Enchanting the King (The Beauty's Beast Fantasy Series) (26 page)

“No, Thomas, fight!”

He looked back at Aliénor. Her summer-red hair swirled around her as if a great wind buffeted her. She gripped the edge of his platform, her fingers white. Tears streaked her cheeks.

He wanted to dash the tears away, but when he tried, the chains around his wrists clattered.

“Sleep, Thomas.”

“No!” Aliénor’s nostrils flared with anger. “Thomas, you’ve fought so hard for other people. To do the right thing, the honorable thing. Fight that hard for yourself now. Fight that hard for
us
.”

He turned his face away, tears stinging his eyes.

“
Thomas
,” Rosamund crooned and leaned toward him again. Yet when he looked at her, really looked, her skin was gray, wispy at the edges, like a face formed in a cloud.

He pulled as far away from her as he could. “I will always love you, Rosamund. But I can’t linger in the past anymore.” He’d done that for fifteen years, held so hard to the memory of her that he hadn’t tried to move on at all. “I want more than beautiful memories now. I want a beautiful future.”

The apparition hissed and recoiled from him, breaking into the black fog once more.

Aliénor let out a sobbing gasp of relief and flung herself against him. “We have to go.”

The chorus of voices erupted again, cruel laughter that sounded eerily like the blood witch, but magnified—as if the whole world were Mistress Helen doubled and doubled again. A whole chorus of cruel, laughing witches.

“
You think you can have that with Aliénor? She’ll never forgive you. You choked her, nearly killed her. You’ve failed at everything. What woman would want you now?
”

Thomas swallowed and pinched his eyes closed with pain.
Of course
. He turned his face away, turned from the grace that he did not deserve.

“Thomas.” The voice was stern now and so near. A gentle touch brushed against his cheek, forcing him to turn to her, to see her. And he felt her skin, her warmth. He wondered how that shadow touch could have felt so real to him when he had breath and life standing beside him now.

“It’s not real, Thomas.” Aliénor’s skin glowed faintly lustrous, luminous as a pearl, and the coppery-red waves of her hair danced gracefully around her as if stirred by a warm breeze. The maiden of spring. His beautiful princess with summer-red hair.

“Thomas,” she said again. A soft plea, a tender touch of her soul to his own.

“I did hurt you, Aliénor. I failed you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m weak. Foolish. Old.”

“I choose you. I want you. Come back to me.” She gripped his face in both her hands, her sweet breath stirring against his skin.

“You deserve better.”

“Thomas.” She was fading, the light of her blinking out, dimming away. “Thomas,
stop
. Stop fighting me. Believe in me. Trust in us.”

He let out his breath, and it felt like one of the bands around him had loosened. A warm spring breeze seemed to tease across his face. “Surrender to you?” he whispered.

She smiled, and the whole world brightened around her, pushing the black fog back. “Yes, Thomas.
Yes
. I’ll surrender to you if you surrender to me. Remember?”

“Aliénor…”

“Thomas.” Her lips traced over his, gently, sweetly. Her mouth opened against his, exhaling warmth and life back into him. He opened himself to her gift, her light. Her life. Pins and needles started along his arms, pain. Light engulfed him, and a tingling warmth that almost hurt. Something pulled him forward,
up
. He felt dizzy, light-headed. “Aliénor?”

“I’m here. Follow me, Thomas. Follow me home.”

Aliénor gasped in a deep breath and her chest hurt with it, as if it were the first real breath she’d taken in her life.

The room spun around her, but Llewellyn caught her by the shoulders before she could fall backward off the bed. “It was so dark.” She frowned, and rubbed at an ache behind her eyes. “Did it work?” she whispered.

Thomas still lay quiet and unmoving on the bed, breathing deeply, eyes closed.

“My king?” Llewellyn’s voice shook.

“Thomas.” She leaned toward him, her heart hammering. She traced a hand down his cheek. “Thomas, it’s time to wake up.”

He still didn’t open his eyes, but his mouth crimped in a small smile. “But if I lie here and keep pretending, no one will make me do anything.”

Llewellyn barked out a half-hysterical laugh. Aliénor took in a shuddery deep breath, her heart swelling with a love strong enough to burst it. “Maybe you need another kiss, my king?” Catching her breath, holding it, she leaned down and kissed him again.

With a small groan, his mouth opened against hers, and he gasped in a deep breath, like a man swimming up from deep water.

She sat back and smiled at him, combing her fingers through his hair. “Hello.”

His eyes opened at last, and his gaze was warm on her face, adoring. “Aliénor.”

She bit her lip and traced her thumb over the soft curve of his mouth.

“
Llewellyn!
” A voice from downstairs. Someone calling. Someone else
awake
.

The breath gusted out of Llewellyn. He clasped the king’s shoulder in relief, then pushed Aliénor gently down on the bed. Llewellyn allowed no such rest for himself, but rose instead to go to the stairwell.

“Hello?” Llewellyn called down.

“Master Llewellyn!” It was Violette’s voice.

Aliénor closed her eyes, almost doubling over with relief.
Praise be
. Violette was awake. Violette was all right.

“Is the princess there?”

Llewellyn laughed. “Yes, yes.”

Violette clattered up the stairs, her voice still over-excited as she babbled from the hallway. “Everyone was asleep.”

“We know.”

“Even the Tiochene outside the walls were asleep. But they’re all awake now. All of us too. Noémi’s here.”

“Oh—”

“They’re retreating. The Tiochene. They’re fleeing into the wilderness.”

Aliénor widened her eyes at that.

Llewellyn grinned. “Scared of our magic, I wager.”

