It still didn't add up in Zuleika's head. "But if there are other harbours, why are the goods not stored there, near the ships? And if you can transport goods from the other harbour to this one, why can't you send some of this cargo out on the ships when they leave?"
"There are no ships," he repeated.
"Why not?" she persisted.
"Pirates, and the curse, though we've found the curse quite convenient when it comes to combating pirates," Vardan said with a smile.
Zuleika was intrigued. "No one wins against pirates, or so my father says. They sail away to their secret bases, sell slaves and all their stolen merchandise, and live high until they find another ship to prey upon. They cannot be stopped, for as long as the secret bases remain and one man knows how to reach them, there will always be men willing to become pirates."
Vardan laughed. "Now that's where you're wrong. Let me show you."
Zuleika didn't understand her hesitation. Wasn't he offering her the knowledge she wanted? She mentally shook herself before she said, "All right. Show me."
TWENTY-FIVE
Vardan guided Arion up to the cliff path, glancing back over his shoulder every now and again to make sure Lady Belle still followed him. He was worried about her swooning again, he told himself. Not admiring the purple fire in her eyes that kindled into life the moment they reached the clifftops.
For a woman who had almost drowned, she showed surprisingly little fear of the ocean. In fact, she seemed almost exhilarated by the stiff breeze whipping the sea into waves that boomed like battering rams when they struck the base of the cliffs. Or maybe it was the way the breeze plucked her hair from its braids and turned the silky strands into curls.
No wonder women kept their hair covered under veils. Unfettered, hers was...mesmerising. Once again, he wanted to reach out and stroke it. But he wouldn't, because to see her cringe away again would be another dagger to his heart. Once the curse was lifted, then she might look upon him with something that wasn't horror. Had all the islanders looked at him in the same way since the curse took effect? If so, perhaps their invisibility was a blessing and not a curse for him.
If the witch who cursed him planned things that way, she could hardly be the cold-hearted bitch his brother had said she was. For the first time since she cursed him, Vardan wanted to meet the woman. Or meet her again, as he'd evidently already met her but couldn't recall her. Why couldn't the witch have looked like Lady Belle, for he'd never forget a face or figure like hers. But even if she had, honour would have demanded he resist her advances.
Unless she'd looked like Lady Belle and he wanted to make her his wife.
He snorted. He'd known the girl for barely a day. He shouldn't be considering the possibility of marriage to her, or all that it entailed. Vardan owned that he had little control over his dreams, and the fact that she had been the maiden dancing naked through them did not mean he should be imagining undressing her now.
The lady's voice cut through his daydream. "You have the most peculiar smile on your face. Is there something special about this place, that it should inflame you with such love?"
You, Vardan thought but didn't say as he felt blood heat his cheeks. He doubted she would see it, though, for beasts did not blush.
"Yes," he said finally. "This is where I show you how one man with the knowledge of secret pirate bases can win against them all." He swung down from his horse, indicating that she should do the same. "We'll go on foot from here."
Lady Belle slid down gracefully, her boots barely making a sound as they landed on the windswept rock. The salt wind kept the cliffs free of snow through all but the coldest winters. "To where, precisely?" She tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
What was it about her hair that distracted him so? Vardan shook his head. "Why, to the pirates' lair, of course." He laughed at her puzzled expression, and drew her to the very edge of the cliffs so he could point. "The cliffs along the northern side of the island are riddled with caves just like that one. And for a long time, pirates used these to store their stolen cargo. Some are even big enough to sail a ship inside."
"Truly?" Her eyes danced.
"Truly," he replied. "I will show you." He took her hand and pulled her to the very brink on the cliff.
Lady Belle balked, much like Embarr did when faced with the ocean waves. The horse nibbled at some of the hardy plants that had sprouted between the rocks, unconcerned, as her mistress dug her heels in with astonishing strength. "Unless you can fly, your Highness, there is no way you're taking me over that cliff. I like living, thank you."
