Pushing the worries away, I spend the day by the window, waiting for dark. I’ve already wandered the palace, taking down every awful tapestry, painting, or sculpture of that troll woman. They’re all piled in the ballroom, ready to be burned at Henri’s first convenience.
Earlier in the week, I was so desperate for entertainment, I stooped to tidying up the palace, room by room. I’ve done laundry and dusted and mopped, and I still haven’t touched half the castle. I’m afraid by the time I finish, I’ll have to start over again.
At this point, I’m so desperate for entertainment, I’d relish the chance to tend a flock of chickens. Of course, we probably can’t have livestock because my husband would be tempted to snack on them.
I walk about the room, lighting dozens of candles, waiting.
Waiting.
Finally, at twelve minutes past sundown, I hear the echo of Henri’s boots on the wooden floor outside the sitting room. I leap to my feet, ready to greet him with the enthusiasm of one of those tiny, obnoxious, ankle-biting dogs.
The prince walks through the door, carrying the scent of the forest on him.
“Sophia.” As he has every evening since we’ve been wed, he sets his hands on my shoulders and presses a kiss to my forehead. The first time, I thought he missed my lips because he’s so tall and obviously out of practice after twenty years as a recluse.
Now I’ve resigned myself to the fact that he’s doing it on purpose.
It’s a strange thing, this being married to someone you barely know. I always thought I’d marry for love—imagined someone like Peter, I suppose. Someone with bright, sparkling eyes and wild ideas.
Instead, I’ve yoked myself to a serious man who is silent for long stretches at a time, often broods, and makes my stomach flutter every time he walks through the door. A man who’s reluctant to so much as touch me.
If our situation were typical, if we met under everyday circumstances, I doubt Henri would look my way. His slow smiles would be for lovely, bookish Elisette or sweet, responsible Penelope. He wouldn’t want troublesome Sophie, the sister with the freckles across her nose because she spends too much time in the sun, the one who can pick locks and climb trees and beat all the boys at every card game known to man.
Maybe that’s why he won’t touch me. He enjoys my company, but I’m not what he wants in a wife.
Henri sits in a chair by the fire, staring into the flames. “How was your day, Sophia?”
I choose the seat next to him. “I wrote my parents a letter.”
A smile plays at his lips. “You finally worked up the courage?”
I nod.
“Is that all?”
“I took down your stepmother’s art.”
His eyes light with amusement. “All of it?”
“Everything I could reach.”
Along with the fire in the hearth, the candles cast the room in gentle light. The juxtaposition of the soft ambiance and his hardened lines do something strange to my chest.
“I’ll help you remove more of it tomorrow evening,” he promises and then looks back at the fire.
Irritated with the distance between us, I rise from my chair and stop in front of him. “Henri, I had a thought.”
The prince watches me with cautiously amused eyes, wondering what I’m going to say.
Steeling my nerves, knowing he might push me away, I lower myself to his lap, sitting on the very edge of his knees. He goes very still, but his hands settle on my waist as if on instinct.
The fact that he hasn’t nudged me away gives me courage.
Before I speak, I mentally organize my argument. Wary, Henri swallows. For a split-second, his eyes drop to my lips, and then he rips his gaze back to my eyes. “What’s your thought?”
My stomach clenches. The husky tone of his voice almost makes me forget my words. If my nearness has this effect on him, then why has he been keeping me at arm’s length?
It takes me a moment to clear my head, and then I pull myself together. “You said you know your stepmother is alive because you’re still under the spell, correct?”
He tenses at the mention of the troll, which is not at all what I want. Softly, with butterflies swirling in my stomach, I place my hand on the side of his neck.
Oh, this strategy is going to backfire. Instead of trying to sway Henri with my feminine wiles, I’m becoming distracted by the curve of his lips and the quickening rise and fall of his chest.
“Yes,” he answers absently.
Focus, Sophie.
He’s going to say no; he’s going to tell me I’m foolish and naive.
I clear my throat and try to give him my most reasonable look. “What if we travel to Elsland…and slay her?”
Henri’s eyes go wide with shock. His grip on me tightens, and he laughs, surprised. Once he composes himself, he leans a margin closer. “You’re rather blood-thirsty for a pretty thing, aren’t you?”
I lower my eyes as my cheeks go hot. I’d like to say it’s from girlish embarrassment, but it’s not. I’m flushed from our nearness and irritated he thinks the idea is foolish.
And all right, it is a bit ridiculous. But the thought of living out our lives, waiting for that monster to finally die a natural death? It’s not terribly appealing.
When I don’t answer, Henri tilts my chin up so I have no choice but to face him. “I’ve thought about it too, believe me. The first ten years, I was consumed with the idea of justice. She killed my father—Briadell’s king. She committed treason against my kingdom, and she should pay for her crimes.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
Henri shrugs. “I never found her. She lives in a remote palace in Elsland. I’ve been told it’s a lonely structure far to the north, located east of the sun and west of the moon. There are no roads to the castle, no path. Without the help of magic, a person can never find it.”
“There has to be a way.”
His thumb brushes my jaw, making me shiver. “Are you so unhappy with me, Sophia, that you’re already restless after only a week?”
