“What you are about to see has only ever been seen by the Fortress kings and queens and their closest confidantes. It is sacred, the heart of the Fortress. But,” he turned to her with that strange contemplative look, “if you can truly break the curse, it will affect more than just this Fortress and its inhabitants. What happens in this room will one day determine the fate of our world and that of our enemies.”
When they finally reached the top of the tower, Isa could see sweat still trickling down the prince’s neck in the weak torchlight. She was breathing hard herself from the effort of the long climb. When he unlocked the door, however, the view made her forget the exhaustion.
She gasped as she stepped into the tower of windows. He led her over to the north side of the circular room. From there, she could see a great encampment at the foot of the mountain. Despite the dark, hundreds of fires lit up the night. They made it easy to see the countless rows of tents that stood tauntingly.
“You can’t see them from your room,” he said quietly. “I put you there on purpose so you couldn’t, but that is the enemy.”
“Who are they? What are they waiting for?” Her heart began to thump unevenly again.
“In the thousand years that this Fortress has stood, it has never gone dark. Tonight’s attack was a warning, a taunt. They are reminding me that they’re watching.”
“Why do they hate you so much?” Isa turned away from the fires to look at him.
“The Fortress isn’t the only source of power and strength in the world.” He stared down at the enemy, his eyes troubled. “And yet, Destin is different from all of the other kingdoms. For a thousand years, it has been the strongest of all.” He paused. “What did you learn of the first king, Cassiel, in the books I sent to you?”
Isa racked her memory, running quickly through the dozens of droll histories she’d been reading.
“Wasn’t he once a knight for another kingdom?”
Everard nodded. “He was a low-ranking knight of a nearby land, a man of little consequence. On an errand for the king, he entered the lower country of his land, what is now Soudain, and saw the injustices being inflicted upon the people because of his proud king’s negligence.
“The Maker’s hand was upon Cassiel as he set out to right the wrongs that evil had brought upon the people of the southern land, the atrocities that the nobles of Cassiel’s land ignored. In less than ten years, he had turned a barren wasteland full of impoverished souls into a safe and prosperous haven. As a result, the people there were blessed with rich soil and flowing streams.
“In addition, the Maker gifted him with the Fortress, a home from which he could draw a special strength to do justice and provide mercy. That strength was passed on to his descendants as well. That is why the Fortress is more than just a castle. It has been a place of light and hope for a millennium.” The prince placed his hand upon one of the glass walls and ran his fingers down the glass. “Until now,” he finished in a quiet voice.
“How is it then that this…strength is disappearing so quickly? If the Fortress was created with such power, how can they attack us so ruthlessly?” Isa couldn’t tear her eyes away from the fires below. “Particularly at night?”
“There are other powers that wander this earth.” Everard frowned. “They have never been able to match the strength given this place, but that doesn’t mean they should ever be underestimated. Our greatest enemy, Tumen, has been a source of dark power for hundreds of years, a thorn in our side.” Turning from the window, the prince shook his head in disgust and sank into a chair.
“Not long before he died, my father sought an alliance with Tumen. My betrothal ball put an end to that, however, thanks to the true intentions of their Princess Nevina, and some ill-chosen words on my part.”
The idea of Everard having a betrothal ball was troublesome to Isa for some reason, but she ignored the irksome feeling it caused in her gut, and asked a more appropriate question instead.
“I still cannot understand where their power comes from. How were they able to hit me so well through the snowstorm? To see me even? And why would they attack only at night? Surely it would be easier by day.”
“Greed is a powerful weapon of its own.” The prince gave a strange, hard smile. “Cultivated and nourished enough, it can be twisted into an asset of surprising force. King Cassiel was born in Tumen, and served its king until he left to right the injustices he found here. Tumen has always believed that because Cassiel was one of its own knights, Destin rightfully belongs to the Tumenian king. Their rage at being denied sovereignty of this land has become their weapon. The Tumenian power is nearly as old as that of the Fortress, only it is one shrouded in evil. It cannot stand the light of day.
“As for her desire to my throne, Princess Nevina, until recently, was the declared heir of Tumen’s throne. When she was small, her father trained her in the ways of their ancestors. She proved to be strong, and many Tumenians believed she would be the one to restore Destin to them.
“This ambition has long made them unpopular with the other kingdoms, and while the Tumenian king has since claimed to have given up his dark powers in order to seek peace, Nevina never had any such intentions. But just when she was at the cusp of taking the sovereignty she’d been promised since birth, needing only a husband to seal the throne for herself, the birth of her younger brother took the kingdom by surprise, and Nevina lost her claim to the throne.”
“So the princess is allowed to run about doing whatever she wishes now? Despite her father’s claims at peace?”
“Her people have always loved her, and Nevina is clever. She is using their affection to garner support, and has continued to grow her numbers with her promises of the richness and bounty of our land. And for all his claims of peace, her father has done nothing to stop her.” Everard shook his head, his next words taking Isa by surprise.
