The Hidden Princess (Book One of the Whispered Tales)

Chapter 11

'I know what you must do,' said the nanny when they made it to the room. 'When looking for answers, you must listen to the ones who lived a long life and who maybe went through the same trials you are going through now.'

'Who are they?' asked the girl in her old voice.

'They are the wise of the world.'

'But you know I cannot show myself in front of the Council of the Wise.'

'You speak the truth, child. But those are not the wise I was talking about, but others, those who passed on long ago. Maybe you cannot speak to them, but the advice of those who lived before time was made of holy things, priceless, gathered and kept in most suited bowers.'

'The library...' whispered Eliza.

That very night, Eliza decided to begin her search for the book that was to bring her life back. She was determined that, once the cure was found, she would tell everybody the truth, ask for forgiveness, and bear any punishment. Even if that meant giving up her life as a princess. But the words of the witch, that only water from the Fountain of Youth can heal her, ringed inside her head.

When she was ready to go out the door, a wind blast came out of nowhere and blew off the black cloth covering the mirror and she saw herself in all her hideousness. The look of her face made her shiver. After the last song she sang, she had turned into Witch Guzma completely. Same eyes, darker than hell itself. Same disheveled, hemp-like hair. Her whole face was crossed by wrinkles. Her nose became crooked and bent like the beak of an eagle. And her mouth... Her mouth was the ugliest part of her face. The blue lips formed a dark abyss when opened. Her teeth were all gone, so speaking and eating were torture for her. Not only had her face fully transformed. Her body was bent over and a hunch was towering her back. Her skin became ash-like. Hands and feet looked like winding, crooked tree roots.

Eliza let out a short frightening shriek when she saw her image in the mirror. She couldn't recognise her own self. She was living a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. But she knew that whining and lamenting were not much help for her. So she covered up her hideous looks and left the room.

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The way to the library was long. She had to pass through many floors, being careful not to be seen. But this was difficult ever since the spell stole her youth. She could barely drag her body along and needed a cane to move forward. But getting to the library took her ten times longer than it once did. Luckily, there were fewer guards on that side of the castle. The Prince had asked them to guard the most important rooms of the palace—the Armory Room, the Throne Room, and the Council Room. And, of course, the Prince's chamber.

The light from the candle she took was barely enough to see where she was walking; the entire side of the castle leading to the library was completely owned by darkness. This time, Eliza was comforted by the darkness surrounding her, feeling freer than she did during the day when she barely left her room.

She was finally in front of the library, nudging the door, almost too heavy to be opened. Without sparing a single second, she searched through all the books, one shelf at a time. The deed was now heavier and more troublesome to perform, with no book to magically shine, begging to be discovered. The moonlight shone through the window ceiling so she could read easily. She discovered, one by one, the most curious, weird and unusual books she's ever seen. They opened before her eyes dreamy, fantastic realms, true stories, acts of bravery and cowardice, lost wars, past mistakes, true lessons to teach generations to come. But none of them spoke of breaking a spell as terrible as the burden she was carrying.