He’s lowered his voice again, and if he’s doing it on purpose, he should stop unless he means to follow through.
“No,” I answer, and it’s the truth. I’m not unhappy with Henri. I just want more.
“Good.” His grip tightens on the sides of my waist, and he places me on my feet as he rises. “I brought more fish. Are you hungry?”
Not for fish.
Hiding a sigh, I nod and follow him from the sitting room.
***
“Oh, great fairy godfather Mortimer. I, a stupid human, humbly need your magnificent and wonderful magic.”
Seven minutes later, the fairy appears, looking a wee bit angry. “You! Always you! What could you possibly need now?”
“It’s a pleasure to see you as well.”
“What do you want?” He bites out every word, fighting to stay composed.
I sit on a rug on the stone floor of the great ballroom, my gown spread out around me like I’m five years old. “I just wanted to say hello. See how you are.”
The fairy growls and holds up his hand, looking very much like he’s about to wink out.
“It’s too quiet here,” I say, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. “And lonely.”
Growling like I’ve told him I need him to save a basket full of kittens from a wolf, he lowers his hand. “Aren’t you happy with Henri?” He motions to the grand room. “With the palace I’ve given you? I’ve made you a princess, and still, you aren’t content.”
He marches over to me and sticks his finger in my face. “This is why fairies shouldn’t meddle with humans. No matter what we do, you will always find something to bemoan.”
“Can you lift Henri’s curse?” I ask abruptly. “Mortimer, I promise I will never call you again…if you just take it away.”
Mortimer lets out a long, drawn-out sigh and does the unexpected. He gathers his robes and sits on the floor in front of me, cross-legged like a chi
ld. “Sophia—”
My mouth falls open, and I gape at him. “Did you just use my name?”
Mortimer bristles.
“You know my name?”
“I can leave…”
I shake my head, silently promising to be good.
“I cannot lift a troll curse.”
“But Henri said the fairy blessing he received when he was born is what counteracted the troll’s curse in the first place!”
“And it turned him into a bear,” Mortimer reminds me, looking very taxed to be having a civil conversation with me. “Our magic doesn’t mix well. It’s like oil and water, repelling the other. The results are unpredictable at best.”
I lean forward, making him meet my eyes. “If any fairy can do it, it’s you. Mortimer, you are a terrible, terrible fairy godfather, but you are an excellent inventor.”
The fairy thinks about it, looking very much like he wants to decline, but his mind is already working. “Maybe if I…” Then he shakes his head. “No.”
“Please—help me.”
After several long moments, he levels me with a questioning stare. “Your family resists my magic at every turn, and yet you’re begging for my services. Why?”
I give him a slow smile. “Because I’m not afraid of a little chaos.”
He stares at me for several long seconds, and then he shakes his head curtly. “You’re no longer my problem. You are married—I’ve done my part.” Then he stands abruptly and wipes imaginary dirt from his robe.
Resigned, I flop onto my back and stare at the elaborately painted ceiling.
“Wait,” I call before he leaves. Listless, I roll my head to the side to face him. “If you see my family, will you at least tell them I miss them?”
“Homesick?” He raises a brow.
Though I want to argue, I nod.
Without another word, he’s gone.
I turn my face to the ceiling again, acknowledging it’s probably for the best. Mortimer’s never gotten anything right, not in his life. But I have no one else.
Twenty minutes later, a knock echoes through the palace. It’s the strangest sound, loud and insistent. Someone’s at the main entry.
Who could be calling?
I don’t even know if it’s safe to answer, but I’m so starved for human contact, I run the whole way, stopping to straighten myself only once I reach the entry. Pasting a huge smile on my face, I toss the door open, only to find a box.
It’s wrapped in ribbons and tied with a bow. I pick it up, bringing it inside, surprised to find it strangely unbalanced. Frowning, I read the note.
For old time’s sake. To help with your homesickness.
With trepidation, I untie the bow. There’s the strangest noise coming from inside, almost like the hiss of a—
I scream as the lid flies from the box, and a black and gray blur of scraggly fur goes tearing down the hall, hissing and spitting the entire way.
Grabbing my chest, I gasp for breath. Once I feel as if I’m not going to die of shock, I growl into the air, “Thank you very much, Mortimer.”
The wretched fairy brought me Rynn’s worthless cat.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With a groan, I roll over. Blinking, I let my eyes adjust to the dark room. The fire burned out during the night, and it’s cold enough to make me believe it’s early morning. I’m not sure what woke me.
I’m just about to pull the blankets up to my chin and go back to sleep when a thought occurs to me. It’s almost dawn.
My nerves hum with nervousness as I push the covers aside and walk across the room to check the window. I open it, bracing myself for the crisp morning air. The horizon is just lightening.
I need to hurry.
Quickly, I tame my hair. I found several gowns in wardrobes scattered throughout the palace, and I pull one on now. It fits well enough, better than some, but most importantly, it’s black.
I tiptoe into the hall. Henri’s been sleeping in a southern wing, far from my chamber in the north. My heart beats wildly, and I second-guess myself the whole way across the palace. Two times, I almost turn back to my room.
