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

by Brittany Fichter

  Henri hesitated, suddenly wanting very much to run and hide behind the many shelves of books that filled the room.

  “Son,” she said, lowering her voice, her eyes pleading, “I’m not strong enough to do this on my own. I need your help.”

  And yet, Henri couldn’t move his feet. Whatever was in that cauldron, boiling, bubbling, and snapping as it was, smelled so sour it made him want to wretch on the ground at her feet.

  “Then let me put it this way. If you won’t help,” his mother’s affectionate tone disappeared, “I suppose I will just have to fetch your sister to come up and do as I say.”

  Henri’s feet suddenly had the ability to move once again. Trembling, he went to stand beside his mother as the roaring heat of the fire tried to scald his ears and eyes from being so close. With a cry, he jumped back once again.

  “What is the matter now?”

  He stared at her. How could she not feel that? His skin felt as though it might dissolve if he stood near the cauldron for more than a minute or so. “It’s too strong.” He shook his head.

  “I told you, it will take an enormous amount of power to defeat my brother. That’s why it is so important that you do exactly as I say. One wrong move and this entire castle could go up in flames.”

  Henri’s breaths came in and out too fast, but he did as she told him, creating a fire in his palm and holding it out as she picked up the bundle of herbs once again. A pungent odor wafted from the bundle as she held it over his flame. It was not a friendly smell. Henri grimaced, but his mother acted as if she were used to such a scent.

  Her calm disappeared, however, when sparks began to fly from the herbs. His mother leapt back with a yelp, and Henri gaped at his hand. His flames had never done that before.

  “What did you do?” she cried, holding up the charred bundle of twigs. After examining it closely, she looked back up at Henri. Henri wondered what she saw, for something in her face changed, though he couldn’t exactly say what it was. With the slightest shake of her head, she dropped the burned herbs on the the table and began to cut more. “That is enough for today,” she finally said. “You may go back to your room now.”

  Henri was out the door in a flash, gasping for fresh air as he fled down the winding stone steps. The air he sucked in was stuffy, but anything was better than the scent of that vile concoction his mother was brewing upstairs.

  As Henri reached the bottom of the steps, though, he realized that his original escort had fled. Whether he, too, had gone up in a puff of green mist, or whether his mother knew Henri would never try to escape without Genny, Henri was free for a few precious moments. Before he knew exactly what he was doing, Henri found himself on the way to the dungeons.

  He hadn’t been to the dungeons before, but he’d once watched Garin accompany a drunk down with one of the guards. He had watched them for long enough to know that it was in the southern wing of the Fortress. Henri kept to the shadows where he could. Though he’d come to love the Fortress in his short time there, the building now seemed eerie without its bustling servants and constant stream of visitors. Every so often a green mist would float by, or a blank-faced Fae with a pike would walk past, but to Henri’s relief, there were very few to witness his four failed attempts at finding the dungeon door. Two storage rooms, one room with nothing in it, and one sick room later, Henri finally opened a door that reeked of dank soil and mildewy rock.

  The room was so dark that Henri nearly tumbled face first down. He caught himself, however, on the second step and crouched there until his eyes adjusted to the dimness, for the room was lit only by one candle.

  A nudge to his arm nearly sent him screaming until he saw that it was only a Fae guard, poking him with the butt of his pike, a thin frown on his flat face. “I’m just sitting here,” Henri grumbled. After looking at him a moment longer, the Fae shrugged and stepped back outside the door. Henri peeked around the corner to see Miss Isa and King Ever kneeling on the ground, a limp body stretched out between them, its head resting on the king’s lap. Henri squinted, trying to think of who it might be. Then he heard the steward’s voice.

  Henri couldn’t hear what Garin said, but whatever it was, the king responded by choking out a sob that made Henri’s heart hurt as King Ever cradled the older man in his arms. King Ever was brusque and often stern, but Henri had long ago stopped questioning the king’s motives. Seeing the king’s body shiver with tears and jerk back and forth at random was more frightening than his mother’s concoction upstairs.

