Zuleika blinked. "You have ghosts, too?"
He hesitated. "No, but...you shall soon see." He spurred Arion on, toward the town.
Curious, Zuleika followed.
TWENTY
Either she was as practiced at pretence as the craftiest courtier, or Belle truly did not know about the island's haunted reputation. But how could she have heard about the island's treasures without hearing the ghost stories?
She had refused to wear any of his grandmother's jewels, too – which made her a strange thief. The casket of gems she'd tried to steal were worth far less than one of Queen Margareta's diamond or pearl necklaces. Yet Inga said Belle had done little more than touch the treasures before declaring them impractical for riding, and asked Inga to return them to the locked chest where they normally resided.
Only a peculiar woman indeed could resist Queen Margareta's jewels.
Yet she had not refused the horse. Embarr was not as spirited a creature as Arion, but she was a horse bred for royalty. She seemed to accept Belle quite happily, and the lady's seat showed her a practiced horsewoman. Either her thievery ran to horses, or the lady kept a fine stable.
But if she was a member of the high nobility as she appeared, her manners were not those of a noble maiden, or at least not the women he'd met at court. She was courteous enough, but she did not bow her head in humility like most girls did. No, she held his gaze with considerable pride. She would never be any man's obedient wife, he thought, fighting down laughter at the thought. Should her father marry her to a weak man, she would undoubtedly turn into a shrew. But if she chose her own husband – and she certainly appeared old enough to be in her majority, and able to choose – she deserved someone who would continue to light that fire in her eyes that made them sparkle so. A woman such as her should never be broken by a bad husband.
If only he were in a position to ask for her hand...but what woman would accept him, looking the way he did? Even Belle with her piercing gaze would never see past the beast he'd become.
TWENTY-ONE
Vardan slowed Arion down to a walk when they reached the first building. Zuleika followed suit. "Welcome to Harbourtown," Vardan said, spreading his arms wide. "A ghost town, now."
And so it looked, for not a soul was in sight. A pony plodded down the middle of the cobblestone street, pulling a laden cart. A cat dashed between the wheels and emerged unscathed. Spray of snow fountained up from the drift by the side of the road, as though a child had kicked it. As though...
Zuleika dismounted, wrapping the reins around her hand so she didn't lose Embarr in the crowd. A crowd she could not see, but she could hear.
The witch hadn't just cursed the prince's household. She'd cursed an entire town, bustling with people and businesses and all the things a place of this size should have. Even Zuleika couldn't cast a curse this far-reaching. No single spell-caster had done this. She would have had to cast dozens of curses to enchant this many people. It was...inconceivable that one witch would expend so much power to punish one man.
Zuleika moved in a daze, not looking where she was going, and she stumbled. She would have fallen, if not for her hold on the horse's reins. As it was, she landed painfully on her knees, tearing one of the lovely silk stockings Inga had insisted she wear. Now, the blue silk was stained purple with her blood.
Before she could think the action through, Zuleika touched her bloodied knee to the cobbles. "Show me what the curse hides," she whispered. She watched the spell eddy down the street as if blown by the wind, and as it went, people faded into sight. Men, women, children, going about their business as though there was no curse. But that wasn't right, either. The women's veils were crooked, for they could not see to set them straight. The children's hair was mussed, because no one ever saw it to admonish them to brush it. Two men stood outside the baker's in stained tunics, blissfully unaware of their need to wash. The people of Harbourtown weren't only invisible to the world. They were invisible to themselves, too.
Before her eyes, children lived without ever seeing their mother's loving smile. Just as Inga had said.
Tears sprang to Zuleika's eyes. She must fix this. There had to be a way.
Strong hands seized her, lifting her to her feet.
"Are you all right?" Vardan asked, not taking his arms from around her.
The townsfolk stopped to stare. At their prince, with a strange woman in his arms. Realisation dawned on their faces, as men began to bow and women dropped curtseys.
"I am fine," Zuleika tried to say, turning her head so that she might see his face, but the words died in her throat. The beastly face – Vardan's face – that she expected to see was not there. Instead, she saw the face of King Thorn, an unspeakable monster she would never allow to touch her again.
She closed her eyes and released her hold on the spell, which dispersed its magic in a cloud of tiny stars only she could see. Zuleika dared to open her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Vardan's hideous visage once more. Unable to help herself, she lifted a hand to his cheek. It felt...smooth, like the skin of a man, and not a beast. The curse on him was merely illusion, she realised. Underneath it, he looked like...a beast.
Zuleika wrenched herself out of his grasp and straightened her cloak. "I am fine," she said finally, unwilling to look at him now. "I did not look where I was going."
"Perhaps you should stay on your horse. Her hooves are more sure than your feet."
Flushing with embarrassment, Zuleika climbed back on the mare. She knew he'd seen it, that moment of panic as she was helpless in a man's arms again. A man who looked like him, if only for a moment. "He is not his brother," she told herself. One glance at the prince confirmed it. How strange. The monstrous face she'd shied away from before was now a relief to look upon.
