FOUR YEARS LATER

Seventh sips her tea amongst the clutter of spools and thread upon the table as she watches Mal fiddle with the worn spinning wheel. The shades, now in colorfully embroidered outfits, chase one another around the two unconcerned adults. Well placed fairy lights illuminate the inner cave now smoothed and furnished. Amongst the half-finished embroidery projects haphazardly thrown about are toys and dirty clothes. Mal, in black conservative robes and hair of thorns, sits before one of three spinning wheels, each push on the wheel winding his frustration further.

The porcelain cup clinks as Seventh sets it down on its plate. “As I’ve told you,” she says, exasperated, “you were swindled.”

Mal refuses to look away from the unspinning wheel. “He wouldn’t do that. Not after I helped with his daughter’s wedding dress. He promised me it could spin the toughest wool, that there was still some magic living in it.”

Seventh rests her chin on her palm. “It’s a common spinning wheel.”

Mal tries again but it refuses to spin. “Maybe the magic faded. Or it needs a deeper clean.” The wheel manages a spin but the taut thread snaps and Mal huffs and drops his hands in defeat. “Oh, what am I saying? He gave me a broken spinning wheel. I should’ve asked him where he learned his magic craft first! Any serious spinster would—”

“Yes, yes, Darling. But your own magic is enough.”

Dark eyes look back at Seventh’s. The man Mal helped, who invited him to his humble house for dinner of bread and porridge, had lied to him. And Mal had even considered telling the man of his magic. Mal had spent three sleepless days working on that wedding dress and the man and his entire family had wept in gratitude. Why swindle him like this? What had Mal done wrong? Mal forces back his tears and his grief quickly warps into anger. “I’ll track down his ship and toss his trash at his feet,” Mal says.

“And then what? Have him discover who you are?”

“Yes. Maybe if he learns I’m the Eighth Fairy he’ll think twice about lying to me.”

“Darling.” Her voice is stern. “I did not declare you as the Eighth for things like this! And you know how humans are with magickers. What if he calls you a witch? You’ll be chased out.”

“Fairy, witch, magicker, the name doesn’t change my magic, as weak as it is. And chase me out? I rid the kingdom of the deadly shades and I’m still swindled and lied to?”

A side eye at the shades reveals her thoughts before she speaks them. “You did make the shades your children.”

“How could I not?” Mal picks up one of the shades and rubs his cheek into his. The shade cuddles back with a delighted giggle. “They carry a part of me, are extensions of me. And just look at how darling they are!”

While they do paint an adorable picture, Seventh peeks behind them to the two shades wrestling on the ground, biting and growling, over a shiny rock and her brow furrows. “Yes Mal, beautiful darlings. But I’m surprised you’re here messing with that thing,” she motions at the unspinning wheel, “instead of preparing for the party tonight.”

Mal cocks his head. “What party?”

“What party? Why, to celebrate the birth of the princess…” When Mal’s face doesn’t light up Seventh lets the words die and takes a long sip of her tea. Mal slowly sets down the shade and though his face remains carefully neutral as he waits for Seventh to continue, Seventh proceeds with a slightly nervous, cheery tone. “The invitation must be late. Your home is so far away, I think the letter boy lost his way.”

Mal’s face darkens. “They know very well where I live.”

“Well, they must have a reason…”

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Anger finds a way out through his trembling fists at his sides. It wafts in the air like hot chills and Seventh gets up to start clearing the table.

“Really, Darling, it’s not that big of an event. In the last one we were so bored, Fifth and I were pinching each other under the table. And the food, blah!” She nonchalantly avoids all eye contact as she carries the dishes to the sink and starts washing them as she talks, not noticing Mal standing over her until she pulls the cup out of her hands.

“The guest shouldn’t be washing the dishes.” Mal takes over and channels all his emotions into scrubbing.

