Chapter Two

 

 

“You didn't like The Beastly Princes?” Theo chuckled.

“Have you read that garbage?” I asked him as I returned his book. “It's ridiculous.”

“It's supposed to be a true story,” Theo said, “about our very own kingdom.”

“We have a King and Queen,” I reminded him. “And they only have a daughter, no sons; beastly or otherwise.”

“We were not originally a part of the Kingdom of Hannaleigh,” Theo said. “In fact, we're not really a part of it now. Our monarchy disappeared long ago; the castle is said to be deep within the forest, hidden by magic and haunted.”

“What happened to our monarchs?”

“No one knows.” Theo waved the book at me. “Or do they?”

“You want me to believe that there are three beasts, who once were princes, living in an abandoned castle in the woods, waiting for a beautiful woman to find them and fall in love with them?” I scoffed.

“Pure drivel,” Fabien said as he sauntered into Theo's shop.

I rolled my eyes. “For the flour,” I said to Theo as I handed him a copper coin. “And thank you for the loan of the book.”

“You're welcome Sylvaine,” Theo spoke to me, but eyed Fabien.

Fabien. Ugh. Speaking of monsters, Fabien was a real one. He was also a braggart and a bully. In fact, Fabien would probably get along famously with those princes. When he wasn't pushing his weight around, Fabien could be found admiring himself in any reflective surface. And when he wasn't doing either of those things, he was annoying me.

“Where are you going, Sylvie?” Fabien followed me out of Theo's shop.

“Home,” I said succinctly. “And don't call me 'Sylvie'.”

“Aren't we close enough for me to call you 'Sylvie', Sylvie?” Fabien wedged his way in front of me, forcing me to slide between him and a wall.

“No, we're not,” I growled.

“Fabien!” Bianca, my older sister, shouted.

Fabien sighed deeply and ignored her.

“Fabien!” Bianca called again as she hastened after us.

“I'm busy, Bianca!” Fabien turned to snap at her.

I used his distraction to make my escape, ducking down a back alley and then racing out to another street. By the time I made it home, I was giggling like a girl. My giggling stopped when I saw Bertrand, the horse who pulled my father's cart.

“Bertrand?” I went over to the horse, who was grazing peacefully in the patch of grass before our home.

Bertrand lifted his head, looking at me with somber, dark eyes.

“Where's father, Bertrand?”

The horse looked guilty. And yes, I could communicate with our horse; with most animals, actually. It was a talent my entire family possessed. Our ancestors had been very in tune with nature. My name even meant “from the forest.” So, I knew immediately that Bertrand had left my father somewhere that he shouldn't have.

“You're taking me to him, Bertrand,” I said as I climbed onto his back.

The horse tensed and pranced anxiously.

“You left Father somewhere alone. Now, the least you can do is show me where,” I chided him.

Bertrand took off into the woods.

Over an hour later, I realized that we were on a road that I had never traveled before. It was overgrown, but not to the point of being inaccessible, just enough to make it clear that this was not a path often chosen. Then Bertrand stopped.

There was a break in the trees, and through it, I could see a magnificent castle.

“Oh dear god,” I whispered. “It's just as Theo said; a hidden castle. Is that where father is, Bertrand?”

The horse whinnied.

“Then let's go.”

Bertrand stamped and turned in a circle, refusing to go any further. Finally, I gave up, and left him there, making my way up a stone path toward the massive castle. As soon as I was out of the forest, the land opened up into sweeping lawns and manicured gardens. A whole team of gardeners would be needed to maintain these grounds, but there wasn't a soul in sight. I looked down at my arms and saw the hair on them standing on end. Something wasn't natural here.

Even though the sun shone down brightly, and the castle gleamed as if it were freshly polished, I felt a heavy pall in the air; a sadness hanging over it all. I shivered and rubbed my arms as I hurried up the stone steps of the castle to a curved set of wood doors. I knocked because that's the polite thing to do, but no one answered. Instead, the door swung open all on its own, and I stood within the arch of it, staring at a grand staircase. Doors to either side of the entry were open to reveal vast rooms, but there was no one in them.

“Hello?” I called out. “I'm sorry to intrude, but I'm looking for my father, and I think he may be here. Hello? Is anyone here?”

A clink sounded down a hallway to the right of the stairs. I followed the sound and came to a kitchen. No one was there. Another clatter led me to an open door near the pantry. I peered in and saw a set of stairs leading down into the dark.

“Too dark for anyone to be down there,” I muttered to myself.

Torches burst into flame, illuminating a stone stairwell which curved downward out of sight.

“Well, that wasn't at all creepy,” I huffed.

I would have left at that point–I wasn't foolish enough to venture beneath an abandoned castle where torches flare to life all on their own. But my father was in this castle somewhere, I could feel it in my bones, and I wasn't about to abandon him. I headed down the stairs warily.

