by Laura Kenyon
Too breathless to speak, Ruby simply flashed an irate look, clomped her way up to the gazebo, and let the weight of the book pull her up the steps. Before anyone could stop her, Marestam’s most famous fairy unleashed the massive hardcover onto the table, smothering Belle’s divorce papers and sending the candles spiraling across the floor. Beast pounced after them.
“Ruby, are you feeling okay?” Dawn asked while everyone else stood there fully absorbing the shock. “You look awful.”
Ordinarily, this might have sounded rude, but Ruby truly did look horrendous. Dressed in raggedy old jeans and a frumpy sweater, with some of her charcoal hair in a bun and the rest missing the elastic completely, Ruby grabbed a wad of used tissues from her pocket and slapped them against her red nose.
“Yes.” Her ordinarily husky voice sounded full of stuffing. “I am feeling very ill. But I had to come before it’s too late.” When no one immediately asked what she meant, Ruby stomped over to her book and heaved it open. “I’m sorry about your troubles, Belle. I really am. But you should have listened to me when I wrote that letter to the Mirror. You absolutely cannot end your marriage.”
Rapunzel snorted, too loudly to be ignored, and looked around for backup. When none came, she lunged forward. “Apparently everyone else is too timid to stand up to you, Ruby, but I’m not. You can’t keep going around telling people how to be happy. I’m so sick of it. People split up. It happens. Deal with it. You can’t make two miserable people stay together and call it a happy ending. Look at her!” Belle brought her shoulders up to her chin at this mention and examined her shoes. “She’s happy. She’s strong. She’s starting over. And she’s been through hell already, so back off!”
Ruby waited for Rapunzel’s tirade to end before dragging the tissue off her nose. Her voice was childlike compared to Rapunzel’s rage. “She’s changing everything.”
Rapunzel let out a guttural laugh. “Well, I should hope so. That’s the point!”
Too sniffly and weak for a battle, Ruby simply shook her head and turned to Belle. “Look at the book,” she insisted, and moved out of the way.
For a few quiet moments, six heads of varying colors wilted over the massive hardcover, reading—for what reason, they had no idea—a long list of rules, written in words no one had used for centuries, about magic and curses and spells. If they were supposed to have some sort of epiphany from this, it wasn’t working.
“This says that if a curse is broken before running its course, in order for it to remain broken, the circumstances that stopped it must not change.” Ruby waited for a reaction, but none came. “Don’t you get it? Belle broke Donner’s curse when she pledged to marry him. If she ends their marriage, it will all come right back.”
“So?” Rapunzel didn’t see the problem. “So everyone gets to see Donner for the monster he is. That’s his issue. Why should Belle care?”
“Aside from the fact that her child will have a monster for a father?” Ruby closed her eyes to emphasize the importance of this moment. “Because all broken curses are linked. It’s not just Donner’s that will come back. It’s Dawn’s. And Snow’s. And everyone else who ever plucked their happy ending away from something evil.”
The mood in the pavilion crystallized and shattered. Belle backed up and sat down with her arms over her belly. Cindy and Penny rushed to her side. Dawn steadied herself on the railing and took Snow’s hand. Their fainting now made sense. The only one unfazed was Beast, sprawled out like a sphinx, fully enjoying in the show.
Rapunzel, however, wanted to deck that egotistical fairy right there. She wanted to toss that giant book at her and watch her tumble down the gazebo stairs. “You’re full of crap, Ruby.”
“Excuse me?”
Rapunzel sent her a look of pure hatred and stepped between her and Belle. “You’re telling us that no one has ever—in all of history—changed their mind after breaking a curse? Crap, Ruby. Are you so obsessed with this delusional fairy world of yours that you’d ruin Belle’s life just to keep pretending it exists? Magic is over. Your kind is almost extinct. Deal with it.”
Ruby sucked in her cheeks and sneezed. She punched the air with her matted up handkerchief. “What delusional little world are you talking about exactly? The kind that values commitment? Honor?”
“Honor!” Rapunzel laughed. From the look of everyone’s bugged out eyes, it was a tad maniacal. “You think it’s honorable to spend your time turning servants into princesses instead of helping kidnapped little girls out of towers? Shoving this mystical, love-conquers-all propaganda down everyone’s throats? Half the people here have been ruined by people like you. We didn’t thrive because of magic. We survived in spite of it.”
“She’s right,” Dawn said. Her lips were the same shade as her skin and her left knee was shaking. “I may have woken up, but my curse never truly ended. It still stole everything for which I ever cared. Belle, if you don’t sign those papers, please don’t let it be on my account.”
“Do what you feel,” Snow added with a shrug. “If I get poisoned again, Griffin can just kiss me again. The universe has a way of working these things out.”
