Beauty Beheld: A Retelling of Hansel and Gretel (The Becoming Beauty Trilogy Book 3)

by Brittany Fichter

  Garin turned and looked straight at Ever, his eyes hard like flint.

  “Because I am one of them.”

  Ever looked as though he might pass out, but to Isa, Garin’s story made perfect sense. “Back in the alley,” she whispered, “when you saved me from Marko...”

  “Yes,” Garin said as he took Ever by the arms and eased him in a chair. “Although what you saw wasn’t my complete Fae form. Here, Ever. Drink this” He held a small flask out to Ever, who downed its contents in one swig.

  “But you use the Fortress’s power,” Ever finally said when he was done, grimacing slightly as the drink went down. “How?”

  “The boy prince lived, even though his father, King Nel, had died. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on the part of the Fae.” Garin’s voice grew low again. “When I found the child all alone in its nursery, it should have been a simple solution. His mother and nanny were dead. His father, dead. I knew what I needed to do to ensure the happiness of my people. And yet, as I raised my sword, I was blinded by a barrage of images that flooded my mind. What the child could do, would do... what he would grow up to be. It was a miraculous gift of the Maker, an understanding of the situation’s reality, how we were trying to take what wasn’t ours. He showed me the truth, much like Isa shows others.”

  “What did you do?” Isa asked in a soft voice.

  “I protected him from my own.” Garin shrugged helplessly. “I even killed a young Fae who tried to kill the child while he lay in my arms.” A darkness touched Garin’s sharp features briefly, then vanished, although Isa could feel the bitterness and sorrow lingering beneath his controlled expression. “Soon after that, as I held the babe in one hand and my sword in the other, the Fortress expelled the remaining Fae and pushed them back to their world. And when the boy was old enough, the Maker led both of us to the southern forest, which was much smaller back then.

  “Before the Maker bid the prince to seal the Fae out of our world forever, I was given the choice of whether to return to my people, or stay with the Fortress and guard the young man. ‘If I return,’ I told the Maker, ‘I will surely be put to death. But if I stay, I am too broken in body and spirit to be a keeper of anyone.’

  “‘Leave your body to me,’ the Maker told me. ‘It is your heart I see of import. Do you trust me?’ he asked.”

  “What did you say?” Isa asked.

  “It was simple. I had tasted of the Maker’s goodness for the past fifteen years as the boy had grown, and I knew I could never survive without it again. And so he made me a new body of two peoples. I no longer needed to dissipate and rebuild myself as Fae do, but I was allowed to retain a few of my Fae qualities. In addition, I was gifted certain powers of the Fortress itself. Over time, though,” Garin murmured, “He did the greatest healing to my spirit.” He briefly closed his eyes.

  “Are all Fae five hundred years old?” Ever finally managed to choke out.

  “No. We do not live that long alone. I can only assume I am still here to finish some sort of work, though how long that work should be, I do not know.”

  “Thank you for telling us,” Isa said hesitantly. She did not wish to bring more pain upon the steward after all he had just shared with them, but she was still confused. “I still don’t understand what all of this has to do with the children.”

  Garin fixed a hard gaze upon Genny and Henri, and Isa instinctively tightened her grip on their shoulders.

  “Isa,” he said, “these children are no mere children.” He walked back to the king’s desk, and pulled out the ceremonial scepter. Its sphere of blue crystal, which was fixed at the top of the golden twist handle, was as clear as water, with thin feathered lines that crisscrossed the crystal’s interior like miniature spears of lightning.

  “Come here,” Garin told the children. Both of them looked up at Isa. Part of her wanted to take the children and dash off so she wouldn’t need to see whatever Garin wanted to show them. And yet, she knew it was only right to see what he had to say, so she nodded, and they both took a hesitant step towards Garin. The steward turned the children to face Isa and Ever. Then he held the crystal out before them. “Fae are sensitive to power of any kind. Even if it is one they can’t use, they can still feel it. Just as I can.”

