Enchant: Beauty and the Beast Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale #1)(17)

He stared at her for a long moment before he answered, "By road. We built an enormous cart, harnessed every pony on the island to it, and rolled it from the harbour to the sea. It was all for naught, though, for it hadn't even sailed out of sight before she ran into another patch of rocks the lookout never saw until it was too late. Tore out the bottom of her hull and she sank like a stone. Most of the crew drowned, and those that did not…returned to port in their boats to spread stories of what they called Haunted Isle, not Beacon Isle, on account of the ghosts."

Zuleika blinked. "You have ghosts, too?"

He hesitated. "No, but…you shall soon see." He spurred Arion on, toward the town.

Curious, Zuleika followed.





Twenty

Either she was as practiced at pretence as the craftiest courtier, or Belle truly did not know about the island's haunted reputation. But how could she have heard about the island's treasures without hearing the ghost stories?

She had refused to wear any of his grandmother's jewels, too – which made her a strange thief. The casket of gems she'd tried to steal were worth far less than one of Queen Margareta's diamond or pearl necklaces. Yet Inga said Belle had done little more than touch the treasures before declaring them impractical for riding, and asked Inga to return them to the locked chest where they normally resided.

Only a peculiar woman indeed could resist Queen Margareta's jewels.

Yet she had not refused the horse. Embarr was not as spirited a creature as Arion, but she was a horse bred for royalty. She seemed to accept Belle quite happily, and the lady's seat showed her a practiced horsewoman. Either her thievery ran to horses, or the lady kept a fine stable.

But if she was a member of the high nobility as she appeared, her manners were not those of a noble maiden, or at least not the women he'd met at court. She was courteous enough, but she did not bow her head in humility like most girls did. No, she held his gaze with considerable pride. She would never be any man's obedient wife, he thought, fighting down laughter at the thought. Should her father marry her to a weak man, she would undoubtedly turn into a shrew. But if she chose her own husband – and she certainly appeared old enough to be in her majority, and able to choose – she deserved someone who would continue to light that fire in her eyes that made them sparkle so. A woman such as her should never be broken by a bad husband.

If only he were in a position to ask for her hand…but what woman would accept him, looking the way he did? Even Belle with her piercing gaze would never see past the beast he'd become.





Twenty-One

Vardan slowed Arion down to a walk when they reached the first building. Zuleika followed suit. "Welcome to Harbourtown," Vardan said, spreading his arms wide. "A ghost town, now."

And so it looked, for not a soul was in sight. A pony plodded down the middle of the cobblestone street, pulling a laden cart. A cat dashed between the wheels and emerged unscathed. Spray of snow fountained up from the drift by the side of the road, as though a child had kicked it. As though…

Zuleika dismounted, wrapping the reins around her hand so she didn't lose Embarr in the crowd. A crowd she could not see, but she could hear.

The witch hadn't just cursed the prince's household. She'd cursed an entire town, bustling with people and businesses and all the things a place of this size should have. Even Zuleika couldn't cast a curse this far-reaching. No single spell-caster had done this. She would have had to cast dozens of curses to enchant this many people. It was…inconceivable that one witch would expend so much power to punish one man.

Zuleika moved in a daze, not looking where she was going, and she stumbled. She would have fallen, if not for her hold on the horse's reins. As it was, she landed painfully on her knees, tearing one of the lovely silk stockings Inga had insisted she wear. Now, the blue silk was stained purple with her blood.

Before she could think the action through, Zuleika touched her bloodied knee to the cobbles. "Show me what the curse hides," she whispered. She watched the spell eddy down the street as if blown by the wind, and as it went, people faded into sight. Men, women, children, going about their business as though there was no curse. But that wasn't right, either. The women's veils were crooked, for they could not see to set them straight. The children's hair was mussed, because no one ever saw it to admonish them to brush it. Two men stood outside the baker's in stained tunics, blissfully unaware of their need to wash. The people of Harbourtown weren't only invisible to the world. They were invisible to themselves, too.

Before her eyes, children lived without ever seeing their mother's loving smile. Just as Inga had said.

Tears sprang to Zuleika's eyes. She must fix this. There had to be a way.

Strong hands seized her, lifting her to her feet.

"Are you all right?" Vardan asked, not taking his arms from around her.

The townsfolk stopped to stare. At their prince, with a strange woman in his arms. Realisation dawned on their faces, as men began to bow and women dropped curtseys.

"I am fine," Zuleika tried to say, turning her head so that she might see his face, but the words died in her throat. The beastly face – Vardan's face – that she expected to see was not there. Instead, she saw the face of King Thorn, an unspeakable monster she would never allow to touch her again.