PROLOGUE: ANEURIN

I was certain I could not tolerate another insufferable evening in these damned confining clothes. Tugging at the collar of my tunic, I silently let out a curse into the cool night air. The music from the festivities below, a gentle, enchanting melody of the celebration, drifted up to where I stood on the balcony of my chamber. I’d done my best in avoiding the gossiping members of the court who still could not cease bringing up Josephine’s name around me. 

This was a night of grand celebration. My brother was finally engaged, and there was once again a promise of stability – a guarantee of a prosperous future now that he was to be wed. My brother, the epitome of regal charm, and his beautiful future bride-to-be were at the center of everyone’s attention. I was grateful for the distraction from myself. 

Sliding a hand through my hair, I let out a deep sigh. It had been apparent from the ballroom floor just how much of a stark contrast I was to the idyllic scene. The years I’d spent as a cursed amphibian had only isolated me from the kingdom, and worse, my family. Sitting at the dining table night after night, left me quiet and disconnected, while my family went on as I imagined they had for years without me. The courtiers had much to say about their theories of my previous life. I couldn’t stand to hear their remarks. Memories of the long nights, being confined in a body that had never truly been mine, feeling so far away from home…from my family. My manservant Henry had tried to tend to my every whim, except for the one I’d truly wanted the most—the freedom to be a man again. In the quiet evenings, when only the sounds of grasshoppers kept me company, I had imagined myself as I once had been, and it had filled me with a sadness I’d never known how to describe. I had dreamed of my return home, to the welcoming arms of my father and mother. But the reality of my return was not one of excitement, but uncertainty and fear. 

I overheard the whispers about “the mysterious woman,” who had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. Her presence had unwittingly brought danger by luring the very man who had cursed me into the heart of the palace. Despite it being me who had bargained with the man called Rumpelstiltskin again, Josephine’s disappearance had left unanswered questions and an uneasy tension that permeated the palace walls. 

The festivities below were a cruel reminder of the life I could have had but had lost. 

I slid my hands over the cool stone of the balcony railing and closed my eyes. For so long, my life had been consumed by one purpose—breaking the curse with a true love’s kiss. I had never allowed myself to imagine what came after. I supposed that I would slip back into the role I had left as a young man. I would be welcomed back with open arms and take my place beside my father as his heir – his true heir. However, as that path had changed, I was forced to forge a new one —a life in which I would stand beside my brother as a symbol of unity. It was my duty to assist him in his new role, and it was an honor to do so – or so I was told. Even as I stood beside him in the glowing ballroom, I saw the hope in his eyes as he looked at me, and the quiet joy as his gaze shifted to his bride-to-be. The way he held her hand to his lips, the love that passed between them – it was clear. Charming would be a noble and worthy king, and I would serve him with unwavering loyalty. 

Loosening the necktie of my tunic, I tilted my chin up towards the sky, gazing over the sparkling stars above. “Josephine…” I whispered. 

In all honesty, despite my impeccable ability to keep track of the hours of a day as a frog, I had lost track of how many weeks had slipped by since the last time I had seen her. Had it been a fortnight? Longer? Or perhaps even shorter?

The memory of our last night was etched vividly in my mind. The gentle touch of her hand in mine, the sparkle of mischief in her dark brown eyes, and the softness of her laughter as I held her in my arms while we danced. I had been a fool not to kiss her then. Maybe if I had, she would have been able to stay by my side. I had ignored the silent plea in her eyes, ignored the gnawing in my stomach. I’d been so determined to fulfil the foolish bargain I’d made with Rumpelstiltskin, and it had made me so willingly blind. 

I had known Josephine had been the one for me ever since seeing her with that irritating woodland man—Arch, with his untamed beard and wise eyes. For as insufferable as I found Arch to be, I knew it was because he was her friend. I had yearned for the warmth of her friendship, to be on the receiving end of her charms, her smiles.

I had also been a fool to deny the truth for so long, until it was too late. It was maddening how deeply Josephine had worked her way into my heart—only to be torn away before I could fully grasp it.

After the defeat of Rumpelstiltskin, Josephine was returned to her world by a mysterious woman. As the clock in the grand hall began to strike twelve, she dissolved before my very eyes, her form fading like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind nothing but the pair of glass slippers my mother had lent her. Instantly, my heart had been filled with longing. I had remained alone on the dance floor for several minutes until my brother pulled me away. In my manic desperation, I pleaded with my parents to allow me to search for her—to search for ‘the mysterious woman.’ They inevitably gave in to the request. Hours bled into days, and there was no trace of Josephine, nor the woman. It was as though Josephine had never existed in my world. Perhaps she hadn’t. 

