The Forgotten Fairytales

By Angela Parkhurst

A psychotic, shoe obsessed Princess.
A not-so-charming, alcoholic Prince.
A hot Big Bad Wolf she absolutely cannot fall for—no matter how well he kisses.

If seventeen-year-old, Norah Hart had known she’d be attending a boarding school for the nut job reincarnations of fairy tale characters, she would have insisted on going to Moscow with her father. But getting out isn’t as easy as she thought. Especially once Norah realizes she, too, is a storybook character. An Unknown. The first one in one hundred years.

Soon Norah learns she can help others break free from the story binding them. But doing so puts everyone’s Happily Ever After in jeopardy. Some princesses will do whatever it takes to protect their endings. Even if it means betraying the one closest to you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela Parkhurst
• Release date: Feb 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310467158

Angela Parkhurst

Hello from Sunny Florida!!! I am the author of the curvy girl smoochie romance series BOMBSHELL(1) & STARFISH(2). Also I have a fun and flirty series WRECKING BALL - TO Get To You & A Summer With You. All OUT NOW! If you like fairytale fantasy check out the FORGOTTEN FAIRYTALE series out now!I love reading love stories. I'm a boy mom, dog mom & I'm married to my high school sweetheart. I have an obsession with books, Disney, and am fueled by a wicked coffee addiction.I am also obsessed with fashion, when I'm not writing or playing with the family, I am an advocate for body positivity, helping women everywhere love their bodies no matter what size they are. www.curvexchange.comwebsite: angelaparkhurst.wordpress.com/You can follow me on Twitter @angelaparkhurst or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/angelawritesInstagram @angelawrites87Tiktok: angelawrites87

Book preview

The Forgotten

Fairytales

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.

© 2014 by Angela Parkhurst

All rights reserved. Copyright under Berne Copyright Convention, Universal Copyright Convention, and Pan-American Copyright Convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Cover Art by Gonet Designs

First print edition February 2014

All rights reserved

To Joshua, my real-life Prince Charming

And also to Kevin Hettinger, Sr. may your memory live on forever.

One

Heavy mist billowed around the giant trees and hills bordering us on all sides, offering the appeal of a castle hidden amongst the foothills of Germany. Snowcapped mountains, wildlife, a place full of possibilities and wonder. To some, it’d be considered a dream.

As the carriage hobbled across the long bridge leading to the monstrosity—seriously, who rode in carriages anymore?—I felt anything but joy. Terror. Worry. Loathing. Trepidation. Those were viable emotions. Admiration? Not one bit.

The weight of my father’s hand on my shoulder induced a cold shiver. Can you believe it, kiddos? he beamed, peering out the glass to soak in the countryside. Thick auburn hair curled over his forehead, hiding the newly formed wrinkles. Must be fate. Or bad luck. I’d go with bad luck. Are you sure you brought enough until your luggage arrives?

Unable to speak, I nodded and my attention flickered to April, my younger sister. Translucent skin hung heavy around her dark, baggy eyes. She and Dad shared the same pale skin and auburn waves. She tugged at the sleeves of her charcoal sweater, hiding the now faded marks on her wrists.

Though weeks had passed, it seemed like only hours ago Dad dropped the bomb—he’d accepted a teaching job in Moscow. Instead of going with him, like usual, he’d surprised us by deciding to send us to a boarding school, where we could be around people our own age.

We could still go with you. Desperation crept through my bones. "Moscow would be an awesome learning experience.

Nonsense. He tightened the plaid tie hidden by a hideous gray and yellow argyle sweater vest. The tips of his fingers were permanently stained from writing. He didn’t believe in using a computer to write his stories, only ink and paper. Your mother went here, Norah. It’s only fitting you receive the same education. Plus, it’ll be fun to be on her old stompin’ grounds. Oh, the stories a castle like this could tell…

Yeah, because she turned out to be such a gem. I rolled my eyes and curled a sandy brown strand of hair around my index finger.

Don’t roll your eyes, Norah. She’s an amazing woman.

So amazing she chose not to share her life with us.

My fingers trailed the N charm dangling from my necklace. Dad prattled on and on, his hands flailing about as he spoke of the beauty of the castle and its neo-gothic style. The structure dated back to some old king he studied in college. Then he moved on to jotting notes in his notepad, saying how inspiring he found the place. Once more my attention flickered to April. Her gaze was far away, in her own little world, as she’d been since the accident. Since our lives changed for the worse. Since my little sister turned into a zombie.

