DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I OWN NOTHING.

KISS ME

oXo

CHAPTER SEVEN

LOIS

Son of a biscuit eating whore!

Tess messed up my hair.

She can thank her lucky stars that she is my only friend or she would have hellfire and brimstone to pay. I finish throwing down with Tess – handily beating the red-headed rat because…hello…I am me. Daughter of an army general here. Sun Tzu's The Art of War was read to me as a bedtime story. I dispatch Lady Lutessa to lick to her wounds and to find Clark a room and some clothing. Then I go back to the task I began, I thought, this morning, but apparently almost three hundred years ago—choosing dresses for the ball. There is no reason not to have a ball. Yes, I am three hundred sixteen years old (give or take a year) rather than sixteen years old, but since I have neither starved to death, nor died of thirst while asleep, it seems as though my body has been somehow suspended in animation all these years – like some sort of super…girl. Besides, Clark would not have kissed me had I been a crone instead of some sort of wonder...woman. Oh, dear god no! That is so wrong! Forget I ever thought that. Let us just reset the timeline and erase that thought from continuity like it never existed.

Moving on. Pretending that never happened.

Therefore…tomorrow will still be my sixteenth birthday…and I am still entitled to my party…so I still need dresses. The bad news is that the most beautiful dresses were supplied by someone whom I now know was an evil witch bent upon destroying me because she was annoyed at not being invited to a previous party – I mean who does that? I will say, The General and Motherella were rather shortsighted in not simply inviting her—what would it have cost? An extra pheasant and perhaps some turnips? Nobody likes turnips. She could have had them all to herself.

Whatever. What is done is done.

I venture into the first, then the second room. I know I should go looking for Motherella and The General, but I simply cannot face them yet. I do not want to tell them what I have done. The General will never forgive me. He will surely think I am the weakest link. And I will surely feel there is something cathartic about telling a general to go to the fires of hell.

It is in the third room that I see The General. He looks rather put out.

"Lo, I am so glad to have seen you."

Although, truthfully, he does not look glad in the least to see me.

"I have terrible news," he continues. "The ball must be canceled."

I decide to play dumb. "But why?" Although I suppose it really is not playing considering the stupid thing I have done. He has discovered my stupidity with the spindle, and he means to punish me. Severely. I prepare to brawl...and then turn tail and run and hide. I am excellent at running and hiding from The General.

But The General says something even more surprising.

"I do not know, my Little Lo. It seems there are no guests."

Act surprised. "No guests? Whatever do you mean?"

"It is the strangest thing. The lookouts saw the first ships off in the distance at nine o'clock. By ten thirty, some were on the verge of entering the harbor. But then they simply disappeared."

"Disappeared?" I feign ignorance and repeat what he has said to give me time to think.

The General nods. "I fear, My Little Lo, that there is something afoot here – that we might be on the verge of war, or worse, that I may have been victimized by black magic – the dark art of the witch Maleficent."

Maleficent. Oh, no. In an instant, I understand what happened to the ships. They did not turn around, nor were they bewitched, not really. They may have tried to enter our harbor. But when they did, it was not there. The kingdom was obscured from sight by a giant hedge, as Merryweather said in her idiotic spell. They thought they had gone to the wrong place. The guests, the visiting royalty, even the special prince who might have been chosen to be my husband – even though I would not have wanted him because he is not my true love – they have been dust for centuries, and I am merely a three-hundred-sixteen-or-so-year-old princess with absolutely no prospects whatsoever.

That is just great. Worst. Birthday. Ever.

It will take a great deal of finesse and outright horse manure to explain this to The General.

"I am sorry, my Little Lo."

He is sorry. That is a first. Dammit. Now I feel guilty. Would it be possible simply to feign ignorance of the whole situation? Pretend I have no idea what happened to the ships, no comprehension of what caused—I am certain—numerous additional changes to the kingdom?

But I remember Clark's clothing and the strange flashing object he carried with him, Oliver's talk of buses. Certainly the world changed during our three-hundred-year hibernation, as surely as it changed during the three hundred years before that, and as soon as The General notices the changes, he will understand their cause. If he does not, Lady Lutessa will be certain to tell him. That red-headed rat.

"Daddy?" I touch his shoulder.

"Yes, my Little Lo?"

"I believe…" I take his arm, sweet as I can, and guide him toward a chair. "I believe you should sit down."

He does, and when he does, I begin to tell my story. "…I touched the spindle, and then at the next moment, a dressmaker's apprentice – a former commoner named Clark with hair the shade of a raven's wing and eyes the color of cornflowers mixed with grass and lips soft as silk pillows from the English county of Kent in Canterbury whose family has had great fortune in politics and has been made a member of nobility called Lord Smallville and now owns a farmstead estate in the English colony of Virgin Land – was waking me up," I conclude.

