This week for Fiction Friday, I thought I’d share another excerpt from The People the Fairies Forget, my young adult fantasy novel. You can read a little about the premise here, and catch up with previous excerpts here and here.
In brief, the story so far: Princess Rosaline was cursed by the Evil Fairy Echinacea at her christening to prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die. Good Fairy Marjoram transformed the death curse into a spell for enchanted sleep until awakened by a kiss. Tarragon (a free agent fairy unaffiliated with either group, and our narrator) thinks the whole thing is kind of stupid. He also has a wager on with Marj about whether True Love can be found among non-royalty; he says yes and she says no. He’s chosen a goatherd named Jack and a kitchenmaid named Emmy, who works at Rosaline’s castle, to prove his point, although the details of how this will be demonstrated have yet to be revealed to the reader.
As we join, Rosaline has just pricked her finger. Marj, out of deep concern that Rosaline will be lonely if she wakes up in a hundred years and everyone else is gone, has put the rest of the castle to sleep too. Tarry has seen to it that Jack and his herd of goats, including the Little One, a baby goat, have come to the castle to investigate.
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When we arrived at the main entrance to the castle, Jack stopped short to stare at the yards and yards and yards of thorns.
The area around the castle was by no means deserted. A considerable crowd had gathered already, and more were arriving. Many looked on with eager curiosity and loudly theorized regarding what had happened—they were plainly onlookers, come to see the excitement. Others, the ones who appeared more distressed, had to be friends and relatives of the people inside. Marj should’ve seen what she’d caused. But she wasn’t there, of course.
The goats settled in and started eating the lawn. Jack eyed the thorns. They weren’t just thorns. Marj would never dream of magicking up something that plain and ugly, so she’d made enchanted roses instead. There were roses swarming all over the outer wall of the castle and spreading at least three hundred feet out into the fields in a tangled mass far above our heads. They had vivid red blossoms and sharp thorns.
Jack scratched the Little One’s head, and stared at the roses. “I have to get through there. How am I going to get through there?”

