie. “It’s terrible. Do you think you can stand?”

“Course I can stand,” Gwendolyn grumbled when Annie shook her. “I have grace and poise, unlike some people.” Opening one eye, she gave Annie a baleful glare. “Poor little Annie. You never were graceful. I could always dance circles around you. Maybe I will later, when I’m not so tired.” Gwendolyn opened her mouth wide in an unladylike yawn. Her two front teeth were crooked now. Being so close to her sister was already taking its toll.

Annie pulled Gwendolyn’s arm across her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. “You’ll have to help me if I’m going to get you to your bed,” said Annie. “Put one foot in front of the other … That’s right.”

“I always have had to help you, haven’t I, Annie?” said Gwendolyn as she dragged her other foot forward. “No magic, that’s your problem. Always felt sorry for you. Told Digby, ‘I don’t care if she’s homely, she’s still my sister.’”

Annie jerked her forward a little harder than she needed to and said, “You’re too kind.”

While Gwendolyn stumbled along, yawning mightily, Annie half dragged, half carried her into the next room. Gwendolyn’s movements were no longer so graceful and she looked awkward when she tried to climb onto the high bed. She couldn’t quite make it to the mattress, so Annie had to give her a shove. The older sister sprawled across the bed with an oof! and flopped over onto her back.

“That’s better,” Gwendolyn murmured as she stretched out her legs. Annie stepped back. The moment she let go of her sister, the color drained from Gwendolyn’s face again, but her teeth straightened themselves.

“I should check on the others,” said Annie. She had heard her mother snoring, so she knew she was all right, but she wasn’t so sure about the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. There had been that crashing sound, after all. Someone might have been hurt when the curse took hold.

Annie nearly tripped over a sleeping guard when she stepped into the corridor. It was littered with bodies and looked at first as though there had been a battle in which everyone had died without shedding a drop of blood. She started down the corridor and was relieved to find that they were all sleeping. A few people looked as if they were sleeping peacefully slumped against the wall, but there were others who Annie was certain must be uncomfortable with their bodies twisted at odd angles and their heads canted to one side. She helped the worst of these, touching them long enough to get them in more comfortable positions. They woke for the short time she touched them, but they were so drowsy that not one of them questioned her.

Just down the corridor from Gwendolyn’s room, Annie found a serving girl stretched atop the shards of a shattered pitcher, snoring. “This must have been what crashed,” Annie muttered, and made sure that the girl hadn’t cut herself. She continued on and was amazed that no one had gotten hurt, not even the scullery maid who had fallen asleep with her sleeve in the fireplace. It was almost as if the fire had gone to sleep as well, for it seemed to be just a shadow of flames and not hot enough to burn. Even so, she moved the girl away from the fireplace and doused the fire with a pot of soup cooling on the table. It barely fizzled when it went out.

Annie was crossing the Great Hall when she realized that over the unceasing sound of the wind chimes she could hear the faint tap of her soft-soled shoes hitting the herb-covered floor. It was a sound she had never heard before, at least not in the Great Hall. The Hall was the heart of the castle and normally bustling with activity at all hours of the day and night. The sounds of people talking, dogs barking, pages playing games, and, lately, the music of the minstrels had made it one of the liveliest places in the castle. She had never heard it so quiet before, and it made her stop and listen. The people were still there, of course, draped across the tables and sprawled on the floor where they’d landed when they collapsed. Some of them were even snoring, but the faint sound was lost in the huge room, and for the first time that day, Annie began to feel afraid.

She walked more quickly now, still hoping that she might find someone awake. When she discovered her father sitting upright on the oversized chair in his private meeting room, she thought for a second that he might not have fallen prey to the curse, but as she approached she realized that he, too, was asleep and that the wide curving back of the chair was all that kept him from falling over like the nobles around him. Annie left him there, unable to help him any more than she could her mother or sister.

She was walking through yet another corridor when she glanced out the window and an idea occurred to her. Retracing her steps, she entered the Great Hall and looked for one of the little dogs that some of the ladies of the court always kept with them. She found one at the feet of an old lady she’d never really liked. She hadn’t liked the dog, either, but he was small and easy to carry, so she picked him up, petting his head to calm him when he came partially awake.

Stepping around the sleeping guards at the door, Annie crossed the courtyard and reached the drawbridge. It was still down, but with no one to guard it she wondered how long it would be before someone who had no right to be there wandered in. The little dog seemed perkier now that they were outside, and Annie began to think that her plan might really succeed. Maybe the curse worked only as long as its victims were inside the castle. Maybe she could bring them out and everyone would wake up.

Thinking that the soft tinkling music she heard was part of the magic in the castle, Annie ignored it when she knelt to lay the little dog on the ground. “Ow!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. Prickly rosebushes had started sprouting from the normally soft grass and she nearly stumbled over one that had sprung up behind her. Retreating to the road that led to the drawbridge, she set the dog near the edge of the moat. Although the dog had been alert enough to lick her hand just moments before, as soon as she was no longer touching him the little animal’s eyes shut and he went limp, making breathy sounds as if he had inhaled too much dust.

“So much for that theory,” Annie muttered as she scooped up the little dog. Cradling him in her arms, she recrossed the drawbridge, returning to the courtyard within the castle walls as the climbing roses twined around the taut cables. She stopped once she was past the portcullis and looked back. The roses had already covered the drawbridge, but didn’t seem to be growing past the walls. Instead, they twisted and looped around themselves, reaching higher than her head and creating an impenetrable barrier armed with long, razor like thorns.