Seconds later, the carriage jolted to a stop and the door swung open. A man, no older than his mid-thirties, held his hand out and helped me down. Maybe chivalry wasn’t dead for people who lived in castles.

The entrance of the castle stood at least two stories high and so wide I was like a munchkin entering the home of the giant. There were no windows until what I assumed was the third floor. At the top of each peak, the stone gray coloring turned to golds and muted blues. It looked more like Cinderella’s castle than a school.

April seemed as consumed by the monstrosity as me. Her arms were twigs, thin and frail as she held herself tight. I wanted to reach forward, throw my arm around her shoulders and crack a joke. Anything to see her smile.

We’re going to be okay, I assured her and myself. Starting over will be good for us.

April sat on one of the benches, stared at the ground and muttered, Whatever.

Pebbles molded against the soles of my black ballet flats as I meandered toward the ledge, which overlooked a lagoon. Cold bricks scratched my palms as I soaked in the darkness below. The silent waves rocked against the pillars. A bell rang in the distance and the clatter of students rushing to their next class faintly met my ears.

My heart sank as the realization struck me. Dad and I were going to be separated for the first time. We were never apart, ever. I mean, I went to camp once, but that pretty much sucked and hardly counts.

We’ve been on the road my entire life, jumping from country to country, city to city, wherever the stories took him (and to whoever would pay him to work). I didn’t mind traveling. In fact, I enjoyed the change of scenery as much as Dad did. Unfortunately, April hadn’t.

For the last few weeks, I tried to understand my dad’s perspective. Settling permanently would help April. The doctors said stability and friends were what she needed to recover. Living like a nomad wasn’t for everyone.

Ready, chickadees?

I met his bright hazel eyes. While my job was to care for April here, I wondered who would care for him. Who’d cook him breakfast and dinner? Who’d ensure he ate right and not the greasy crap he loved binging on? If he ate junk every night, he’d die of some kind of grease build-up in his arteries and where would that leave us? Parentless. We only had one to begin with; losing him was out of the question.

His hand rested heavily on my shoulder as if sensing the terror building inside me. Relax. Everything will be alright. I nodded, though I felt as if nothing would ever be alright ever again. This was the beginning. The beginning of our separation. Once apart from us he’d be freed from all his fatherly duties, only needing to check in to see how we were. No, dad isn’t like that. It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Still, a voice in my head whispered the opposite.

Plus, I promised your mom you’d attend school here after your seventeenth birthday.

What she wanted didn’t matter. She has had no part in my life. As far as I was concerned she could be rotting in hell and I wouldn’t think anything of it. I hated how he kept bringing her up!

Dad frowned and drew me in for a bear hug.

You know me, kid. I can’t break promises even when I try. The tears were desperate for an escape, but I wouldn’t cry—not in the middle of some castle entrance with weird guard dudes studying our every move. Please take care of your sister.

I will. I love you. His thick burgundy coat smelled of pine and moth balls.

You, too.

After saying goodbye to April, Dad was back in the carriage and down the long bridge far, far away from here. From me. My lashes batted the moisture away as I peered over the ledge, already praying for a way out. What if I sent Dad a fake letter from my mom, saying she didn’t want me here after all? Or I could always get suspended. But that wouldn’t do any good for April. If I misbehaved and left her alone, the chances of her sickness coming back could increase.

The cattails near the water below rustled. The fog lifted only enough for me to make out a figure collapsing onto the shore. I sucked in a breath and waited for the person to move. They didn’t.

Um, excuse me? I turned to the guards. I think there’s a person down there. I pointed below, but they ignored me and continued speaking in German. There is a person down there. I think they’re in trouble.

I hurried to look for April. She was fine, her nose covered by her sweater to stay warm, an ink pen in hand, unaware of the world as she drew designs on her flesh. Whatever, I’d handle it myself. At the end of the walkway was an opening, barely wide enough for me to shimmy through.

The run downhill was steeper than I’d imagined, the grass slippery with dew. I faced sideways in fear of losing my balance and falling down. Strands of hair blocked my vision. I swatted them away and ran faster, praying I’d reach the person in time. Praying they weren’t already dead.

