by Lindsay Mead
“There’s something that I need to tell you,” Belle said as Aleksander flipped through the only book in his study on Greek mythology. When she told him about her idea, he’d stared at her in disbelief. He then confessed to being narrow-minded and unwilling to see the curse through the eyes of anything other than Norse theology. Quite suddenly he was renewed and eager to get back into their research, but this time with a focus on fates. As Belle watched his excitement grow, she found her own nerves quailing. “It’s about Lord Audun Calland.”
Aleksander’s hand abruptly halted in mid-turn. He slowly lowered the book and strangely guarded eyes looked back at her. His face was a straight mask, only his fingers rubbing the old pages between them hinted at his emotions. “You’ve met Audun, have you?”
“Yes.” Belle shifted her weight between her feet, trying to keep herself from looking away in embarrassment. “We met yesterday in the library.”
Jerking slightly, Aleksander’s eyebrows came together in confusion. His fingers stopped their fidgeting. “And?”
“He…um…” Try as she might, Belle couldn’t look at Aleksander directly. The words she had to say were just too much.
There was a thud as Aleksander dropped the book roughly and came around the desk quickly. He stopped a few feet from her, his fingers clenching in and out of fists. “What did he do, Belle?”
Taking a deep breath, she decided just to be done with it. Belle looked at Aleksander and forced the awful words out. “He attacked me. Tried to force himself…”And that’s where her throat betrayed her, cutting off the rest.
Judging by Aleksander, she’d said enough. His body was tense. The muscles in his jaw flexed. He took slow, deep breaths. “Tried?”
“Yes, I used his own dagger against him, but it was Ms. Tops’ interference that really ended it.”
“I’ll give her a raise,” Aleksander said matter-of-factly. “But not until after I’ve dealt with Audun.”
Chagrin bled into Belle’s stomach. The Prince had so much to handle already and she felt terrible for adding to it, even though the logical part of her knew that none of this was her fault. “Perhaps nothing more is needed. Surely being subdued by two women is enough.”
The muscles in Aleksander’s cheeks softened and the shield that had appeared over his eyes vanished. He looked at her in the same open way he always had. Stepping the last few feet toward her, he took her hands in his and cradled them gently. Only then did she realize they were trembling.
“My father was a very proud and fierce man, who instilled every value and lesson he had into me.” Aleksander’s thumb softly ran along her wrist, sending waves of calm through her. “Audun learned his way of thinking from another man, or possibly men. For him to learn the proper way of treating women, he must also learn it from a man. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I believe I do.”
He stared down at her, still holding her hands, as he pursed his lips in thought. “How do you feel about a distraction?”
“I’d love one.” She sighed with relief, so glad that it was over. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think I’d like to tell you about my family.” He blinked slowly.
Just like that, the room changed. Belle gasped. Gone was the study and in its place was an immense hall. The floor was a map—an incredibly detailed map with mountains, waves, and the painted names of each country. Natural light flooded the room from one wall of tall arching windows with frames of gold and heavy draperies. The only furniture was a large desk, covered in various bits of parchment and one feathered quill, on one end of the room. And many knee-high statues. They were various ships, cavalrymen, cannons, and men-at-arms. Looking more closely at them, Belle noticed that they each carried different flags. There was a set for every army in the world.
“This is my war room. I learned battle strategy here as a boy.” He let go of her hands and motioned to the floor. “On this floor map, my ancestor kings planned wars.” He brought his hand up and pointed to the desk. “On that desk, a thousand treaties and laws were signed into being.”
Belle looked from the floor to the desk, trying to imagine all those that had come before. She felt the weight of the history in this room. Then she looked at Aleksander with awe, seeing that he proudly carried that weight. Knowing that he so excitedly shared it with her, made her own chest feel too heavy.