Ruby took a firm step toward Belle, but Rapunzel blocked her path. Her face hardened. “This is absurd,” she said. “Dawn, even if you don’t love Hunter, you still have two children who depend on you. Would you prefer they never existed? And Snow, if every broken curse comes back, what worked the first time might not work again. These things are like viruses. They adapt.”
Silence settled over them for a moment. A warm breeze whooshed through the trees and into the pavilion, carrying the far-off sounds of music and laughter.
Rapunzel and Ruby caught each other’s eyes again as it faded away, and instantaneously launched into round two.
“It’s her life to—” “She doesn’t know what she’s—”
“Stop it.” Belle’s voice was eerily calm. Rapunzel turned around and saw that her eyes weren’t fluttering—a good sign—but they contained no light. Detaching herself from Cindy and Penny, she sidestepped the bucket of lost memories, dug the papers out from under the book, and tore them straight down the middle.
“There are few things I can live without,” she said, pressing both hands into her back and staring towards the inn. “A piece of paper from a judge is one of them. My friends are not.”
A round of protests broke out, but Belle ignored them.
“I’m not going back to Donner. I’m starting a new life here, just as planned. But if a divorce will bring back the curses, then I simply won’t get one. I have all that I need right here.”
Cindy stepped forward. “But Belle. If you fall in love again and you’re still married—”
“The only person I’m going to fall in love with is this little one right here,” she said, palming her belly.
“Belle, I think you’re making a mistake.” Ruby’s ferocity was fading. “I can’t guarantee that will prevent anything. It’s not an exact science, you know.”
Belle smirked a “nothing-ever is” smirk and strolled to the stairs. “Well, I suppose there’s always going to be something, isn’t there?” She lowered her hand to scratch between Beast’s ears. He leaned into her and gave a happy grumble. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to feed Beast and put the flowers on my cake. I have a lot of guests today, and they’re expecting a celebration.”
About the Author
LAURA KENYON is an award-winning journalist and graduate of Boston College. Her stories and articles have appeared in Kiwi Magazine, Westchester Magazine, Just Labs, Serendipity, The Improper Bostonian, and Westchester/Hudson Valley Weddings, as well as in myriad newspapers and at PrickoftheSpindle.com. She lives in Connecticut with her husband and their dog, who’s about as well behaved as Beast. This is her first novel.
To learn more about Laura, visit her website at www.laurakenyon.com and sign up for exclusive updates. She loves connecting with readers on her blog, Twitter, and Facebook. And for a peek into the way she envisio
ns Marestam, check out her Desperately Ever After board on Pinterest.
Twitter: @laura_kenyon
Facebook: laurakenyonwrites
Pinterest: lkwrites
Acknowledgments
Thanks first must go to my agent, Michelle Brower, who took one look at the women of Marestam and said the world just had to meet them. If they could hop from these pages, they would raise a sparkling glass of champagne to you, the rest of Folio, and Jita Fumich, who worked some spectacular magic of her own.
To Marisa Iallonardo, you are a brilliant editor and an even better friend. Thank you for fielding my panicked 4 a.m. emails with grace, talking me down from the occasional ledge, and patiently explaining the notorious debate about serial commas.
For those writers and authors who took time out of their busy schedules to help a literary freshman find her way (especially the infinitely generous Hazel Gaynor, Heather Webb, Wendy Walker, Danielle Poiesz, and everyone who’s contributed to Skipping Midnight), your kindness gives me hope for us all.
Andrew Brown and everyone at Design for Writers, thank you for weeding through the jumbled visions in my head and crafting such a beautiful cover. I’m still amazed to see my name on what you’ve created.
While I’ve been blessed with too many wonderful friends and relations to list them all here (you know who you are!), I must thank a stalwart few who pored over my crinkled pages on their way to work, organized book discussion dinners, tolerated my barrage of “Which sounds better?!” emails, and sent over links to every princess article on the web. Joyce Alencherril, Sabina Rebis, Melissa Mathew, Wendy Barnes, Azalea Kim, and Lisa Calandra: Thank you for believing in me enough to sacrifice your time, and for showing me what true friendship really means.
Huge virtual hugs to all of the blog, Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads friends who kept me smiling throughout this process. And to those special teachers and mentors along the way who went above and beyond to help me write better, work harder, and see the forest for the trees … I am forever in your debt.
For my family—Mom, Dad, Mike, Matt, and Andrew—thank you for your eternal support, for a lifetime of priceless memories, and for letting the family name be associated with defiling fairy tales. And to Susie and Mary, who heard the idea for this series evolve over countless morning car rides and evenings around my parents’ kitchen table. Thank you for cheering me on.
Chris, there aren’t enough words to show my appreciation for all that you’ve done. You are a thousand times better than any “Prince Charming” on record. Thank you for safeguarding my dreams when I was ready to smash them to pieces, for believing I’d succeed as long as I kept trying, and for reading a book about princesses. Without you, this would have taken twenty years.
