Enchant: Beauty and the Beast Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale #1)(9)

She whispered a spell to guide her to a way out, and found herself in what must be the great hall of the house. This was grander than her father's, its white walls stretching up to an arched ceiling much like the cellar downstairs. She had never seen a building like it. She crossed the room and reached for the bar fastening the great doors.

"Stop, thief!" Someone seized her around the middle.

Another set of hands snatched the chest from her grip as she fought her captors – more than one, she decided, as someone tipped her hood over her face, blinding her. She struck out behind her, hoping to land a blow on her cowardly assailant, or one of them, at least, but instead she tripped over the hem of her cloak. Her head hit the door she'd failed to open, and the blow stole her senses. Darkness won once more.





Twelve

"I thought I told you to inform me when she awoke," Vardan said, staring down at the girl. Now she lay on the stone floor instead of the snow, but her closed eyes and the swelling bruise beneath her hair taunted him for being a bad host who did not properly protect his guests.

Inga must have run from the other end of the house, for she was still breathing hard. "Nobody told me, master. This is the first I knew of it, and it looks like she's no longer awake, anyway."

This wasn't Inga's fault, Vardan told himself, but it was hard to contain his anger. The girl was hurt, for heaven's sake.

"Who did this?" Vardan demanded. "She's just a slip of a girl. No need to clout her over the head. Inga here could probably restrain her."

Rolf coughed out a laugh. "She's more than a mere girl. Threw me across the corridor, she did, before she tripped over her own cloak and hit her head. I'll wager this one's a witch. How else did she get here?"

Vardan wet his lips. "I don't know, but I mean to ask when she wakes. Again. What did you say to her to make her attack you, Rolf?"

"I called her a thief." Rolf twitched the corner of her cloak aside and revealed a small casket. "She was carrying this."

Vardan lifted up the box. "From the cargo of the Rosa," he noted, tracing the merchant's mark on the side. He lifted the lid. "She's quite a discerning thief, then. A fine squirrel pelt, and a veritable treasure trove of jewels. What are these purple stones called?"

"Amethysts, master," Inga said. "Just the right shade to match that fur, too. The girl has a fine eye for colour."

A magical thief with fine eyes, who could match Rolf in a fight. Against all his normal inclinations to imprison her for being a thief, instead he felt the unfamiliar desire to protect her.

Vardan badly needed to speak to this girl. She sounded like the most remarkable woman he'd ever met, and he didn't even know her name yet.

"I'll take her back to her room, and this time, I intend to be there when she wakes up," Vardan said, once more scooping the girl up in his arms. Ah, that felt better. She was much lighter than before, though more heavily dressed, so her clothes must have been soaked through when she arrived. How had she made it from the ocean to his rose garden?

He added that to the list of things he wanted to ask her. In the meantime, he carried the welcome weight in his arms to her bed. After all, it wasn't like she could leave the island. She was trapped there as much as he was, whether she slept in a dungeon or the queen's bedchamber.

He settled her in her bed and sat down to wait. Answers would come soon enough.





Thirteen

Some sound must have startled her into alertness, for Zuleika didn't wake willingly. Her head ached more than ever, but she strained to hear the noise again.

There it was – a breath, blown out forcefully as if in impatience.

Keeping her eyes closed, she cast her mind toward the heavy breather. A man, as she suspected. He radiated a strange combination of boredom and curiosity. Curiosity for the future, while he endured the tedium now. A guard, she guessed.

She opened her eyes slowly, expecting to see a dungeon, or at the very least, to find herself thrown outside into the snow. Instead, she saw she'd been placed in a bed. Possibly the very same bed she had recently vacated. She couldn't be certain, for in the dark room it was hard to discern whether there were hangings at all, let alone whether they were faded or not. What worried her most was that her lightning shield had not triggered when someone had attacked her. Either the spell was ineffective, which she doubted, or her assailant had not intended to harm her. Yet both explanations were impossible. Zuleika snorted. Enchantresses achieved the impossible on a daily basis.

"You may feign sleep for as long as you like, my lady, but you and I both know you are awake," a male voice said. It came from a shadow in the corner – a hulking shadow, but a man-sized one.

Years had passed, but Zuleika still heard that voice in her darkest dreams. He was no guard.

Try as she might, she would never forget King Thorn, and her very bones quaked in the terror invoked by hearing that voice. But she was not defenceless today. "Threaten me with whatever you wish. I will never remove the curse." She took a deep breath before continuing coldly, "It is no less than you deserve."

She prayed that he would not hear the frightened fluttering of her heart. Damn the king for what he had done, and for the memory possessing the power to scare her still. Zuleika vowed that she would leave this encounter the victor today. If he took so much as a step toward her, she would turn him into a toad. He deserved all that, and more.