  Suddenly, Henri understood why the king hadn’t fought back after that initial fight. It was the same reason Henri hadn’t fought his mother in the tower. Henri had Genny, and the king had Miss Isa, Garin, and the rest of the kingdom. And his mother was using them all.

  Henri wandered slowly back up to the main level. Fortress, he thought, I don’t know if you’re listening to me. I know I’m not the king or anyone important like that. But... I want to stop her. For my sister... and for them. Henri stopped where he was and looked up at the glistening white molded ceilings that vaulted above him. He strained to hear an answer the way he had seen the king and queen do on many occasions. But no words came. There was no sign that anyone or anything had heard him.

  Annoyed, Henri kicked at a corner as he turned into the kitchen. Well, if the Fortress wasn’t going to help him, he would just have to find something to eat, as he and Genny hadn’t eaten since noon. There was no soft, warm bread waiting for him as there always had been before, but after a bit of scrounging through the cabinets, Henri found some dried, salted pork and a few cold biscuits. With his arms loaded up, he had nearly begun walking back to his room when a movement caught his attention. What was that?

  Henri turned back and walked to the window. To his disappointment, he realized it was just a bird picking berries out of the garden, a blue one, almost the color of the stone in the king’s ring.

  Henri nearly dropped his food.

  After stuffing his pockets with as much food as he could carry, Henri dashed out of the kitchens and back to the stairs. Once he made sure no one was near, he skitted up the steps, taking them two at a time. Only when he had reached the door to the annals did he realize he had no idea as to how he would explain his entrance to his mother. To his joy, however, the room was unlocked, and upon peeking inside, he found that his mother was gone. The ring was still on the table.

  Henri sprinted over and snatched the ring up, only to hear voices coming from the other side of the room. His mother’s and the uninterested voice of one of the Fae. Henri raced back out of the room and down the stairs, not stopping until he reached the bottom, panting. His first thought had been to simply get the ring. But now what should he do with it? How was he supposed to get it to the soldiers at the bottom of the mountain that King Ever had spoken about?

  The birds. King Ever had wanted to find Father Lucien’s birds! Once again, Henri took off to where the animals were kept, begging the Fortress for the bird boy to still be there.

  “You!” he shouted as soon as he was through the door of the bird coop. But there was no one there. Henri’s heart sank as he found himself in the empty stall. He threw himself down on an empty cage and ran his hands through his hair.

  “It’s not fair, Fortress,” he mumbled. “If you love them so much, why don’t you save them?” His voice cracked, and Henri felt a lone, traitorous tear slide down his face. He was so tired. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was go back to his room and sleep for a hundred years.

  Something nudged his elbow. Henri jumped up, but there was no one there, not even a Fae. Then again, he felt a nudge, this time toward the door. Henri continued to find himself pushed along until he was standing before the cage closest to the door.

  “I don’t know what you want me to do,” he grumbled, staring at the bird inside. “I think King Ever was going to use his power to make it go to the right place. I don’t have his power.”

  And yet, once again, he felt the nudge at his hand. This time, h
owever, a trickle of peace began to flow through him. “Fine,” Henri sighed. “If this is what you want me to do.” Henri unlocked the bird and gently pulled it out. It fluffed its warm feathers against his hand and tilted its head. “The bird boy told me you only fly home,” Henri frowned at the bird, “but if the Fortress thinks you’ll go to the right place, then I guess I’ll send you.”

  Henri found one of the little packs and tied it securely on the bird’s back. It looked crooked, but it should stay on at least, he thought. The ring itself seemed nearly too heavy, but once again, he felt the gentle push.

  Shouting jarred Henri from his focus. Panic struck as he looked out to see his mother and a dozen green mists charging straight for him. “Go!” he shouted at the bird, tossing it in the air. Then he turned and began opening the other cages. He’d only succeeded in freeing three by the time his mother caught his arm and threw him to the ground. As he fell, more cages fell open and more birds were set free.