She met his eyes. Not his brother at all. "I think you are right." She swallowed, then continued, "Please, show me the town. I would like to see everything I can. I didn't realise the curse stretched so far. Whoever this witch is, she must be stopped."
Murmurs of agreement came from the townspeople lining the road.
"My brother told me her name. Something foreign, it sounded like. Zulu or Zollie or..."
"Zuleika?" she said, feeling sick.
Vardan nodded. "Something like that. He said if I didn't have the stomach to slay her, I should send her to him instead, and he would do the deed."
She should have killed the king instead of simply cursing him. Blaming her for a curse this huge? Zuleika had never met this man before, let alone tried to seduce him, and she'd certainly never cursed an entire town in a fit of pique.
"What did you tell him?" Zuleika didn't like the way her voice shook.
"That if he wants a woman, he can hunt her down himself. Beacon Isle is my responsibility, now more than ever. Do you not agree?"
Numbly, Zuleika nodded.
But inside, she felt far too much. The king was hunting her, he'd said. How far would he go to find her? A man with no honour might do anything, including breaking promises he never intended to keep. He might even hurt her family...
"You do not look well, Lady Belle. Perhaps you should rest a moment in the inn, and take some refreshment. Harbourtown's hospitality has earned it quite a reputation. The ships might not dock here anymore, but the innkeeper has not changed."
She allowed Vardan to help her off her horse and into the dim interior of the inn. People fussed around her, but all she could see was Vardan's eyes, filled with concern for her.
No, she was not the one in danger. Her father was, and somehow, she had to warn him.
TWENTY-TWO
The innkeeper settled Zuleika in a chair beside the fire while Vardan called for the speciality of the house.
"This is the best inn in Harbourtown, you'll see," Vardan told her. "Farlof's brother, Karl, has the largest farm on the southern part of the isle. If we're lucky, he might still have some of that dewberry wine." He cupped his hands to his mouth. "Ho! Elena! The lady wants wine!
"
Zuleika frowned at him. "I said no such thing."
"Ah, you will once you taste it, my lady," a female voice said, before a tray floated into the room. "His Highness knows what he's about. When he was a boy visiting his grandmother on the island, you could tell the time by him. He'd be on my doorstep the moment the baking was out of the oven. And he still has a taste for them. That's the secret to why he chose to live at Beacon Isle and not the capital with the king. Saffron buns washed down with the island's own dewberry wine will be enough to make you want to stay forever."
Saffron buns? Zuleika had not tasted the spice more than once or twice in her life, but the curlicued cakes on the tray did look quite yellow, even in the dim light. And she could smell them – they must be still warm from the oven. Her mouth watered, but she didn't dare take one before the prince. She might be dressed like a queen, but she knew all too well he was far higher than she would ever be in the social pecking order. Royalty ate first. Always.
"Take one, my lady," Elena urged.
"After five years living under this curse, they see one pretty girl and forget I'm a prince," Vardan grumbled. "On Beacon Isle today, the woman who could break the curse ranks higher than royalty. How the mighty have fallen." He shook his head, but his eyes held amusement.
Still Zuleika hesitated.
"Oh, by all that's holy." Vardan seized a pastry and held it to her lips. "Bite, Lady Belle, and I promise you, you'll fall in love."
She blinked, but there was nothing magical about the cakes. No hidden love spell. Nothing but the buttery, spicy aroma that tempted her to...
Zuleika bit into the pastry, as cheering erupted from the prince. She took it from his fingers as she chewed the morsel. The saffron bun was every bit as good as it smelled. Light and crisp and just the slightest bit sweet. Before she'd realised it, she'd finished the whole thing.
Not even Vardan had made such a pig of himself – he was only halfway through his bun. "What is your verdict, Lady Belle?"
"The cakes are lovely," she said. "But I thought you said you were an honourable man. You are trying to seduce me with food."
"And wine!" he added, filling a cup and holding it out to her. "Don't forget the wine."
She took the cup, but she didn't drink. "You didn't answer me, your Highness."
"Vardan, and I believe I did. Food and wine, the best we have to offer, for my guest. There is nothing dishonourable in offering hospitality to a beautiful lady."
Zuleika heard shuffling footsteps, like someone trying to leave the room as quietly as possible. She stared into the depths of her wine cup in order to avoid his soul-piercing eyes. "But you are trying to seduce me."
"If there is a way to help my people and retain my honour, I will do what I must. If all I succeed in doing is to make you fall in love with Beacon Isle, as I have, then so be it. You are welcome to stay."
On a cursed island where the invisible people would be a daily reminder that there was a more powerful witch than her who worked for the king and was willing to blame her for inflicting this horror on the island. While her father worried.
Zuleika shook her head. "My father will be waiting for news of his lost ship. I must return home. Once you have shown and told me all you can about this curse, perhaps I can look in my mother's library at home for ways to break it." She drank the wine. Elena was right about her wanting more.
"First, you should check our library here. I'm sure it's far superior to anything your mother may have collected. My house used to be a monastery. The monks refused to stay in a building suffering under a curse, so they left, but they could not take everything. I'll show you on our return."