The shore came into view and my heart hammered against my chest. I slid beside the body, like a baseball player sliding into home base. Placing my hands on his shoulder, I rocked him back and forth. He didn’t budge. Using all my strength, I rolled him over and placed my head on his chest. I should’ve paid attention in CPR class last year. Dad told me to learn in case of an emergency. I had retorted with a smart ass comment about someone else always being around who knew that crap. Whatever I said didn’t help me now.

With short bluish-black hair and a fading tan, I bet he was attractive when he wasn’t lifeless and paling. Desperate to try something, I tugged his arm, lifting him into an upright position—which was no easy feat because, although lean, he had to be at least six feet tall—and smacked his back hard. The sound echoed through the hills.

Seconds later, liquid splashed my hand as water sprung from his mouth in a fit of coughing. He leaned forward and spit into the dead foliage before falling back and closing his eyes. The smell of liquor drifted into my senses. Great, he’d been drinking. What kind of school was this?

Please let me be dead, he croaked.

Not this time, I said.

At the sound of my voice, his eyes jerked open. His striking jade irises bore into mine with such intensity I thought my heart stopped. The rims were dark as if lined with kohl. We were too close, only inches separating our bodies from touching. A breeze scattered through the trees, rustling the reeds and filling the air with a strange exotic language.

His lips curled into a smile, exposing two dimples. It’s you. I shook my head, knowing I’d never met him in my life. If I had, I certainly would have remembered dimples like his. Eyes like a glimmering sunshine. The ripple in a stagnant sea. He reached forward, hand dripping with water and paused right before touching my face. I’ll know it’s her by her shine. The one whose heart beats with mine.

There was something distant in his bloodshot eyes as he stared back at me. Like he wasn’t actually present in the moment, but somewhere else completely. His words were like lines from a poem he’d memorized and recited over and over but didn’t have meaning till now.

What?

Come set me free, was the last thing he said before his eyelids shut and he exhaled another liquor-scented breath.  I wanted to wake him, but ten men bombarded us, followed by a girl with firecracker red hair. I jumped to my feet, my shoes and pants decorated with mud.

Finn! she shouted, her voice crackly and dry.

The girl dropped to his side and one of the men placed a warm blanket over his shoulders. I backed away as he sat up. Despite the chaos swarming us, the questions, the shouting people, and the girl speaking to him, he held my gaze as if I was the only one there. The words clung to me. Come set me free. All too soon, a guard steered me back up the hill and toward the castle where my sister waited, unfazed by my absence.

The guard’s voice was a blur as April and I meandered through the dim castle hall. Verses of songs and stories were scribbled on the cherry wood wall below pictures illustrating the passage. I wished the words were in English so I could understand. At one point, Dad had mentioned the man who designed the castle planned for it to look theatrical and fairy tale-like, using stories and songs to create a fantasy theme.

The ceilings were high and vaulted in every room we went through. The painting on the wall nearest me was of a woman lying on a bed of roses, draped in a pale cloth with a man kissing her lips. Very Snow White-ish.

Whoever painted the murals must have had such a passion for the arts. I wasn’t passionate about anything. Except collecting postcards for my scrapbook. Other than that, nadda. Though he didn’t have anything published, Dad wrote stories all the time. They were secret and kept locked away in a chest. April liked art. Mostly on her body. Long sleeves and pants covered the ink stains on her arms and legs. Glimpses of life sparked back into her eyes as she scanned the walls.

On the twelve hour flight here, she drew a snake coiling around her arm. The penmanship was so detailed it looked like the serpent had sucked the life from her limb. Dad didn’t notice. Most of the flight, he flirted with the stewardess and dominated me in travel Scrabble. All the while, April sat with the shade down, inking her pale skin. She had a gift, but I was probably the only one who knew because I was the only one who paid any attention.

The guard led me through a door labeled ADMINISTRATION and kept April outside. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, dotting the walls in bright lights. He instructed me to sit and wait for Headmistress Madrina.

What about April? I eyed my quiet sister.

The door slammed, closing me in without a single word. What a jerk! Who cuts people off and leaves them alone? Panic coursed through me. April and I had to stay together, that was the point of a boarding school. We’d room together so I could keep an eye on her.