“I fear, however, that her greed is not the power that has threatened this kingdom most in these last generations. She is merely taken advantage of what my fathers and I been giving her.”
Isa waited for him to go on, but he didn’t, suddenly lost in his own revelations. It was a moment before he spoke again.
“We’ve been able to hold Tumen off for centuries. With each generation, however, they have grown stronger. My father, his father, and even his father did everything they could to ensure our allies’ loyalties and to minimize Destin’s weaknesses. But the more we’ve strived, the harder it has become to contain them. And now they wait.”
As she pondered his words and watched his eyes, Isa had a sudden flash of insight. “The curse didn’t just affect your body. You are losing your power, too, aren’t you?”
His eyes once again flaming a duller fire, Everard smiled wryly. “The strength that has flowed through the blood of my ancestors has been diminishing for generations.” He swallowed loudly. “It seems my line is no longer fit to bear the burden of power any longer. At least, not until this curse is broken.”
Understanding shook her to the core. Isa finally understood his desperation to break the curse. The prince, like her, hungered to fulfill his purpose. Everyone knew King Rodrigue had raised his son to be a warrior prince to protect Destin. And yet, after all he’d done, everything he had tried to do, it still wasn’t enough. He was losing everything that he had ever held dear. And as much as she wanted to blame him, Isa was slowly having to admit that perhaps a stronger force was at work in their lives, one that not even the great prince had control over.
And it was breaking him, as it had broken her. Isa fought the sudden desire to reach out and touch him, to embrace him and tell him everything would be alright. Instead, she kept her hands firmly in her lap and decided to answer his question from earlier that evening.
“It’s not your fault that I hate the name Belle,” she said softly.
Everard turned from staring at the fires again to look at her, his open expression suddenly making him look very young. Isa tried not to get trapped in his gaze.
>
“I was engaged,” her voice quivered, the pain resurfacing as she spoke. “His name is Raoul. He was always there for me, since childhood. After the injury, I was very alone. The other children didn’t want to wait for the crippled girl to constantly catch up, and he was the only one who still saw me for me. He would come over and play with me when I was healing and couldn’t leave the house, and he would bring me things that made me smile, like flowers from a field, or apples from an orchard we used to explore.
“As we got older,” Isa smiled at the memory in spite of herself, “he was the only one who ever asked me to dance. He called me Belle because,” Isa’s voice caught, and she had to whisper so she wouldn’t cry. “He said I was the hidden flower, the one that was too beautiful for other people to see.” Despite her resolve, warm tears coursed silently down her cheeks as she spoke.
“What happened?”
When Isa looked up at him, the prince’s face was full of what looked like sincere concern. Isa’s hand went to her crooked wrist without thinking. “He proposed to me just after the Fortress went dark, then left immediately with his father on a long journey. His father is the city chancellor, and has been preparing his son for the position since he was born. Apparently, he wanted Raoul to see what a true leader’s wife should look like.”
Isa’s voice hitched again, and instead of stopping, her tears fell harder. The shame of the memory made Isa’s face hot. “He returned on our wedding day. He told me… He made it very clear that I was unfit to be the wife of a chancellor, that my weaknesses made me unable to fulfill the role that being his wife would require. I wasn’t enough.”
Unable to hold in the sobs, Isa put her head in her hands and wept. The pain of being broken was much fresher than she thought it would be by now. Raoul had broken her again just when she had thought she was about to be healed. It felt as if she would never be whole again. This shame and sorrow of not being enough would follow her forever.
It was a few moments before she was calm enough to look into the eyes of her prince, and suddenly, she felt humiliated. What foolishness had possessed her to think he cared or wanted to know her pathetic love story? He had greater concerns on his mind.
When she was finally brave enough to steal a glance at him, however, Prince Everard’s face looked like one of the stone statues that stood outside. His jaw was set tightly, and the blue in his eyes blazed brightly once more. She was a bit frightened at first, until she realized he didn’t seem angry with her. He said nothing as he walked over to the window again and stared down at the enemy below.
“My family calls me Isa,” she finally volunteered.
“And my friends call me Ever,” he answered solemnly.
Isa couldn’t help but wonder if she was supposed to call him this, too. Was she now considered a friend? As she puzzled over this, he quietly added,
“For what it’s worth, I still think Belle fits you better.”
In a daze, Isa simply gazed up at him. Silence settled over them again, the fire’s crackling making the only sounds as the evening drew late.
“You should go to bed soon,” he finally said in a rough voice.
Isa knew he was right, but her eyes wandered back to the campfires below. Fear rushed through her every time she looked at them.
“You don’t have to be afraid.” The prince was now looking at her with a gentleness she’d never seen before on his face. “They’ve been here for months. They won’t attack again tonight.”
Isa nodded, but her eyes once again locked upon the fires below, her leg beginning to throb where the bird had slashed it.
Without warning, Everard began to sing. Isa knew none of the words. They seemed as ancient as the Fortress which surrounded her, but the incredibly rich tones of the prince’s voice conveyed the meaning just as easily as if she’d spoken the language.
