Bronwyn and the Beast Prince

by Desiree Acuna

  Bronwyn and the Beast Prince

  BY

  Desiree Acuna

  (c ) copyright by Desiree Acuna, December 2015

  Cover Art by Jenny Dixon

  ISBN 978-1-60394-

  Smashwords Edition

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  Bronwyn was so excited as she and her maids trudged down the rutted dirt track, she almost felt as if she was floating, expanding and rising like fermenting yeast bread so that she bobbed along the road, buoyed upward by the gusty, fall breezes. Her happiness made her feel light despite the uncomfortable warmth of the day and the long walk in shoes that had never done this much walking, as if she might suddenly take flight with the very next heavy breeze and soar away. Her heart pounded with sheer delight.

  She was going to the fair!

  She’d only been twice in her entire life and the last time had been two autumns ago, when she’d still been a mere child. Now she was all grown up and her father had even given her a few pennies to spend!

  She thought it wasn’t merely excitement at getting to go to the fair, though. It seemed everything about her life was about to change. Her father had told her she was old enough to marry and have babes of her own—past the first blush, in point of fact, because she was his only child and he had been reluctant to let her go when he should have.

  In all honesty, it was not entirely his fault. She’d been in no great hurry to let go of her childhood freedoms and had not pestered him to find a suitable husband. She was wise enough in the ways of the world to know that, once she left childhood behind and had children of her own, she would have to carry the burden of a husband’s demands, running a household, and minding children, and she would have very little time to herself. She was looking forward to it, she told herself, and yet she was also anxious to enjoy the last of the carefree days of her youth.

  If she went to the county fair next year, she thought, she would likely have a babe under her apron and a husband’s whims to contend with.

  She hoped her father would find her a husband who was as indulgent as he was, but she wasn’t convinced that was possible.

  She dismissed those wayward thoughts after a moment. She didn’t want to think about that now. She was determined to have a good time and let tomorrow take care of itself!

  Her excitement grew as they drew close enough to the fair that they could perceive the sights, sounds, and smells.

  Bronwyn’s stomach rumbled as the smell of meat pies reached her even though she’d broken her fast with hearty portions of bread and cheese so that she would not be tempted to spend her coins on food when there would be so many trinkets and fabrics to choose from.

  At the very least, she hoped to find a length of silk she could purchase to make a new over gown. She hoped for more, but she would not be disappointed in her trip if she could at least buy something new to wear!

  It was hard to ignore the rumble of her stomach in demand of food, though.

  “Let us go to Papa’s stall first,” she said to the maids who’d accompanied her. That way, she thought hopefully, she might convince him to buy her a meat pie and then she would still have her coins for other things!

  “Are you only just now arriving?” her indulgent Papa demanded the moment she suggested he give her coin to go get a meat pie for each of them.

  She felt her face reddening. “I had my chores to take care of before I left,” she pointed out.

  “And overslept, I have no doubt!” Papa said accusingly. “Did you not break your fast?”

  Bronwyn was tempted to lie. “I did, but I was so excited I just could not eat much and now we have walked so far I feel faint with hunger.”

  He looked disbelieving, but he grudgingly pulled out a half penny and gave it to her. “Go! And do not bother me! I have customers to see to.”

  Triumphant, happy, Bronwyn refused to budge until she’d kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

  He reddened. “Go on with you now! And be careful! Stay close to your maids.” He sent a stern look at the maids over her head. “Mind you take good care of your mistress today! There’s good folk and bad here.”

  Bronwyn followed her nose to the vender selling the meat pies, chose one carefully, and then looked around for a place to eat. There were throngs of people even though it was still relatively early, but she finally spied an inviting spot beneath a tree at the very edge of the fair.

  She discovered she’d chosen a fortunate spot. She was close enough to the activities to ‘experience’ without wading through the crowd and being pummeled by people pushing past her in every direction and she could enjoy her meat pie without having it knocked from her hand.

  Breaking off a piece for each of her maids, she settled to enjoying her pie and taking in the excitement, trying to decide where to go first.

  If she went to look at the fabrics she thought it might inspire her father to call her to help out in his stall so, although that was her main focus, she decided to leave her search for the perfect fabric until she’d explored the rest of the fair.

  The pie actually determined what to do next. It had been as good as it smelled, but her mouth was so dry by the time she finished she was having problems swallowing. Getting up, she dusted her gown off and headed off to search for water.

  She’d made her way down one lane of vendors before she spied a well.

  Unfortunately, the Gypsies had set up their encampment near the well, and not only had her father warned her about going anywhere near the Gypsies, but they unnerved her.

  She hesitated, weighing her thirst against moving within the sphere of the Gypsies and, perhaps, attracting unwanted attention.

  “There’s bound to be another well hereabouts,” her elder maid, Maude, hissed near her ear. “You know you’re forbidden to go anywhere around the Gypsies.”

  This instantly stiffened Bronwyn’s resolve to do the opposite of what she’d originally intended. She swallowed with an effort around a bone dry throat. “But this one is right here. And it’s broad daylight and right in town! They aren’t likely to accost me with so many people around. It’s absurd even to suggest they might!