He sighed. Reluctantly, he released her hand. "There are steps. See?" Vardan stepped over the edge and down the first three stone steps, worn smooth by wind, wave and the passage of many feet.
She blinked in surprise. "Down the entire cliffside?" Lady Belle swallowed, her eyes wide. "I may need your arm after all." Her hand was warm as she grasped his.
Vardan brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them lightly without thinking. Thank heaven she didn't pull away before he realised his mistake. "My apologies, Lady Belle."
"No need to apologise. I may not be accustomed to descending from clifftops, but I rarely require a man's arm to walk." She proceeded to demonstrate that she was as surefooted as her horse as she followed Vardan down the winding steps to the cave.
The steps ended at a narrow stone ledge which at high tide was washed by the waves. Now, it was simply damp with spray and strewn with seaweed thrown up in the last storm. And slippery. "Be careful here, Lady Belle," he said, glancing behind to make sure she did not lose her footing. She'd hoisted her skirts a little to better see her feet, but Vardan glimpsed a shapely ankle and found himself longing to see more. Perhaps even the naked maiden of his dreams.
He trod hard on a piece of seaweed, and his foot shot forward, throwing him backward into her arms. His face ended up pressed against her breast for one delightful moment before he came to his senses and righted himself, repeating his profuse apologies.
Lady Belle did not seem inclined to forgive him. "As you say, Vardan. Do be careful." She did not take his hand again.
Sighing, he led the way.
TWENTY-SIX
It was panic that made her heart beat wildly when Vardan fell against her, Zuleika told herself. With his face pressed against her breast, he probably heard it through all the layers of fabric between them. The flush of heat she'd felt was mortification at being so close to a man, a man who looked like he did under the curse, as she well knew.
And there was a tingle of something more when he touched her, too. Something magical, that had nothing to do with being touched by a man. The magic that hummed so powerfully through him felt familiar, as though it liked her. She'd never felt anything like it. Magic didn't have feelings, or preferences for people. Yet each spell contained a little of the essence of its caster, because it was the caster's blood that fuelled the spell. Each essence was as individual as the caster, and this...this was not new to her. She must know the witch who had cursed Vardan.
Except that she didn't know many witches, particularly one whose magic was so dark it had no colour at all except black, for this curse appeared like a shadow across the island. The few witches she had met in her travels were mostly enslaved djinn, whose magic she'd needed to undo. Their magic naturally recognised her as an adversary, and buzzed with alarm at her approach. Vardan's curse seemed to hum with welcome.
No witch had ever welcomed her. Except her mother, of course, but her mother had lain in her grave these six years at least. Longer than Vardan had been cursed, so she couldn't have cast this enchantment.
Zuleika's hands itched to touch the prince again, to investigate the curse upon him more thoroughly. She forced her arms to stay by her sides. He was no different to his brother, and being overly familiar with him would not turn out well. She did not want to touch a man, nor have him touch her. Ever.
She ducked under a low overhang and stepped into darkness.
; Steel scraped across flint, and a moment later a torch flared into life. Instead of orange, this flame was the colour of bluebells.
"More magic?" Zuleika asked.
Vardan's eyes seemed to glow in the firelight. "We have no witches on the island, and none who are generous enough to use their magic to light the caves. Had we even a single witch, I would have asked her to help break the curse. No, these are driftwood torches, soaked in salt water. 'Tis the salt that burns blue." Vardan eyed her suspiciously. "Why such fear for magic, Lady Belle? Do you suffer from a curse, too?"
Zuleika choked back a laugh. Cursebreaking was her specialty. Not even the most powerful djinn could keep a curse focussed on her for long. "I do not fear magic," she managed to say. "But this island is already enchanted in ways I have never seen before. To a witch who could make a whole town invisible, I'm sure a little light is nothing."
Vardan nodded, as though he accepted her explanation. He held the torch aloft as he stepped out of the narrow passage. "This is the main cavern."
