Beauty and the Beast (Faerie Tale Collection)

by Jenni James

  She smiled a short smile and said, “You are most welcome.” And then on a whim and before she lost her courage, she rushed out the words, “I love you. I don’t care what you look like. I do not love the prince, I cannot love him, because I am in love with you,” before fleeing up the hill and out of sight.

  Prince Alexander’s jaw dropped and he would have rushed after her in that moment to stay with her longer, but the transformation began before he had a chance to explain a thing.

  She had broken the spell.

  He was now forever the prince.

  The one she did not trust, the one she did not love.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CECELIA RAN ALL THE way to her house chastising herself for her silliness and immaturity. How could she have just blurted that without waiting to see his reaction? What girl went around proclaiming her love to the male species anyhow? Wasn’t that their responsibility? What must he think of such brash and forward behavior? Her blush deepened at the thought.

  Once in her room, she threw her cloak upon the bench and walked to the window overlooking the beautiful forest below her. There was something different in the air. As if her words created some sort of change between the two of them.

  Cecelia rested her head upon her right hand and sighed, with the other hand she pulled the shimmering necklace from where it rested under her bodice and examined the way it sparkled and shined in the moonlight. Butterflies fluttered within at the thought of meeting him again on the morrow. What would he say to her? What would she wear? All at once a thousand different questions seemed to invade her mind.

  Whether he thought her brash or not did not matter. She needed this, she needed hope and courage and something magical to cling to.

  A giggle of mirth bubbled out of her throat before she clamped her mouth shut and closed the curtains. Tonight was the night that dreams were made of. Tonight was when she could allow all of her thoughts to run wild and explore every hidden avenue of a new delightful relationship—a change. What would they do? What would happen from here?

  She did not know, she did not care either. The most important thing at the moment was that she was with him forever.

  Long after she had gone to sleep, Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe had a very contented smile upon her lips. The world was hers, if she would but open her eyes and see the great possibilities awaiting her.

  ***

  Prince Alexander dusted himself off and began the long walk home. He was still a bit stunned—complete and utter shock, actually. She had done it. The gel had fallen in love with him. And what had he done to receive such a blessing? Nothing. Nothing of significance. Yet, his most unattainable dreams became reality.

  Dear, dear Cecelia! She was indeed the most incredible woman he had ever known.

  And what a lesson to him in that moment! The final blow of all his worthlessness and great follies of his youth. Half a year ago, he was nothing but young and selfish—now, she has had made a man of him.

  Was it truly that easy to create love? To create great trust?

  How many people had he mocked because of their unfortunate looks? How many of his own subjects had he shamed with his insensitive and harsh behavior? And yet, what he believed would never happen because of his own appearance, did.

  Oh, what he would give to swing her up in his arms this very second and tell her everything he’d wish to say from the very beginning. He’d been such an idiot, such a complete and utter fool all of his life. And no one save that witch could have proven to him what a monster he’d become. He owed the old woman everything. His life, his love, his great change of heart—she was indeed a saint in his eyes. Without her, he would have never been humbled enough to know the great love of his life. To experience this happiness bursting all around him.

  Once within the castle grounds, he rushed to her tombstone. After Alexander had sufficiently seen the wisdom of the old woman, he’d ordered that her body be removed and brought to receive a proper burial within the royal grounds. He placed her right next to the great kings where she belonged. His eyes travelled over the chiseled words he had placed upon the tombstone.

  Here lies a wise woman of great worth.

  A woman whose deeds changed a nation.

  A woman whose life shall be heralded here out

  And celebrated for centuries to come.

  Thank you for all you have done for your kingdom.

  You are blessed. You are loved. You are honored.

  Kneeling before the large stone, he thanked her. “I owe you my whole life, may I please come to you and offer my deepest gratitude for all you have taught me and all that I am? Thank you, my dear lady, thank you.” His hands clasped and he rocked slightly forward as he spoke. “She did it. You are probably more amazed than I, but she did it. That sweet, perfect girl broke the spell. I cannot believe it has been less than a year and already I am free. Do I deserve to be free? Have I become all you had wished for me to learn then?”

  Turning around he rested his back against the chiseled marble. “I wish you could meet Cecelia. I think you would approve and I know she would have loved you. Anyone who could have put me in my place would have no doubt been highly honored by her.” He smiled.

  “Do you know what I will do to thank you? I’ve been thinking about it lately, and I believe I will construct a large rose garden in your honor. A beautiful winding pathed escape, with the finest roses in the world to adorn its walls and beautiful sculptures and fountains to complement the serene nature. I think it’s perfect to represent not only the relationship between me and Cecelia, but also to respect a wise woman who knew greater than I did the importance of humility. Though, the thorns of the rose are prickly and hard to bear—as all great trials are—the delicate petals are velvety smooth and glorious unlike any description, and worth all the thorns it took to create them.

  “Thank you for allowing me to see the beauty in the world. It was worth every single prick of the thorns that came my way.”

  By the time he’d approached the castle, Alexander had forgotten all about Lord Bellemount and the servants’ search for him earlier. It wasn’t until he was met at the door by an anxious footman that he realized anything was amiss.

