Fairytales of the Macabre (Fairytale Collections)

And what if I simply want a good night’s sleep?” I ask him, making my usual mistake of staring defiantly up at him.

He smiles.

He is more than handsome.

He is a dangerous, beautiful thing.

“I have a bed,” he whispers to me, and at least we have this, I think with satisfaction.

Sensual tales, for carnal pleasures.

What will I do? I asked her, and she told me how to find my father’s magic, how to take back what is rightfully ours.

What if I give in? I asked her, and she warned me not to falter, not to lose sight of what has so long been foreseen.

Why must I do this? I asked her, and she reminded me it was my birthright; that she had seen it on the night that I was born, and had known it as my fate since I was a child in her arms.

I am the daughter of the king of dreams and the queen of destiny.

I was born as much for love as I was made for destruction, and now, at last, I understand.

There is always a cost , my mother told me sadly, for nothing beautiful is ever as it seems.

It’s difficult not to remember my prince’s face as I destroyed his life’s work, letting the sands of magic that belong rightfully to my father—and thus, to me—coat the flames that swallowed a lifetime’s worth of plans. There was a cost, my love for him, and I paid it; in return, my father stands uncontested, unopposed, and rules his realms again.

But not for long.

Outside my window there is a castle, floating, with five illuminated towers, each forming the apex of a five-pointed star. Each of the towers shimmers with gold, irradiant in waves, and there is a pulsing, gentle warmth from within the castle’s battlements that beckons to me, coaxing me forth like the crook of a finger. The castle hovers as if manifested from nothing; a thick, entrancing fog spreads out from its base in eerie, alluring tendrils.

The draw of it is tempting; I reach a hand out, my fingers drifting helplessly towards it.

I remember my mother’s warning; you will always find each other.

I see now that it was a blessing as much as it was a curse.

I couldn’t let him go; not fully. I wear the precious few remaining sands around my neck—the ones I couldn’t burn—to remind me of what I’ve paid, and what I must always pay for the keeping of my heart. I am the daughter of the king of dreams and the queen of destiny, but my mother and I have always known it was my fate to live with a conscience torn.

So long as any dream remains, a magic prince can always be reborn.

“What have you brought for me, my love?” I ask the wind, knowing that the castle he has built for me will stand in ash before the night is through, but at least we’ll have this night together. On these nights, elsewhere, children sleep soundly, and tired minds will find rest.

On nights like tonight, Nightmare is with her prince.

At the sound of my voice, Noctus materializes beside me with a smile, the scars of his betrayal refracting the light from the castle’s golden walls as he reaches out, touching the hourglass I wear around my neck.