At the bottom of the stairs, I found a row of prison cells. Solid doors blocked my view of the cells, but they were each set with small windows near their tops, barred with iron.

“Father?” I called out.

“Sylvaine?” My father's shocked voice came from one of the cells. “Sylvaine is that you?”

“Father!” I snatched a ring of keys off the wall and ran toward the sound of his voice. “I'm here! Bertrand brought me.” I unlocked his door and rushed into my father's arms.

“Oh, Sylvaine,” my father sobbed. “You shouldn't have come. In fact,” he pushed me away, “you need to leave immediately.”

“The hell I will,” I growled.

“Brave,” a deep voice noted from the doorway.

“Or maybe just stupid,” another rumbly voice added.

“Leave her be!” My father cried and pushed me behind him. “She has done nothing to you. I'm the one who took your damn rose.”

“Rose?” I asked.

“Your father is a thief,” a third voice, slightly softer than the other two, said. “We caught him stealing one of our prized roses. Thieves must be punished. At least, that's what Lancelot says–” His voice was cut off by a muffled thump.

“Over a rose?” I huffed. “I'm the one who asked him for a rose; you should hold me accountable.”

“Sylvaine!” Father snapped. “I will handle this.”

“Father, you need to get home,” I said sternly. “Bianca and Anne will not be able to survive without you.”

“You can–”

“What?” I asked. “What could I do to support us?”

“More than I,” he huffed. “We lost another cargo. I know you know about the ships, Sylvie. We are ruined.”

“Our family does not give up,” I snapped. “We've been through harder times than this, and we will prevail. You're going to go home and figure this out.” I shoved him toward the door.

“Listen to her,” one of the voices said, “she thinks that she's in charge.”

“He's a merchant; he knows nothing but business,” I growled at the shadowy shapes in the doorway. “What do you want with him when you could have an able-bodied woman instead? So, unless you need someone to manage your records, I'm the better choice.”

“Come into the light,” the first voice demanded.

I eased forward and heard three sharp intakes of breath.

“Brave and beautiful,” one of them whispered.

“Fools,” another said, “she's not the one. True beauty, remember? She's obviously a harridan.”

“Hey,” I huffed, but they went on, ignoring me.

“What's the harm?” The third said. “Let her stay. Let him leave. It matters not.”

“I am not leaving!” My father declared.

“Yes, you are,” I pushed him out into the corridor.

“You heard her,” one of the low voices said. “It's time to go.”

I strode out past the glare of the torches just as a clawed hand reached for my father. I launched myself at the thing before me, the one about to attack my father, but was grabbed from behind. As I flailed against my captor, my father was dragged away by something that looked...

“Half man and half beast,” I whispered in wonder.

I swiveled my head around to peer at the man who held me and found something similar. Shaggy hair framed a fur-covered face. The fur was sleek and flowed over a muscular body. Large, liquid eyes stared at me, full of sorrow and pain. They were set above a wide, flat nose that would have looked right at home on a lion. This nose flowed down into an upper lip that was thick like an animal's muzzle, but then it transformed into human-shaped lips. The beast opened his odd mouth, showcasing sharp canines, and spoke.

“Be at ease; we will not hurt you.”

“I'm more concerned about my father,” I said calmly.

His eyes widened, and he carefully put me down on my feet.

“Your father will be escorted off the property,” he murmured. “My brother will not harm him either. We're not completely animals.”

“Animals behave better than humans anyway.” I crossed my arms and considered him. “It's true, isn't it? The story of the beastly princes. And you're one of them.”

“There's a story about us?” He crossed his own arms to mirror my stance, and I noticed that he was dressed in fine clothing.

“So, you need to make a woman fall in love with you, huh?” I asked.

“Dear God, you are a blunt one.”

“And you're a furry one.”

“Fair enough.” He smiled, then looked shocked. “You're amusing, and I'm not easily amused.”

“Well, it's probably this whole having to find a woman to want you thing,” I suggested. “What happens if you don't, by the way? I stopped reading before I found out. Honestly, I thought it was a load of rubbish.”

“If only it were. If we don't find love, we stay like this forever,” he waved a paw over his body.

“That's not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” He snarled. “I'm hideous.”

“You kind of look like a loup garou,” I pointed out. “With a little predator cat thrown in. Interesting.”

“A loup garou?”

“A werewolf.”

“You believe in werewolves?” He asked.

“And you don't?” I looked him over pointedly.

“Yes, well spotted,” he huffed.

“The man has been escorted to his horse,” one of the other two beasts said as they both returned. “She isn't fighting?”

“She's quite reasonable,” the first one said. “And she knows about the curse.”

“She knows about it?” The third beast asked, coming forward to face me. “You know?”

“Yeah, but I'm not your girl,” I said. “I'm not into the idea of having multiple lovers. I'm looking for the one, my true mate.”

The third beast choked and started to cough.

“Perhaps we could change your mind.” The second one smiled, and it appeared to be very wicked, though that could have just been his face.