Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback

“With a sword?”


Justus’s smile hurt his cold cheeks. “I’m not very good with the real tools, so perhaps I should try.”

“I’m sure you just need practice,” Monster decided. “You’ll be given an array of carver’s instruments, and any wood we have available.

Could you sculpt me?”

“Perhaps,” Justus said, and a thought pushed his drowsiness away, bright sunlight burning away a fog. He maintained his sleepy mumble, however, when he went on, “for a trade.”

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? Castle of Masks ?

“Oh? Name a price that’s not your freedom,” Monster said. Each word vibrated through the Greve’s chest to Justus’s cheek.

“I just want a bow and arrows that won’t crumble in your clumsy fingers,” Justus said.

“Agreed.” Monster chuckled. “When can I expect my magnificent sculpture?”

“A week,” Justus said. “Maybe two, if the wood is as poor as your table manners.”

“The wood will be as fine as your aim.”

Justus smiled, but his heart now hurt as badly as his head.

Justus spent the next two days in bed, sipping broth through swollen, bruised lips. The injuries made his necessary shaving a painful experience, but he admired the dark ring around one eye as he looked in the mirror. In all his life, Justus had never looked tough, but now, wearing a frilly nightgown while he lay on a bank of pillows in a lady’s lace-canopied bed, he looked as if he’d been in a real brawl.

When someone knocked, Justus swallowed and worked his voice into Karin’s high, husky tone. “Come in.”

It was Monster, carrying a small bag. “Here are your tools. I sent Valfrid to a good market for them. The wood is in the library, which has the best light. How do you feel?”

“Splendid. I told Rigmora you beat me, so she’s sneaked me pastries for every meal.”

“I wondered how you got so fat,” Monster said.

Justus laughed his silent laugh, and Monster made up for it with his own volume.

“Your sculpture will be done in a week, but you mustn’t peek until I’ve finished,” Justus said. “I told you I’m not very good, so there’s no use you thinking I’m even worse.”

Monster promised not to look, and Justus ushered the Greve out so he might dress himself and begin his task.

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? Cory Skerry ?

The block of wood was as tall as Justus, of a fine grain, and it fell away as easily as snow beneath his new carving implements. Valfrid had even thought to buy paper and leads for the designs. Justus decided upon a snarling, crouching Monster, about to spring for a kill. This pose would remind Justus why he had to complete his quest.

On the third day, Monster interrupted Justus while he was carving.

Justus hurriedly pulled the sheet down over his work and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes?”

“I wasn’t sure if you would be disturbed or entertained if I faced away from you and read to you as you worked,” Monster said. The creature’s eyes were squeezed shut.

After a pause, Justus said, “Entertained,” and so they agreed upon a collection of poems. The Greve read as Justus scraped away flakes of not-Monster to expose the hulking form beneath.

Every day, Justus carved for an hour alone after breakfast. Then Monster showed up with a book, often held in his jaws as he groped his way across the room, eyes shut until he was safely in his high-backed chair. When Justus glanced up, he only saw Monster’s fox ears and his hairy elbows.

Justus could tell he hadn’t gotten the balance of the sculpture right; Monster leaned to the left a little, and one foot was too small.

But Justus kept carving, more slowly every day, until it was the last day and he hadn’t even started the head.

“I need another week,” Justus said over breakfast.

“Is it more difficult than you imagined?” Monster asked.