  “Where is it?” she shouted. “Where is the ring?”

  Henri didn’t answer her. Instead, he scrunched his eyes up and tried to put his arms over his face as he curled up in the mix of hay and dirt.

  “Bring them down,” his mother ordered the Fae. Henri’s heart sank as he saw one of the Fae pull a bow from his back. As his mother began to drag him away, he could hear one soft thud after the other, accompanied by the sounds of little bodies hitting the ground.

  “The Fae want you killed, just so you know,” she said through gritted teeth as she dragged him back into the Fortress. “Because you are my son, though, and only because, I will give you this one last warning. But if you fail me again, your sister will take over your responsibilities!”

  “But she’s too little!” Henri protested, trying to keep up as his mother marched him toward his chamber. “She doesn’t have the fire like I do!”

  “Then if something happens to her, you can take comfort in knowing that it was your fault.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  A Score to Settle

  “Ever?”

  But Ever didn’t answer her. Not so much as a muscle moved. Instead, he stayed curled up as though he still held Garin’s empty body and it hadn’t disappeared with the steward’s soul.

  She tried again. “You heard Garin. We need a plan. She won’t wait much longer.”

  And yet, nothing. Isa felt a flash of irritation. It wouldn’t be long before another set of spasms took him, shaking his body until it seemed it would burst. If he were an average man without his great power the poison surely would have killed him by now. “I need you to heal yourself,” she said, making her voice as severe as she dared. “You will die if the poison stays inside you much longer. You need to fight it!”

  But there was no response. Dismay threatened to make her panic as Isa prodded his heart. Usually, she could sense other emotions there, even if she wasn’t wholly aware of his exact sentiments. This time, however, there was nothing. No anger, no rage, no fear, no sorrow. Not even longing. Sacha had done what no other creature or being had done before.

  She had broken him.

  Before Isa could think of anything to say, a convulsion shook Ever so hard that he slumped to the ground when it was done, his eyes closed.

  “No!” Isa rolled him over and smashed her ear against his chest, listening, praying for the heartbeat. Seconds felt like hours, but finally, she heard it. The sound was faint and uneven. And yet... Isa stopped listening and focused instead on what she felt. Beneath Ever’s skin was the smallest of vibrations. Garin’s gift, it seemed, was still present. Don’t let Garin’s sacrifice be in vain, Isa prayed.

  After a long stretch of waiting, Isa was sure Garin’s power was working. Ever’s heart was slightly less erratic. It seemed that the miracle would simply take time. Well, that suited her just fine. Isa laid his head and shoulders gently on the ground and stood. Sacha had managed to break her husband’s heart, and that angered Isa. It angered her more deeply than words could describe. She and Sacha had a score to settle.

  Isa closed her eyes and leaned back against the bars of the prison cell. She was tired, but her exhaustion was incomparable to her determination. She would not lose Ever so senselessly, not after all they had survived together. Isa wouldn’t let her have him in either body or mind. In her own mind, Isa traveled the length of the Fortress searching the halls, the chambers, the king’s study, the kitchen, even the gardens until she located Sacha’s heart. It was in the tower.

  A few minutes later, a new Fae appeared. Instead of merely replacing the Fae Isa had sent away earlier, however, he motioned for her to follow him. Isa laid a soft kiss on Ever’s cheek before straightening and following the Fae, holding her head up high as she did. She might be a prisoner, but she was still the chosen daughter of the Fortress. This was her home, and she was the queen.

  “I thought that tugging sensation might be you.” Sacha didn’t even turn away from the fire as Isa followed the guard into the annals. “What do you want?”

  Isa was surprised to see that the sun was fading once again over the mountain. Had they already been here a whole day?

  “I must admit,” Sacha continued, “I’m rather curious to know the woman who changed my brother so.” Sacha had changed clothes since Isa had seen her last, and was now wearing Isa’s new red dress, the one Ever had liked so much. Did this woman have no end to the ways she could aggravate Isa? Isa shoved that thought aside and focused on what she had come to do.