“My family can trace its lineage clear back to the first Viking kings, through the line of Eirik Haraldsson the First.” Aleksander swung his hand up, pointing to the ceiling. There was a masterpiece that, like the library, some talented artisan had no doubt toiled under for years. Here the ceiling was all one piece. Two battles, seemingly of different eras, were being waged. Between them, on a clouded dusk sky, an army of angels watched. Aleksander pointed to one army along the painting’s edge. This was an army of both men and women. They wore heavy Viking armor; carried swords, axes, and bows. “He was nicknamed Eirik Bloodaxe after his war with the frost giants.”
Belle examined the Viking king wielding a two-headed ax against a creature made of ice. The invading army of otherworldly giants had jagged skin, their eyes were an icy blue, and they carried frosted swords. Where the frost giants walked, ice spread from their feet. Eirik showed no fear as he led the front siege.
“The Haraldsson line would eventually be unseated from the thrown and lost in time for many centuries. Destined to rule as we were, our lineage gave us favor with King Fredrick the Third who granted us lordship over Vakre Fjell. A century later when a different ruler of Norway tried to remove us from power because of our faith, we fought back. And became kings once more.” His hands swiveled to the other side of the ceiling. Men fought from mountains. Ships battled at sea. “Two battles, from two distinct times in our history and Valkyries in the center looking for warriors to carry to Valhalla.”
“You know your history well.”
“It’s important to know our history if I am to rule. I must understand my ancestors and make sure my rule continues to honor the kings who came before me.” Aleksander shrugged in an un-princely way.
“Do you believe the story of frost giants?” Belle crossed the room to stand before a mural that nearly consumed the entirety of a wall. Here was a picturesque painting of Vakre Fjell, before the castle had been built. The land was majestic, fertile, and entirely untouched by man. A blond haired god, Belle recognized as Thor from her reading, with a red cloak and shining armor stood before the mountains. With a massive hammer, too big for a normal man, Thor was pushing back one of the mountains and creating the deep chasm that now surrounded the front of Castle Vakre Fjell. “Or this?”
“Well, that is most certainly a myth. A story told around the fire.” Aleksander laughed and a delightful smile curved his lips. “But then, not long ago I would have said the same about the tale of Eirik and the frost giants. After what happened here, even that seems possible to me.”
Belle turned her attention back to the frost giants above. She examined their details, trying to imagine if they were real. The very idea of them walking the ground, spreading their cold with each step, sent a chill through her. Aleksander was right though, given everything she’d seen, why could that story not be true?
“Since we’re here, how do you feel about war games?” Aleksander walked purposefully to the room’s center.
“Is it similar to chess?” Belle enjoyed playing chess with Henri and the other Hunters.
“Similar yes, but based in reality.” He stepped around the pieces to stop by a handful of galleons and fire ships, bearing the French flag. “You shall be France, I will be Vakre Fjell, and the goal is a classic scenario—world domination.”
She returned his wicked smile and moved over to her pieces. Her gaze swept to the details below; from the rocky oceans to the icy ends of the Earth. Taking a half step back, she looked at the depiction of God’s Cup. Strangely, a section of Glace was mis-colored, defining it from the rest. Contefées fell within this st
retch of land. “Why is this section off-colored?”
“Because five years ago it was meant to be mine.”
Staring at Aleksander, Belle couldn’t quite fathom what he just said. “I’m sorry, did I hear you right? That section of land is supposed to belong to Vakre Fjell?”
“Begin setting up your defenses and I will explain everything.” Aleksander casually indicated the grouping of war vessels around France. “Anything with a French flag is yours to maneuver.” He took hold of a large galleon ship and lightly pushed it across the floor. “Let me ask you a question first. Has the French Emperor married?”
“Yes, he—” Belle looked up from her own game pawns. “Well, he married your sister, Princess Adelis.”
Aleksander nodded, not turning from his strategic planning. “That is good. It was part of the trade.”
“What trade?” She moved a large cavalry statue to France’s border.
“How well do you know your history, Belle?”
“Not as well as you.” She smiled playfully.
“Charming.” Aleksander chuckled. “In the 1650s, Norway traded a section of Vakre Fjell to Glace, do you recall that?”
Belle thought and a brief recollection of her history lessons returned. “A portion of Vakre Fjell went to Glace in exchange for the hand of a French princess. Contefées was part of that trade—Oh, is this the same land?”
