A Little Fairy Dust Read online

  A NineStar Press Publication

  www.ninestarpress.com

  A Little Fairy Dust

  ISBN: 978-1-64890-186-7

  © 2021 Mell Eight

  Cover Art © 2021 Natasha Snow

  Published in January, 2021 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at [email protected].

  Also available in Print, ISBN: 978-1-64890-187-4

  WARNING:

  This book contains sexual content, which may only be suitable for mature readers. Depictions of graphic wartime violence

  A Little Fairy Dust

  Mell Eight

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  The Tower

  Cleanly Wrong

  A Heart’s Dream

  The Red Apple Witch

  Cinder-Elle

  The Curse

  Happily Ever After

  Thunderbird

  The Beast

  The Fairy Tale Origins

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  I hope you enjoy my collection of reimagined fairy tales and are able to figure out which fairy tale each story is based on. Some are easy to spot like Cinder-Elle and The Tower and The Beast. Others may surprise you. Most importantly, have fun reading!

  My parents introduced me to fairy tales as a child, and I've always dreamed of putting my own spin on a few of my favorites. I’d love to hear feedback on what you think.

  You can reach me at: Facebook: www.facebook.com/MellEightFiction, Twitter: @MellEight or visit my website at: www.melleightfiction.weebly.com

  The Tower

  Chapter One

  “And now, Prince Haines will pick the person who will be honored with the Rapunzel Posting!” General Darien called out loudly, his parade voice easily carrying over the noise of a few hundred men and women enjoying the annual feast. The room immediately quieted. Every year the officers and select few enlisted who were receiving an honor came together for a thank-you and award ceremony, but only every seven years was the Rapunzel Posting awarded.

  Ishiah watched as Prince Haines stood from his place on the dais, where all the highest officers had been seated for the ceremony, and walked around the table until he was standing in front of the plinth holding a golden bowl. The bowl was easily deep enough for a baby to bathe, solid gold, and encrusted on the outside with gemstones, and it matched Prince Haines’s outer appearance perfectly. Haines had golden-colored hair he kept pulled back from his face with a ruby-colored ribbon. His hand, as he lifted it above the bowl and hesitated there as if to drum up more drama, had a gemstone ring on every finger.

  Those in the room held their collective breath as Haines dipped his fingers into the golden bowl. For the last seven days, the plinth and bowl had been standing in the entrance to the officers’ mess hall where any officer interested in the Rapunzel Posting could drop a slip of paper into it with their name on it. Ishiah had walked around that bowl before and after every meal for seven days straight. He hadn’t put his name in, but he hadn’t needed to. He was just as capable of reading the winds of his political fate as anyone else in the kingdom.

  It was with no surprise to Ishiah that Haines pulled out a piece of paper and read out: “First Lieutenant Ishiah Fitzsimons!”

  The room didn’t erupt into cheers as it would have for someone who actually wanted the post. Even the lowest enlisted man or woman in the room knew who Ishiah was. Fitz, meaning bastard child of royalty, and Simons, meaning the child of King Simon. Born to a mistress not even two months after Haines’s own birth, Ishiah was a constant reminder of the king’s infidelity to the political animals in the kingdom. He was also a second potential heir to the throne. With Prince Haines trying to solidify his status now that his wife was pregnant, Ishiah knew it was inevitable that he would be shuffled off somewhere. It was only a coincidence that the Rapunzel Posting had come due this year, and the convenience of it must have made changing all the slips of paper in the bowl to carry his name instead of the rightful candidates a worthy endeavor.

  Ishiah stood from his seat at the back of the room and walked through the whispers and the tables toward the stairs that led up to the dais. He looked almost nothing like Prince Haines. Where Haines was golden, Ishiah was dark. His hair was black and was shaved tightly to his head on the sides according to military regulations, but he had allowed the wide strip on the top of his head to grow extremely long in the style of the eastern barbarians. The military allowed the enlisted barbarians to keep their ceremonial hairstyles or risk a potential uprising of the eastern territories, and many non-barbarian soldiers had chosen to copy them. Ishiah had originally done it to prove to the court that he was no prince—a prince wouldn’t dare emulate the barbarians—and had ended up liking the hairstyle enough to keep it. Tonight, his long hair was thickly plaited and the tail of the braid rested between his shoulder blades. His skin was tanned like his mother’s had been, the color of wet sand along the southern coast where his mother had been from before meeting King Simon. Only his eyes, gray shot through with blue streaks and wide in his face, proved his heritage. He shared his eyes with King Simon and Prince Haines.

  Gray met gray as Ishiah climbed the stairs onto the dais and bowed to Prince Haines.

  “Rise, soldier, and be honored,” Haines said loudly enough to be heard over the soft whispers of the gossipers that had begun to fill the room. “First Lieutenant Ishiah Fitzsimons, you have been honored with the posting in Rap Tower in the Zel Mountains. You hold this prestigious duty to guard our lands from the western invaders. For seven years, seven months, and seven days, you will be watching for any sign of the returning hoard, and you will be studying. The tower has been provisioned with every textbook needed so when your posting ends you will be prepared to take on the mantle of colonel and lead this army to victory!”