Near the door was a plush, burgundy loveseat. I sat down and steadied my breathing. April would be fine, unlike my clothes, which were wet and stained with mud. What an awesome way to start at a new school.

A loud creak drew my attention to the boy entering. An ice pack covered his left eye and blood dried beneath his nose. His glare burned the carpet as he sat in the chair across from me.

The leg of his dark corduroy pants hiked up when he leaned down to tie his black combat boots. Chin-length dark brown hair fell in waves over his heart-shaped face.

My eyes trailed his long, built physique, stopping at the wolf on his forearm—mouth open, fangs exposed defensively. The drawing looked too permanent to be marker; the edges feathered and worn, like something that’d been on his skin for years. I must have been staring because his dark eyes trailed over my body as if he was seeing me for the first time.

Is that real? I motioned to his forearm.

As real as the sun. His voice was husky and deep, like every word he said was absolute. There was a slight accent hanging on the edge, but I couldn’t place it. I crinkled my nose. The ice pack fell, showing off the beginning of what would be a nasty black eye. Not a fan?

I am, just not of wolves. They were kind of lame. I mean, maybe they were cool years ago before werewolves became popular, but now, they were overdone.

He chuckled and rubbed one hand over his jaw. The stubble made him appear older than a guy in high school. He was tall too, with broad shoulders and muscles made to crush bones. Well then. The light bounced off the wolf ring on his index finger. I’ll be happy to prove you wrong.

You’re very confident for a guy who just got his ass kicked, I said. Aren’t wolves supposed to be super strong? And he was; I knew it by the way the shirt clung to his biceps and by the scars on his knuckles. He hit things, a lot.

Don’t fool yourself, princess, he said with the utmost confidence. You never saw the other dude. Touché.  A devious grin twitched at the edge of his lips. What’d you say your name was?

I didn’t.

Right. A chuckle, deep and low, rumbled in his throat. I’m Wolf.

I narrowed my eyes, holding in a smile. Wolf, really? That was his name. Man, he really embraced the whole wolf-name-look persona. Creative.

Isn’t it? Wolf stared me down, again. His eyes held mine as if a test to see who'd break first. A test I wouldn’t lose. Not to Wolf Boy. So, you gonna tell me your name or are we going to keep going back and forth like this. Not that I mind the banter. Our chemistry is undeniable.

Chemistry? I flinched. There’s no chemistry.

Keep telling yourself that. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to me. My throat tightened. Heat flowed from his body to mine like a wave, slamming me against the back of the sofa. The truth is always hard to accept. Especially when it’s this good. He gestured to himself.

My jaw dropped. What are you insinuating?

Wolf leaned back, a tight smile playing with his lips. Oh, you know.

The door swung open before I opened my mouth, unsure what I’d even say to him. There was something about Wolf. Maybe I enjoyed the banter too or I was curious. Either way, our conversation ceased as a short, stout woman with frizzy silver hair and withered cheeks stood before us. The frilly, pale blue jumpsuit she wore clung to her stomach rolls and when I stood up, she barely came up to my shoulder. This didn’t say much, since I teetered a little above five-six.

Norah Hart.

Great, now Wolf Boy knew my name.

She extended her hand and I took it. Dad would have been pleased. He knew how weirded out I got about shaking people’s hands. I’m Headmistress Madrina. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m so sorry about the incident this morning. It’s not every day someone drowns in the lake. Though it is nice to know we have a hero amongst us.

Beside us Wolf snickered and placed the ice pack back on his eye. My evil stare only increased his smile. Ah, Mr. Wolf. Third time this week. Get comfy. I’ll deal with you next. Madrina turned to me. Please, come in, Miss Hart.

Two

"Where did you take my sister?"

Five minutes and already my cell phone had been confiscated. Cutting me off from the world, and most importantly, April. Was this a school or prison? Really, who didn’t allow cell phones these days?

Headmistress Madrina’s lips formed a stiff line, increasing the wrinkles around her mouth. "Your half-sister is meeting with Professor Jansen. She handles the underclassmen. Not to worry, Miss Hart, she is in good hands."

She maneuvered behind her desk and let out a long sigh before continuing. Creating your schedule wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped. To be honest, we usually don’t allow new students after the year has begun. Since you’re a legacy, we made an exception. She handed me a thick piece of computer paper. Therefore, since you cannot be immediately classified, I’ve put you into a mixture of classes.

