PROLOGUE

The King felt a touch of pity as he declared the conditions. How could he not? He was a good ruler to his people, and his heart was not made of stone. There was something about the young woman that made him almost take back the test. Almost.

He had said all of that mess about beheading the girl as a means of frightening her. No, as a means of making sure this talker of a miller told the truth. He had no intentions of actually killing the poor thing. But a king had to be powerful.

And yet she was there, somehow defiant and humble in the same breath, chin up, blue eyes flashing at no one in particular. The wall, perhaps? She did not protest, but neither did she say that yes, spinning straw into gold was her talent.

But that was to be expected from a redhead. The King had known his share of them and their fiery ways. This one, at least, possessed the faintest aura of timidity, a dutiful daughter nonetheless.

The King only saw a single tear fall down her freckled cheek as she was led to the dungeon.

But she would spin, and he would wait. There would be gold in the morning.

And there was.

The King went down then, to the dungeon, not quite expecting what there would be. Straw? Gold? But indeed it was gold, silky and fine as thread, purest gold. And there was the girl, relaxed and refreshed as if she had slept the whole night rather than spin.

The King wanted more gold. This wasn't enough. Clearly there was no harm in having her work another night. There would be rewards. He ordered breakfast for her and her father, singers and jesters to amuse them, a day touring the palace. A pretty dress for her to wear. For she was a lovely girl.

The gold was transported to its own chamber.

But that night, the girl did not seem so willing to spin again. A little drop of defiance and fire was gone, and she asked the King if it were really so necessary. Of course it was. She wouldn't mind. After all, she had a new dress to replace her rags.

How could a father with a daughter who spun gold dress so poorly? Humility, proper for the common folk. No doubt that was the answer.

So he ordered her back to the dungeon with the order to spin ten times what she spun the night before–on the threat of death.

Though of course he wasn't cruel enough to kill her. But times were hard for the kingdom. And the King.

The next morning he returned to the dungeon. There was the girl, stretching lazily, surrounded by piles and piles of gold.

It was taken to the chamber.

She would do it again, the King decided. Once more. One more night to spin even more gold. That would be enough.

And, as a reward, she would be his bride. For she was beautiful and good, he could tell. It was a surprise she was not already married, for she was no longer a child but in her early twenties, slightly past the time when most girls were already married with children. But she wasn't too old, and neither was the King. Her age was just about right. And she was beautiful.

Wouldn't she like to live in a palace? Be the Queen of so many? Dress in silk and diamonds? Be the mother of princes?

She nodded. Yes, that sounded like a wonderful dream to her.

Well, it wouldn't be a dream, not if she spun gold once more. Would she, the Miller's Daughter, do this?

She bit her lip and shed several more tears. The King seemed good to her, but must she spin once more?

Of course she did.

And the next morning, she was there, sleeping over her spinning wheel, half-buried in a sea of gold that once had been straw.

A miracle! Amazing! Incredible! The talent of such a girl! Was there no better choice for Queen?

The King hugged and kissed her and proposed marriage right there, which she dizzily accepted, blushing with happiness. Never more would she have to spin again! Maybe.

They told the miller, who wept with joy.

The gold was taken to join its own chamber.

Then the King led the girl to one of his treasuries, filled to the brim with all sorts of jewels, silver, and gold. She must pick something for their wedding, which would be held at sunrise the next morning. She would come out to see him when she had finished. She might have anything she wanted.

Then he went, giddy with greed, to tell all his courtiers of his fortune. Gold, gold, gold. And a beautiful girl as his Queen. He would be so rich!

The girl never came out. Hours passed.

She had to be enjoying the jewels, but this was ridiculous.

He waited a little longer. Nothing.

He sent a servant to fetch her.

The servant returned. The girl was gone. And... and...

Shocked, the King ran to see for himself. The girl was gone, the marvelous girl that spun straw into gold.

And so was half the treasury.

He ordered the palace and the grounds to be searched. But she was gone. And so was her father.

Mind a whirl, he sought comfort. The gold the girl had spun. Locked away in its very own chamber. He opened the door, and for one precious moment his eyes rested on the gold.

Then watched in horror as it faded away into nothing.