The General is silent. With his mouth hanging open.

"Daddy?" Nothing. "General…are you…is everything quite all right?"

"You say…you touched…a spindle, Louisa Johanna! A spindle!"

"Totally not my fault. And it is Lois…nevermind."

"No fault of yours? It was every fault of yours!" He looks, suddenly, like God's revenge against murder. "Have we taught you nothing! How many times have we told you—cautioned you—about spindles! It was the first word you learned, the last thing you heard before bed at night, the one lesson of any import: Do not touch spindles! And you forgot it—how?"

I remember a phrase that Clark had used earlier when he was accused of defiling me. "Uh...my bad."

"Your…bad? Do you not understand that we are ruined!"

"Ruined?" See? The weakest link. "Certainly it is inconvenient, but—"

"Inconvenient! Louisa Johanna, do you not understand! How could you be so stupid!"

I feel tears springing to my eyes yet again. "Daddy, your voice. Everyone will hear you."

"What does it matter? If, as you say, we have all slept these three hundred years, we are ruined, destroyed—you, I, the entire kingdom. We have no kingdom. We have no trade. We have no allies to defend us. Mark my words, it will not be long before everyone realizes that my daughter is the stupidest girl on earth."

"How dare you." I can hold back my tears no longer, and when I look at my father, I see something horrible. He is struggling to hold back his own. My father…the king…The General…the most powerful man in all Pandora…is weeping – and he blames me for causing this show of weakness.

"It was a mistake!"

"You cared for no one but yourself, Louisa, and we are all paying the price. It would have been better had you engaged in any other youthful indiscretion—running away, even eloping—rather than this one. This has affected everyone, and it is unforgivable."

My father's words strike like daggers. He would rather see me gone than have me do what I did. He hates me. Well…right now…the feeling is mutual.

"Go to hell, General."

He looks at the floor. He does not even admonish me for my blatant disrespect to his rule and authority. "Perhaps, Louisa, we are already in it."

Yes. Perhaps. I nod and start for the door. Then I remember something I must tell him, although at this point, I would much rather not. Still, if The General despises me, I have nothing to lose. I have already ruined everything, right?

"General?"

"What is it now, Louisa?"

"It is Lois Joanne. And the boy, the one who woke me from my sleep…I have invited him to stay at the castle and to have supper with us."

Father stares at me. With his mouth hanging open. Again. "Lois Joanne? Supper? With the boy who possesses pillow soft lips?"

"Yes. It is more modern. And it seemed the proper thing to do after he saved us all from me ruining the world."

He makes an attempt to straighten his shoulders but fails. "Yes." The word comes out as a sigh. "Yes, I suppose it is the least we can do after what you have done. Invite Lord Littleville to supper."

"Smallville."

"Same difference." And then, before I can say anything else, The General turns on his heel and leaves. I wait a minute to make sure he is gone before leaving the room myself.

I am passing through the guest chambers on the way to my own room when I hear a voice.

"Excuse me? Your Highness? Um, Lois?"

I stop. Clark! They must have placed him in this room.

I approach the door. "Smallville?"

Indeed, it is him. This boy I am supposed to marry. This noble farmer from Virgin Land who used to be nobody, but now is somebody. Somebody who saved me.

He is wearing more appropriate clothing – royal blue tunic and tights with a gold sash around his waist and a crimson cape cascading from his shoulders – in which he looks rather handsome, despite the unruly curl escaping his slicked back hair and hanging over his forehead. "Um, sorry to bother you, Lois."

"No bother." Although, in truth, I would much rather be alone with my grief. My face burns. Soon, everyone will know of my stupidity and humiliation – that I have ruined the world as we know it – and soon I will be the most ruined of all.

"Your dad seemed upset."

I nod, unable to speak. So he had heard.

"But what he said," Clark continues, "about the hundred years' sleep?"

"Three hundred."

"Right. My bad."

"No, my bad! Three hundred! We have slept three hundred years, and we are ruined, and it is all my fault." I try not to cry again. Were I a few years (or a few hundred years) younger, I could throw myself on the floor in a fit of tantrum, but as it is, I simply stand there, gasping for breath.

Clark stands there, too, looking down. I wonder if he heard The General call me the stupidest girl on earth. Probably the whole castle did. Finally, he says, "Can I get you a Kleenex?" I have no idea what a Kleenex is, but if he has it that must mean it saves lives. He reaches into his pocket and procures a bit of paper, sort of a paper handkerchief. To think…this white paper has the power to save the world.