A monastery library wouldn't contain much about magic, but Zuleika held her tongue. She was fond of reading, and she would relish the chance to see his collection. He already knew two of her weaknesses – good food and wine. She didn't dare let him add a third: reading.
After all, she still didn't know how he'd come to be in possession of her father's goods. Or why the witch had chosen to target him for her curse. For all his talk of honour, there had to be something wrong with the man to justify such a punishment.
Either that, or she was missing something that might help her make sense of all this. She knew she wouldn't find the answer in any library, though – Vardan held the key to the curse, she was certain of it. How to extract it...she did not know. But she would enjoy finding out.
TWENTY-THREE
When Vardan was certain Belle had rested sufficiently – and they'd eaten all of Elena's saffron cakes, which was only to be expected – he suggested they continue on the tour.
He read her hesitation in her eyes – such a marvellous thing, to see another person's expression again! Her face was both delightful and expressive, a treat to observe – and offered, "Or we could remain here at the inn and resume the tour on the morrow, when you are better rested. We could return to my house, if you no longer wish to..." No longer wish to see any more of me or my island, he tried to say, but the words stuck in his throat.
She'd looked at him with such horror and fear on the road outside that he'd nearly dropped to his knees under the weight of his despair. Could he have imagined the other times she'd looked at him and seen more than just a beast? Because the sheer intensity of the terror in her eyes for that moment had been enough to unman him. She hadn't been the only one in need of some wine when they entered the inn.
Yet she'd reached up to touch his face, and her terror had vanished. No one had touched him like that in a very long time. Like she actually wanted to.
A whisper of hope sent a shiver through his soul. Perhaps the curse could be broken by Lady Belle.
She rose and smoothed her skirt before reaching for her cloak. "I fear if I rest any longer, I shall fall asleep. I ate far too many of those delicious cakes. A ride in the crisp winter air should wake me up nicely." She paused. "Unless you are too tired of my company to continue, of course. I cannot have a tour of this island without a suitable guide."
Yes, she had recovered, Vardan decided, hurrying to fasten his cloak so he could follow her outside.
"I'll bring the next batch out in a basket, Prince Vardan," Elena said. "And some wine. Your lady will want more, and so will you. Winning a lady's heart is hard work."
"You think I can win it, too?" Vardan asked bitterly. "Is there anyone on this cursed island who I will not disappoint when I fail?"
"I know some cheeky lads who like being invisible, so they can cause more mischief, but a good clout around the ears will sort them out. It certainly worked on you when you were a boy." Though he couldn't see it, Vardan knew she was smiling. Elena continued, "She has a playful heart, that one. I warrant she would dearly love to dance with the right man."
A man, and not a beast. Vardan sighed.
"The cakes you wanted, ma'am," said a younger voice.
Elena made an irritated sound in her throat. "Give them to the prince, then!"
The girl thrust the basket hard against Vardan's midsection. "There you go."
"Your Highness," Elena reminded her.
"There you go, your Highness," the girl said sulkily. Stomping footsteps signified that she'd left.
"The sooner you break this curse, the better," Elena said with feeling.
Vardan bowed his head. "I will do all that honour permits."
"Don't forget the wine. It's in the basket, with the cakes."
Vardan nodded his thanks and carried his burden out to Arion.
He felt Belle's eyes on him as he secured the basket to his saddle. He mounted before he said, "Are you ready to see more of my domain, Lady Belle?"
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes in appreciation. "If that's another basket of those cakes you're carrying, I might just follow you anywhere."
Vardan offered up an earnest prayer that her words were more than jest. "They are," he said shortly. "So let's go." He set off at a walk, hearing the clop of Embarr's hooves following behind.
TWEN
TY-FOUR
The buildings lining the harbour were a mixture of storehouses and taverns. Though she had never entered one, Zuleika recognised some of the waterside buildings as brothels. Many of the taverns were not yet open, for which she blamed the early hour, but the brothels never closed. Idly, she wondered if they did better business with invisible clientele. She considered asking Vardan, but a prince had no need to frequent a common whorehouse when he could follow his brother's example and turn his subjects into whores for his own private use. She sighed, only half listening as the prince told her how all the storehouses in Harbourtown were full, which was why he'd started to store goods in his cellars.
"Can't you just sell things?" Zuleika blurted out. "Full storehouses breed vermin, and goods can be damaged when they are stored too long. Especially foodstuffs. If they are full of the same things as your cellars, they are trade goods. Their value is not in being stockpiled, but in being sold to the right market, or so my father says."
Vardan nodded. "Your father is correct. But who would we sell them to, Lady Belle?" He waved his hand at the empty harbour. "There are no ships. No traders from east or west, though we used to welcome them daily. And if my people approach shore in their fishing boats, no one sees them. Others try to steal their goods, thinking the boats are empty, and no one wishes to trade with a ghost. Or me."
She hadn't thought of that, but Zuleika supposed it made sense. Still... "How do the trade goods arrive here if not by ship?"
"This is not our only harbour," Vardan replied. "Beacon Isle is bigger than you might think."
Enchant: Beauty and the Beast Retold Page 6