  He paused and it took Ishiah a moment to realize Haines was waiting for a response.

  “I am honored to be chosen,” Ishiah replied because that was the only thing he could say. “I will execute my duty faithfully and with diligence.” He bowed again.

  “Then come, join me for a toast and some dessert.” Prince Haines gestured to the seat at the table that had remained ceremonially empty throughout the banquet. Ishiah walked over to it and stood behind the chair until Haines had retaken his seat. Ishiah sat and servants immediately entered the room bearing dessert trays.

  “Congratulations, Lieutenant,” General Darien said from Prince Haines’s other side once the chatter around the room had risen enough that it would be difficult to hear what was being said on the dais. General Dairen was smiling at Ishiah, but there was a hard glint in his eye indicating he was aware of the political maneuvering that had gotten Ishiah the posting.

  “Thank you, General,” Ishiah replied.

  They fell silent as plates of cake and glasses of champagne were placed in front of them. Prince Haines lifted his glass first.

  “To Lieutenant Ishiah, who I know will be the most successful officer to come out of the Rapunzel Posting.”

  Those who could hear Haines also lifted their glasses in a toast. Ishiah took a long sip of the champagne, hoping to let the resentment he could feel bubbling up in his chest pop along with the bubbl
es in his drink. The dais was silent after that as they all applied themselves to their cake. Only once everyone else was distracted by other conversations did Haines fully turn toward Ishiah.

  “I am sorry, Ish. I know this isn’t what you would have chosen,” Haines began, his voice soft so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Of course it’s not, Hay,” Ishiah replied, his voice tight with the anger he was trying to keep suppressed.

  Haines shook his head firmly as if he needed to brush away Ishiah’s feelings in order to finish what he had to say. “There were whispers at court. The malcontents unhappy with some of the policies Father and I have been implementing were talking about replacing us with you.”

  “Hay, those whispers started the day father announced to the court that I was his child,” Ishiah replied, his anger making his words more of a growl than actual syllables. “Just admit that you’re scared and instead of coming to talk to me about a solution you hatched this scheme instead.”

  “Fine!” Haines snapped, although his voice still managed to remain quiet. “Of course I’m scared. Victoria is three months pregnant and extremely vulnerable. I want my child to have a chance to be born, not murdered in the womb by some idiot who wants to put you on the throne instead of me. I only had a few options, Ish, to remove you as a threat. I could have killed you, of course, but that wasn’t an option I was willing to consider. Father suggested making you an ambassador to one of our trading partners across the ocean, but I know you would have hated that. Think about it, Ish. Seven years and you’ll come out of it a full colonel with a big enough salary and enough prestige you can settle down comfortably anywhere in the country. When General Darien suggested you as a good candidate for the posting, Father and I agreed.”

  After seven years of being out of the spotlight of the court, Ishiah would be all but forgotten by the malcontents. Haines would have cemented himself as the heir and his child as next in line. And, if Ishiah chose to live somewhere far away from the capital after the posting was over, his status as bastard son of the king would be all but forgotten.

  And all of it had been neatly thrust on him in a way that left zero room for his refusal.

  It took a moment for Ishiah to bury his anger again. Raising a fist toward Prince Haines would get him put in jail, which would be even worse than being put in the tower for seven years.

  “You still should have talked to me about it first,” Ishiah said once he was certain his voice could remain soft enough to keep their conversation private. “Instead of springing it on me like this. Treat me like a brother, Haines, instead of like the enemy you fear I’ll be turned into.”

  “You’re right.” Haines let out a heavy sigh. “You are right,” he repeated. “Forgive me?”

  Ishiah frowned at Haines for a long moment before sighing himself. “Eventually, Hay. Let me be angry for a little bit longer. I expect you’ll write me weekly and that my niece or nephew will start writing me as soon as they’re able.”

  “I’ll write you, Father will write you, and I’ll make certain my child will write you. Ish, this posting is an honor, you know. We make sure not just anyone is picked for this. They have to be highly recommended by their peers and their superiors. If you hadn’t been, you’d be on a ship heading for an ambassador posting instead. Please, I know you didn’t want this, but be honored you are thought of so highly.”

  “I will be, Hay. As soon as the anger and betrayal fade, I will be.” Ishiah cracked a tentative smile for Haines to show he meant it. “Besides, now you’re going to have to figure out someone else for the court gossips to focus their ire on. Who will be the next family scapegoat now that they don’t have my hair or the fact that I keep showing up to court events in my leather armor to harangue you over?”

  “I’ll be certain to let you know who they pick and why,” Haines replied with his own hesitant smile.

  Ishiah might be angry with him, but they were still brothers. They would get through this, and in seven years who knew what the political climate and their relationship would be like.

  *

  The tower came into view quickly enough. After only a day of riding out of the city heading due west, the pointed roof of the tower became visible on the horizon. For the next two days that’s all Ishiah could see of it. By day four, he could make out the edge of the large window that opened to the northwestern mountains. For seven years, seven months, and seven days, Ishiah would be looking out that window as his only view of the outer world.