  “What is it, Tom?” he asked the boy, about sixteen or seventeen.

  “It’s Lord Bellemount, your highness. We captured him!”

  Excitement and anger simultaneously coursed through the prince, as he recalled the day’s accusations. “You did? Where did you find him?”

  “Out in the monument garden hiding behind a statue near the north wall.”

  “Take me to him immediately.”

  “Yes, your highness. Dalton thought to have him placed in the fruit cellar until you returned.”

  He followed the servant as they wound through the halls, into the kitchen and around several other excited staff members, down the stairs and into the cellar.

  Alexander ducked his head as he entered the carved doorway into the cold, dimly lit stone-walled room. His cousin was gagged and strapped to a chair with two of the brawny stable boys on either side of him. “Well, well, Frederick, I see we can add trespassing to your list of crimes.” To the makeshift guards he said, “It is fine, boys. I can handle it from here. Please wait outside the door so I can talk to him privately.”

  “Your highness,” they chorused and nodding a quick bow left Alexander alone with his cousin.

  Lord Bellemount’s eyes were huge as the prince walked over and removed the gag. Then just as Frederick was about to speak, Alexander swung back and slammed his fist into his cousin’s jaw.

  Frederick howled and rubbed his reddening jowl on his shoulder.

  “If you so much as look at Miss Hammerstein-Smythe again, I will do much worse.” Alexander leaned over the chair and grabbed his collar. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  His cousin nodded, the sting of the punch watering his eyes.

  “My father taught me that violence was never the answer; however, if you har
m her in any way—or even offend her nose with your smell in her very vicinity—I will resort to extreme violence to deal with you. I. Have. Had. Enough.”

  “Wait!” he whined. “You know it was just a lark, something for a laugh. You know I would never—”

  “A lark! A laugh?” The prince yanked on his shirt. “You call falsely accusing me of degrading the woman I love, to her face, a lark?”

  “I had no idea!”

  “You had every single idea of sabotaging our relationship!” He shoved his cousin away and took a couple of agitated steps around the room and then turned. “What I want to understand is why. Why would you do this to me and to her? Why, Frederick? Why risk your own possibility to become prince, for this? Are you out of your mind?!”

  “Prince?! You were not going to give me the throne if you married her!”

  The room went silent.

  Water dripped from somewhere very near, but the barrels of fruit and shelves of cheeses warped the sound enough to not be able to locate it.

  Alexander sighed. “So this is why you followed me the other night?” He put his hand on his waist, flipping his coat aside. “This is why you sought to destroy the first good thing I have ever had in my life. Because you were jealous?”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “Yes, you fool! Until tonight, I would have had no choice anyhow. The throne would have been yours—relationship with Miss Hammerstein-Smythe or not, I could have never ruled as a wolf!”

  “I do not understand your meaning. I have watched you change into a wolf, but what has that got to do with anything? Other than your subjects thinking you were peculiar.”

  “About six months ago, I came across an old ugly woman, whose stench was among the most pungent I have ever beheld. And like all of the other times in my horrid existence up until then, I laughed at her and belittled her. There was no one else on the path except her and me, but I felt it was my right as prince to tell her to remove her hideous personage off the castle property.

  Frederick laughed. “Sounds like something you would say.”

  “Something I would have said. Not now, not ever again, hopefully.” He ran one hand through his hair. “Unbeknownst to me, the old woman would change my life completely. She was a witch, and in her grave anger, she transformed me into a beast.

  “She told me I had one year, where every night I would turn into a wolf, but the stipulation to remove the curse was I had to find a girl to fall in love with me as the wolf, not as the prince. If I could not achieve that impossible fate, then I would forever become a beast.

  “I had given up. I knew what a monster I was personally, and did not believe any woman would fall in love with me as a hideous animal, so was ready to abdicate the throne over to you. Then once my year was up, I could transform fully into a wolf and go into hiding, while you ran the affairs of the country. However, all that changed tonight when, as Cecelia was leaving, she announced she was in love with me—the wolf me. I immediately transformed into the prince she despises—my appreciations to you—but she’d already left by the time I did.”

  “Just a moment, so Miss Hammerstein-Smythe has no idea the wolf she loves is gone? And will never return? And she has no idea that wolf was you?”

  “No. None at all.”

  Frederick rubbed his lips together for a moment before clarifying, “And she does not like the prince, correct?”

  Alexander glared. “I would not bring that point up often, if I were you.”

  Lord Bellemount smirked. “It would seem you find yourself in quite a pickle, cuz. What will you do about it?”

  Alexander did not trust the look upon his face, part sneering, part vengeful. “The only thing I’m going to do currently,” he leaned over placing a hand on either side of Frederick’s shoulders, “is guarantee you do not leave this room until I can decide what country to ship you to.”

