Clara stared incredulously across the silent courtyard.
"It is said that anyone who sleeps in her bed will find true love. But it seems" — Jacob gazed at the dark windows — "the prince never showed up."
Or he had perished on the thorns like a skewered bird. A mummified hand stuck out from between the roses. Jacob pushed some leaves over it before Clara could see.
A mouse scampered across the courtyard, and Fox jumped after it, but she immediately stopped with a whimper.
"What is it?" Clara asked.
The vixen licked her side.
"Threefingers kicked me."
"Let me have a look." Clara leaned over her and carefully prodded her silky fur.
"Lose the fur, Fox!" Jacob said. "She knows more about humans than about foxes."
Fox hesitated, but then she obeyed. Clara stared at the girl who suddenly stood before her, in a dress that looked as if the red moon had woven it onto her body.
What kind of world is this? her face asked as she turned to Jacob. If fur turns to skin, or skin to stone, what remains?
Fear. Bewilderment. And enchantment. All of that was in her eyes, and as she stepped toward Fox, she rubbed her own arms, as if she could already feel the fur on her skin as well.
"Where's Will?" Jacob asked.
Clara pointed at the tower next to the gate. "He's been up there for over an hour. He hasn't said a word yet," she added, "since he saw them."
They both knew whom she was talking about.
* * * * *
Nowhere did the roses grow as densely around the circular walls of the tower. Their blossoms were of such a dark red that the night tinged them almost black, and their scent hung heavily in the cold air, as if they did not feel the autumn.
Jacob already knew what he would find under the pointed roof before he started climbing the steep spiral stairs. He had to keep freeing his boots form the thorny tendrils, but finally he was standing in front of the room where, two hundred years earlier, a Fairy had delivered her birthday present.
The spinning wheel stood next to a narrow bed that had never been meant for a princess. The body that lay on it was covered with rose petals. The Fairy's curse had kept it from aging, but the princess's skin was like parchment and nearly as yellowed as the dress she'd been wearing for two centuries. The embroidered pearls still shimmered in brilliant white, but the lace at the hem had turned as brown as the petals that covered the silk.
Will was standing by the only window, as if the prince had finally arrived. Jacob's steps made him spin around. The stone now also stained his forehead, and the blue of his eyes was drowning in gold. The bandits had stolen what was most precious — time.
"No ‘happily ever after’ here," Will said, looking over at the princess. "This was also the curse of a Fairy."
He leaned his back against the rough wall. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes," Jacob said, lying. "What about you?"
Will didn't answer right away. And when he did, his voice sounded as cool and smooth as his new skin.
"My face feels like polished stone. The night grows brighter with every passing day, and I could hear you long before you reached the stairs. I don't just feel it on my skin now." He hesitated, massaging his temples. "It's inside me as well."
He walked to the bed and stared at the mummified body. "I'd forgotten everything. You. Clara. Myself. All I knew was I wanted to ride to them."
Jacob searched for words, but he found none.
"Is that what's happening? Tell me the truth." Will looked at him. "I won't just look like them; I'll be like them. Won't I?"
Jacob had the lies ready on the tip of his tongue, all the ‘Nonsense, Will! Every will be fine!’ but it wouldn't pass his lips. His brother's look did not allow it.
"You want to know what they're like?" Will plucked a rose leaf from the princess's strawlike hair. "They're angry. Their rage bursts inside you like a flame. But they are also stone. They can feel it in the ground, breathing beneath them."