Fifty Shades of Sleeping Beauty by Lotte Harding Page A

impervious to both fire and axe.
    Those were dark days for the subjects of Nysa. Those who did not flee became slaves to the conquerors, and all the spoils of the once bountiful kingdom were used up by its new masters.
    And yet, such was the nature of Nysa that it could not help but soften its cruel rulers. The memories of the old kings and queens who had once ruled a land of fun and frivolity were forgotten, as were stories of the kindly witches who watched over them, but at the same time the conquerors intermarried with their slaves and became softer natured themselves. As for the two woods that no-one could enter, one fair and verdant but a place of dangerous illusions while the other was dark and impenetrable, everyone simply said that these were haunted places and avoided them at all costs.
    And so it came to pass, a hundred years after the curse came to its fulfilment, that a new king sat on the throne of Nysa. His name was Osiman VII (for originality in naming kings was not really a thing among the new rulers of the country), and unlike his forefathers he bore no desire for cruelty and power. The slaves were freed and all the bounties were to be shared equally among his subjects, giving rise to much rejoicing and something like the old joy that had not been seen in the land since Princess Talia was a young girl.
    Osiman VII was a young and virile man, tall and darker skinned than the natives of Nysa, though not as dark as his forebears. Standing over six foot in height, though he was no stranger to the pleasures of women his dalliances had been those of youth and he still retained a tender heart. Not a few of the women of his kingdom wished that he had been a little more corruptible, as they giggled and swapped rumours as to how well-blessed he was below the waist. His hair was jet black and his eyes dark, and his love of the hunt and of sports meant that he was a strongly built man, athletic and virile.
    It was while he was out hunting one day that he and some of his courtiers came to the forest that surrounded the old castle. They had been chasing a deer on their horses, enjoying the sensation of the wind through their hair as they and their hounds followed swiftly behind, but as they drew near to the forest all of them came to a halt when they saw the barbs and brambles that filled the wood.
    The deer was a beautiful creature, elegant and graceful, and the regent’s hounds had given it a hard chase so that its flanks were flecked with sweat. Although the forest was as forbidding to it as it was to its pursuers, yet desperate to escape it leaped over a stream that ran at the edge of the trees and, spotting a break in the thickets, darted into the wood.
    Something about that place was so dark and foreboding that it took the young king all his skill to bring his horse close to where the hind had vanished, and he could hear the neighing and calls of his followers and their own steeds behind him. Dropping to his feet beside his gelding, he patted its back and looked into the shadows that filled the forest even as the sun shone brightly ahead.
    “Come!” he cried out in a loud and masterful voice. “We follow now on foot!”
    Many of his fellow hunters were fearful, though they dared not admit it, and for all the strength of his voice Osiman understood their concerns. Yet more than his desire to capture his prey, the king had long been intrigued by the stories that surrounded this mysterious forest and saw this day his chance to satisfy his curiosity.
    As they pressed into the trees, their clothes caught in the branches and evil-looking spines that sprung from the undergrowth, one by one the king’s fellows were caught up and trapped, each one of them losing their way until at last Osiman alone pressed deeper into the forest. Now the shadows were so deep and dark that he was no longer able to tell whether it was night or day beyond the forest, and all around him the trees seemed to move with their own, malevolent