“It is.” Aleksander nodded enthusiastically. “The current French Emperor made a request for Adelis’ hand and my father proposed that we recreated the trade from the 1650s. My sister marries the French Emperor and he grants our land back to us.”
“If this deal took place five years ago, why hasn’t it happened?” Belle could hardly believe the idea that by now she should be a Vakrein citizen and not of France. It seemed too strange an idea to her.
“Now that is the question to be asked.” Aleksander moved two more of his pieces into motion. It appeared that he intended to take the rest of God’s Cup first. “Once he’d met with my sister and a marriage was inevitable, he was to sign the treaty and then marry her. I now know he married her, but it seems that the curse may have halted his signature. I intend to find out why.”
“And then what will you do?” Belle asked, intrigued by this bit of royal drama.
“I will make sure our agreement is fulfilled.”
The following day came and went in a flurry of research. Every second was spent reading the books on Greek mythology. Unfortunately, Belle’s endless reading had yielded nothing new. When Aleksander pulled her into a moon dream, as per their routine, she was eager for a break.
This time they walked the courtyard, enjoying an unnaturally warm day. A slight breeze fluttered a curl across Belle’s cheek. She tucked it back with a gloved hand. Closing her eyes, Belle let the soft wind caress her face. It felt so real to her, even then.
“And what did you name this clockwork pixie?” Aleksander asked.
Belle smiled and opened her eyes. He stood just past her, looking out over the clouded mountain range. In some ways, the mountains reminded her of the Prince. They were strong and proud, claiming their piece of the earth. They were also beautiful; a majesty unmatched.
“I named her Pixie,” she answered.
Now he looked at her, returning the smile she gave him. “Pixie. Truly? That’s the best you could do?”
“Yes, I know, it was a bit on the nose, but it fit her.”
Aleksander laughed. “Of course it did. I’m surprised you didn’t name your horse, Horse, instead.”
“Oh my, your Highness, I’m sure you don’t mean to imply that I do not have an imagination,” she teased.
“I’m afraid, dear Belle, that is just what I’m implying.” He turned to her completely, hands clasped behind his back and a grin brightening his face. In these moments, he seemed the freest.
Belle palmed her heart. “Well, I believe I am offended.”
“I am sorry.” He tilted his head. “Truly a shame that no one has brought this to your attention before and perhaps prepared you for this embarrassment.”
Belle’s mouth shot open in surprise. She rebutted, “Well then, you’ve left me with no choice, I must throw down the gauntlet.”
“Indeed? A challenge? On what grounds?” Aleksander asked, as amused as she was.
“I claim that you have no more imagination than I.” She plucked off her glove, one finger at a time. Feigning disgust, Belle tossed it to the ground. “Do you accept?”
Prince Aleksander struggled to push away his smile. “This is a most serious charge, so I must. It is my family’s honor at stake.”
A giggle slipped out of Belle as Aleksander bent over to pick up her glove. “Truly, it is.”
“So how do you suggest we settle this?” He held the glove in his hand, moving the fabric between his fingers.
“I couldn’t help noticing that,” Belle began, getting her emotions back in check. “Even though this scenery is all in your head, you haven’t done anything interesting with it. I mean, you create whatever you want, correct?”
“Yes, I can.” A knowing washed over his face. “What is it that you would like me to change for you? I’m sure the creativeness of it will astound you.”
“No doubt.” She inclined her head and then thought for a moment. Quickly the idea came to her and she was too eager to hold it back. “A dragon.”
Aleksander blinked twice at her. “A dragon.”
“If you cannot do it, my prince, I understand, but then I must insist on an apology.” She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled at him innocently. “For I will have won the challenge.”
“You are a dangerous woman, mademoiselle.” He stared at her lips, his whimsy suddenly gone. A flurry of butterflies swept up in her stomach, stealing her own lighthearted merriment away. Aleksander’s eyes met hers and he held them, then with an abrupt turn, his focus shifted back to the mountains. “At any rate, you mustn’t worry. I will give you a dragon.”