  With that, he placed the crystal in Henri’s hand, and to Isa’s dismay, the black center of the boy’s eyes began to shimmer with green.

  “And just as these children can.”

  Isa felt sick to her stomach. The green light swirled about the boy’s irises as his gaze stayed fixed on the crystal. Even worse, Isa realized, Genny was staring at it, too, a blank look on her face and the treacherous green inside her eyes as well. That’s when Isa remembered Genny’s claim about the Fae world being full of power.

  How? Isa cried out to the Fortress. How are these children Fae? How had she managed to fall in love with the only children in the world that might be a danger to her kingdom? Her first desire was to scream. Instead, however, Isa swallowed and whispered, “How, since they were living in our world first?”

  “Their bodies are too stable for them to be full Fae, which means they must only be part Fae.”

  “The Fae have been exiled for five centuries! And what do you mean, part Fae?” Ever scowled at Garin from his chair.

  “I mean that someone has found a way to tear the veil between worlds and sire children.”

  “Sacha,” Isa whispered. Ever and Garin both gave her a strange look. “Sacha was the woman who helped us escape,” Isa explained, looking back down at the children. “She said she wanted to help us because her father was human.”

  Garin began to say something, but Isa didn’t hear it. Instead, she watched as Henri began turning the scepter over in his hands. And as he did, the crystal began to glow blue. It was the same light as that in Isa’s ring, the one meant only for the Fortress’s queens. And in Henri’s hands, the scepter was glowing just as fiercely as Isa’s ring ever had.

  Ever pushed himself up in his chair, and even Garin seemed, for once, to be at a loss for words.

  “Show them your trick, Henri,” Genny said, taking her brother’s arm.

  But Henri just shook his head, fear filling his face as he stared at the scepter.

  “Come on, Henri! Do it!”

  Henri looked nervously from Isa’s face to Ever’s before shaking his head even more vigorously, his wide eyes making his young face look even thinner. Then he looked pointedly at Garin.

  “Come on, now,” Genny said, sticking her little hands on her hips. “You always do the trick for me.”

  Henri glanced up at Isa once more.

  “You will be safe,” Isa said, giving him the warmest smile she could muster. “I must admit, I am very curious to see your trick, especially if it is as wonderful as Genny says.” But inside, her heart thumped wildly as she prayed that his trick wouldn’t result in something terrible.

  The boy stared at her for a minute more before taking a deep breath. As he exhaled, the scepter not only continued to burn blue from within, but a tongue of blue flame rose from its surface as well.

  Garin looked like his eyes might fall out of his head, and Ever, his voice flat, called out from the chair, “What is that?”

  “That’s his trick,” Genny chirped. For a moment, no one moved. Not even Isa could bring herself to speak. Only Genny clapped delightedly. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she beamed.

  “Yes.” Isa made herself smile reassuringly as Henri looked up at her with fearful eyes. “You can be finished now, Henri. You’ve worked hard enough for one day.” When his fire went out, and Isa gently took the scepter and handed it back to Garin, Isa realized that Genny was right. It was wonderful. For though the boy’s eyes certainly marked him as something other than human, his fire set him apart as well. She wasn’t sure how he had miraculously received such a gift, but she did know that it just might save his life.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Fire of the Fortiers

  Ever felt numb as his wif
e left to put the children to bed. She paused briefly by his chair and gave his shoulder a squeeze before leaving. But he was going to need something stronger than a shoulder squeeze to clear his mind of what he had just learned.

  “I will be needing more of that.” He leaned forward and pointed to the bottle Garin had placed on his desk.

  With his usual efficiency, Garin went to do as he was asked, but it felt as if Ever was watching his mentor through eyes that were not his own. Never had there been a soul he trusted more, with the exception of Isa, of course. Not that he had ever known what Garin was exactly. Garin had always simply been a part of the Fortress to Ever, much like the shining white marble halls and the crystal dance floor. Garin simply belonged. And now Ever was to believe that Garin was, or had been at one time, the enemy.