But I must see for myself.
Henri’s door opens just as I turn down the hall, and I dart behind a tapestry. It’s dusty back here, and who knows what insects might be lurking.
The prince’s door shuts, and I hear each footstep as he turns the corner to pass me. I hold my breath and stay as still as possible. It’s not the first time I’ve sneaked around in the dark, but it’s the first time in the palace, and I’m not sure what Henri will do if he catches me.
Once his footsteps fade, I gingerly slip out from behind the tapestry and make my way down the hall. Henri doesn’t leave out the grand front entry. No, this time he chooses a side entrance that leads to what, at one time, was likely a kitchen garden. Now it’s just a sad tangle of mint and weeds.
I slip out the door behind him, careful to keep to the darkest of shadows. In fact, I’m quite proud of myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this stealthy.
“I know you’re back there, Sophia,” Henri says from ahead of me as he reaches the edge of the overgrown garden. He turns, peering at me through the dusky light of early morning.
So much for stealthy.
Hesitant, I walk forward.
He crosses his arms. “Why are you following me?”
I give him a one-shouldered shrug.
“Gregarious in the early hours, aren’t you?”
After a moment, I let out a long breath. “I wanted to see for myself. See that you’re actually…”
“A bear?”
Wincing, I nod.
“All right.” He takes off his cloak and then kicks off his boots.
I take a step back. “What are you doing?”
The words come out as a squeak.
Henri looks up. The sun is nearing the horizon, and the sky grows lighter by the minute. “How many bears have you seen wearing clothing?”
A nervous giggle escapes me, but I clamp my mouth shut. “I’ve never seen a bear, so I couldn’t tell you.”
He tosses his boots and cloak into a crate near the wall and walks toward me. “Go inside, Sophia. You don’t want to see me change.”
I realize now he was trying to intimidate me so I’d leave.
“Is it painful?” I ask, though I don’t really want an answer.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He sets his hand on my shoulder. “Go inside.”
“Can I see you after?” I focus on the contrast of the cool morning and the heat of his hand. “When you’re…” I can’t bring myself to say it. “Furry.”
Henri chuckles, and then he winces. I step back, afraid he’ll shift right in front of me.
“Wait in the kitchen until the sun crests the horizon, and then you may come back to the garden.”
“Is it safe?” I ask, second-guessing the wisdom of my little morning outing.
“If you change your mind, I will not blame you.”
I begin walking backward, toward the side entrance. “Will you know me? When you’re a…”
“Bear, Sophia.”
“Yes, that.”
He cringes again, and I hasten my pace, hoping I don’t trip.
“I’ll know you,” he promises just as I dart inside.
I close the door behind me and clench my eyes shut. This was a terrible idea—I’m not going back out.
Yet for some reason, I linger in the kitchen like I’m unsure. I poke around things, looking for enchanted kettles or pots to pass the time, but I find nothing unusual.
Finally, the sun rises past the trees and illuminates the eastern windows with warm light. I can go out now. Henri will have changed.
I edge toward the door.
I’ll just take a peek—I’ll stick my head out, gaze at the bear standing in the tangle of now-wild raspberry canes, and that will be that.
Slowly, I crack the door.
“It’s f
ine, Sophia,” Henri calls from nearby.
Shocked, I step out the door, and then I scream and flatten myself against the wall. My legs begin to tremble and then my hands follow.
The bear is massive, white as snow, and very…
Bearlike.
“You’re all right,” Bear-Henri assures me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You can talk!”
He gives me a look, one that is disturbingly human. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“How?”
“I learned at a young age, not long after I began walking.” Then he wryly adds, “You could say I was a prince prodigy.”
My laugh gets caught in my throat.
Slowly, he starts toward me. The sunlight catches his fur, making it gleam. He’d be very majestic-looking if he were not my husband. Of course, if he were not my husband, he would probably eat me.
“Henri,” I start to edge toward the door. “I can’t.”
But that doesn’t stop him. He continues toward me, walking at a steady pace as if trying not to frighten me. “I’m me, Sophie. Just me.”
He called me Sophie. Something about the endearment makes my shoulders relax marginally.
“You are scared of animals, aren’t you?” he asks, his unnaturally blue eyes trained right on me. “Is that the problem?”
I inch a little farther away, following the wall. “I’m not scared of all animals. Only large ones—in particular, the carnivorous kinds with sharp teeth and claws.”
He’s right in front of me now. I could reach out and touch him if I so desired. My fingers twitch against my will—because I am certainly not going to try it.
“It’s all right,” he says in a voice that’s incredibly disconcerting. He sounds exactly the same. “Go ahead.”
“I’m…” I clear my throat. “I’m fine. Thanks all the same.”
His eyes spark with amusement. “And I thought you were brave.”
I purse my lips, trying not to laugh. That was a low blow.
Steeling my courage, I extend my hand. One little touch, that’s all. Just a little pat on his shoulder.
My fingers slide into his fur, and I inhale sharply. His coat isn’t as soft as I expected. In fact, it’s quite coarse—not like a horse’s mane, but certainly not like a bunny.
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