Wiping her suddenly watery eyes on her sleeve, Isa finally turned and headed back to her room. She had few belongings of any real value. A silver hairbrush from her parents and a change of clothes were all she could find to put in her bag. Megane had left her own bag open on her bed, so Isa slipped her favorite childhood doll inside of it. Her sister had always admired the doll, and though Megane was nearly too old for playthings, she might find it a comforting reminder of Isabelle after she was gone.
With that settled, Isa realized that she needed an excuse to leave the house, particularly as her father had just returned with such urgent news. Immediately, her thoughts went to her horse. After losing her ability to run and dance, Ansel had taught his daughter to find respite in the freedom of riding. It had become a way of escape for Isa over the years, giving her a chance to feel the wind rush past her as she moved unhindered over the earth. Her parents would think nothing of her taking one last ride through the countryside.
“I’m going out for a ride,” Isa announced to her family. It took all of her will to steady her voice as she spoke. “I…I need to think.”
They nodded understandingly, and her mother threw her favorite green cloak around Isa’s shoulders.
“Use mine. It’s warmer than yours. We will be leaving just after nightfall, so be back soon.”
Trying to smile, Isa nodded and headed out to the stable. Using the special step her father had made for her, she was soon on her horse and headed towards the mountain.
Isa had never feared the mountain. As a child, she had run up and down its familiar face with her brother and friends like mountain goats. More hill than cliff, its slopes were gentle, and its peak was rounded off at the top. It would take a few hours to get to the Fortress because of the melting snow drifts that still stood from the last night’s storm, but the path would be easy enough to find. An ancient tree marked its beginning, towering over all of its neighbors. From there, the path ran right alongside a stream carved every spring by snowmelt.
It felt strange to begin up the path again. She hadn’t visited the Fortress since the incident with the prince. It was too strenuous for her ankle, and her father had thought it best if she wasn’t near the prince. The last time she’d set foot on this path was when she was young and free, able to run and dance without a care in the world. And now she was headed for the domain of the man who had taken it all from her, strong leg, strong hand, even her wedding.
Isa couldn’t help but shudder as she tried not think about what he could possibly want from her. Did he know who she was, or had he simply chosen to pour out his wrath on the first passerby he could find?
Though the stories of the Fortress monarchs had always painted them with at least decent senses of honor and chivalry, Isa had heard stories of how the rulers of other lands treated their wives and concubines. She wondered if that was what he wanted of her.
Even admist such dire thoughts, Isa was never left alone with her fear, however, for her anger at what he had done, what he might want her to do, burned deep inside as well. She would go, but she would not go quietly.
As the slope got a bit steeper, Isa had to focus more on guiding her horse along the snowy trail. As they moved, however, Isa began to sense that she wasn’t alone. She looked around warily, hoping to spot a harmless animal in the brush or the trees, but she could see nothing. The forest was silent. Not even squirrels chattered. She tried to focus on the road ahead, pushing her horse just a bit faster. But the closer she got to the Fortress, the more she felt the prying eyes.
When she spotted the Fortress entrance, Isa let out a sigh of relief and dismay, thinking she had made it. At that moment, however, something large flew out of the bushes and slammed into her, knocking her off her horse.
“Launce!” she gasped as she stared up into the face of her brother.
“What are you thinking?” He ignored her question. “I thought you might get curious, but I didn’t think you would actually be stupid enough to go!”
“If you get off me, I’ll tell you!”
Launce sat back enough to allow her to stand up. Isa scolded herself silently. She should have known her brother wouldn’t let her leave without a goodbye. Actually, she knew he wouldn’t let her leave at all. That was why she’d slipped out of the house when she thought he was out visiting his sweetheart one last time. Apparently, he’d been able to read her better than she had thought.
“Father might think we can outrun the prince’s powers, but he’s wrong.”
Launce stared back at her with unforgiving eyes. “So I am simply supposed to let you run off to live with the madman prince?”
For the first time, Isa wondered if she would actually be able to follow through with her plan. Launce was strong, and though she was tall for a woman, he was a whole head taller. It would be nothing for him to pick her up and take her home against her will.
“Would you sentence Megane to a slow death of sickness and pain?” she asked. His eyes widened a bit, so she continued. “Because he’s strong enough. Launce, I’ve felt it! When the prince touched me in the street all those years ago, I felt his power! It was more painful than I can describe. I don’t know what he wants me for, but I do know that I want none of it near Megane. Or Mother or Father. Besides, if I don’t do as he says, do you think he’ll really spare me? My fate is sealed either way.”
Isa sighed and leaned against her horse, closing her eyes as she spoke. “But the rest of you have a chance, particularly Megs. Let me do this for her. Please don’t take it away from me.” She drew in a shaky breath and added, “I don’t think either one of us could live with ourselves if something happened to her.”
The icy look had melted off of Launce’s face, leaving the torn, helpless expression of the little boy Isa remembered from long ago. She breathed an inner sigh of relief as she saw her words sink in. Launce had always been protective of her, but they had grown up as a team. Megane was, on the other hand, the baby. Pranks they had played on one another were simply not played on her. The unspoken rule was that she was to be protected above all else. And this was Isa’s only hope for convincing her brother to let her go.
