by Jenni James
—Alexander
At first her heart was so full of Apollo and the words he spoke unto her, and his amazing conviction that she truly was more incredible than she believed, she could not see or think of anything else. However, once she had shed a few tears and reread the note over and over again enough times to allow her brain to process the loss she believed herself to have had, she did notice one small confusion with the letter. There was a word there that should not have been, and yet it was written as plain as day:
—Alexander
The prince had written the missive? Was he truly Apollo? Could it be? Her heart speed began to pick up as her mind raced through the last conversation they had had together. It was difficult to remember most of it, since she had deliberately tried to push it from her mind, considering it all to be false.
But what if indeed he were the wolf?
What if it was Prince Alexander all along?! She sat up more fully, her foot tapping against the dirt. If he were the prince, then that would explain why Alexander knew everything about her so quickly. It would explain why he did not flinch when others thought they were engaged. He was trying to help in the only way he knew how. And it would also explain why she felt so secure around the prince, because it was the same being; he was the same soul!
Her mind zinged and pinged through several displaced and muddled conversations with the beast as well, especially upon his last one that said there were many things he couldn’t tell her. How he wasn’t always a wolf, how he was under an enchantment.
In agitation, Cecelia stood and began to pace.
It made absolutely no sense.
It made perfect sense.
No, no. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly have been her wolf all along.
And if he was, then what changed? Why was he no longer a beast? What had broken the spell? And why would Lord Bellemount lie to her?
“Ugh.” She grunted a very unladylike grunt and kicked a small stone into the stream. Dare she believe any of this for a mere moment? Dare she allow her heart the freedom to hope again?
Alexander had told her over and over she could trust the wolf; the beast also believed the prince to be extremely trustworthy. If they were the same person, would it not make more sense?
A small sob escaped, and she quickly suppressed it with her hand. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t still be hers. Not now, not after all this time when she believed he was gone.
She folded her arms and looked up at the sky, trying to find some sort of divine guidance, something that could steer her soul into knowing what to do and who to believe.
After a minute or so of silence, she realized what it was she must do to prove to herself once and for all if he was indeed her dear Apollo. Scurrying home, she bypassed the gate and went straight to her mother’s rose garden. Finding a large pink rose, full of hope and blossoming joy, she picked it and made her way to the castle.
Once there she placed the rose upon the step of the large front door.
If he were indeed Apollo, Alexander would know it as a sign to meet her at the brook that evening. If he were not, then it would just remain an insignificant rose placed upon the steps of the castle, and no one would ever understand its meaning.
As she was leaving, she nearly bumped into one of the servants, a boy coming up to the palace.
“Are you here to see his Highness?” asked the boy.
“No.” She pointed to the flower. “I have only come to deliver a rose for him. Will you see that he finds it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy bowed and hurried on his way.
Cecelia smiled and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that at least he would have the opportunity to see the rose before someone removed it. She quickly left the castle grounds and made her way back home. Excitement fissured through her as she allowed a small fraction of hope to take place of the horrid melancholy she’d felt lately.
Oh, please let it be him!
Please let her mind be correct, just this once.
Her mother’s incessant chatter did nothing to still the ever-blossoming excitement growing within her. It was all Cecelia could do to remain calm and eat dinner and pretend as if her world was not all of the sudden perhaps on the brink of becoming completely altered yet again.
She chose a stunning gown of blue silk and brushed out the curls that she had allow to fall down her back lately—not caring if her hair were up or down. This evening, however, she pinned her hair up herself, not hoping to alarm her maid, and was amazed at the beautiful style she was able to create. She pinched some color into her cheeks and smiled at the girl before her in the looking glass. It had been too long since her eyes sparkled back at her in such a way.
As soon as the sun went down, Cecelia hurried to the stream with a lightness in her step, eager to get there before he did. Removing the dead rose, she sat down upon the stone and arranged her gown prettily in an arch around her feet, and adjusted her necklace to shine in the moonlight.
And then she waited.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PRINCE ALEXANDER CAME OVER the hill, with the rose in hand, just moments after she had settled herself. He too could not remain an instant longer, and was hoping to be there and await her arrival, but as he saw, she was as eager as he.
He paused and watched her for a minute or two, taking in the superb sight before him. Cecelia had not noticed his arrival as of yet, and therefore it allowed a moment for him to catch his breath and wonder at the great gift he had been granted. Had she forgiven him? Did she finally believe he was the beast? Was she willing to put the past aside and begin again?
Whatever the outcome of tonight, it was important to note she indeed was willing to speak to him—nay, she beckoned him with the flower. No matter what else happened, this was enough. This was a start and a chance to prove again he had changed before her eyes.
Cecelia looked up then and a smile wreathed her countenance as she caught sight of him. She was standing and walking toward Alexander before he’d even made it a step in her direction. “You came,” she said simply as she approached. And then after searching his features, her hand coming up to rest upon his jaw she said, “Is it, in fact, you? Are you truly my dear Apollo?”