Since that moment, I had been haunted by the memory of her disappearance, by the ache of her absence that grew with each passing day. I missed her with a depth of longing that threatened to consume me. A yearning that gnawed at my soul and left me restless in the quiet hours of the night. 

I knew I would never find her again. She’d claimed to come from another world that existed outside of my own. Many days, I found myself longing to retreat to my chambers and escape the routine of long meetings with my brother and silent dinners with my parents. I preferred to sit in the quiet darkness and bury my sorrows in a decanter of mead by my bedside. I hoped that if I stayed there long enough, the world outside would fade away, and with it, the ache in my heart.

Maybe then, the enchantress—the cruel and cunning one who had spirited Josephine from me would decide to grace me with her presence again. Many nights, I pictured her slipping into the room, her voice as dangerous as a snake’s whisper. She would look upon my pitiful state and offer to curse me back into the amphibious form I once loathed but now yearned for. 

I knew I couldn’t let myself remain lost in those thoughts forever. As much as I wanted to linger in the past, I had a role to fulfill, just as I always had. It was time to reintegrate myself into my family, to reclaim my place—it sounded more noble than it felt. I had to come to terms with my brother’s ascension to the throne, and by the night’s end, I wanted to offer my congratulations to him and his soon-to-be bride convincingly. After all, who wouldn’t want to celebrate the fact that my dear brother would someday be the ruler I’d been trained to become? Duty demanded I play my part, and so I arrived, prepared—armed with charm and wit to navigate a room teeming with courtiers, who were more interested in gossip than actual conversation. I preferred the company of the men in the forest that Josephine and I had encountered to the people of my family’s kingdom. 

I danced with many of the eligible women, aware that my participation would help pacify their gossip-hungry mothers. I moved through circles of small talk, offering pleasant smiles and well-rehearsed banter. With every conversation, I maintained an air of composure, masking my lingering thoughts of Josephine. It took considerable effort to hide my discomfort behind a polished facade, to act as though her absence didn’t linger like a shadow at the edge of my mind. I had learned to hide so much when I’d only been a few inches tall. 

Opening my eyes, I stared out into the darkness and released a slow breath, letting the night air wash over me. I’d been gone long enough and didn’t want to give anyone a moment to question why I’d been gone for so long. I only had an hour more, and then it would be midnight, and I’d be able to depart from the festivities for good. I peered back up at the night sky, gazing at the brightest star above me. I hoped that wherever Josephine was, she too could see this star and think of me. 

Perhaps it wasn’t very reasonable to hold onto that hope…to entertain such wishes. “Find me then,” were her last words to me, and yet here I was, unable to do even that. 

“A drink would do me good,” I muttered to myself. I just needed a goblet of mead before I returned to the festivities. As I turned on my heel, something stirred in the shadows beside the velvet-curtained door, barely visible from the corner of my eye. I froze, my body tensing as I waited, my breath catching in my throat.

A faint rustling reached my ears as I watched the curtain sway on its own. 

“Gerrit?” I asked, calling out the name of my valet. But there was nothing but silence. “I’m in no mood for games,” I continued. “Show yourself.” 

Taking a step forward, I reached for the curtain. Almost on cue, a shadowed figure slowly emerged from behind. To my surprise, the figure was much smaller than I had expected, barely reaching half my height. There was a pause before the figure stepped into the faint light, illuminated by the moonlight. What I saw took me by surprise—a fairy! Her delicate wings shimmered like iridescent pearls as they caught the faint glow from above. She hovered before me, her wide violet eyes reflecting determination as she drifted closer.

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step back. In truth, despite all the stories I had heard as a young boy, stories about witches and enchantresses, mermaids and trolls, I had never quite believed in fairies. The woman’s gown, a deep blue that sparkled under the moonlight, glistened as if woven from the very stars. Her hair, short and white, was pinned back with tiny glass baubles that gleamed faintly in the night. She looked ethereal, otherworldly—like something pulled from a dream.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I must speak with you.” Her words hung in the air as she paused in front of me. The timing, her sudden appearance, couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Did she come bearing news of Josephine? My thoughts raced between hope and dread.

“I am Lunelle,” she murmured. “A fairy of the stars.” 

“The stars?” I echoed, disbelief mingling with curiosity. I had never imagined fairies could exist beyond the skies, let alone among the stars themselves. Was this how wishes were granted? 

“My sisters and I observe from above,” Lunelle continued, her gaze centered on me. “We hear the wishes whispered from those down below. And we see everything.” Her eyes grew wide, and she gestured at the sky. “And I have seen something perilous, Your Highness. Something you must know.” Her final words fell to a whisper, delicate yet heavy with forewarning.