  “What?” Lord Bellemount whimpered, “You can’t do that. Not now, not—”

  The prince placed the gag back over his mouth. “I have no reliance in you, and I never will again.” He whispered in his ear. “You, my nearest relation, will not be recognized by me and mine anymore. You as of this moment are stripped of your title and you are very fortunate I do not have you hanged for treason.” He pulled up and looked him in the eye. “Do you understand, Frederick? It is over; you will not bother myself or the woman I hope to make my wife again.”

  With that said he called the guards in and placed them completely in charge of his brainless cousin. “I will deal with you tomorrow, Frederick. Goodnight. May you enjoy your cool slumber.”

  Alexander brushed thoughts of his cousin aside and took the stairs two at a time as he began to plot his plan of attack. He had one very lovely young woman’s heart to claim and declare it to be his forever.

  The prince smiled. It would be quite the challenge, knowing Cecelia’s temperament and gumption, but it would definitely be worth it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  FREDERICK WORKED ON HIS bands all night long. After he had complained about the bright candles while trying to sleep, the guards were quick to put them out, leaving the cellar black enough to untie himself in silence without anyone being the wiser. It took about three and a half hours of constant tugging and pulling, but he was finally able to get one hand free. Then it was a matter of minutes before the second one, and then the legs. By the time he had tiptoed past the guards and made his way out the servants’ entrance of the castle it was nearing four o’clock.

  He rushed out of the grounds before the servants began to wake. Already the faint stirring of smoke could be seen rising from a few of the chimneys. Figuring he had a couple hours to get home and packed before his own family woke up.

  Once there, he raided the family reservoirs of money. He loaded one small purse full to brimming of their hidden stash of fortune, as well as packing in a separate bag a few of his favorite odds and ends; books, trinkets and the like. Rushing to the kitchen, he managed to pilfer some cheese and a loaf of bread Cook had just brought out of the oven, while her back was turned. Then as an afterthought he grabbed the kitchen knife as well. Saddling his horse, he placed everything into the larger-sized traveling pouches that sat on its haunches. And then he was gone, racing toward a house that looked very similar to Miss Hammerstein-Smythe’s home.

  He had one more visit to make before he left this country forever.

  Indeed, it served his cousin right for treating him as he did. If one was to be punished as a criminal, one should at least have the opportunity to act the villain first.

  Frederick smiled.

  The glorious sun was high enough to begin streaming over the hilltops, washing everything beneath it in a glow of serenity. The birds chirped happily above as he rode and the smells of summer were in full bloom all around him. Truly, there could not be a more enchanted day if he’d planned it, an absolutely perfect day for destroying one lovely gel.

  ***

  Cecelia awoke to a strange splattering sound upon her window. It took a few more moments before she comprehended someone was pelting small stones upon the glass. With an eerie feeling, she slipped on her robe and opened the curtains. Peering down into the small courtyard below she was surprised to see Lord Bellemount awake and dressed, especially at this hour!

  “Miss Hammerstein-Smythe, I need to speak to you immediately,” he hissed. “Could you come down and meet me in the rose garden? It’s a matter of most urgent importance.”

  Cecelia’s heart tightened and sank. Something was not right. Her arms began to quiver and feel heavy. Undeniably, something was not correct in this invitation at all, as if her soul were pleading with her to stay where she was. She knew this feeling—dread. And could not shake it enough to come down and meet him, no matter how important the message. “I fear I cannot. My maid will wake.”

  An unexpected flash of anger flew across his features. “No. You must come down this very moment. It is of great import that I deliver this message now.”


  The feeling of trepidation grew stronger. Her heart began to race. He was not in a healthy state of mind. No manner of inducements he urged would allow her to risk the safety of her home to face him below. “Leave a message at the door, Sanford will deliver it to me, and await my reply.”

  Frederick was livid. He had hoped to lure her into the rose garden where he had placed the great kitchen knife under a bush, but the dim-witted girl would not come to him.

  Just as she was about to close the windows he frantically searched his mind and whispered in great urgency, “It is about Prince Alexander. He has killed the wolf!”

  Cecelia’s heart jolted to a halt as she flung the windows open wider. “What did you say?”

  “I know about the beast you have fallen in love with. Alexander was wild with jealousy when the wolf told him about you and had him slaughtered this very morning.” When he saw her face he added, “Oh, it was torture to hear his howls of anguish. They were so loud and so tortured, I’ve never experienced such sounds of pain from a beast before.”

  “No!” Huge gulps of air did not help her lungs prepare for the onslaught of utter hopelessness and destruction she felt. Her hand flew to her mouth and travelled on its own accord all over her face, her brow, her chin, her neck, trying to make sense of the horror she was hearing.

  “He urged me, on his last dying breath, to send a message to you. He loves you! He told me so himself!”

  She could not speak, she could not function.

  “Please, come down here. I must tell you everything.”

  “Yes, yes,” she whispered in numbed shock. “I’ll be there in a trice.”

  She closed the window, then the thick curtains, allowing her room to be swallowed up in darkness. As if in a trance she threw a dress at random over her nightgown, slipped her feet into some sturdy boots, fetched her woolen cape and snuggled it tightly around her and then promptly fell upon the bed.

  Her life was over. There was nothing left for her now.