  “And very likely we’d discover this to be the only well and we’d have to come back anyway, except I’ll be much thirstier than I am now!”

  Her—to her justifiable—anger that Maude didn’t care anything about her discomfort or have any right to boss her around carried her to the well. She’d managed to haul the bucket up and take no more than a sip, though, when the whinny of a horse redirected her attention. When she whipped her head around to look, she saw a beautiful horse, trapped in a makeshift corral made of ropes, looking directly at her.

  At least, it seemed to be looking directly at her.

  Trying to shake the strange feeling that washed over her that the horse not only was looking directly at her, but was trying to speak to her, she focused on the water again and assuaging her raging thirst, emptying the ladle.

  When the horse whinnied again, she handed the bucket to Maude and moved aside so that her maids could drink, glancing once more at the horse.

  It nodded at her, shook its mane, for all the world as if it was trying to motion her to come nearer.

  The urge to laugh assailed her, but she resisted the impulse to tell Maude the horse was trying to get her attention. Maude would be convinced the horse was bewitched!

  She hesitated, but the urge to a
pproach the horse was too strong to ignore.

  Weaving in and out of the throng of people moving in the opposite direction, she made her way at last to the horse—which she discovered was a mare.

  “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” she crooned, stroking the mare’s neck.

  “An she just happens to be fer sale,” responded a crackling voice close enough it made the hairs on Bronwyn’s neck stand up. She whipped a startled look in the direction the voice had come from, scanning her surroundings for her maids she’d abandoned.

  The woman who’d spoken to her looked as old and cracked as the voice that had issued from her.

  “Excuse me?” Bronwyn responded, taking an instinctive step back when she saw the old woman was dressed like a gypsy.

  To her relief, when she glanced around instinctively for help, she spied Maude plowing her way through the crowd of people that separated them.

  The maid’s expression was thunderous, but for once Bronwyn was grateful for the old fire breathing dragon. Maude was a force of nature—hard to stop when she was provoked.

  Feeling far less threatened once she was certain she was about to have allies in the form of her very intimidating maid, Maude, and the chatterbox, Trudy, she returned her attention to the mare.

  “Well … I’m not actually looking to buy. I just noticed her and wanted a closer look.”

  “She called ye. She’s picked ye.”

  Bronwyn sent the old crone a startled look, feeling her face redden because she’d felt like the mare was calling to her. “Oh! That’s absurd! She looks to be a very clever little lady, but she’s just a horse!”

  The gyspy shrugged. “Have it yer way, but ye and me both know, don’t we?”

  Bronwyn gave the woman a skeptical, albeit uneasy, look.

  “Why don’t ye climb on her back and take her through her paces?”

  The suggestion made Bronwyn’s pulse leap with excitement. She tamped it with an effort. “I might be tempted if I had the money to buy, but I don’t so there’s no sense in taking a ride.”

  “Only ten quid,” the gyspy said cajolingly.

  “Ten!” Bronwyn echoed, feeling her excitement climb once more. Surely she had heard the woman wrong? The mare was absolutely perfect. She could bring a far better price than that!

  “Five then,” the gypsy said after examining Bronwyn’s expression.

  “But that’s … that’s an amazing price!” Bronywn protested.

  Maude arrived in time to hear the last. “Most likely because she’s stolen—or diseased! Don’t ye think fer a minute ye’ll be foistin’ yer diseased beastie off on Miss Bronwyn!” she snapped.

  That instantly set up the crone’s back and she and Maude began to bicker over the merits of the mare. Bronwyn was insulted if it came to that! She’d looked the mare over and seen nothing but sheer perfection!

  Of course, she supposed Maude was basing her assessment on the price the old gypsy woman had quoted.

  Which was so fantastic Bronwyn felt her desire to buy the horse soar. She was certain her father would think it was too good of a bargain to pass up.

  And her mare was getting on in years.

  And it was almost her birthday.

  Leaving her maids to argue with the gypsy woman, Bronwyn ducked under the makeshift barrier and into the corral for a better look at the mare.

  Oh she was a well mannered lady! She stood perfectly still while Bronwyn looked her over. “Well! I can’t see a thing wrong with you!” she muttered, staring at the horse speculatively. Finally, she grasped the horse’s bridle and led her around the corral, watching her movements carefully.

  Still no sign at all that the horse was defective in any way.

  Shrugging inwardly, Bronwyn looked around for a mounting block. Spying one across the way, she led the mare to it and very carefully settled on her bare back. “Good girl! Sweet girl! Let’s try it once around the corral, shall we?”

  The horse’s ears flicked back and then forward. As Bronwyn spoke, she nodded.

  Bronwyn chuckled.

  The mare tossed her head and began to trot daintily around the corral.

  Which was when Maude suddenly noticed what she was about. “Here now! Miss Bronwyn! Get down from that beastie this instant! Why that thing isn’t even properly tacted out! You can’t ride it without a lady’s saddle! Yer father’ll want to look at it to decide if he wants it and he’ll not let you on it till he’s had someone take her through her paces to see if she’s well behaved enough for you!”