I forced my brow to remain calm, though frustration flared beneath my skin. “If you could elaborate,” I said dryly, my tone clipped but measured. Mystical proclamations were of little use without answers.

“Your brother, sire…” She continued. Her delicate features were etched with genuine concern. “Your brother is in grave danger.” 

My heart skipped in my chest as I peered at her with wide eyes. My brother? I looked over my shoulder, listening to the soft melody of the ball taking place below. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

“If he’s in danger, I must go to him,” I said firmly, attempting to move past her. If there were something to be done, I wouldn’t waste a moment standing idle. But before I could take another step, Lunelle’s small hand darted out, her fingers clutching the sleeve of my white tunic. Her grip, impossibly firm for her slight frame, held me fast. I pulled against her, but my feet felt rooted to the stone, as if the ground itself had conspired to keep me still.

“It is far too dangerous,” she murmured. “Neither you nor your brother is safe—at least not yet.”

My patience waned under the weight of her cryptic warnings. “You’d best explain yourself,” I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing. “Now.”

Lunelle released a shaky breath before replying, “There is an evil witch who has set her sights on you and your brother. She seeks to undermine you both, to plant herself in a seat of irrefutable power.” 

“A witch?” I repeated, incredulously. 

“One of the most powerful in all the land,” she continued, ignoring my question. “Her magic is dark, ancient, and fueled by envy.”

I narrowed my eyes, determination flaring in my chest. “If you release me, I can go directly to my father. Surely, he can do something about this.”

A bitter smile twisted her lips, and for the first time, a flicker of something almost human crossed her delicate features. “If it were that simple,” she said quietly, “do you not think I would have already alerted him?”

I gritted my teeth, frustration mounting. “Is this not exactly the sort of thing you’re supposed to handle? Instead of trapping me here, shouldn’t you be doing something about this witch?” If an enchantress had the power to send Josephine away with just a flick of her fingers, surely this fairy could deal with a rogue witch.

“You honor me with your compliment, Your Highness—” 

“It was no compliment,” I interjected, scowling.

“But even my magic has limits.” 

I let out a slow, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“There is…one person who can help you,” Lunelle said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “One person who can save your brother from making a grave mistake.”

“A mistake?” My mind reeled at her words. What in God’s teeth had Charming done now?

“It’s the woman he intends to marry,” she continued, her tone somber, her words deliberate. “She is not who she seems. The maiden he met a fortnight ago is no longer the one with whom he plans to exchange vows.” 

I stared at her in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“You must find the one who can break the witch’s hold.” 

“God’s teeth, not this again,” I muttered, frustration boiling over. Another vague warning, another puzzle without a key.

“You must find her,” the fairy pressed, her tone sharp now, cutting through my doubts.

“Her?” I repeated the word hanging in the air like a storm cloud. “Who? Who am I supposed to find?”

Lunelle leaned closer, her luminous eyes locking onto mine as she pulled her wand free from the waistband of her gown. With a simple touch against the sleeve of my tunic, I watched as my white royal finery was transformed into a simple blue tunic with a leather satchel on my side. 

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked, tugging on the simple fabric. 

“Remember, Prince Aneurin,” she said, “The face you seek is not the face you see.” 

“Speaking in riddles does nothing to aid this situation,” I retorted.

Before I could demand more answers from her, the fairy pulled out her wand. It gleamed in the moonlight as she pointed it toward me. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Lunelle said softly, almost regretfully. “But you will soon understand.”

In an instant, a blinding light erupted from the wand, enveloping me completely. I tried to shield my eyes, but the brightness was overwhelming. The ground vanished beneath me, and I felt weightless, as if flung through the air by an invisible force. The rush of wind roared in my ears, and my heart pounded in a frantic rhythm. When the light finally ebbed away, I gasped for air, disoriented and breathless. My feet landed unsteadily, and I stumbled, blinking rapidly as my surroundings came into focus.

The world around me had changed entirely. 

 

Excerpt 2

As soon as I stepped out of the shower, I rushed to dry off and slip into my carefully chosen pajamas––comfortable, but presentable. The distant hum of the TV in the living room filtered through the door, a reminder that my parents were still out there. I worked my damp hair into a loose braid, fingers moving quickly as I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My cheeks were flushed from the heat of the water, and my eyes carried the remnants of a long, strange day.