  “Will Isa be safe with them?” Ever managed to choke out.

  “She will be fine for the time being,” Garin said evenly as though he hadn’t just shattered Ever’s world. “I will keep a sharp eye on the children while they’re here, but they seem to be innocent of schemes for the moment.” Then Garin leaned back against the king’s desk and folded his arms. “But there is something I need to discuss with you before you go off to bed, too.”

  Ever shrugged, out of words for the remainder of the night. Or possibly for the rest of the decade.

  “Tell me everything you know about those children.”

  “Well.” Ever pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to recall what Isa had told him. “The children say their father was a woodcutter, not far from the cottage we found the veil’s tear, just beyond the border of the southern forest.” Ever’s senses returned a bit as he remembered the wretchedness on the boy’s face the morning before. “Their parents turned them out and then were killed later that night during a lightning storm.”

  “And what led them to the Fae world?”

  “Isa says that someone created an illusion of sweets in the forest. The illusion made the air smell sweet to the children, and they followed the smell. Henri and Genny followed the smell, too, and stumbled upon the house.” He frowned, remembering how little Isa had whispered to him over their long journey, for she’d said there was really little to tell. Most of it had been an illusion. “The woman that helped them escape told Isa that the Fae had decided to keep the children, and would have if it hadn’t been for her. The Fae must have known of the tear, and used it to lure the children in. But why now,” he asked, “if the tear has been there for years?” It still didn’t make sense.

  Garin wore a pensive look on his long, thin face.

  “If the Maker had King Nel’s son seal the bridge between the worlds,” Ever continued, “then who could have torn it? And why does that boy have the Fortress’s fire?”

  “Only a Fortier could have torn what a Fortier sealed,” Garin said bluntly. “So one of your ancestors must have reopened the veil. At least several decades ago if an adult half-breed is running about.” He raised one black and gray brow. “As to the boy’s powers, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Ever stared at him blankly.

  Garin shook his head, a look of impatience on his face. “The green you saw in those children’s eyes today proved that they do have Fae blood within them. But the fire proved that the boy isn’t pure Fae at all, and neither is his sister, provided they are full siblings.”

  “I am too tired for this, Garin. What are you getting at?”

  “That fire that the boy created on the crystal? That flame can only be created by someone with the blood of the Fortiers.”

  Ever managed to pull himself out of the chair so he could get some fresh air. Garin didn’t stop him when he unlocked the balcony doors and stepped out to feel the late spring’s cool breeze upon his face.

  “Isa created fire before she was a Fortier,” he pointed out to Garin, who had moved to stand beside him.

  “But not that easily. The boy clearly doesn’t understand what a great power he holds, and yet, he created a flame as easily as you ever did. What’s more, the girl said he’s done it before, even without the crystal we can presume.”

  Ever turned to his mentor, too tired to guess anymore. “What are you saying, Garin?”

  “How old is the boy?”

  “Eight? No, nine years, Isa said. Why should that matter?”

  “Nine years ago you would have been twenty-two—”

  “Wait.” Ever took a step back. His stomach suddenly churned. “Are you really asking if I fathered those children?”

  “I certainly hope not. But yes, that is what I am asking you.”

  Despite his confusion, Ever felt his heart break. “No! No, how could you ask such a thing! You would have known if I had done something so audacious!” Ever began to pace the balcony, running his hand through his hair, anger building inside of him. He could hear his voice crack as he faced his mentor. “Many things I have done in my life that I regret, but never that. Never that!” He was shouting now, but he didn’t care.

  Garin sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I am sorry, Everard. You are right. I would have known—”

  “No, truly! You tell me that you are... were one of the enemy, then you accuse me of sneaking out like a street urchin, finding a secret tear within the veil, then siring not one, but two children. Then abandoning them with a good-for-nothing woodcutter?”

