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She had not been a dream.

9

Fantasy

The bang of a mallet shocked me from sleep. One minute I’d been unconscious, licking caramel that drizzled from an imagined tree spire. The next, I flailed in the sheets, still on the cot where I’d snuggled against Mother.

The noise brought me up short.Ugh. Not again.

Vaulting from my pillow, I gaped around the workshop, wondering how I’d snoozed through this mess. Chunks of timber littered the floor, along with scattered lumber chips—the leftovers from a mobile of jays in flight. At least she hadn’t gone after a piece of furniture this time.

At the table by the window, Mother raised her arm, mallet in hand, dead set on pounding the spokes of a spinning wheel to smithereens.

“Mother,” I said to the hunched back. “Mother!”

She whirled in her chair. “The bells stopped.”

They had. But the horrible twinge in my chest hadn’t.

I heard the groggy motions of the lower town as people struggled to get on with their day. Because of the alarm, I wagered a majority of them hadn’t gotten a wink.

Shuffling off the cot, I picked through the chaos on the floor and inched open the second story sash. Outside, chimneys coughed up plumes of smoke. A woman pushed a broom over the stones. A man lugged a bushel of sweet potatoes.

Townsfolk snooped while working, casually glancing down alleyways. Their eyes prowled the area, an uncommon action from the good-natured population of Autumn. They knew more than they had last night, otherwise they wouldn’t be acting funny.

My thoughts skidded from one problem to the next. The alarm. The First Knight. The fairytale acorn strapped to my thigh.

I’d been brought to life from a nut, back when Mother had stuffed it into the hollow in my chest.

Now it was my turn to help her, with the precious acorn that I’d taken.

The prize had been kept safely in the vault while the Queen prepared to share it with the kingdom, to display it as an Autumn symbol, for all the citizens to enjoy. The Royals had been planning to host an unveiling on Hallo Fest.

Everyone knew the legend of that third nut, but none had ever found it—until now. Someone living in the castle had come across it, though I didn’t know who. The Crown hadn’t revealed that bit of information to Mother when she’d been commissioned to design a presentation case for it.

Everyone also knew what the third acorn could do for whomever possessed it, so Mother’s chest had to display the nugget beautifully while also providing a measure of security, in case some needy soul got sticky fingers.

Mother had been a logical choice for the job, since she’d been serving the Crown for years. She was no stranger to the castle.

But she’d never taken me there before.

She had met with Queen Avalea several times for this commission, to show Her Majesty plans and sketches, to report on progress.

At the time, I hadn’t intended on thieving the fairytale’s third acorn. That wasn’t until later, when life at home began to change. That’s when the acorn’s discovery took on new meaning to me. That’s when it got personal.

And that’s when I realized what I had to do. For Mother.

I closed the sash. I probably looked awful this morning, my woodskin lackluster, but at least I didn’t get those awful bags under my eyes, as other girls did.

“Aspen,” Mother said. “Did you hear me?”

I whipped around. “Mmm, a little.”

“You went to Merchant Alley yesterday, didn’t you? Did you bring back the nails?”

“There wasn’t time.”

Lie. There had been time to stop by the shop, but I’d ignored it. I’d been too busy initiating the stonemason’s son, scoping out the citadel, and planning my siege. I’d only remembered to fetch that order of new oil finishes.