morning, but apparently almost three hundred
years agochoosing dresses for the ball. There is no reason not to have a ball. Yes, I am
three hundred sixteen years old (give or take a year) rather than sixteen years old, but
since I have neither starved to death, nor died of thirst while asleep, it seems as though
my body has been somehow suspended in time all these years. Besides, Jack would not have
kissed me had I been a crone. Therefore, tomorrow will still be my sixteenth birthday, and
I am still entitled to my party, so I still need dresses.
The bad news is that the most beautiful dresses were supplied by someone whom I now know was an evil witch bent upon destroying me because she
was annoyed at not being invited to a previous party (I will say, Father and Mother were
rather shortsighted in not simply inviting herwhat would it have cost, an extra pheasant
and perhaps some turnips?), so I will need to continue my search.
I venture into the first, then the second room. I know I should go looking for Mother and
Father, but I simply can- not face them yet. I do not want to tell them what I have done.
They will never forgive me.
It is in the third room that I see Father. He looks distraught.
Talia, I am so glad to have found you. Although, truthfully, he does not look glad in the
least. I have terrible news, he continues. The ball must be canceled. But why? Although I have some idea why. He has dis-
covered my folly with the spindle, and he means to punish me. I prepare to bawl, possibly
to wail. I am an excellent wailer.
But Father says something even more surprising. I do not know, my pet. It seems there are
no guests. No guests? Whatever do you mean? It is the queerest thing. The lookouts saw the
first ships off in the distance at nine oclock. By ten thirty, some were on the verge of entering the
harbor. But then they simply disappeared. Disappeared? I repeat what he has said to give me time to think.
Father nods. I fear, daughter, that there is something afoot here, that we might be on the
verge of war, or worse, that I may have been victimized by black magic, the dark art of
the witch Malvolia.
Malvolia. Oh, no. In an instant, I understand what hap- pened to the ships. They did not
turn around, nor were they bewitched, not really. They may have tried to enter our harbor.
But when they did, it was not there. The king- dom was obscured from sight by a giant
wood, as Flavia said in her idiotic spell. They thought they had gone to the wrong place.
The guests, the visiting royalty, even the special prince who might have been my husband,
they have been dust for centuries, and I am merely a three-hundred- sixteen-or-so-year-old
princess with absolutely no prospects whatsoever.
It will take a great deal of tact to explain this to Father. I am sorry, my dear daughter.
He is sorry. Would it be possible simply to feign igno-
rance of the whole situation? Pretend I have no idea what happened to the ships, no
comprehension of what causedI am certainnumerous additional changes to the kingdom?
But I remember Jacks clothing and the strange flashing object he carried with him, Traviss
talk of buses. Certainly the world changed during our three-hundred-year hiberna- tion, as
surely as it changed during the three hundred years before that, and as soon as Father remarks the changes, he will understand their cause. If
he does not, Lady Brooke will be certain to tell him.
Father? I touch his shoulder. Yes, my princess? I believe . . . I take his arm, sweet as I
can, and guide him toward a chair. I believe you should sit down. He does, and when he does, I begin to
tell my story.
I touched the spindle, and then at the next moment, a commoner named Jack was waking me
up, I conclude.
Father is silent. Father? Are you . . . is everything quite all right? You say you touched
a spindle, Talia? A spindle? It was no fault of mine. No fault
years agochoosing dresses for the ball. There is no reason not to have a ball. Yes, I am
three hundred sixteen years old (give or take a year) rather than sixteen years old, but
since I have neither starved to death, nor died of thirst while asleep, it seems as though
my body has been somehow suspended in time all these years. Besides, Jack would not have
kissed me had I been a crone. Therefore, tomorrow will still be my sixteenth birthday, and
I am still entitled to my party, so I still need dresses.
The bad news is that the most beautiful dresses were supplied by someone whom I now know was an evil witch bent upon destroying me because she
was annoyed at not being invited to a previous party (I will say, Father and Mother were
rather shortsighted in not simply inviting herwhat would it have cost, an extra pheasant
and perhaps some turnips?), so I will need to continue my search.
I venture into the first, then the second room. I know I should go looking for Mother and
Father, but I simply can- not face them yet. I do not want to tell them what I have done.
They will never forgive me.
It is in the third room that I see Father. He looks distraught.
Talia, I am so glad to have found you. Although, truthfully, he does not look glad in the
least. I have terrible news, he continues. The ball must be canceled. But why? Although I have some idea why. He has dis-
covered my folly with the spindle, and he means to punish me. I prepare to bawl, possibly
to wail. I am an excellent wailer.
But Father says something even more surprising. I do not know, my pet. It seems there are
no guests. No guests? Whatever do you mean? It is the queerest thing. The lookouts saw the
first ships off in the distance at nine oclock. By ten thirty, some were on the verge of entering the
harbor. But then they simply disappeared. Disappeared? I repeat what he has said to give me time to think.
Father nods. I fear, daughter, that there is something afoot here, that we might be on the
verge of war, or worse, that I may have been victimized by black magic, the dark art of
the witch Malvolia.
Malvolia. Oh, no. In an instant, I understand what hap- pened to the ships. They did not
turn around, nor were they bewitched, not really. They may have tried to enter our harbor.
But when they did, it was not there. The king- dom was obscured from sight by a giant
wood, as Flavia said in her idiotic spell. They thought they had gone to the wrong place.
The guests, the visiting royalty, even the special prince who might have been my husband,
they have been dust for centuries, and I am merely a three-hundred- sixteen-or-so-year-old
princess with absolutely no prospects whatsoever.
It will take a great deal of tact to explain this to Father. I am sorry, my dear daughter.
He is sorry. Would it be possible simply to feign igno-
rance of the whole situation? Pretend I have no idea what happened to the ships, no
comprehension of what causedI am certainnumerous additional changes to the kingdom?
But I remember Jacks clothing and the strange flashing object he carried with him, Traviss
talk of buses. Certainly the world changed during our three-hundred-year hiberna- tion, as
surely as it changed during the three hundred years before that, and as soon as Father remarks the changes, he will understand their cause. If
he does not, Lady Brooke will be certain to tell him.
Father? I touch his shoulder. Yes, my princess? I believe . . . I take his arm, sweet as I
can, and guide him toward a chair. I believe you should sit down. He does, and when he does, I begin to
tell my story.
I touched the spindle, and then at the next moment, a commoner named Jack was waking me
up, I conclude.
Father is silent. Father? Are you . . . is everything quite all right? You say you touched
a spindle, Talia? A spindle? It was no fault of mine. No fault
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