Lastly, thanks to my muse, Shadow, for spending months cuddled at my feet, wondering how staring at a glowing screen could be more fun than throwing him a ball.
An advanced look at Laura Kenyon’s
DAMSELS IN DISTRESS
Book Two: Desperately Ever After series
Summer 2014
BELLE
With the exception of Belle’s momentary disappearance, the grand opening of The Purple Phoenix Inn was brilliant. The morning fog broke early to usher in a bright turquoise afternoon, a tangerine sunset, and a starry black night. The dangling plum votives and cherries jubilee were showstopping. The band played on an extra hour—for free and at the request of the guests. By the end, no less than twenty pairs of shoes lay abandoned between the tables, which had been shoved onto the grass to make room for more dancing.
By all accounts, Belle and Rapunzel’s great gamble was already a smashing success. By all accounts, that is, but one.
After the last brake light disappeared in a soft red haze and her friends’ hushed reassurances retreated into silence, Belle stepped into the shower and tried to disintegrate. She felt like nothing more than ash, an extraneous clump of cornstarch trapped in an insoluble skin. It was a horrid thought.
Wrapping her arms over the tiny bulge protruding from her belly, she watched the water splatter against her swollen feet and tried to get a grip.
Her friends had left the party happy and healthy, after all. Dawn hadn’t slipped back into a coma. Snow’s veins hadn’t suddenly filled with poison. Belle hadn’t taken the bait and returned to the life she’d tried so hard to escape. But still, Ruby’s words writhed like maggots through her wounds—minus the healing properties.
“All broken curses are linked,” the fairy had said. If Belle ended the marriage that had transformed Donner from beast back to man, everyone’s broken curses would return. Belle would be responsible for an exorbitant amount of suffering, countless happy endings ruined, lovers torn apart forever—all because she had the audacity to want her freedom.
She leaned into the sandstone tiles that she’d handpicked barely a month earlier. They were light and smooth, and full of fascinating imperfections. She could stare at them for hours, tracing the waves of color and wondering how many years it took for them to get that way. At Braddax Castle, on the other hand, the bathroom was cold and sharp. Angular and metal. Donner hadn’t let her soften it at all once they married. Softening him had been enough—and look how long that lasted.
She couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that existence. She’d come too far. The Phoenix was just taking off. The butter yellow alcove beside her bed was dressed and waiting for a crib. The guest rooms were already filled with excited young couples, hungry for sweet potato waffles in the morning and hours of hiking in the afternoon.
Maybe the infallible Ruby Welles, one of the last pureblood fairies in a world of dwindling magic, was wrong. Maybe she’d made a mistake. Maybe Belle could just live at her inn, have her baby, keep a long-distance “husband” she never had to see, and forget she’d clapped eyes on that magic rulebook at all.
She straightened up and spun the faucet, slicing the water off at the head. The air vacuumed all the heat from her body instantly, leaving her naked, red, and shivering. She stepped onto the tile, instinctively avoided the mirror, and wrapped herself violently in a towel. Beast was probably still curled up beside the fireplace in the den—his favorite spot after the foot of her bed. She made a mental note to check all the locks when she went to fetch him. Then she pushed open her bedroom door.
“All that steam can’t be good for the baby.”
The voice cut through the room. Belle jolted and secured her slipping towel just in time. She fumbled for the light switch but the tiny lamp it powered barely revealed Donner’s silhouette.
She wanted to shout out, to scream. What are you doing here? How did you get in? Do I need to get a restraining order?
Instead, she squirmed her towel a bit higher on her chest, bit down on her rage, and waited.
“So this is your room,” he said, less a question than a personal observation.
She bit her lip and stared at the stretch oil on her beside table. Her cleavage was itching like crazy. She couldn’t be pregnant and deal with this.
“It’s nice.”
Against the pastel walls, Donner was a massive dark spot that the peonies and baby unicorns were trying in vain to squeeze out. He looked closer to sixty than to thirty-six hunched there, half-hidden behind the curtain, which he was kneading and twisting around in his massive hands. Still, there was something poetic about him being in her brand new bedroom, in what was supposed to be her brand new life, without the slightest idea she’d just been crying her eyes out over the thought of having to stay with him.
“I would have let you do this to our bedroom if you wanted to,” he said.
Belle shook her head but didn’t see the point of arguing. It was harder to hate him when he stopped flexing his muscles and started wearing his remorse.
“Donner, I’m tired. Whatever you want, we can talk about it at the next appointment with Dr. Frolick. It’s only –”
“Listen to me!” he roared as both curtains crashed to the floor, revealing a bare wi
ndow—black glass against the black sky—and a reflection that sent Belle’s heart racing. She immediately clutched her stomach. It couldn’t be.
“Something’s happening,” Donner said, stepping slowly into the light. “Belle. Something’s happening to me.”