“I am, I always have been.”
“Oh, Alexander, I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
“For what? What did you do that could—?”
“Forgive me for not doing this when I had the opportunity.” She then reached up on tiptoe and pulled his jaw down to her own and kissed him in a soft, tender kiss.
Alexander wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her feet right off the ground. His heart thumped wildly in his ears until he could think of nothing but her mouth on his. When he set her back down and pulled slightly away, his arms still around her, he said, “I’m afraid, my dear, I will never let you go now that you’ve decided to like me again.”
Cecelia laughed and corrected him. “My prince, I love you. There is no liking about this relationship that I can tell, only perfect unconditional love.”
“Yes,” he said, “yes, this is definitely what unconditional love means.” His voice cracked as he continued, “Cecelia, how did you ever fall in love with a hideous beast?”
Her gaze searched his as she shook her head a bit, trying to convey something he would never understand. “Because it was you. I would have loved you, this—the true you”—she rubbed her palm over his heart—“in any form you came to me in. I know this soul, and it is good and wise and beautiful. Even when I did not recognize you as the prince, I couldn’t stay away.” Her hand wound up playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. “And because you cared for me when no one else did. You worried and loved me like no being ever has before. Because you are the most dearest creature that has ever lived.” She brazenly kissed him again and said, “Alexander, I do not understand what has happened to you, or why, but my heart breaks at the pain you must have faced. And yet, it swells at the joy that brought you to me, for without you, I w
ould be nothing. You are my life, my dreams, my joy.”
“No.” His eyes traced her features lovingly. “You are the angel here. You, who should have never had to endure my company again—you who should never have to forgive a monster like I was to you, you are here before me and saying that you are in love. Cecelia, this cannot be. I do not deserve a love as perfect as this. I do not deserve anything. I had resigned myself to my fate. I believed I was worth nothing more than the animal form I became every night. And yet, you—you saw past that façade to a person I did not even know existed. You, my dear, are my life, my dreams, my joy. Without you I have nothing. I am nothing.”
She threw back her head and giggled, she couldn’t help herself, everything was so very serious so quickly. “I believe we are both everything to the other, yes?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“Good.” She moved out of his arms and pulled his hand walking him over to the brook. After he sat down, she joined him and snuggled into his chest, her skirts billowing behind her.
“This is highly improper.” His baritone sent shivers down her spine.
“Mm-hm. I know.” She grinned into his waistcoat. “But it feels so wonderful, does it not?”
His arms tightened their hold. “Most definitely.”
She sighed as she listened to the thud, thud, thud of his heart, marveling that he was indeed very much alive.
“Cecelia.”
“Yes?” she mumbled.
“Will you marry me?”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and giggled. “I don’t know, should I?”
“Yes, most definitely. If not, it would look very odd when I hauled you up to my castle and held you captive.”
“Alexander!” she playfully gasped.
“What?” He pulled back to see her expression. “You don’t think I have it in me to hold you captive, my dear?”
“I don’t know. As I recall it was me who managed to stun you with that stick.” She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Perhaps it is you who should be worried about me keeping you prisoner.”
The prince laughed, his deep rumble causing her chest to glow. “I believe I will let you have this one, I wouldn’t want you clubbing me to death in a surprise attack.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I know you—”
“Yes, I will marry you.”
He looked down into her quite sudden serious countenance.
She said, “I cannot be without you again. I do not want to lose you, I couldn’t. Not now, not ever.”
Alexander brushed a few stray hairs away from her brow. “Thank you.” And then he smiled a very mischievous—almost wolfish—grin and said, “Of course, I think perhaps we should bring the matter up slowly with your mother this time. I do not want to have to lift her after she’s swooned again.”
Cecelia laughed. “Well, it’s good to know some things about you will never change.”
“Meaning?”
“Your uncanny lack of charm, of course!”
Alexander kissed her then, quite perfectly and thoroughly until they were both ragged from breathing.
Much later under the moonlight, he slipped the beautiful emerald ring on her finger. And even later than that, they discussed his ordeal, how it was he became a beast, and what had happened to his cousin.
“What? You were injured and you came to see me? Are you mad?”
Alexander grinned.
“Do not dare to grin down at me like that! Risking your health because of my silliness does not make me happy! I cannot believe you would put your life in peril confronting the imbecile to begin with, let alone—”
“I love you.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Alexander, do not—”
He stopped her commentary with a kiss to her mouth, which did not lessen the tirade she wished to wring upon his head, but did, however, tame it down a bit. And after several minutes of her clucking and cooing and concerning herself over him, Cecelia in turn told about her own dealings with Frederick and the necklace and the hidden latch she had found with the note signed by him.
