Cursed

Aunt Felice

In a small cottage, nestled between the trees deep in Barren Wood, Helena Thorne sat between her ten-year-old cousin Hans and her husband, Nicholas, the woodcutter, spooning her share of bean stew onto her plate.

As Helena poured herself a small glass of ale, the cottage door crept open. Her Aunt Felice entered the house, clutching something in her hand. Without acknowledging the others, Felice swept over to a small glass case trimmed in gold that sat atop a shelf tucked in the corner of the main room. She placed a round black stone into a holder at the center of the case, then closed the glass door. She muttered a few words with her eyes closed then turned to her family.

"Aunt Felice," Helena said, standing up. "I need to speak with you."

Felice held up her hand. "Now. Now. Eat up, Helena, dear. You're skin and bones," she said, pointing to her bowl of beans on the table.

Helena moved toward Felice's little corner of the room. It was surrounded by books and strange objects, but Helena had learned long ago never to question her about such things. "Aunt Felice," Helena said, taking a deep breath to quell her nerves. "I need permission for something," she finished softly.

"What is it, child?" Aunt Felice asked, eyes tired, reshelving a book she'd just started to take down.

Swallowing nervously, Helena's words tumbled out quickly. "I'd like to go see my sister."

Felice laughed. "You know the rules," she said, sitting down at her small desk and turning her back on the young girl.

Helena paused, glancing back at Nicholas for a moment. "I need to go and speak to her," she pled.

"Helena, you knew the rules when I allowed you to come live in my forest and in my realm," she said, turning around and pinning her with a serious look.

"But it is not your realm," Helena said boldly. "It belongs to all of us, doesn't it? And I think that I should be able to at least visit my sister."

Felice stood up, eyes hot, narrow and sharp, as if they'd turned into the eyes of some terrible creature. Her jaw set and her fists clenched. Just as her lips opened to speak, her son, Hans appeared next to her, tugging on her sleeve, "Helena, Nicholas is drooling over your pie."

Helena looked squarely into her aunt's eyes before turning to her young cousin with a sweet smile. "Come, let's go stop him from gobbling it all up then, shall we? Then, a little tea and it's off to bed with you."

***

Helena returned to the table with her husband, but Hans lingered behind. He looked up at his mother expectantly and held out his hand. His mother smiled, quickly handing him a small vial of liquid. "Do exactly what I told you for each of them. After dinner, I want to check on the curse with my own eyes."

"But the stone is still black," he said, glancing up at the golden stand that housed it.

"I also have a midnight appointment with someone who will tell us where to find more of the root, so it stays that way," she said, turning to look at Helena and her husband. "We must keep them at bay. I don't want any more questions."

Hans nodded and then dashed after his cousin. "Helena, could I help you with the tea?"

***

Later that night, in the princess' quarters, Ellinor lay in bed, watching Dominic closely as he lifted a hefty book from the stand near his side of the bed. He studied the letters on the binding for a moment and then walked toward the door. Sitting up abruptly, Ellinor called out, "Why must you always go out at night?"