  “I know, I know,” Garin said, his voice subdued. “Forgive me. I just... I didn’t expect any of this.” He looked at Ever, his eyes suddenly sad. “I haven’t seen another of my kind in five centuries. I am trying to understand how this could have happened. Of all the children there with Isa, she found the two with Fae and Fortier blood.” Garin’s expression moved from one that was incredulous to one of pain. “You know what this means, though. If it was not you, that leaves only one—”

  “No.” Ever slammed his fist against the wall so hard he could hear the stone within it groan.

  Garin stopped, but still gave him a knowing look.

  “I will not even entertain that thought,” Ever said, breathing hard. “My father was a good man.”

  “Good men can run foolish errands, my boy.” Garin took a deep breath. “Isa mentioned the woman was also half human. It would seem that more than one Destinian has found the tear. There’s no way of knowing how many half Fae are running about in our world or theirs.”

  Suddenly, this day had become more than Ever could handle. Shaking his head, he waved his hand and shuffled towards the door. “I’ll dispatch men in the morning to search for reports of Fae activity in the southern forests. But now I am going to sleep.”

  Unfortunately, as soon as Ever took a single step out of his study, he was nearly trampled by a runner. “What is it, Edgar?” Ever asked, though he was sure that he really didn’t want to know.

  “I apologize, Sire, but there is a large group of citizens here from Soudain.”

  “Now? It’s the middle of the night!”

  Edgar bowed his head as though he had been the one banging on the Fortress gates. “I know, Sire, and I am terribly sorry. But they are insisting that you must come now. They claim,” he paused before meeting Ever’s unhappy gaze, “that the children you returned to them are cursed.”

  “A curse?” Could this night get any worse? “How many?”

  “That is just the thing, Your Majesty. All of them.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A Good Man

  Whenever Ever felt as though the burdens he carried were too great to bear, his father’s voice would pop into his head with its vast number of admonishments, particularly on the topic of lazy kings. On nights like this, as Ever trudged to the throne room with Garin in tow, he sorely wished that his father’s voice would sometimes just shut up.

  When he stepped into the throne room, he was taken by surprise at the sheer number of villagers present. He did his best to look composed as he made his way to the throne, but inside an uneasiness slid about in his stomach. When the runner had first come to him, he’d hoped t
hat a few villagers had caught a random illness, and they were only jumping to conclusions when they claimed that there was a curse. But this was far too many people for that. At least two dozen families stood in his midst, and more were coming in the back.

  “Alright, let us begin,” Ever said, not in the mood for the usual hearing traditions. “What is it that ails you all at such a late hour?”

  “Your Highness,” a thin man with a graying beard and faded clothes knelt before him, “my name’s Emile. I’m a baker in Soudain. We sincerely ’pologize for comin’ at this time, but the need was too great to wait until mornin’.” He turned and looked at the people behind him. Some nodded, while one woman, in particular, made dramatic sweeping movements with her arms, a scowl chiseled into her bony face. He turned back to Ever. “We want to thank you and our queen for returnin’ our children to us, but...” His voice quivered and faltered.

  “I understand this is about the children?” Ever prodded.

  “Yes. Uh... yes, Your Majesty. You see, every child in Soudain that was returned to us has been struck with maladies o’ the worst sorts.”

  “Maladies?” Ever leaned forward. That was odd. All of the children had appeared healthy to him when they’d left the forest.

  The man bobbed his head. “Yes, Your Highness. They’re injuries and illnesses like our healers have never seen before.”

  “Well then, let me see these children.”

  “We didn’t bring them here!” the woman who had been waving her hands called out. Her tone was not nearly as respectful as the man’s had been. “They’re all laid up in a sick tent. You need to see them now!”

  “I see,” Ever said. “None have died, though?”

  “No, Sire. That is the strange part ’bout it,” the man said, shooting the woman an irritated look over his shoulder. “Some complain o’ sore aches in their arms and legs. Others’ve broken bones. One has lost her voice! But they all have somethin’!”