  “I am here to discuss the current state of affairs.”

  Sacha motioned to a chair near the fire, but Isa stayed put. “I know about the children,” she continued, “and that they were never sick at all.”

  “There is something you should know that I did not tell my brother, for I feared it would only puff him up more than he already is.” Sacha spoke as though Isa hadn’t said anything at all, finally turning to look at Isa, her gray eyes sweeping up and down the mess Isa must look. But Isa only stood her ground. She wouldn’t be intimidated by such paltry judgments. “I never wielded my fire as easily as Henri does, but...” Sacha said, her eyes growing distant. “The first time I showed my father how I could make a flame, Rodrigue promised me that one day, he would take me away from the Fae world and that I would be queen.” She turned to stir whatever was inside the black cauldron upon the fire, though Isa could not see what. “I would be loved by all, he promised. And revered. I can only assume this was before Everard was born, for I was quite young. But,” her face hardened, “he chose Everard.”

  “It matters not who he chose to be king,” Isa said, “for as I told you before, I was chosen to be queen of the Fortress before your brother was coronated. In fact, he only became king because he married me.” How did no one remember this? She took a step closer to the woman, her arms crossed. “So if you’re here to squabble over titles, it is me you should be dealing with.”

  “I want what is mine by right!” Sacha exploded, hurling a little glass bottle to the floor. It shattered, and Isa wondered what had been inside of it. “I deserve this! My children deserve this! We will be loved by the Fortress and its people forever!”

  Isa wanted to spit every vile word that she knew at the woman, but something held her back. Tell her, it said, what it means to be my daughter.

  Isa wanted to groan. Now the Fortress was telling her what to do? And yet, she knew it was right. Taking a deep breath, Isa sought to calm herself. “If you truly wish to be a daughter of the Fortress, you must be willing to be molded and wrought into a creature of compassion and sacrifice.”

  Sacha rolled her eyes before turning back to the strange cauldron that hung over the hearth, but Isa continued.

  “It is a hard, painful path, and your brother has been melted down and recast time and time again upon it. But if you want to know true love,” Isa took a step closer, her heart pounding, “then surely it is a lesson you could learn. We all do in time.”

  Sacha didn’t respond, only continued stirring whatever was
in the pot. For the first time, Isa picked up a whiff of something sour, like rotten cabbages. She also felt a strange twinge ripple through her body as she stepped closer to the hearth. What was that?

  “You think your husband would be willing to allow me to stay by his side to learn such a lesson?” Sacha’s voice was petulant, but Isa answered anyway.

  “Ever has always wanted a sibling! I know he would open his arms with joy if you would only join us and give up this darkness.” She eyed the pot. “You could live with us, and we could rule together! But, you must be willing to withstand the crippling blows for the sake of your duty to this place. For the Fortress shapes those it loves.”

  “You seem so confident of your place in this great castle.” Sacha turned once again to glare at her, and Isa could feel the hatred in the woman’s heart begin to coalesce. “Feather beds, full bellies every night... This hardly feels like sacrifice and hardship to me! I know sacrifice and hardship!” Her words moved to a high pitch. “You cannot speak to me about hardship until you have been shunned by your people and your father abandons you, and then he casts you out, and you are taken advantage of by a greedy man with even lesser means than he has compassion.”

  “There are many kinds of suffering,” Isa said quietly.

  “You know what? You are right! And since you seem so intent on belittling mine, I shall prove to you how set I am in my ways, and that you shan’t dissuade me.” She jerked her head in the direction of the hearth. “Come here!”

  Hesitantly, Isa did as she was bidden. The Fortress had brought her here. It would not abandon her now. But that didn’t mean she didn’t tremble. The closer she grew to the cauldron itself, the more suffocating the air seemed to get. Isa’s skin prickled as though unseen eyes watched her, and the heaviness in the air was suddenly so intense it was dizzying.