Zuleika gasped as the cave opened out into a space that could have held the cathedral in the capital, so large was it. The floor stretched away into the darkness, outside of their circle of light, and behind her she could hear the splash of waves as the ocean made its presence known, though she could not see the water.
"This cavern is big enough to sail into when the tide is not too high, which is why it was a favourite among the local pirate fleet. They waited here until a rider from town told them a particularly rich cargo was leaving the harbour, and they'd venture out under cover of darkness to attack the unsuspecting vessel. Often, they unloaded their ill-gotten gains here so they could return for them and trade them in town, sometimes to the same merchants they'd stolen them from. I've known the same pelts to appear in the market no less than six times, sold to a new merchant only for it to be stolen again. Quite ingenious, really." Vardan smiled grimly. "Or it was, until I became Trade Master of Beacon Isle."
"So you discovered their ploy?" Zuleika guessed.
Vardan shrugged. "No, I can't take full credit for that. My steward, Rolf, suspected something like it, but it wasn't until the curse took effect that we knew for certain. You see, we changed overnight, and when the next day dawned, we were all as you see now. The pirates, however, were unchanged. Usually, they brought their stolen cargo from the caves by cart, working in the middle of the night to make sure no one saw them arrive or leave as they stocked their storehouses by the harbour. The morning they returned to trade...they entered a market empty of people. Or so they thought." He chuckled. "The panic had died down, so the villagers watched in invisible rage as some of their own, traitors that they had trusted, walked into town untouched by the curse. When they saw the town empty, they raced back to the cave...but not alone. Many followed them back to the pirate lair. Now, these pirates did not just steal cargo. Oh, no. They also sold the crews as slaves. Many townspeople had family members who had served as sailors, and no small number of these were enslaved by pirates. So what ensued in this cave...I can only describe as a bloodbath. The pirates were no match for their invisible, furious foes. There were no survivors."
Part of Zuleika recoiled in horror at the thought of the violence Vardan described, but a larger part of her revelled in triumph at the victory. For surely some of the enslaved crews had been her father's men. And the pirates' booty... "What of the stolen cargoes?" she asked.
"What, no tears for the dead men, slaughtered right here where they stood?" Vardan asked, spreading his arms wide.
"Pirates are scum. Exterminating such vermin is a public service, I am sure. But what of the treasures stored here?"
If all of her father's missing merchandise was still on the island somewhere, then all was not lost.
"Locked in my storehouses, secure and waiting for their rightful owners' return, Lady Thief," Vardan replied. "Look all you like. You will find no pirate treasures here."
Why did he not understand? "I am no thief," she said steadily, looking him in the eye. "And I begin to believe that neither are you. But it beggars belief that all the goods in your cellars and storehouses were once stored in this cave. Either it is bigger than it looks, or it was stacked to the very roof."
"This cave stretches for miles beneath the island, so it most certainly is bigger than it first appears. But you are correct. Not all the goods in my house or the whole of Harbourtown came from the pirate stash here."
Zuleika found herself nodding. "Like the cargo from the Rosa. She was only lost a few weeks ago, a month at most. Long after you cleaned out this pirate lair. How, then, came all the goods to you?"
Vardan's smile looked more feral than any man should. Zuleika thought she glimpsed something of a killer whale in his features. "We have several fishing villages, and each has its own watchtower, built of the limestone quarried at the northern end of the island. Most nights they only fish for the fruit of the sea. But sometimes, when the lookout spots a sail...my people turn to hunting instead. And their skill is unsurpassed in these waters, except by sharks."
Now Zuleika shivered at his chilling tone. "That still does not answer my question, your Highness," she said slowly. "How did you come to have the cargo of the Rosa in your cellar?"