“This is as good as it’s gonna get,” I murmured, exhaling as I reached for the doorknob. I padded across the hall, slipping back into my room and shutting the door behind me. My gaze immediately landed on Aneurin, now comfortably seated on my bed, the book of fairy tales resting in his lap. The sight of him in borrowed sweats was still jarring, but he didn’t seem to mind. He looked oddly at ease, flipping through the pages as if he had all the time in the world.

“Doing alright?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

He lifted his gaze from the book and smirked. “Your modern utilities are…impressive,” he said, his tone even. “Though I must admit, it lacks the elegance of what I’m accustomed to.” 

I rolled my eyes, crossing the room. “You survived. That’s what matters.”

I sat down beside him on my bed, eyeing the book in his hands. 

“I’m sorry that I don’t know a way back to your world,” I murmured. “I’m sorry the book isn’t cooperating.” 

Aneurin nodded slowly, leafing through the blank pages again. “It perplexes me how it could work before for you, but…what changed?” 

“Everything,” I said before I’d realized it. “The stories that I experienced with you, while similar to the ones that I’ve known my whole life, were different. And I don’t know if it’s because we changed them, or if it was always supposed to be that way…” 

Aneurin stayed quiet as I took the book from his hands and flipped to the first page once more. The written inscription stared back at us.

“For those who wander through these pages, listen well to the tales of ages…for deep within one’s heart will find, their past and present, intertwined.” 

I scanned the words, waiting––hoping––for something to happen. But the page remained still, offering nothing but silence. There was no flicker of magic, no shift in the air—just the written words on the page. 

“Why don’t you try to read it out loud?” I suggested, glancing at Aneurin. “It hasn’t worked for me since…but maybe for you. . .” I hesitated, then gave a slight shrug. He studied me for a moment before his gaze dropped back to the book. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he took it carefully from my hands. His fingers brushed over the ink as he read the words aloud, but nothing happened. His brows pulled together in frustration as he shut the book with a quiet thud. Aneurin exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I—” He hesitated, his expression shifting as if something had just occurred to him. His gaze flickered to me before he stood abruptly. “My satchel.” 

“Your satchel?” I gazed at him, confused as I watched him cross the room to where he’d left the leather satchel earlier. “What about your satchel?” 

“Perhaps that fairy left something in the satchel.” 

“Did she say so?” 

“Do fairies always share what they’re up to?” Aneurin replied as he picked up the bag and came back to sit on the bed. 

“It’s not like I’ve had a lot of experiences with them,” I remarked as he ran his hands over the worn leather before he undid the clasp and reached inside. A slow breath escaped him as he pulled out a small velvet pouch. His fingers tightened around it as his expression became unreadable. Slowly, he loosened the drawstrings and tipped the contents into his palm. There emerged two golden rings. 

The light overhead caught the metal, sending a warm glow across his skin, but there was something else beneath the surface. A shimmer, thin as silk, wove between the rings, like an almost invisible thread stretching outward. I followed its path with my eyes until—

It was connected to the book.

Aneurin froze.

We both watched as the golden thread pulsed once, flickering faintly before vanishing as if it had never been there at all. But I saw it. We both saw it. His grip tightened around the rings as he slowly reached for the book again. Without a word, he flipped it open to the page of the spell.

And this time, the book came to life.

The once-empty pages were no longer blank. As he turned them, ink bled across the parchment, forming words and illustrations as if the book itself was waking up.

“But how?” I asked, my eyes wide with wonder. I’d spent so much time wishing for this very moment. 

“Does it matter?” Aneurin asked, slipping one of the rings onto his finger. He turned, extending the other toward me. “Will you still come with me?” 

Our words echoed in my ears as I stared at the golden ring.

Will you still come with me? I knew I wanted to. 

Just friends. But were we? 

I wished for you…I had…

My fingers hesitated, hovering just above it, but I had already made the choice somewhere within me. Before I could think twice, my hand moved on its own. My fingertips brushed the cool metal, and a strange warmth pulsed through me as I took it. Slowly, I slipped the ring onto my right ring finger. Aneurin watched in silence, his expression seemed relieved. Then, without another word, he pulled the book onto his lap, his grip firm, and began to read the words aloud.

“For those who wander through these pages,” he began. The light above us flickered–just as it had before, for me.

 “Listen well to the tales of ages. For deep within one’s heart will find…” 

“Their past and present intertwined,” I finished, my voice a whisper as I slid my arm through his and squeezed my eyes closed. I could feel the shift before it happened, a tightness in my chest that grew as the words left my lips. I knew what was coming. 

A sudden burst of light flooded the room, blinding in its intensity. The familiar, invisible force wrapped around us, tugging with a magnetic pull, like being caught in a vortex that wasn’t quite of this world.