Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws (20 page)

“I do not know why you are so vexed. The only reason she told The Queen was to save thine ungrateful skin.”

“The only reason she told the Queen was to save her ungrateful skin.” She glared at Josselyn. “And yours!”

Tears formed in Josselyn’s eyes. “How can you be so cruel?”

Cinderella let out a humorless laugh. “So, ‘tis I who am cruel? I am not the one that is fixated on finding the perfect gown while Rushton is rotting in the dungeon!”

“You are missing the whole point!”

“Then tell me, dear sister, what is the point?”

“Rushton admitted that he is guilty, he told you to your face that he cast a love spell over thee.”

“Are you really so daft?” Cinderella pulled at the string that held her hair in a tight braid. She ran her ringers through her hair, causing it to fall in soft cascades around her shoulders. For the smallest moment, she felt free again, unencumbered by the constraints of being the fiancée of the crown prince. Before coming to the palace, she’d worn it loose; but Millicent insisted that it wasn’t proper for her to wear it long and flowing, so she was always braiding it in some elaborate way and pinning it up tightly. Since coming to the palace, she’d sat by docilely while more and more shackles were placed on her. That was about to change.

She glanced at Josselyn whose face was now the color of a rotten melon. “I am sorry if I have given you insult by calling you daft, but ‘tis obvious that you do not know Rushton at all.” She ignored the scowl on her stepsister’s face and continued. “Rushton only said those things to protect me. He knows that if I do not go along with this ridiculous ruse that thy mother and the queen have dreamt up then I will be slaughtered right along with him.” Her voice broke, but she swallowed down the hurt, fighting to keep the emotion at bay. “He is giving his life for mine.”

“Are you certain?”

“Aye, I would stake my life on it.”

“What if you are mistaken?”

Cinderella didn’t like the direction this was taking.

“I am not trying to speak ill of Rushton, but have you taken the time to consider everything that happened? Have you really thought this through? I mean, is it possible that Rushton could have put a spell over you? A vial of potion was found on him. What further proof do you need?”

“That it ridiculous!” She shook her head. “I went to the forest that night of my own accord.” She did not dare tell Josselyn the part where Rushton had threatened to cast a love spell over her. In the end, he had not done so, and that is what mattered. “I went to say goodbye,” she continued, staring off into the distance. “I never meant for things to end the way they did.”

“Think about that day,” Josselyn prompted.

“I have thought about it! ‘Tis all I think about,” she added.

“Have you gone through it step by step? Think about it from the moment you received the letter.”

“Aye, you are the one who brought me the letter, remember?”

Josselyn’s face paled. “I had no knowledge of the contents of the letter.” She placed her hand over her heart. “I swear it to thee on our mother’s grave.”

Cinderella rolled her eyes. “Let us pray it does not come to that,” she said tartly, “for I doubt that Seraphina would willingly go to her grave, especially considering her strong sense of self-preservation.”

“Must you continue insulting our mother? This is not about her but about what happened when you received the letter. You opened it and were then compelled to meet him in the forest. You hate going into the forest at night. ‘Tis not something you would do of your own accord.”

“Aye,” she agreed, “I do hate it.” She was surprised that Josselyn remembered that. “You are correct on that one point.” Irritation tromped over her when she saw the look of vindication on Josselyn’s face. “However, you are mistaken about the most important part.” She watched Josselyn’s face go slack before continuing. “I did go into the forest of my own accord.”

Josselyn became animated. “He could have placed the spell on you before you came to the castle. Perhaps the letter was the trigger. Were you ever alone with him … before you came to the castle?”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Josselyn, you already know the answer to that question. Of course I was alone with him! We spent all of our free time together.” An image came unbidden to her mind, and she saw them as they were—together on a hillside, watching the setting sun. They had climbed for hours, reveling in the warmth of the sun on their faces, the soft wind in their hair. They might have been the only two people in the world. At the very moment when the sun’s last rays splashed over the valley, Rushton had gotten down on one knee. My Princess of the Daisies, he began, a hint of teasing in his eyes. She looked at his crooked smile she loved so much and offered a smile of her own. At her lowest point when she was but a servant in Seraphina’s home and trying to learn how to be a lady in waiting, Rushton had given her the title of
Daisy Princess
, partly because the daisy symbolized their love for one another, but it was also a way to lighten her despondency over her lowly station in life.