He studied her for a long moment before he said, "That, I think you will need to see to believe, but such a battle is hardly a suitable place for a lady. Even such a fearless one as yourself. So I shall take you to the nearest village, and let my people tell you about the hunt. Perhaps you will believe them more than you believe me." Vardan turned on his heel and headed out of the cave the way they'd come, taking the torch and its light with him.
Zuleika considered using magic to light her way, but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come. Vardan distrusted witches, and if he found out who she was...he might be far less hospitable. So she hurried after him, back to daylight where the death-drenched darkness would be merely a memory.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Lady Belle barely spoke a word during the ride to the village of Storhem. Even when he grew so sick of the silence that he began telling her the names of the farmers and their likely crop next season as they passed each field, she merely nodded, looking like her thoughts were far from him and the cursed isle.
Perhaps she had only feigned indifference to the slaughter Vardan had witnessed firsthand. Had she known one of the pirates, then? A brother, perhaps, or the father she kept mentioning?
No, Vardan decided. Her father could not have been a pirate. She'd been raised a lady, and no pirate he'd met was capable of so much as looking at a woman without planning to dishonour her before selling her into slavery. Lady Belle could not have been any man's slave.
Or had the pirate been her sweetheart, a man she waited for? Her father could not have known about him, or he would certainly have stopped the match, as any good father should. Allowing such scum to so much as look at Lady Belle, let alone touch her...
Something clawed at his insides, twisting and ripping in ways that made Vardan clench his hands into fists around Arion's reins. Jealousy, he realised. Because pirates were scum, but they were still men. Barely more than beasts, but still men. Unlike him.
What would it take to break the curse, so that a woman might look kindly upon him once more?
No. Down that road lay madness. Hope was a curse all its own, for it tasted as sweet as mead even as it dulled his senses.
Banishing hope was a simple matter.
"Have you a sweetheart?" Vardan asked. Ah, that had got her attention.
Lady Belle stared at him. "What did you say?"
"Do you have a sweetheart?" he repeated patiently. "A man you are betrothed to, or wish to be. Or someone your father has promised you to."
The lady bristled. "I am not cargo or a slave, to be bought and sold on a man's whim. I am of age, and both my hands and my heart are my own." As if to demonstrate, she tucked her cloak more closely around her so that it hid her hands. Her heart burned with pent-up fury �
� she could not hide the fire as it blazed out of her violet eyes.
For a wild moment, his own heart soared as he dared to hope again. But reality brought him back to earth abruptly. Vardan said, "Then I pity the man who has the courage to ask you for your hand, for your denial will undoubtedly drive him to despair. You are a rare woman, Lady Belle. Most women desire security, position, wealth or protection. Yet it seems to me you wish for none of these things. What desire drives you?"
She blinked, seemingly lost for words, but only for a moment. An impish grin lit her face. "Curiosity. First the fate of my father's ships and cargo, and now the nature of a powerful curse. I can't imagine being cursed and not doing everything in my power to break it. How have you not sought out a solution to your...affliction?"
Had she not listened to a word he'd said? "Of course I have. My brother – "
"Has it occurred to you that your brother might be lying, and that he knows less about curses than you do?" she interrupted, eyes flashing.
"Watch your words, Lady Belle. To speak ill of your king is treason."
Instead of calming her, this seemed to only incense her further. "Thorn is not my king. He is a deceitful, dishonourable louse who had the astonishing good fortune to be the oldest son of a royal family to survive into adulthood. If he knows anything about curses, it is because he has somehow enslaved a witch. Even then, she would be a poor witch indeed if she told him everything." She paused for breath, looked into his eyes, and continued, "I am sorry if my words grieve you, for I know the king is your brother. Perhaps he was a good man once, or has become one since I was last at court."
She knew him. She'd met Thorn, and she knew him. Her impassioned words proved it. Perhaps a little too much passion, though, as if she was trying to convince him of her hatred for Thorn. Women didn't hate Thorn. They flocked to his bed. Did that mean she was some sort of spy for his brother?
Enchant: Beauty and the Beast Retold Page 7