Unable to keep the pretense Seventh sighs her exasperation. “Mal, there is no meaning behind not inviting you. They must’ve lost your gold plate. Or didn’t want to force you to come out after…everything. They must have thought you wouldn’t hear about it, not knowing how often we come visit you.”

Done with the dishes, Mal starts scrubbing the sink.

“Don’t take this to heart,” Seventh pleads. “Letting this…this grudge fester will do you no good. Let it go.”

Becoming irritated herself she grabs Mal’s arm and forces him to stop and look at her. “You’ve been doing fine without them and you will continue to do fine without them.” Her voice softens and she pats his arm. “Worry about your roses. Nourish them and bloom. How many roses do you have now?”

“Three.”

“See? Three roses to care for. Don’t let them wither.”

Mal hangs his head as he considers her words. Seventh gives him a final pat before making her way to the coat hanger for her cloak. With her hand on the knob she pauses to turn back to him. “Focus on spinning and I will come again soon. I love you my Darling and I want you to be happy, but you have to move on.”

When she leaves Mal stares at the door, his nails digging into his palms. Seventh is right, she always is. He was able to regain some semblance of his old human body because of her. And his roses, he had three because she nurtured them when all Mal wanted to do was pluck them out and be done with everything. Listening to her and forgetting about the party is the right thing to do. And yet…

A concerned shade tugs at his robes but Mal remains oblivious to it. His bottom lip quivers, jaw taunt. He has to move on and yet…

Unable to withstand the weight of his decision he collapses on a chair and drops his head into his hands. He’s simmering inside, memories of his plight, his loss, his rejection from a kingdom he ultimately helped save, fueling the fire.

The day ends without him, the little light from the door’s glass window soon dimming with the sunset. He can almost hear it, the joyous party guests laughing and dancing as another royal descendent joins them. They eat whatever they desire, embrace one another and share warmth between human bodies.

Seventh’s words are soon drowned out and Mal wipes away his angry tears as he finally boils over and bursts, slamming his hand down against the table with a dry laugh. “You want me to forget? Just like they’re trying to forget me? Even when they turned me into this?” His laughter goes cold. “No. I will show them I am still very much here.”

Mal storms to the unspinning wheel and breaks off a piece. Then he goes to his cabinet and sifts through until he pulls out a glistening silver thread and throws both down on the table. A curious shade hops onto a chair and looks closely at them. Mal smiles at her. “No, no. You’ll be hurt if you touch it.” He picks up the end of the thread and slowly starts to bind the broken wooden piece.

“Have they forgotten, have they erased, the reason for their blissful days? Poor spinster, left behind. Abandoned, out of mind. My poor heart they surely minced. And the prince…oh the prince…”

The string begins to emit a soft glow and Mal shrugs off the memories.

“But enough about unpleasant things because…”

He taps his foot and the shades come together adding to the music with bangs and claps. Mal sweeps the spindle and thread like one would a dance partner.

“We’ll have a ball, a grand ol’ ball. With songs of screams and woes. And I, the uninvited guest, shall dance in sweet repose. In dashing robes I sweep the hall to bear a gift divine. Mother, father, precious daughter, will surely not decline.”

Mal returns to the table and sets down the glowing wood, carefully cutting the thread. Silver light fills his eyes that can’t contain his spite. “A spinster they betrayed and so a splinter they will get. A tiny prick, a bit of blood, and off I’ll write their debt.”

The harmony of claps and howls and song intensifies as Mal parts open the front of his robe to reveal three blue roses growing within his empty abdomen. Pain doesn’t register on his elated expression as he grabs one by the stem and yanks it out. He holds it over the silver spindle like a dagger. “Deem me a monster and a monster I’ll be. With this rose I’ll bring the royals to their knees. With this gift of your eternal rest, here comes your uninvited guest!”

Mal strikes down and a burst of light swallows the room. All the shades drop their makeshift instruments and scatter to hide. The only sound reverberating in the cave is Mal’s laughter, manic and loud, slowly dying down with the light until all is plunged into darkness.

END SCENE