“I know your throat is sore; don’t try to talk.” She paused, and Briar nodded for her to continue. “Even after all you knew, you still pricked your finger on the spindle.”
Nod. Briar held up her finger, showing the spot of blood.
“How does she do that?” Fanny whispered. She sighed and rubbed liniment on the spot. “Too late for this, but it won’t hurt.”
Briar held back her tears. All those years of avoiding any mill accidents only to be pricked by a spindle. And of the thousands of spindles, Briar had to go and prick herself on the one that could cause her the most harm.
“Well, you’re not dead yet,” Fanny stated matter-of-factly. “For that, we can be thankful. As long as there is life there is hope, yes? Let’s go over everything again and see if we didn’t miss something important.”
Briar closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on Fanny’s voice over the pain.
“As the youngest fairy, I always have to wait until the end to give my blessings to the babies. And tiny Aurora—she was a sweet little babe—had been given such wonderful ones already. My blessings had been taken: beauty, cleverness—that’s my favorite—and singing. I was slow trying to come up with something unusual and the other fairies—there are several of us—were getting impatient. You should have seen Prudence! Was she ever giving me the look. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
Briar managed a smile. Yes, she did know the look.
“Is that the blue silk?” asked Fanny, reaching to pull it out of Briar’s pocket. “I forgot all about the cloth. I’m cleverer than folks give me credit for. Have you been using this to protect yourself? It provides a small barrier to Isodora’s magic.”
“When I put the spindle on the machine, I had it wrapped in the cloth, to hide it.” Briar paused to swallow. “I thought maybe it would look like I was cleaning my frame. I hadn’t physically touched the spindle at all until today.”
Fanny tucked the cloth back in Briar’s pocket. “Is the light hurting your eyes?” she asked. She blew out a candle, dimming the room even more. White smoke rose in a swirl and looped around Fanny’s head. Fanny watched the smoke, her eyes growing distant. She let out a deep breath. “Seems I lost track of the evil one, and that made the others nervous. And a bit angry with me.” She held up her hands in a stop motion. “In my defense, I told them I wasn’t the best fairy to put on the job, but the others didn’t want to be tied down. And since I’m the youngest, it seems I have to do what they say.
“They’re always giving me the worst jobs—not this one. Goodness, I don’t want you thinking that watching you and the children is on the same level as tracking Isodora. No, no. This”—she looked around the room with a contented smile—“is a privilege.” She sighed, and a hint of wistfulness escaped. “This I would like to keep doing, for your sakes and mine. I knew children were fun, but my, oh my.” She giggled. “You wouldn’t believe what the boys did to Mrs. Clover. She came by for tea and they tried to hide under the table to listen to the grownups talking. We let on like we didn’t know they were there—who knew she was such a sport?—but with them knocking our knees and the whispering, it was like a barrel of squirrels had infiltrated the house.”
Fanny appeared to get lost in her thoughts and Briar prompted her with a whimper.
“Sorry, dearie. How is that tea?” She looked into Briar’s almost empty cup. “Drink it all. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. My history with Isodora. Well, while I was dreaming up my gift for Aurora, Isodora arrived in the great hall. Late and angry. Past angry. There was no reasoning with her. Personally, I think she was just looking for a reason to be mean. There was no need for her to curse the princess with death. Nor to have her parents live every day in fear of when it would happen.
“The whole family was at the party, pleased as anything a princess had been born. The family is prone to boys, you know, so she was special, even for a princess. There were platters of fruit and quail and currant cake. It was a party like the kingdom had never seen before. You know the story, yes? Isodora was left off the invitation to the christening—serves her right for staying away for so long. We’d all forgotten about her, though even if we remembered, we still wouldn’t have wanted her. She’s impulsive and spiteful and ruins everything. Her pride is so easily offended. Before I was able to give my blessing to the child, Isodora cursed her, then left in a huff.