Violette stood in the bedroom doorway now, mussed and bloody, but beaming fit to split her face in two. “Anyway, Lord Guillaume urgently wishes to speak with you, Master Llewellyn. He’s outside. He wants to get all of us, soldiers, citizens,
all
of us people out of the city as fast as we can before the Tiochene return. Something about joining up with one of the other Jerdic city-states before he attempts to strike back.” She bit her lip, looking worried. “I think Lord Guillaume thinks this city is cursed now.” Her gaze flicked back and forth between Llewellyn, Thomas, and Aliénor. “He’s worried it was the Tiochene who cast the sleeping spell and it backfired on them.
I
wondered…was it you?”

“No, it was Mistress Helen,” Aliénor put in before Llewellyn could open his mouth. Guillaume still did not know Llewellyn was a magician, as far as Aliénor was aware. Best not to let her cousin figure that out
now
, of all times.

Llewellyn tugged at the ends of his hair, pacing in place, his brow furrowed in thought. “All right. I’m on my way.” With a last sunny look at the king, Llewellyn hurried out the door to clatter down the stairs. Violette trailed behind him, happily rambling on about Lord Guillaume’s plans for evacuation and eventual reprisal.

Aliénor shook her head, ignoring the bustle outside the door, and leaned closer to Thomas. “King Thomas.”

“Princess Aliénor?” Thomas tilted his head to the side, his expression quizzical.

She brushed her mouth over his, teasing his lips with her own. “I received your note. Would you like to negotiate the terms of our mutual surrender now?”

A grin flashed over his face, and he sat forward to catch her about the waist, pulling her down on top of him. “I would like that.” He hesitated, and his gaze darted up to lock with hers. “I would like that
very
much. My queen?”

Aliénor caught her breath.
Mutual surrender. Mutual compromise
. Was that not the way to make a marriage work? Both of them moving together, working together in tandem. A team, a partnership. She cupped his jaw in her hands and leaned down to kiss him again. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “I say yes, my king.”

Once upon a time…

Is that how all the stories used to start? After all this time, all this solitude, I’m not sure what I remember anymore. What is real?

Once upon a time I was a man. I remember that much. Not just a man, but a knight.

Remember that. Hold to that.

A knight I was, cherished by the king himself. Respected. Renowned. The most beloved knight in all the land. A hero.

But now I am a beast. What honor I possessed has disappeared along with my fine clothes and gold-etched armor. Along with my titles and honors and lands. Along with her…

All lost, all gone, and now…

The wolf’s upper lip curled back over his fangs, and a low rumble escaped his throat. Were it still a human throat, the growl might have passed for a rueful chuckle. From the throat of a wolf, the sound was little better than a deep snarling.

And now? And now
what
?
He bounded out of the cool shade of his den. His paws sank into the wet, spongy ground beneath him as he ran through the forest, fighting to outpace his thoughts. Normally he hid himself from the light of the day. The sunshine brought back too many memories of what he’d been—and hammered home all too forcefully what he was
now
.

Today he found no rest wherever he went. All his soul searching only stirred up a restless, painful energy inside him. When you are a beast, what good is there in trying to think like a man?

Echoing growls from his ribcage reminded him of what his human thoughts had distracted him from for too long: wolf, man, or otherwise—he was
hungry
.

Lady Kathryn understood where her duty lay. She truly did. The hitch, though, the tricky part, the twisty trouble was…well, she was having a difficult time convincing herself that her duty was to do her duty.

The royal court of Lyond had not taken part in a hunt since the marriage of the Princess Aliénor from Jerdun to their King Thomas a month previous. Kathryn had been one of the queen’s ladies only since Aliénor’s marriage, but in one short month Kathryn had grown very fond of her queen. She would do almost anything for her, but…did it have to be hunting?

Riding had never been one of Kathryn’s favorite pastimes. When her father had gambled away the funds necessary to keep their horses, the loss of her late mother’s mare had caused Kathryn only a small touch of regret. She certainly liked horses, and riding could be pleasant, but
this
—this neck-or-nothing tear through the woods, the bouncing and jostling, that she could
not
like.

Meanwhile, the great brute of a horse below her kept ignoring all her most urgent instructions. Clearly, the horse recognized who was master, and it certainly was
not
the featherweight astride his back, pulling at his reins. He had his head now and would not have slowed for a rider twice as skillful as Kathryn. With an angry whinny, the horse broke from the group of hunters and careened wildly off into the forest.

Teeth jarring together, branches whipping her face, Kathryn clenched her legs around the horse’s sides and fought to hold on. Unfortunately, a bare moment later, she tumbled forward off her horse’s neck, the ground rising up to meet her. “
Oof
.” She lay stunned in the damp leaves, the musty smell of the dirt thick in her nostrils.

Meanwhile, the careless beast who’d tossed her galloped gleefully back to his stable for some oats and a good brushing down.

Kathryn pushed upright with a groan. “Oh dear.” The hunt was on, and her companions would probably not miss her for some time. When the world stopped spinning, she stood with the aid of an obliging tree trunk and took in her surroundings. The lush forest possessed a heavy covering of brush on the ground, clustering around the roots of the tall trees.

“Help!” She put a hand to her chest, trying to calm her still-hammering heart. “Anyone? Hello?”

The forest swallowed her cries. The only sounds around her were the gentle rustlings of wind in the trees. She swallowed her fear, stifling it, and started walking, hoping someone had noticed her difficulties and come looking. She would be having a very long day if they hadn’t.

A strange noise caught her attention, and she tilted her head to listen. Barking, horses, and—the high-pitched howl of a wolf? She froze.
I thought we hunted the hart this day
. This thought was swiftly chased away by another and rather more alarming one:
They’re coming this way
.