Sleeping Beauty, the One Who Took the Really Long Nap by Wendy Mass

downstairs. I shall fix you something to eat.”
    She nodded absently. I did not think she even noticed when I closed the door behind me.

I walked over to the looking glass above the cistern and stared at my reflection. I could see Mama’s eyes and Papa’s jaw. I did not look a day older than when I had pricked my finger, while they were now bones in the ground. I would never know what they went through when I fell asleep, or how their lives turned out. If I dwelled on that pain for too long, I knew it would consume me. Sara’s face floated across my mind and it felt like a punch in the belly. Sara! I could not bear to think of us not growing old together. Did she find love? Did she have babies? Was she happy?
    I was completely alone now. Not a single lady-in-waiting to watch out for me. Not a soul in the world to love me, not a soul for me to love. I turned away in despair and saw the mug I had dropped on the floor. Maybe there was someone after all.
    I hurried into the hall and down the stairs. The whole castle was lit up, but it was so very quiet. Never had I heard it like this, even in the middle of the night. I could see outthe windows that it was still daylight. Everything looked exactly as I remembered it. If the Prince had not told me a hundred years had passed, never would I have believed it. I found him in the Great Hall, setting two plates of food on the table. It smelled delicious.
    â€œAre you feeling better?” he asked. His concern came through with every word.
    I nodded, for his sake. I knew I would never get over the losses I had suffered. I think he knew this and did not question me further. He just pulled out my seat for me and placed a silk napkin on my lap.
    â€œHow did you learn to cook?” I asked. “I do not think my father can make … I mean, I do not think my father could have made a loaf of blackbread.”
    â€œI have to fend for myself a lot. I had a close friend — my page, Jonathan — who taught me how to cook and store food. I apologize for the cold salmon and rice stew. I would have roasted something, but I did not want to alert anyone by sending smoke up the fireplace.”
    â€œIt’s perfect,” I said, already halfway done. Between bites, I asked, “Does Jonathan know about me?”
    The Prince shook his head. With a pained expression, he said, “I was going to tell him, because I knew he could help me. But he left unexpectedly and I never got the chance.”
    I could tell whatever had happened to his friend painedhim greatly, and I knew how that felt. I reached out and put my hand over his. We sat like that for what felt like an hour. Eventually I said, “Shall we walk in the gardens? I would love to visit my flowers.”
    â€œI would love that, too,” he replied. “Our garden has only one rosebush, and even that is hidden amidst the weeds.”
    â€œDidn’t you say your castle was an exact replica of mine?”
    He nodded. “Mother is not the best at upkeep.”
    Once again, I could tell he was holding back, but I did not press him. I could not wait to feel the breeze on my face again. The Prince led the way down the corridors and into the library. It was still odd that he knew his way around so well, having never been here. He pushed open the door that led to the garden, and the vines melted away from the door, and the garden appeared before us. I stepped through the door and inhaled deeply. The whole garden was in bloom, perfectly manicured and tended. The Prince looked around carefully for a moment, like he was making sure no one was there.
    Apparently satisfied, he ran through the paths like a little boy, sniffing one flower and rubbing the petals of another. “Never have I seen such beauty!” he exclaimed. Then he blushed. “Well, except for you, of course. You outshine even your namesake.” With that, he picked a red rose and handed it to me. I recalled my first meeting