Annie shuddered and hugged the little dog tighter, disliking the roses even though they weren’t a bad idea. Everyone in the castle was sound asleep and likely to stay that way for years, if she remembered the curse correctly, which meant that whoever had made the roses grow around the castle wall had probably done it to keep people out rather than in. Even so, a wall like this would protect her family and friends better than any guards. Unfortunately, it also meant that Annie was trapped, or would have been if she hadn’t known a secret or two about the castle.

Annie had no intention of staying in the castle. If she did, she’d be long dead before anyone in her family woke up. There had to be something she could do to end the curse, but she’d have to leave the castle to find whatever it was. Her family should be fine where they were until she got back, which wouldn’t be long if she was lucky.

Hurrying to the Great Hall, she paused before stepping inside. Although she was used to the faint music of the wind chimes and was able to block them out, there was something different, or at least she hadn’t noticed it before. Everyone was just as she had left them, and their breathing was just as deep and regular, but now it was more uniform. All the people seemed to be inhaling at the same time, and exhaling in unison. The noise was faint, but it almost sounded as if the castle was breathing. It frightened her enough that she tiptoed across the stone floor, positioned the dog beside his owner as quietly as she could, and tiptoed out again.

Annie crept up the stairs, on edge now in a way she hadn’t been before. The sound of breathing wasn’t as obvious in the stairwell as it was in the Great Hall because there weren’t as many people there, but she could still hear it each time she stopped to move someone she had overlooked, or to glance behind her, which she did with increasing frequency. She had the strongest feeling that someone was watching her, yet as far as she knew, she was the only one awake in the entire castle.

“Is anyone there?” she called out once, but the only response was silence.

Queen Karolina’s eyes were moving behind their lids when Annie knelt beside her. “Mother,” she said, hesitating only a moment before placing her hand on the queen’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” the queen murmured, frowning slightly.

“Mother,” she said again, giving the queen’s shoulder a shake. “I have to talk to you.”

“Whatizzit?” her mother mumbled, opening one eye a crack.

“It’s the curse. Gwendolyn pricked her finger on a spinning wheel and now everyone’s asleep. There must be something I can do.”

“There is,” said her mother. “Lemme go back to sleep.”

“In a minute. I need you to help me remember exactly what the curse said. First that wicked fairy said that if Gwennie pricked her finger on a spinning wheel, she’d die. That’s right, isn’t it, Mother?”

Annie gave her mother another shake when she didn’t answer. The queen, whose hair had begun to turn gray, muttered, “That’s right. The fairy Voracia.”

“And then that fairy with the revolting name stood up and changed the curse.”

“Sweetness N Light. Lives in the Garden of Happiness.”

“That’s right! She changed the curse so that instead of dying, Gwennie would sleep for a hundred years.”

“And wake when the love of her life kisses her on the lips,” said the queen. “She said he has to be a prince. Won’t work otherwise.”

“I can’t do much about the hundred years, but I can find a prince,” Annie said. “Maybe he’ll be able to help me with the hundred years thing.”

“Go get Digby. He can kiss her,” her mother replied.

Annie frowned. “I will if I have to, but that man is such a twit.”

“Maybe so,” the queen murmured as her daughter took her hand away. And once again the only sound was breathing.

Annie got to her feet and looked around the room. The ladies would have to stay where they were; she wasn’t about to take them all back to their beds the way she had Gwendolyn. Even her mother’s room was too far to take her.

She was about to leave the room when she noticed the piece of parchment that her sister had dropped. Gwendolyn couldn’t read, so it was no surprise that she hadn’t even glanced at the parchment. Annie, however, had made a point of learning to read and write. In fact, she had tried to learn many things that Gwendolyn couldn’t do, mostly because she had no desire to compete with her sister in all the things she could do perfectly. Where Gwendolyn was as light on her feet as thistledown, and was the belle of every ball, Annie had crept away to learn dancing from the Gypsies, who didn’t care how gracefully she could twirl on her toes. Gwendolyn rode sidesaddle like a lady and wore beautiful clothes. Annie put on boys’ clothes and had the stable master teach her how to ride bareback. She had a groom teach her how to juggle, something Gwendolyn would never have considered doing. An old soldier taught Annie how to handle a bow and arrow. She made friends with the servants’ children and asked them to teach her how to swim in the Crystal River and catch fish from its bank. Every time she discovered something that Gwendolyn couldn’t do, Annie tried to learn how to do it.

There were many things that Gwendolyn could do perfectly. There were many more that Annie could do very, very well. Unfortunately, reading the writing on the piece of paper wasn’t one of them. It took her a minute of scrutinizing the florid writing with all its curlicues and whorls before she was able to make out the simple message. Happy Birthday was all it said, but the writing was so fancy that it looked as if there might be more.

Annie had been so worried about everyone in the castle that it hadn’t occurred to her to wonder who had sent the spinning wheel. She’d assumed that the evil fairy must have sent it, but few fairies were able to write, and she’d never heard of any sending notes. The note was on nice enough parchment, but it was the kind her mother might have had, certainly nothing fairy-made.

She turned the note over, hoping there might have been some indication of who had sent it. When there wasn’t anything else on the parchment, she bent down beside the trunk and examined it down to the smallest detail. It didn’t look like fairy work. Although it was beautifully made, she saw a few places on the bottom where the marks of the adze hadn’t been smoothed away; a trunk made by a fey craftsman would have been flawless. The man who had delivered it had appeared human as well and not like someone an evil fairy might have sent. Whoever had sent the trunk had been human, not fairy, and that was the most puzzling part. As far as Annie knew, neither Treecrest nor Gwendolyn had any human enemies.