Belle swallowed hard, still unbalanced by his actions. Her hand went to her corseted stomach, trying to settle the lightness that had overtaken her. For the first time in her life, Belle understood why some women insisted on sitting a spell because they unexpectedly felt faint. No doubt it was always on the account of a man. Did all men know the effect they could have on women? Did Aleksander? If they did, they should certainly refrain from looking and speaking to a woman in such a way. Belle, for one, did not care for the way she suddenly felt so delicate.
“How should he look?” The Prince kept his back to her. Belle took his cue and turned her attention to the mountain range.
She cleared her throat. “He should be large and his scales should shimmer in the light.”
Aleksander didn’t respond. Belle stepped up beside him and saw that he had closed his eyes, mentally creating the fantasy creature. Her own eyes studied the steadfast arches of his eyebrows and the cheeks that looked soft to the touch.
A roar bellowed from beyond the mountains. It reverberated through the air and smacked against the stone walls behind them. Surprised, Belle looked to the sound. The Prince opened his eyes.
From behind the snow-covered peaks, an actual dragon appeared. Great wings carried him into the sky, higher and higher into the blue. He roared again like it was a call to war.
“My God,” Belle said breathlessly.
She took a step forward, lips parted in awe. Belle could hardly believe it. The dragon turned in the sky, each beat of his wings thudding against the air and keeping him aloft. He came up on them quickly and swooped down, as though he did intend to eat them.
Belle unconsciously tensed. At the last second, he stretched out his wings and soared up to the castle turrets. His claws dropped down onto one spiraled tower, knocking snow and shingles loose. The dragon opened its mouth. Fire erupted forth, rippling out into many scolding swells. It spread into the sky before gradually extinguishing.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Belle said with a breathless laugh.
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Then quite suddenly the sky dimmed as if dusk were setting. Belle looked to the Prince in confusion. His eyes were closed, allowing him total focus. Then all at once, the courtyard was illuminated. Every rose brightened like a flame. Every tree and bush shined with a celestial light. The vines that crawled the walls were like glowing, green snakes.
Belle gasped, spinning to take it all in. Then one by one, new plants began to grow. They were large, exaggerated versions of the exotic lovelies that grew in the greenhouse. These too glowed in an array of reds, purples, blues, whites, and more colors than the rainbow. Belle reached out to touch a flower that was as large as she. It was velvety soft.
“Oh my, Aleksander…” She looked up at him.
The Prince plucked a luminescent rose from the surrounding stone wall. He twirled it in fingers and walked toward her. The rose’s light touched his skin with soft shadings of red.
Aleksander watched her. The look in his eyes, of utter intensity. “Do you like it?”
Gulping, Belle choked on nerves to answer. “It’s truly beautiful.”
“No, you’re mistaken,” he said plainly, coming within arm’s reach of her. “My father taught me what true beauty is, and this is not it.”
“Oh?” was her doltish reply.
Closer still, Aleksander came. His arms went around Belle, causing her to stop breathing. She thought he was going to hug her, but then she found him fiddling with the up-pulled ringlets of her hair. Belle raised her face just slightly, bringing her lips only inches from his neck. The desire to touch him was almost unbearable.
When Aleksander withdrew, the glowing rose was gone. Belle instinctively reached back to feel the flower nestled in her hair. He took her hand from the petals, guiding it before him and splayed out her fingers. Slowly, with an impressive delicacy, he slid Belle’s glove over her skin. Aleksander took care, nudging the fabric on one finger at a time. “You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. It is a quality that is lost on most women. Belle, you are a true beauty.”
Belle stared at their touching hands, then turned her gaze up to his eyes. His own lovely blues ran over her eyelashes and down her cheekbone, taking in every detail of her face. She struggled to breathe, her heartbeat was little more than a speeding flutter within her chest. Leaning in just slightly, she hoped for a kiss—a physical expression of those lovely words. She found that she didn’t want to just hear his feelings; she wanted to touch them—experience them upon her.