She knew she had won when she saw tears welling up his eyes. Without another word, her little brother pulled her into a hug, and Isa clung to him, the fear and anguish of separation suddenly surrounding her.
“You must keep Father from coming for me,” she sniffled into Launce’s shoulder, her words rushed. “You have to remind him that whether I stay or whether I go, the prince will have me in sickness or captivity. I will be a happier captive if I know the family is safe.”
Launce finally pulled out of the embrace, still glaring at her. But he helped her back up on her horse and gave her a stiff nod before turning back down the path.
Feeling even more alone than before, Isa turned her horse off of the main road, and the Fortress came into full view. The great stronghold was nothing new to Isa. She’d visited it many times with Ansel as a child, but never had she seen it been so empty.
The lofty battlements looked cold and foreboding without the soldiers at their posts. And the great front gate was closed. It seemed the prince wanted her to ask permission before entering his domain, to be remind her of just how small and insignificant she was.
The old resentment flared up again as Isa stared at the distant, lofty gate. Prince Everard might be forcing her to come, but that didn’t mean she was going to play by his rules.
Isa turned her horse abruptly away from the front entrance. Skirting the outer wall, she headed around to the back of the Fortress, hoping the hole hadn’t been patched up.
The bushes had grown since she’d last visited, but to her relief, the gap hadn’t been discovered. When she was small, the servant children had shown her the opening in the outer wall, explaining how they used it to get in and out of the Fortress without their parents’ knowledge. It was covered by a dense thicket of foliage, barely big enough for Isa’s horse. But once she made it through, she was v
ery glad she had come this way.
Much less intimidating, the servants’ entrance was smaller and had fewer grandiose architectures. If she’d gone farther down the road, Isa would have made it to the servant’s gate. What had been open for her father, however, must have been visited by some sort of spirit keeper, for the back gate was now closed.
Isa rode through the open fields, noticing for the first time a strange set of great statues that filled half of the meadow behind the Fortress. They seemed innumerable, large effigies lined neatly up in perfect rows and columns. Snow covered most of the figures, but there was something eerily human about them. They most definitely hadn’t been there when she was little. Each one had unique features, carved of stone, and yet giving the impression that they could walk away whenever they pleased.
When Isa finally arrived at the royal stables, she took as long as she possibly could to feed and groom her horse. As she worked, she seriously considered spending that night in the stable. Her animal was warm and familiar. He was safe. But, Isa reminded herself, she had not abandoned her family to hide in a stable. She had come with a purpose, and no one would be safe until she fulfilled it.
“Good night, my dear friend.” She softly rubbed the horse one last time. “I will come to see you as soon as I can.” Then, with a deep breath and a prayer, Isa left the stable and headed for the servants’ door of the Fortress.
The moment Isa crossed the threshold, her nerve nearly fled. The sun was almost set behind her, but the darkness before her was thick and terrifying. It was as if a black fog had filled the once pristine, shining marble halls. The air smelled deeply of mildew and dust. After letting the door close behind her, she stood still, hoping her eyes would somehow adjust to the blackness.
In spite of her fear, as she gave pause, something deep down inside of Isa hoped this entrance would annoy the prince. She couldn’t bear to give him the satisfaction of making her feel insignificant. Not any more than he already had, at least.
She finally spotted one single candle sitting on a table not far from the door. She nearly lost both the candle and her balance, however, when something cold brushed against her arm. Her hand shook as she held the flame up, trying to see what had touched her. But there was only the empty hall to see.
Isa nearly screamed when two more breezes gave her gentle pushes from behind. Only then did she remembered Ansel’s warnings about the shadows. Drawing Deline’s cloak about her as tightly as she could, Isa decided it would be best to do as they wished. Ansel had seemed to think they meant him no harm, but he really hadn’t been there long enough to know for sure.
Isa was pushed down a number of large empty halls, and up several flights of stairs before she was allowed to rest. To her relief, a door was finally opened before her by invisible hands, that led not into another hall or passageway, but instead, a rather small room with a dim fire inside a large hearth.
The fire didn’t completely chase away the darkness, but it lit the room enough that Isa could see that it had once been a very grand room. The tapestries and carpets that were now riddled with moth holes, and covered in dust, must have once been very beautiful, and were most likely made of rare, expensive fabrics. An oversized bed with tall posts at each corner filled much of the room, its head against the wall, next to the fire. A large wooden writing desk was placed across from the bed, near the windows that faced south.
“Thank you,” Isa whispered to the shadows, tears coming to her eye as she recognized the lights of Soudain in the distance at the foot of the mountain. There were the sentries, the ones that stood guard at the town entrance at night with their torches. Her father had been right. The shadows at least weren’t malicious. If she was to be trapped in this place, at least she could sleep with her beloved city in sight.
That seemed to be the end of the shadows’ kindnesses, however. Before she knew it, Isa was being pushed over to a large wardrobe in the far corner of the room. She gasped as it opened on its own to reveal a large variety of dresses. Like the once lavish room, these gowns had been incredibly lavish at one time. But they, too, smelled like wet dust. Isa stared at them stupidly for a moment before she realized why she was there.