His blue eyes grew earnest. “Although the sun may set for a time and leave the world in darkness, my love for thee will always burn bright. The dawning of a new day will forever be ours.” That was the first time he’d told her he loved her. He then took her in his arms and sealed the promise with a kiss.

Without thinking, she touched her finger to her lips, remembering how that kiss had been the flame that awoke a yearning that she didn’t fully understand. That was the moment when her heart truly became his. Josselyn shifted beside her, bringing her back to the present. With a jolt, Cinderella realized that while she’d been reminiscing about Rushton, Josselyn had been watching her with those sharp eyes. Her face colored, and she shook her head. “‘Tis useless. I am engaged to a prince and surrounded by luxury, and yet, I can think of nothing else besides Rushton,” she admitted quietly.

“Exactly!” Josselyn’s dark eyes glittered with satisfaction. “He has cast a love spell over thee. You said as much, yourself! You can think of nothing else. ‘Tis abnormal to be so caught up in a squire when you are engaged to the crown prince.”

Her heart began to pound. “Nay, you misunderstand me. I am not saying that he cast a spell! You are putting words into my mouth!”

“I am simply trying to make you see that you do not know what happened. Can you actually sit there and tell me that you know beyond a shadow of doubt that he did not cast a spell over thee?”

She thought back to that terrible night. Rushton had threatened her with the potion, and then she felt that inexplicable longing for the shimmering substance. Was it possible that he’d already used it on her without her knowing? Perhaps he was only toying with her at that point? She remembered the ruthless expression on his face when he said that it was magic that had torn them apart and he would use magic to right the wrong. If there was one thing she knew about Rushton it was that he would use every means at his disposal to claim her as his own. Had he cast a love spell over her? Were her feelings real or some concoction of crafty magic? She hated the way Josselyn was twisting everything, making her doubt herself—making her doubt Rushton. “I do not wish to discuss this any further.” Cinderella stood.

“You are getting angry, and you are loathe to admit that I am right.”

“Stop it, Josselyn! I have had enough!”

“As you wish, I will not mention it again … today.”

Cinderella blew out a breath. She needed to get away from Josselyn. She needed to get out of this room and away from the palace.

The knock at the door startled them. They turned and were surprised to see Edward standing there. He gave Josselyn a courtesy smile. It was sickening the way that Josselyn started beaming. Cinderella had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Edward then turned his attention to Cinderella, his gaze going to her gown and then upward to her loose curls. She couldn’t tell for sure but thought she detected a hint of reproof in his golden eyes.

“‘Tis warm outside today, and I was thinking …” She could tell from the way he shifted his feet that he was nervous. “I was thinking,” he began again, “that perhaps the two of us might take a stroll in the courtyard.” He offered a slight smile. Her heart nearly cracked at the sight of him, standing so stiff and formal, as if they were strangers.

“Of course.” She gave him a slight bow. “‘Twould be an honor, your highness.” There was the slightest hint of mockery in the way she spoke his title, and she wondered if he noticed. Of course she would be honored—as if she would ever be allowed to refuse him anything. He was the crown prince, after all. The irritation of it all caused her eyes to spark. His eyes met hers and there was a question there. Her face went flush, and she looked away.

Millicent bustled into the room so quickly that it made Cinderella wonder if she had been standing outside the door the entire time, eavesdropping on her conversation with Josselyn.

“I shall get thee dressed, mi’ lady.” She pulled out a chair. “Sit, and I will arrange thy hair.”

Edward bowed. “I will be in the hall, awaiting thy presence.”

“No need,” Cinderella said quickly, thrusting her chin in the air. Her eyes met Millicent’s. “The gown I am wearing is perfectly fine … and so is my hair. If you want to do something useful, I suggest you help Josselyn, as she is overwrought with trying to find the perfect gown for tonight’s feast.”

