5. The Stolen Bride
The memory found me, even in my dreams.
It was a cold, winter morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and I lay nestled under a thick goose down comforter.
I woke to a piercing scream in the hallway. I scrambled out of bed to see what was the matter. From the hallway, I heard sounds in my older sister’s bedroom.
”Briar,” I called at her door.
There was no reply, so I pushed my way in.
I knew at once that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Every window in her room was open. The cold, salty air wrapped around me like a chilly embrace, tickling my neck and tugging on the small strands of hair at the nape of my neck.
I shivered.
Though day was only just beginning to break, every candle in the room had been blown out. Through the shadow, my sister was nowhere to be seen. The comforter on her bed was thrown back, and her bed was empty.
Well, almost empty.
On the tousled sheets lay a golden shell.
Soon, more servants entered the room, then Maggie, and finally my father.He took one look at the awful scene and let out a gut-wrenching moan. Only one type of intruder would leave a shell— the fae.
Moments later, we were entrusted into our childhood nursemaid’s care and locked in the root cellar. It was dark and smelled of earth. Our only light source, a lantern, flickered, revealing fear in our nursemaid’s eyes.
We huddled together under a heap of blankets and listened to the barreling footsteps overhead. Men were searching our home and grounds.Even as I hoped, as I prayed, father would return with Briar, I knew all was lost.
Our men would never find her. She had been taken to the fae’s island, and she would never return. They said every generation a bride was stolen. They said it calmed the storms.
ButI didn’t care. I just wanted my sister back. My fearless, clever Briar.
I held the golden shell to my ear, the one I had found on her bed. I only heard a faint echo of my sister’s voice.”I love you,” she said.
I woke and ran a hand across my collarbone, seeking the golden shell which I had turned into a necklace. I wanted to listen to that distant echo of my sister’s voice, but it wasn’t there. My heart quickened. I sat up and searched under my pillow and among the linens. It was missing, and I knew at once where I had lost it—the pond.
I wouldn’t be allowed to simply leave through the front doors, and I couldn’t tell my father what had transpired last night. The sun had just risen, and there was enough light to see outdoors. So, I gathered my skirts and crawled out the window.
Carefully, I stuck one slippered foot into the trellis and then the next. Then, with the precision of a skilled escape artist—which I supposed I was—I climbed alongside the jasmine until I reached the ground.
I hurried down the dusty drive, through the oak grove and underbrush, and out to the hidden pond.
I hated myself every step of the way. Foolish. Careless.
When I looked out at the murky pond water, I almost broke down and cried. How would I ever find it?
Determined not to quit, I shimmied off my dress and dove in, running my hands along the bottom of the pond. I sifted through silt and shell fragments, hoping to feel the cool metal of the golden chain.
I resurfaced. A whimper escaped my throat.
I dove again and again. I forgot the palace. I forgot my father and his staff who would soon be looking for me. All I could think of was Briar and the shell that contained a tiny echo of her voice, one that would never age nor fade nor leave me.
I couldn’t lose this last precious piece of her.
If it was gone, it would be like she was gone. Not waiting somewhere to be rescued. Not living as a fae bride. But gone. Forever. Never to return.
I was breathless from diving, and my heart fluttered like a sparrow.
Finally, I dragged myself out of the water and lay on the weathered dock. I looked hopelessly across the murky pond and began to cry. It started with a single tear but built to a crescendo of despair.
A large bullfrog leapt out of the water and landed on the dock next to me. I grimaced at the sight of him—slimy and wet. Absolutely disgusting. The last thing I needed.
Then I heard someone clear their throat. I sat up and straightened my back at once, looking around for the source of the noise. Had one of my father’s servants found me so quickly?
”Why are you crying, princess?” asked a low, rumbling voice.
“I’ve lost my necklace,” I said, turning to see who had joined me.
There was no one in sight. That was when I realized the voice was coming from the frog. I let out a piercing scream.
He hopped backward as if to avoid me should I choose to slam my hand downward. Not a poor impulse.
I caught my breath and steadied myself. This was clearly the work of powerful witchcraft. The frog himself could be a witch, or he could be the object of one’s ire. Either way, it was best not to intervene.
I stood up.
”Wait,” said the frog. His voice was oddly commanding, regal even.
Something about it made me pause.
”I can assist you,” he said.
”I don’t see how,” I replied, taking another step backward. I wanted to put some distance between us.
”You seem to have lost something. Perhaps, I could find it for you,” offered the frog. ”I can see easily in the water.”
I wanted to jump at his offer, but something was off. ”Why would you help me?” I asked.
”Why wouldn’t I help you?” he replied. ”Has no one ever done you a good turn before? How sad.”
”No,” I admitted. ”People usually want something from me.”
”Would you be more comfortable if I did, too?”
I considered him for a moment before nodding. ”Yes.”
”Fine. I will make a request then. If I find your necklace, I wish to live by your side. This pond has very little in the way of riches.”
So, he wanted riches. That wasn’t a problem. I had an armoire full of jewelry and a sack of gold coins. I would gladly trade them all to hear my sister’s voice.
I smiled. ”You have a deal.”
The frog nodded once and dove nimbly into the water.
Ten minutes later, he returned with a golden chain in his mouth, the shell floating neatly behind him.
I snatched it out of the water and clutched it to my chest, crying happy tears.
”And now for the matter of my payment,” prompted the frog.
I nodded. ”What items would you like? I have gold and jewelry.”
”You promised I could stay by your side.”
I couldn’t bring a frog into the palace, especially a talking one! My father would never permit such blatant sorcery. I frowned. ”I cannot allow you to stay by my side, but I can provide you with riches. Name it, and it shall be yours.”
If it was possible, the frog looked angry. His bulbous eyes were narrowed, so that only black slits showed. He emitted a terrible, furious screech. Then he said, ”I have already named my price.”