Gentle one who shivers with fear
Tremble no more in your fright.
One who is stronger watches over you
No harm shall meet thee tonight.
As if under a spell, Isa found herself dozing off against the arm of the chair she sat in. She was vaguely aware of airy hands lifting her, floating her to her chambers on a breeze.
She didn’t dream of Raoul that night, or even the flaming arrows. Instead, Ever’s rich voice serenaded her to a place of peace and rest, and it was with a smile on her face that Isa fell asleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
What She Thinks
“Garin,” Ever crumpled into a chair near the fire, his shadow servants scrambling to tend to his spent and bloody body, “I need something to drink, something that will clear my head.”
A few moments later, a shadow figure handed him a goblet filled with a putrid brown liquid. Ever normally would have studied it suspiciously before peppering Grain with a dozen questions as to what it was. But tonight he was too shaken to do anything but gulp it down.
He hadn’t meant to tell her so much. He hadn’t meant for any of it to happen. The jesting about her name had simply been a foolish attempt at lightening the mood, an attempt to reach past the walls she had built around herself. He’d had no idea his words would affect her the way they had.
Shame and fury sped his pulse again as he recalled the frustration of trying to race after her, to protect her. As she’d run into the darkness, his instincts had kicked in, but his body had not been able to keep up. It was as if someone was holding him back, as though chains had been tied to his legs as he tried desperately to reach the one person who might be able to unlock the Fortress’s secrets for him.
He knew deep down, however, that there was something else that had drawn him after her so quickly. And it hadn’t been the curse.
Isabelle…Isa fascinated him. She wasn’t like any other woman he had ever met. The court girls who had thrown themselves after him were generally silly, witless creatures with the depth of a puddle. And though he suspected there were wiser women in the court, they had tended to avoid him.
His hands still shook as he finished off the last drops of Garin’s awful drink. His head was clearing, but that was ultimately making him feel even more dreadful. The more he thought about Isa’s story, the angrier he became with the weak coward who had broken her heart. The thought of the young woman in a white gown, smiling radiantly at a scoundrel intent on breaking her heart galled him. She had never smiled at him like she must have beamed at him.
Still worse, however, was knowing that his treatment of her was no better. The weasel who had dared to break off their engagement on the night of their wedding had traded the young woman for power. Ever knew what he was doing was truly no better, trying to gain her affections to reach the same end-power. And no matter how many times he tried to justify her sacrifice with the needs of the kingdom, it all came down to one thing. He was undeniably using her.
And it didn’t help matters now that his heart was inexplicably tangled up in the matter as well.
At first, the chivalry had been purely an act. He’d gritted his teeth every time he had offered his arm to the woman with the dark blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for so long. The guilt of what he’d done to her had fueled his rage at first, and it had taken all of his acting skills, those he’d practiced for dealing with untrustworthy diplomats and dignitaries, to keep the sneer from his face.
But, he had quickly discovered, there was something disarming about the girl. From her willingness to sacrifice herself for her family, to her determination to dance, he’d soon found himself more perplexed with her than anything else. How he wanted to draw the secrets from those eyes. He hadn’t dared to admit his obsession even to himself, however, until he had seen her on the ground, bleeding into the snow.
Something had changed as he had tried to charge towards her. If he had inhabited his old body, she would never have even seen the arrow, for he would have had her back inside the Fortress before she’d reached the statues.
A type of alien anxiety had filled him as he ran, watching her cry
out into the night, the pain and fear all over her face. The same helplessness had filled him later when she had broken down, recalling the way her fiancé had abandoned her.
Ever didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he stared down at the campfires below until the break of dawn.
***
Isa didn’t dance the next day. Ever made sure of that. He ordered his servants to keep her in bed and tend to her leg, no matter what kind of fight she put up.
“You could heal her, Sire,” Garin suggested gently.
But Ever shook his head. “I can’t spend any strength that is not absolutely necessary. With the proper care, she will soon heal on her own.” Deep down, however, guilt ate at him, as he knew he was being selfish. Not only was he hoarding the strength he had only recently spent so easily on himself, but he was also planning on using her required bed rest as an excuse to visit her in a setting where she couldn’t escape his attention.
“Garin, I would like for you to come with me this morning, to learn what she thinks of me,” Ever announced as his servants helped him to dress. Garin gave a polite snort.
“Your Highness, I can tell you that now. She has absolutely no idea what she thinks about you. But you know I will be there with you, as I always am.”
The visit was somewhat awkward. Ever thought about bringing flowers, but as the only live ones on the Fortress grounds were in Isa’s beloved rose garden, he decided against it. Instead, he brought more books.
She politely greeted him from bed when he knocked, and Ever grinned to himself as the female shadows flitted about angrily when he entered. He knew they didn’t think it proper for the prince to visit a woman in her bedchambers, but they settled down somewhat when Garin floated in behind him.
After sharing such deep emotions the night before, neither Isa nor Ever seemed to know quite what to say, but the air between them was most assuredly altered.
Before Beauty Page 12