Millicent looked as if she were going to faint and Josselyn like she wanted to pummel Cinderella. Edward also looked surprised. An awkward moment passed until finally Millicent gave her a quick curtsy and scuttled over to Josselyn’s side. Cinderella looked Edward in the eye, daring him to say something about it.

To his credit, he held out his arm. “Mi lady.”

She linked her arm through his and gave Josselyn a parting glance. “Put aside the red dress for me. You may have thy choice of the rest.”

T
hey walked
through the garden maze in silence. Normally, Cinderella took great enjoyment from the manicured gardens and delicate scent of roses, floating on the breeze. Today, however, she was keenly aware of Edward’s presence beside her—the firmness of his arm linked through hers, the sound of his footsteps against the stone, his steady breathing, and stiff posture. Most of all, she was aware of the formality between them. Since her return to the palace, after the night when she and Rushton had been discovered, Edward had been polite but distant. She’d seen the rage in his eyes that night. It haunted her dreams, keeping her shame fresh and close.

“I saw thee yesterday, riding in the meadow.”

She was grateful for a break in the silence. “Aye, riding helps me clear my head.” She’d tried to talk Josselyn into going with her, but Josselyn refused, so despite Millicent’s protests, she went alone—under the condition that she stay within the confines of the upper meadow.

He stopped walking. “You were riding so fast that I was afraid …” His voice trailed off. “I was afraid that you might fall.”

She chuckled. “I have fallen many times, but you need not worry, for I am an adequate rider.” Riding was one of the few skills her father had taught her before his untimely death. It was only when she was galloping full speed, the wind ripping through her hair, that she felt free. Now that she was locked away in the castle, her daily rides had become a ritual—a way to keep sane.

“Nay, you are not an adequate rider.”

She looked at him. “I beg thy pardon.” Irritation sparked until she saw the slight curve of his lips.

“You are an excellent rider.” He smiled then, an open, easy smile that lightened his features and helped her catch a glance of the old Edward—the one she’d agreed to marry.

“You are most gracious.” The warmth that rushed over her caught her off guard. If only Edward had been ugly—or mean and hateful then it would have been easier for her to sort out her feelings. But the truth was, Edward was wonderful—handsome, charming … the prince! He had every quality that any girl who had a pea’s worth of sense would appreciate. She was the problem, not Edward.

“Are you feeling ill?”

“Nay,” she answered quickly, looking away in the hope that he wouldn’t see the flush on her cheeks.

“You had a strange look on your face just then, as if you were thinking of something unpleasant.”

She smiled. “I am well enough, thank you.”

He motioned to a nearby bench nestled under a canopy of trees. “Let us go over and rest where it is cool.”

When they sat down, Edward turned to her and searched her face until she cleared her throat in an attempt to put space between them.

“Forgive me, I am making thee uncomfortable.”

“Was there something you wish to discuss?” Here it was, the moment she’d anticipated. A part of her was terrified to speak of the night Edward had caught her with Rushton. The other part wanted to clear the air once and for all. Get it all out in the open, for better or worse.

Edward reached and took a lock of her hair in his hand and twisted it around his finger. Her breath caught. He leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her neck. “I loved how your hair flies in the wind when you ride.”

“Really? I thought you disapproved of me wearing my hair down.”

“How could I ever disapprove of something so magnificent?” His voice grew husky. He released her hair and trailed the side of his finger down her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

His nearness was disconcerting. A tingle shot down her spine when his lips grazed her cheek. Was it possible that a tiny part of her wanted him to kiss her? This thought was quickly followed by a stab of guilt. She was here in this beautiful garden, basking in the sun with Edward while Rushton was locked away in a dungeon. She scooted back from him.

He looked confused, and a little hurt. “What is the matter?” he implored. “We are to be married and yet we’ve spent so little time with one another as of late. I just thought …” His hand dropped to his side.

“I am sorry. ‘Tis not thee, but me. This whole ordeal has been so vexing. I am not certain what I feel anymore.”