  “Poo! She’s as gentle as a lamb,” Bronwyn countered. She’d scarcely gotten the disclaimer out, however, when the mare launched into a full out run, raced around the corral once, and then headed straight for the rope that had been used to enclose the area. Bronwyn tried to brace herself for impact. Instead of plowing into the rope, however, the mare gathered herself and leapt, sailing over the rope as smoothly as if she’d sprouted wings. Her front hooves hit the dirt on the other side, tipping Bronwyn forward. Bronwyn’s heart leapt into her throat as it struck her that she was about to pitch over and slam into the ground. However, her butt never left the mare’s back, despite the sharp tilt and jolt.

  She didn’t truly have time to register the fact that she’d lost her balance and hadn’t fallen—as she should have—but it was born into her fairly quickly that something was definitely not ‘normal’ about the situation at all.

  People began to scream and run or leap for cover as the horse plowed through the narrow thoroughfare that bisected the fair, clearly hell bent on freedom. Bronwyn knew once the mare managed to clear the fair and the impediments of people and other animals and merchant booths, there would be nothing to slow her at all. Despite her reluctance to bring pain and embarrassment upon herself, she knew that her best chance of surviving was to throw herself from the horse before it managed to gain speed.

  But when she’d steeled herself to do so, she discovered she could not.

  She could not command her fingers to release their grip on the rope lead attached to the mare’s bridle that she’d used as a rein.

  She could not even pitch herself off.

  It was as if her butt was glued to the back of the mare by some sort of witchery!

  Chapter Two

  Bronwyn took herself to task. “Nonsense!” she muttered. She didn’t believe in magic! Her father had told her there was no such thing. It was ignorance and fear of the unknown that made people believe in such silly things.

  She hadn’t fallen off because she was just too frightened to let go and she had a death grip on the beast!

  Gripping the mare more tightly, she closed her eyes and tried to bring order to her frightened mind so that she could think rationally. Calm reason, her father had always said, would bring the answer one needed for most any situation.

  She was far calmer by the time she opened her eyes again but instantly disturbed to find that, while she was seeking calm, the mare had completely left the village behind.

  What was she to do now, she wondered in consternation?

  It occurred to her momentarily that the horse was almost literally flying along the road. She was bound to wear herself out very soon at this rate! All she had to do was to hang on and protect herself from injury and when the mare had run off her excess energy she would be more manageable. She could turn the horse back toward town and no harm done!

  Very likely she would meet her father and other villagers on their way to rescue her!

  She shook her head at herself. She was not usually inclined to behave like a complete ninny! She supposed she had just been more unnerved than she’d realized by the encounter with the old gypsy woman.

  And, really, the mare’s gait was amazing. Even at such a frantic speed she was hardly jostled at all by the horse’s movements.

  She’d actually begun to almost enjoy the ride until the mare abruptly veered and headed straight for the Dread Woods where the Demon Castle lay!

  This was certainly not superstitious bunk! />
  It was well known throughout the entire kingdom that the Dread Woods were a place to be avoided at any cost because the Demon’s Castle lay at the heart of this wood!

  In vain, Bronwyn tugged at her makeshift rein, however. She could neither bring the headstrong beast to a halt nor turn her. In point of fact, the mare almost seemed to pour on more speed the closer they came to the Dread Woods, to race faster and faster toward the evil place as if she was being pulled toward it.

  And then the mare leapt from the road and onto a path Bronwyn hadn’t ever noticed before.

  It was actually almost like a tunnel—a narrow twisting affair two horses would have had difficulty passing one another on, and canopied by the arching limbs of the trees that grew on either side.

  Unfortunately, there were young, whip-like branches hanging low enough to catch the unwary.

  A branch they whipped past gave her a stinging slap on one cheek.

  Bronwyn was still nursing the pain when she spied another, larger branch.

  She ducked low over the horse’s head, then.

  It flickered through her mind that she should have made another attempt to fling herself from the horse’s back before it left the road.

  It was too late to try, again, to throw herself from the saddle. Even if not for the mare’s speed, she was facing severe injury or death if she attempted it. They were far too close to the trees. She would never be able to avoid a disastrous collision. If she lost her grip now it wouldn’t be a mere fall from the mare’s back. It would be as if she’d been catapulted into the trees. She’d be crushed, mangled, lucky if she died a quick death.

  It didn’t bear thinking on … until she spied the stonework of an ancient bridge ahead and realized that the frightening stories must be true—the stories she hadn’t entirely believed even though she’d been too unnerved to completely dismiss them.

  Maybe, she thought with a shudder, she would be better off if she did throw herself from the saddle and ended it quickly?

  She could wait until she saw a very large tree and it would all be over in a matter of moments.

  Somehow, she didn’t, though. Afterwards, she wasn’t certain if she’d made the decision to live at all costs—whatever fate lay ahead of her—or if she was simply too frightened to throw herself from the horse.