I take it and blow my nose into it.

I try not to sniff too loudly. However, I have been crying very hard. So finally, I have to give in and snort like one of the horses so that, in addition to being the stupidest girl in all Pandora—nay, the world—I also snort when I sob. Talk about an ugly cry.

To his credit, Clark pretends not to notice, and his kindness sends forth the torrent of tears I have been trying to avoid.

When I finish, he says, "My biological dad can be kind of a jerk, too. You should've seen what he did to my chest last summer."

"I am the jerk. It is all my fault! I am so stupid!"

"You're not stupid. You messed up. I mess up all the time."

Messed up? I move away from him, wondering if my face is blotchy, in addition to being stupid and snorting like a horse. But I catch a bit of my reflection in the mirror attached to the wall. No, Flora's gift has held true. I am still beautiful. Perfect, in every way save one.

He continues. "From what I'm getting, you had a curse placed upon you—that before your sixteenth birthday, you would prick your finger on a spindle. Right?"

I nod. "Right."

"My dad, he's a state senator, and he's always looking at the wording of things. So that's how it was phrased? 'Before her sixteenth birthday, the princess shall prick her finger on a spindle…' not 'the princess might prick her finger' or 'if she is not careful, she will?'"

I nod. "But I was supposed to take care. Motherella and The General always said—"

He holds up his hand. "Meaning no disrespect to them, either. I guess they were trying to protect you, but I don't think you could have kept from getting pricked with the spindle if it was part of the curse. It had to happen."

"But…" I stop. I rather like the way this young man is thinking. In fact, he is quite smart for someone who is more beautiful than even me. Not just a pretty face it seems. "Do you really think so?"

"I do." There is conviction in his bluish-green eyes. "This witch put that curse on you and that was that—you were going to touch it. Maybe she even enchanted you to make you touch the spindle. It was your destiny. Trust me. I know all about destiny."

"Destiny." As is his destiny…Where have I heard that before? Destiny. I like the sound of it, particularly because it means that this whole fiasco is not my fault and was meant to happen.

"Yeah, destiny, like how it was Anakin Skywalker's destiny to be Darth Vader."

I have not the slightest idea what he is talking about. Something about a kid who walks in the sky and has a dark German father.

"But that does not change the fact that The General believes me to be a stupid fool and thinks it is all my fault that our country is ruined and probably the world, too." I remember what The General said earlier, about how he would rather I had run away and eloped. I gaze at Smallville. He is tall, and his eyes the color of cornflowers mixed with grass are quite intoxicating, and in that moment, I see my escape. "Do you think perhaps…?"

I cannot ask it.

But he says, "What is it, Lois?"

His eyes are kind as well. And I see my future in them.

"Smallville…do you think perhaps…you can take me with you?"

"What?" He backs away three steps, as if he has been pushed. When he recovers himself, his voice is a whisper, and he glances at the door. "I can't."

"Why not? If it is because I am a princess and you are lesser nobility, this matters not. I am an outcast now. The General despises me. They all…" I gesture toward the window, indicating the ground below, the land, the people. "They all shall hate me soon enough. Their crops are dead. Their food has rotted. They should be long dead and rotted themselves, but because of me, they are alive still, only the whole world has changed around them."

"But I'm only seventeen. I can't be responsible for a princess. I can barely get my homework done after doing my chores and with all my saves..."

"Why ever not? Seventeen is a grown man. Surely, you must be learning a trade—like blacksmithing or making shoes."

"Sort of. I go to school. I write for the school newspaper. I'm thinking of trying out for the football team. Extracurricular activities. That's what colleges look at now."

Now. Everything is different now. But I must change it. I was destined to prick my finger upon a spindle, and I did. But there was another part of the curse. I was to be wakened by true love's first kiss. That kiss was Clark's. Therefore, he must be my true love, even though he seems like he'd rather be killed by pieces of rock falling from the sky in a rain of fire. He does not seem to appreciate the great opportunity he has been given, marriage to one gifted by the fairies with beauty and grace and musical talent and intelligence. I must make him realize it. I must make him my true love, if I am going to fulfill my destiny. For he is my destiny.

"Well," I say, "in any case, you must join us for supper."

"Okay," he says, looking skeptical and worried. "Supper's okay. Marriage—not so much. Sorry, Lo. That's a hard pass."

I smile and nod, but I know that I must make this red and blue clad hero who saved us all fall in love with me. Whether he wants to or not. And I will. I will not stop until I have landed him exclusively.

Just watch me.