  Day five of riding brought them well into the Zel Mountains, and the height of the tower was briefly hidden behind the high cliffs that bordered the narrow pathway, before quickly reappearing as the winding path climbed over those cliffs.

  Sometimes he felt like the tower was taunting him. For seven years it would be his home—his prison—and for his last seven days of freedom it was a constant reminder on the horizon of what his life was about to become.

  Midday on the seventh day brought them to the foot of the tower, and suddenly Ishiah realized just how massive a tower it was. It was ten stories high and wide enough around the base for an entire wing of the castle to fit inside. Built of thick gray stone, it looked ominous, nestled as it was in a shallow valley just before the path continued over the highest peak in the Zel Mountain range and began to descend into Faltiken, the land of the mindless hoard.

  The most evident feature of the tower was actually what it was lacking, which in this case was any form of a doorway on the ground level, or even any level higher up the tower. The only entrance was that one window.

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” one of the guards called mockingly toward the top of the tower.

  “Blow it out your ear!” a woman’s voice responded angrily seconds before a long, braided rope of what did indeed look like hair came tumbling down from the top of the tower.

  There was quiet for a long moment before the first guard who had spoken turned toward Ishiah. “Lieutenant, it’s time to climb.”

  Ishiah’s stomach clenched, but he swung off his horse and approached the rope despite the trepidation curling in his gut. His first impression was correct; the rope was made of some sort of hair, most likely horse, and it was easy enough to pull himself up the rope.

  Ten stories had never looked so high before as he dangled from the rope, pulling himself up hand over hand with his legs wrapped around to keep him from slipping. He suddenly felt a tug on the rope and glanced up to see a woman hanging out of the tower window high above, pulling the rope as he climbed.

  Ishiah’s arms and stomach burned before he even reached halfway, and he didn’t want to admit that the woman overhead probably did double the amount of work he did in getting him up the tower. He was a sweaty, exhausted mess by the time the woman hauled him over the windowsill and into the tower. He collapsed to the floor, panting desperately for breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and his arms shaking.

  “It hits everyone like that,” the woman said gently. She was standing over him, still looking out the window. He glanced up and saw she had tossed the rope back outside. “I know you’re tired, but you need to listen to me closely because I’m getting out of here as fast as I damn well can.”

  He nodded to show he understood and, with a groan, got himself sitting upright so he could look at her.

  “This rope is your only lifeline to the outside world. It breaks, the only way you’re getting supplies or getting out of here is by climbing down the side itself. Check it every day for mold and for tears. Supplies and instructions on how to weave more hair into the rope to fix it are through that door over there.” She pointed to a closed wooden door off to the right of the room, then glanced back out the tower before she started hauling up the rope again. “Supplies come every other week. They’ll load up a basket and wait for you to bring it up.” She didn’t sound winded in the least as she pulled at what was no doubt a heavy weight. Ishiah was still panting. “You send your trash and any messages or supply request
s back down in the basket.” She tied the rope over a hook driven into the side of the window and bent outside to grab the handle of the largest basket Ishiah had ever seen. Actually, it was probably in proportion to the massive size of the tower, now that he thought about it.

  She tipped the basket over, and Ishiah’s belongings tumbled onto the floor in front of him.

  “Bedroom’s out here,” she explained, and Ishiah finally looked around him to take in his new home.

  The bed was pushed against the wall directly across from the window, and it was high enough that Ishiah would probably be able to see out the window without needing to get up. Along the left wall was a wide couch with a low table just in front of it. Along the right wall was a high table with two chairs, which was a little odd considering there was only one occupant of the tower at a time. Interspersed along those two walls were a number of closed wooden doors.

  “Behind the kitchen table is the kitchen. There’s a pantry in there with a cold box. Keep it clean or you’ll get bugs. Or birds. They’ll fly right in the window if there’s something to attract them. The library is the door next to the couch. Trust me, you’ll read every book in there many, many times, if only to stave off boredom.”

  While she was explaining, she was stuffing her own belongings into the basket. Once all of her bundles were inside, she carried the basket back to the window and heaved it out. It took a moment to unhook the rope, and she started lowering the basket down to the ground.

  “Door right next to the bed leads to the bathroom. There’s running water. Don’t ask me how, because I have no idea. Damned tower is older than our great-great-grandparents, at least, and it’s had running water longer than the barracks at the castle.” The Rapunzel Posting had only been in use for the last two centuries, but the tower predated that by an unknown number of years.

  Two centuries ago, the mindless hoard of Faltiken had invaded Monrath. Although the history books were always reluctant to admit it, Monrath had been losing the war by a considerable margin. Then Private Gabby had gotten separated from her patrol and chanced on the tower. Somehow, she had climbed all ten stories without a rope and had seen that the mindless hoard wasn’t so mindless. It had split in two, looking to catch the remaining Monrath soldiers in a pincer. Gabby had climbed back down the tower, found her patrol, and reported what she had seen. Monrath had won, and Private Gabby had ended up marrying into the royal family.