A Wicked Thing

She had spent years locked in a tower, unable to see anything of the world but the scarp of forest beyond her window, but stories had provided her escape. New books, old books, dramas and histories and fantastical adventures, stories of ordinary lives, stories of dragons and demons, murders and mysteries and myths from long ago. A hundred possible worlds, more true to her than her own, more compelling than a life of staring at the same walls and same trees, waiting for the day when the lock would click and she would finally be allowed to be free. A story could not hurt her.

A heavy wooden door waited at the end of the staircase, blocking all sound from beyond. Aurora stared at it. She had not walked through it in years, not since her father decided that even the rest of the castle was unsafe for her. It was longer than years now. Lifetimes. The door had marked the way out, the way to freedom, for her whole quiet little life. What was it now?

I am nothing, she thought. Nothing but myself.

Magic. For the first time, she heard the word and felt a twist in her stomach, a little thrill. Having that kind of power, that kind of influence... it was a wicked thing.

Why did you do it?” he said. She frowned, “Do what?” “Prick your finger. If you knew the spinning wheel was cursed, why did you use it?” She had never wondering that, not once. Fate decreed, and she had acted, like so much else in her life. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said. “Celestine enchanted me.” “There’s always a choice, Princess.