“Am I supposed to put one of these on?” She felt silly asking the empty room. In response, however, the shadows nudged her one step closer to the wardrobe. “These are all far too extravagant for me.” She shook her head. “I don’t need anything like this.” Again, she received a push. It seemed she had no choice. So after glaring behind her, hoping the shadows would catch her annoyance, Isa picked the simplest of the gowns. If she was going to be introduced to the man who had tried three times now to steal her life, she would not be made a fool in princess’s rags.
The gown she chose was simple, but still luxurious. The main fabric was dark blue that crisscrossed the white bodice, with intricate silver stitching adorning the blue skirt just below the waist. It was a dress her peers would have done anything to wear in the city. Despite the fine craftsmanship, unfortunately, the dress smelled as awful as the rest of the Fortress. And yet, Isa was still forced to wear it.
Not even allowed to take her own gown off by herself, Isa was subjected to much pulling and pushing as it was tugged off of her like a farmer might sheer a sheep. She could feel pulls and pushes at her sturdy boots as well, but she adamantly refused to let those leave her feet. She wasn’t entirely sure that she’d be able to walk through the length of the palace without them.
“You can do anything else to me that you wish,” she scowled at the fussing shadows, “but those are not coming off until I am ready for bed.”
Eventually, to her relief, they left her boots alone and began to fuss with her hair instead, which, admittedly, was rather messy from her journey up the mountain in the cold wind.
Finally, she was ready. At least, she supposed she was ready once the shadows stopped their constant poking and prodding at her clothes, and began instead to escort her towards the door. Isa was getting used being pushed or pulled from all directions by that time, however, so she went willingly when they prodded her out the door once more. This time, much to her relief, the halls were just a bit brighter. Someone or something had lit torches and placed them along the walls. With light now to walk by, she moved somewhat confidently.
Until she walked right into the prince.
His shout of surprise was the first real sound Isa had heard since leaving her horse. It mingled in the air with her own startled cry as they both fell back a step. Immediately, Isa half knelt, half fell into a curtsy. As much as she had meant to be brave, a deep fear quickly wriggled into her heart. She would soon find out what awful plans he had for her, and she suddenly didn’t know if she could bear it.
“Your Highness!” her voice quivered strangely. “Please forgive me.”
It took the prince a moment to recover his own voice, it seemed, but when he spoke, it was surprisingly rich, rude as his words were.
“Are you Isabelle?”
“Yes, Sire.” As if any other sane woman would sneak into the cursed citadel. An awkward silence ensued as she continued to kneel and he stood over her. Finally, he said,
“Why didn’t you arrive during the daytime hours?”
“I beg your pardon?” Isa had to keep herself from looking up in response to the strange question.
“I told your father that you needed to come during the day!” His voice was petulant.
Isa had nothing to say to this.
“He didn’t tell you, did he?” the prince asked.
Isa shook her head.
“You came on your own, didn’t you?”
For fear of giving away her family’s plans, Isa remained quiet. He was here, but if he found out her family had planned to flee, he might kill her father anyway. She wouldn’t put such treachery past him.
There was another long pause before the prince cleared his throat, his voice a little less sullen when he spoke again. “Isabelle, you may stand when I speak with you from now on. I disl
ike speaking to the floor.”
As she stood, Isabelle dared to look at her prince for the first time in fourteen years. She nearly gasped aloud. He was nothing like she’d expected. His hands were hidden in the folds of his clothes, but the part of his chin that showed was thin and pale, nearly chalky. Most of his face was hidden by the hooded cloak he wore, but even through the thick fabric, she could see his nearly emaciated frame. His back was so bent that he was nearly the same height that she was.
In fact, he stood and moved the way her grandfather had done before he died. But her grandfather had suffered from severe joint pain for years, and the prince should have been only twenty-seven years in age, four years older than herself.
It seemed her father had been wrong. The curse had touched the prince as well. This couldn’t possibly be the hero prince the children sang songs about, the one who had slain dozens in battle. And yet, here he was.
“You weren’t supposed to be here for two more days,” he growled again. “How did you get in?”
“Near the servants’ entrance, Sire,” Isa tried to keep the small smile off her face. At least she had succeeded in doing something her own way. “I thought it only appropriate, as I am to be your servant.”
“It is true that–Look up at me,” he interrupted himself, suddenly removing his hood. “I want to see you better.”
Isa couldn’t have looked away if she’d wanted to. His face was gaunt. Dark circles seemed painted below his eyes, and his skin appeared fragile, as though someone had stretched it too thinly over his sharp cheekbones. His golden, unkept hair was reached to his shoulders, making his ashen cheeks look even more sunken.
But what really drew her gaze were his eyes. They were the only parts of his face that stood out more than his thin nose, but not because they were frightening as the rest of him was. The prince’s eyes would have been gray if not for the thin rings of blue fire that encircled his pupils. They blazed in a strange, beautiful rhythm that made her want to lean in closer. Unfortunately, she realized, those deep, extraordinary eyes were glaring at her with a very real hatred.
Before Beauty Page 7
