“If someone found out what you could do, they could use it against you,” King Elrik said. “They would harm you to gain the use of your wishes.”
“But I would share my wishes,” Brenn said. “If anyone asked, I’d gladly share.”
“I know.” Rose smiled and reached over, squeezing her son’s small hand in hers. “But we must keep this a secret. For your safety, and for ours. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother.” He frowned, and sadness filled his gray eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. Just be more careful,” Rose told him. “Now finish your breakfast, and when you’re done, I’ll take you out to the garden.”
“The garden?” Elrik asked, raising an eyebrow at his wife while Brenn raced to devour his apple.
The queen said, “It’s perfectly safe, Elrik. You worry too much.”
“It’s hardly safe for you, let alone a boy of his age,” the king said. He grew louder as he spoke, so his voice boomed through the dining hall. “The beasts would be much happier feasting on a soft young boy than the squawking geese.”
“It’s early in the morning, and all the wicked beasts are asleep,” Rose said, acquiescing to her husband’s fears even if she did not fully share them. “I will be out there with Brenn, and the guards will be nearby if we should need them. We won’t be out that long, and we’ll be safe.”
As soon as they’d finished eating, the queen took Brenn out to the garden. She delighted in showing him the trees and the vines, the birds and the frogs, and Brenn seemed as taken with everything as she.
When they came to her favorite flower—the pink carnations—she plucked one and gave it to the young prince. Never had she seen anyone hold a flower so delicately, so careful not to disturb a single petal, and she couldn’t have imagined that a boy of his age would be so thoughtful.
Despite the king’s warning not to linger, Rose and Brenn spent the afternoon in the garden, playing among the flowers. Rose didn’t even realize how much time had passed until she began feeling tired.
Lying down next to the stream, Rose intended to rest for only a moment, but soon both she and Brenn had fallen asleep. Her son lay in her arms as the sound of the stream lulled them.
That was when Fyren saw his chance. He knew his time under the king’s service was growing short, and the cook had to find a way to sustain himself. He’d heard rumors of the prince’s wishing power, but it wasn’t until this morning, when Brenn had wished himself an apple, that Fyren had actually witnessed it.
With that, his decision was made. Fyren would take the boy for himself and make Brenn grant him the life he’d always wanted. So he’d followed Queen Rose and her son out to the garden. Fyren had stayed hidden in the bushes, waiting for the moment when the queen was the most unguarded.
Once she was asleep by the stream, Fyren put his plan in motion. He grabbed a wild boar youngling, and before the beast could make a sound, Fyren had slit its throat with his butcher’s knife. Then he’d covered the queen’s dress with fresh red blood, and then discarded the boar’s body in the stream.
When the king came looking for his wife, he’d find her like this, covered in blood with the child missing. He would think his worst fears had come true—that a wild beast had snatched Brenn from his mother and eaten him, leaving only the boy’s blood.
Carefully, Fyren took the sleeping babe from her arms, and then dashed off into the brush before either the queen or the prince could. He kept running—traveling days with only short breaks to sleep in the darkest part of the night. He went over the cold waters of the Eisenfluss River, past the dark branches of the Verzanfrost Woods, and Fyren didn’t stop until he’d reached the highest peak of the Graulumberg Mountains, far out of the reaches of King Elrik’s kingdom.
CHAPTER 3
The Flower Girl
The walls of the castle were high, just as Fyren had commanded Brenn to wish for, and all day and all night, they were filled with the sounds of the young prince crying. Nothing Fyren did seemed to ease Brenn’s sadness.
Fyren had told Brenn that a war had broken out and his parents had been killed. Fyren—being so sneaky and wise—had gotten past the warriors, and Brenn’s mother had commanded Fyren to take Brenn away, to keep him safe, and that Brenn was to do exactly as Fyren ordered.
Fyren had warned the boy about wishing for his mother or his father to return. He’d told him they both had been killed, and if he wished for them, they would rise from the earth, living as the unholy undead. They would be cursed monsters, and his parents deserved a peaceful slumber in their afterlife, so Brenn did not wish for them.
While Brenn had believed him, he had yet to comply with Fyren’s order to stop wailing.
Now that Fyren had a great castle at the top of the highest peak on the tallest mountain in the land, filled with riches and treasures, Fyren had begun to consider that his use for Brenn was done. If the boy didn’t stop crying soon, Fyren would have his head.
But he couldn’t do that just yet. Although it seemed that Fyren had all that his dark heart had ever desired, he didn’t know what the future might bring. It would be rash to get rid of his magic wishing tool so soon. Fyren had to find a way to silence Brenn before it drove him mad.
“Why is it that you cry so?” Fyren asked the prince finally. They were eating dinner, though the boy had hardly touched the roasted beef before them. Brenn only cried softly, staring down at the table.
“I miss Mother and Father,” Brenn replied.
“I have told you—they would not want you to be so unhappy,” Fyren told him. “You must be happy and stop this constant crying. It’s as your parents would have you do.”
“I know, sire.” The prince sniffled. “I am very sorry, but I am so lonely.”
The cook said, “I care for you and keep you safe from the men who killed your parents. You are not alone in this castle. I am as a father to you now, boy. Am I not enough to you?”
“You may be as a father to me, but you speak hardly a word to me,” Brenn said. “It is only you and I here, and you cannot be as a mother or my playmates back at home.”
The cook considered this for a moment and nodded. “Then make yourself a friend. If it will keep you happy and calm, wish yourself a pretty girl to keep you company.”
While the boy was excited about the prospect of no longer being alone, he didn’t wish for a friend immediately. He wanted to think about it long and well, making sure he’d made the absolute perfect friend before he made his wish.
The prince spent most of his time with his thoughts in the garden behind the castle. Fyren had given him the exact details of how he wanted his castle to be built, but Brenn had been left to wish for the garden on his own, so he’d wished for a garden exactly like his mother’s.
It was a few days later, as he was sitting out among the pink carnations, that Brenn was certain he’d finally crafted his wish.
With a loud, strong voice, he said, “I wanted to wish for a friend who is lovely and kind, loyal and patient, funny and gentle, strong and beautiful, intelligent and diligent, but the only thing I really wish for is a girl who will be my true friend for the rest of my days.”
No sooner had he made his wish than he saw the flowers next to him begin to move. He pushed back the petals and saw a girl, appearing to be just his age of four, curled up among the stems. She was nude, but her long golden waves of hair covered her.
Her lids fluttered open, and the girl sat up. She was as lovely as he’d hoped for, and he could see the warmth and playful spark in her eyes.
“What is your name?” Brenn asked the girl.