A trace of bitterness flashed in his eyes, and she wished that she had kept her mouth shut and let him kiss her. Now it was too late. He moved to stand, but she caught his arm. “Please, do not go. We need to talk about that night. We cannot go on pretending as if nothing happened.”

“Must we discuss it?” He clenched his jaw. “I think of it night and day, every waking moment!”

“As do I,” she said quietly.

“‘Tis always between us, the shadow we can never shed, the cloud blocking the sun! I could kill him for what he has done.”

She saw the slow burning rage smoldering in his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“When I think about what he did to thee … to us.” He took her hands in his. “You loved me before he cast the spell,” he said fiercely. His eyes met hers, daring her to disagree.

Her heart started hammering in her chest, and her knees started to shake. She couldn’t hold back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“You are shaking all over.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close. “‘Twill all be well soon. We will overcome this. I know not how, but we will get through it together. You are the victim here, and I have been rambling on about how I feel. I am sorry. Do not think on it more. We will put it behind us and start anew this moment.”

She wanted so badly to tell him the truth. She wanted to tell him that she’d gone willingly to meet Rushton that night in the forest. She wanted to tell him that as fond as she was of him, her heart would always belong to Rushton. How easy it would be to remain silent—to let him believe that she was innocent. If only they could go back to the way it was before—before she’d betrayed him. Her stomach twisted in knots, making her feel sick. Sick at heart. She hated herself for her weakness. She hated that she was afraid. She hated that part of herself that was willing to sit back and let Rushton take all of the blame. Her heart was beating so furiously that it felt as if it was trying to claw out of her chest. She couldn’t just sit here. She had to tell him. She had to at least try and make him understand. “Edward,” she croaked and then coughed. She took a deep breath and tried again. “There is something I need to tell you—”

“Your highness.” A guard was running toward them. When he got near, he paused long enough to catch his breath before continuing. “I have come to tell thee, sire, that the prisoner has escaped.”

Edward’s face paled. “Rushton?”

The guard nodded.

Edward beat his fist on his leg and swore. “‘Tis inexcusable! When?”

“When the guards returned after the evening meal, they discovered that he was gone. He and another prisoner escaped. No one is sure how it happened. They are, at present, looking into the situation.”

Cinderella put her hands over her mouth. Her heart leapt, and it was all she could do to keep from shouting for joy. Then she saw the stricken expression on Edward’s face. The black look in his eyes sent a shudder racing down her spine. In all of the commotion, she had let her guard down, and he’d gotten a peek into the corridor of her heart. In the time it took to draw in a breath, all hope of reconciliation was destroyed.

He stood. “I must attend to this matter at once.” He gave her a curt bow. “If you will excuse me.”

She clutched the edge of his tunic before he could move away. “What will you do if you find him?”

He gave her a withering look. “What I should have done the night I found you in his arms. I am going to kill him.”

She gasped. “Nay, please. You can’t!”

He turned on his heel and began walking away, with the guard trailing behind him. He started barking out orders. “I command thee to get my fastest horse ready.”

“Yes, sire.”

“I will need my armor … sword.”

“The guards have gone after him. You need not worry—”

“I am the only one who can find him,” Edward roared. “I will find him and put an end to this once and for all.”

E
dward glanced
up from his computer. Was that a shadow that he’d glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, or was it only his imagination? He sat there, frozen like a statue, while his insides churned in fear. The empty space around him seemed large and ominous as the hair on his neck stood on ends. His muscles tensed as he waited for an attack, but none came. Finally, he relaxed against the chair and concentrated on taking deep breaths until his breathing returned to normal. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The incident in the canyon had jolted him like nothing ever had before. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around what had happened that night. There was something so dark and evil that he hardly knew how to describe it. Several times, he’d considered telling his dad about it, but he never could work up the courage to do so. His dad was so levelheaded and practical that he probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. Elle was the one person he’d thought he could talk to about it, but now that door was closed too. Rage seared through him as he thought about all that had happened with Elle. He’d tried to be so patient and understanding, giving her all the time she needed, but she’d thrown it in his face. He still found it hard to believe that she was so callous as to call and break up with him over the phone—with Rush listening!
Talk about a double whammy!
He was still so angry that he could hardly stand to look at her.

