Chapter 3
On the way back home, Naia stared at the blossom-bejeweled hillsides, wondering how such kaleidoscopic color could possibly look so drab.
Moreover, how could her prince fail to recognize her? That never happened in Granger’s Fairytales. But maybe there was more to this story. Maybe a fairy godmother would get involved, or a spell of some sort, or maybe Naia could win Elias’s heart by healing his brother. Maybe—
“I want to tell you a story, Naia.”
Naia shifted. “A story?” she said, with barely concealed hopelessness.
“Yes.” Her mother sounded decisive. Clipped, almost. “One I ought to have told you a long time ago. One that’s entirely true, too.”
Naia sighed, but she did love stories. “Okay. How does it go?”
“The story starts like this: everywhere else, it’s winter right now. In other lands, the seasons change. But in this land, we’re cursed. Here, summer never ends.”
Naia sat straighter, despite herself. This story wasn’t in her book. She was quite sure she’d never heard anything like it. “Why would anyone want summer to end, though?” In Granger’s Fairytales, winter always brought scarcity. Famine. Death.
“Because,” her mother said. “When the rains stop falling, summer will turn deadly. The animals know it. That’s why your father’s gone longer and longer each time he hunts. The deer are already fleeing this place.”
Naia blinked. “Really? But why are we cursed? Who would’ve done that?”
“A queen. A powerful one, who lived a long time ago. A very long time ago. She had no sons, only a daughter, and she traveled the land, searching for a man worthy of her child. And the princess fell in love with a simple woodcutter, right here in this village.”
Naia angled closer. “Did she marry him?”
Her mother sighed. “No. The princess had a kind heart, but her face was plain, and the woodcutter refused to marry a woman who wasn’t beautiful.
He laughed at the princess. Broke her heart.
The queen flew into such a rage that she cursed the land with never-ending summer.
Only when the people of our village learn to look beneath the surface will the curse be broken. ”
Naia fingered the scarf she still held. She itched to throw the thing beneath the cart’s wheels. “When will that happen?”
“I don’t know.” Her mother’s voice dropped. “Maybe never.”
The words fell through Naia like icy rain. “Never? But...how will summer ever end?”
“It might not. But there is another way. A second side of the curse. Do you see that mountain up there?”
Naia followed her mother’s finger. In the distance, a rocky red spire rose above the trees.
“That’s our failsafe,” her mother said. “Our only hope when summer goes on too long. Inside the mountain lives a beast, who knows a song that will bring on the autumn. But once it’s sung, the seasons only turn once.
When summer returns, we’ll get stuck again.
Over and over, until the villagers learn to see. ”
Naia considered. “But if the beast knows the song, why doesn’t he sing it?”
“He can’t. Only the one who defeats him can. And the beast can only be bested by someone with a worthy heart. Which means this village can only survive if it produces a pure-hearted champion every few generations.”
Naia squinted. The mountain shimmered, red and looming—a trick of the heat, probably. “How long has it been summer this time?”
“Oh, ages.” Her mother’s voice hollowed.
“My great-grandmother remembered a winter from when she was a little girl. But before that, it had been summer as long as anyone could remember. And even when someone sings the song to make this summer end, we’ll just have another.
Because they never learn, Naia. They never see. ”
Silence. The mule plodded along. The cart’s wheels squeaked.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Her mother pinned her with a look. “The villagers don’t understand what really matters. So pay no attention when they point. When they laugh. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful. Not on the inside. Not where it counts.”
Naia swallowed back tears. “But...if that’s true, who will ever see me for me?”
Her mother’s expression was even fiercer than when she’d come away from the trader empty-handed. “Whoever defeats the beast. You pay attention, because that man...he’ll be worthy of you.”
Naia slumped. It wasn’t the answer she wanted.
Not unless Elias slew the beast.