After hearing of the deceit of his cousin, the prince no longer mourned his death and could very well conclude that Lord Bellemount may have continuously made their lives miserable. But it was the mention of his own signature that shocked the prince most.
“It was signed ‘Alexander’? Are you sure?”
“Quite positive.”
“I had no idea I had even signed the note, I must have done so out of pure habit alone.”
“Whatever it was, I’m grateful you did, or I wouldn’t be in your arms now enjoying the magical night with my wolfly prince.”
He smiled and shook his head, snuggling her closer to him. “Thank you for seeing me, Cecelia. I know of no girl who would’ve cared about me as you have.”
She smirked. “You know, ironically, Cecelia means ‘blind.’ And if anyone could fit that description, it is most definitely me!”
Alexander laughed and said, “Well, my name means ‘defender,’ so perhaps you can learn to trust me after all, my blind soon-to-be princess.”
She rolled her eyes and cuddled back into him. “I trusted you already; I just had to open my eyes to see it.”
***
Six weeks later the banns were read, and three weeks after that the beautiful Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe and the most handsome Prince Alexander were wed over the altar in the palace chapel. She was splendidly dressed in white organza and imported lace, holding a bouquet of the most exquisite multi-colored roses—picked from her mother’s garden, of course—and he in his dashing princely uniform of purple, cream and gold. Together they were a very striking couple.
The groom made a point to invite every single one of the villagers so they could bask in the glory of Cecelia’s honor. No more gossiping and backlash toward her would be tolerated again. She was the future queen of their livelihood, and they made a point to recognize such a fact, bowing generously low, as they ought, over her hand.
An invitation was also sent to Lord Willington, but he graciously declined, of course. His bride did lament the fact she could not attend, but after buying her a new puppy that chewed his shoes, slippers, and boots to smithereens, she was happy again. And life continued on in the Willingtons’ household as well as could be expected.
Mrs. Hammerstein-Smythe was said to be the happiest of all. Her joys and crows and excitements could be heard for years after the union. In fact, if the prince were not so dastardly strict with his counsel on gossiping about his wife’s family—it would have been the mother-in-law who would have received the brunt of it. As it was, the villagers had to do the inner grumblings within their own homes and pretend all was well everywhere else.
Cecelia could not have honestly cared less. Her life was complete; she’d found a man to adore her just the way she was. And no matter if he were a prince or a wolf, she loved him anyway. It was not shortly afterward that the castle began to crawl with princes and princesses of its very own, which broadened and widened the great love she had for her husband even more.
As for our dear Alexander, he found that an abundant life was a reward for those who treated others kindly. And a day never went by, from that time forth, where he did not mutter thanks to the old wise woman for teaching him the true value of beauty. He did build that rose garden in her honor, and what a glory it was to behold. So stunning!
He had to, because he learned through the lesson of petals and thorns and a pretty girl, that you are only worth how good your soul truly is.
And she felt he was priceless.
Next in the Jenni James Faerie Tale Collection:
SLEEPING BEAUTY
CHAPTER ONE
QUEEN ALEYNA’S EYES FLUTTERED open and she smiled at the shimmering sunlight which streamed through her bedroom curtains. Another beautifully perfect day. She stretched and wiggled her toes under the navy blue crushed velvet duvet and slipped out of the golden sheets to pad across the floor to her windo
w.
The world beneath her castle tower was bathed in a sea of greens and yellows and glorious multicolored blossoming bushes and trees. Her village was nestled among the rolling hills and streams and winding cobblestone paths that jutted out all around the lower portion of the mountain, where her castle was happily situated, and spread to the valley below. Many homesteads and farms and fields of bounteous crops covered the great landscape as far as the eye could see.
Indeed Aleyna’s kingdom was one of the most sought after and desired realms in all the world. She could not believe her good fortune in having such a prosperous and superior land. Her subjects were also known to be quite magnificent and studious in their own way as well. And to reward them for their kindness and diligence she always guaranteed they were treated above that of other monarchies and rulers around.
Her people were given several holidays each year, multiple gifts of food, household supplies, adornments and even many frivolous items would find their way into their homes from their dear queen. How she loved them. How she loved her land, her people, her life.
It was undeniably faultless.
An enchanted kingdom to be glorified and loved by all.
Aleyna sighed in contentment as she rested her head against the smoothly-plastered stone wall and looked out the windowpane. The birds chattered and chirped and flew in delightful winging dances in the sky as they popped in and out of wistful clouds. Here was joy. Here was life at its best and she could never imagine desiring anything more.
And yet, if one could step back and but see the tragedy behind her contentment, one would know that all she witnessed below her, all she imagined above, all her hopes and dreams—were just that—dreams.
An illusion.
Queen Aleyna’s life was so desperately heartrending, so tragically sorrowful, that one would need to enchant the beautiful queen and all those surrounding her and with her—all of her dear subjects—into a state of never ending bliss.