To make matters worse, there seemed to be no reprieve from the likes of Rush Porter or his mother. He’d come home earlier to find his dad and Wisteria in the living room. They were so intent on their conversation that they didn’t even realize he was there, so he hurried up to his room, so that he wouldn’t have to talk to them. The sight of his dad with Rush’s mom turned his stomach. It had been bad enough from the get-go to see them together, but now it was intolerable!

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and tried to focus on his science homework. He had fifty or more review questions that he had to answer in preparation for a test the following day. Thankfully, with some effort, he was finally able to concentrate fully on them, putting everything else out of his mind.

Thirty minutes later, he was so intent on answering the questions that he didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.

There was a slight shift in the room as if something were creeping into the empty space around him, something indiscernible to the eye. He heard a slither the instant before the blackness covered him. Then he was choking as the powerful force squeezed unmercifully. He clutched his neck, gulping for air, but the giant fist of fear was clutching him in its iron grip, and there was nothing he could do. He tried to scream, but no sound would come. He tried to move, but he was utterly powerless.

The room disappeared from his view, and he found himself in the courtyard of a castle. He looked down and realized he was holding something in his hand. It was a wooden sword. He held it up to the light to inspect it and in the next moment realized that an attacker was barreling towards him. He used his hands to shield his face in an attempt to protect himself, but the force of the assault pushed him back where he fell to the ground with a loud
thump
. The breath got knocked out of him, and he drew himself up into a fetal position, gasping to draw a sliver of air into his starved lungs.

Then he heard hearty laughter and realized he was being hauled to his feet.

“You are weaker than I thought.”

He stood there, breathing shallowly, looking into the face of his attacker, a mere boy about ten years of age. He was dressed in strange clothing. His hair was the color of coal, and there was an intense look in his arresting blue eyes. Then he looked down and realized that he, himself, was but a boy. And he was dressed similarly to his blue-eyed attacker.

“Nay,” came the voice of an adult. “Prince Edward is not weak. Only he hesitated when he should have charged. ‘Tis his uncertainty that has made him appear weak.”

Edward turned to the man who’d spoken with the voice of authority, a cultured voice that was familiar. The disgust in the tone penetrated him to the core as a hot shame covered him. The man was his father. He was wearing a magnificent purple robe trimmed in gold thread, and a crown made of gold adorned his head.

Echoes from another time reverberated around him, fusing into his bones and catapulting him back to another time. In the time it took to draw another breath, he once again became the boy he once was. “I’m sorry, father,” he stammered. “I did my best.”

“You will do the exercise again,” he commanded. “This time, I trust you will remember the techniques I have taught thee.” There was a warning edge to his voice—a warning that said he must not fail this time.

The boy standing before him crouched into an attack position and lifted his sword. “I remember the techniques,” he said in a confident tone. There was a hint of teasing in his eyes but no guile. “Surely you will not allow a squire in training to best thee, prince. It would be like fleecing a lamb.” His eyes twinkled in amusement.

Edward got a good look at him then. His eyes narrowed. “Rushton. You are Rushton.”

“Aye.” He flashed a smile. “I am he who will knock thee to the ground once more.”

Edward lifted his sword as a hot anger coursed through his veins.

Rushton surprised him by stepping up close and whispering in his ear. “Have no fear, for I will not embarrass thee in front of thy father. Charge to my left.”

Conflicting emotions warred inside of Edward as he faced his opponent. Could he trust Rushton? Had he told him to charge to his left, so that he could best him more easily, or was he truly trying to help him?

“Begin!” Aalexander clapped once, signaling for them to spar.

Fury rose in Edward’s breast, and he charged to the right. Surprise flickered over Rushton’s face, but he quickly recovered as their swords hit. Around and around they went, leveling strikes back and forth. Edward soon began to feel weariness seeping over him. He’d exerted all of the strength he possessed and would soon be forced to yield. Just when he feared he could fight no more, Rushton gave Edward an imperceptible nod before losing his footing so that Rushton was on his back with Edward pointing the tip of his sword at his chest.