Glancing down at the sheet, none of the classes were familiar. In fact, not a single class made sense. There was no Calculus. No History. Not even English. Instead, the classes were: Royal Policies and Procedures; What Not to Do: Sidekick 101; Dining Etiquette; Magic Spells and Potions; and Combat: Survival in Various Forms. On Tuesday and Thursday, I had Ballroom Dancing and The Art of Perfection.

I’m sorry, I said, wishing she’d rewind and start over because nothing she said made sense. Is this a joke?

Madrina laughed, her double chin jiggling like a bowl of gelatin. I guess I missed the punch line. Oh my, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. After the heroism you’ve shown today, I’m sure you’re a princess, but we have to go through protocol. Wouldn’t want a sidekick enjoying the luxuries of a royal, would we?

The phone on the desk chimed and a voice, more chipper than Madrina’s, rang from the tiny speaker.  My head spun in a million directions, what the heck was going on? These certainly couldn’t be the kind of classes they offered.

Danielle Taylor is here to see you.

Oh, yes, send her in.

The door opened and the sound of heels tinkling along the stone floor commanded my attention. My eyes dropped to the ground and landed on a pair of sparkling glass stilettos. Whoa.

Good morning, Headmistress. She curtsied, the white lace dress she wore hitting mid-thigh, and a pair of tiara-shaped diamond earrings glistened like her heels. She smiled wide as she addressed me, though I was certain my mouth gaped open at the sight of her. She looked so familiar. With blonde hair and pastel pink lipstick, she kind of resembled a Barbie Doll. You must be Norah. I’m Danielle.

Danielle held out her hand for mine. I hesitated.

Miss Taylor will be your roommate, Madrina said.

The news snapped me from my reverie. April’s my roommate.

That’s quite impossible, Headmistress said. She’s much younger than you.

She’s only two years younger. I ground my teeth and sat straight in the chair. You don’t understand. My dad assured us we’d be together. She expects it. I can’t leave her.

Headmistress Madrina shrugged. Her lack of concern infuriated me more. Going forward, Danielle will help you with anything you need.

They spoke, but their words were lost. I needed my sister and a real schedule. I needed answers, yet my mind spun a million miles per hour, unable to comprehend a single ounce of what was really happening. It was as if I floated out of my body and watched it all. The headmistress spoke, Danielle nodded and smiled along. Life moved on, yet I stood still, wordless. Which was a rarity in itself. No matter how hard I wanted to question everything, I couldn’t think, let alone talk.

Now run along or you’ll be late.

The second I stood up, Danielle’s thin arm laced around mine—a strange gesture for someone who met me only a few minutes ago. Her strawberry blonde hair swayed as we exited the office, but not before Madrina shouted for Wolf to enter. He dragged himself off the crimson sofa and winked at me.

I ignored the curiosity as we entered the main stretch of the school. Lockers lined the stone walls and the doors leading into the classrooms were thick wood with tiny triangular windows to see inside.  Round candle-like lights hung from the vaulted ceilings, giving just enough light to make up for the sporadic sunshine. Or lack of sunshine, since the sun was barely up and snow clouds masked the sky.

Danielle chattered on about something, but I tuned her out and glanced down at the schedule clutched between my fingers. Is this a joke? Like some kind of new student hazing thing? I read about things like that in books. I was being Punk’d.

What?

I tilted my schedule toward her. These classes can’t be real. Why on earth would I need to know, I stared at the now crumpled stark white sheet of paper. Sidekick’ing?

Until you’re classified you’ll be in all sorts of classes. I understand mingling within the cliques can be miserable, hence the reason for our segregation. We don’t do well outside our kind. It’s been like that since, she paused, searching for her words. The dawn of time. Satisfied, she kept moving down the hall.

Classified? I hurried to keep up. What does that mean?

"Classify, as in who we are—Royal, Hero, Sidekick, Villain, Faerie, Pirate. At least at this school. There are other classifications, just not here. Me, I’m a princess. Not just any princess, I’m the princess. The one dreams are made of."

Wow, Danielle had taken too many dodge balls to the head. She had to be whacked as shit to believe any of this. "I have no idea what you’re talking