Riven: A Merged Fairy Tale of Beauty and the Beast & Sleeping Beauty (The Enchanted Rose Trilogy: Book 3)

by R. M. ArceJaeger

  Rose closed her eyes, trying to imagine even those ladies away, and had nearly succeeded when a prickling sensation on the back of her neck told her she was being watched. Her eyes shot open, but a quick glance toward the two women showed they were not the source of her perception. Puzzled, her gaze flickered toward the paths threading through the garden . . . but they were empty.

  A thrill shot through Rose—but one of curiosity, not fear, not with so many guards patrolling the castle. She wondered who they would have allowed to enter the garden, knowing as they did her decree for solitude. It had to be someone on an errand of import, but if so, why did they fail to approach?

  Her interest piqued, Rose probed the bushes and trees with her gaze, trying not to alert the chattering duo as she searched the shadows for the spy.

  * * * * *

  Ari watched Rose from behind a cherry tree, trying to calm his racing nerves. He had ridden in just an hour ago, pausing only to refresh his appearance before seeking out Rose. He wondered if she had been told yet of his arrival and rather hoped she had not.

  She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, dressed in flowing red robes, her hair glinting with jewels. Yet she wore less adornments than even the lowest of his father’s courtiers, and he wondered if her new station in life was resting as uneasily upon her shoulders as his restored station was resting upon his.

  Would she blame him for having left her alone all this time?

  It had not been his choice—injured and weak, his protests had gone unheeded as the soldiers carried him away from the lodge and off to his father’s castle, while the rest of the platoon escorted Rose back to Nathar. Then had come the long months of recovery and his reinstatement as crown prince. There had been many duties—few of them pleasant—that he had needed to fulfill before he could journey to see Rose. Memory stirred within him and he grimaced, recalling the duty he had loathed most of all.

  “Stay, please,” Ari had said as he and Liliath stood together on the dock for the last time. “I will talk to my father. We can find another way.” He had not needed to add that without her magic, she could hardly be considered a threat. Even her wings had withered away, desiccating and turning black before falling off completely.

  Liliath just shook her head, tears welling in her amber eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Just beyond earshot, her parents waited for her on the ship, having chosen to accompany their daughter in her sentence of exile. Though their choice had grieved Ari, he had not been surprised. He would never forget the way Kenden had swept into the lodge in the soldiers’ wake and gone straight to his daughter’s side, nor the tenderness with which he had gathered her into his arms. “Daddy,” Liliath had whispered, throwing her arms around Kenden’s neck like a little girl and burying her face in his chest. In the months that had followed, her parents’ steadfast love had helped Liliath to cope with the sacrifice of her magic and her role leading up to that event . . . but not enough, it seemed, to make her want to protest King Tirell’s penalty.

  “No, I—I have to go somewhere else, somewhere that will not remind me of what I did . . . and what I have lost,” Liliath refused, her expression admitting she counted him in that tally.

  “You still have me,” he said gently. “I will always be your friend.”

  She gave a sharp laugh. “You are too good to me. I know what I deserve. I would have chosen this, even if your father had not sentenced it.” Her shoulders jerked slightly, as though attempting to flex her wings in a shrug—wings that were no longer there.

  Ari flinched at the reminder. “I am sorry,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

  Liliath closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “Me too,” she confessed. “I wish—”

  She broke off, and they fell silent.

  “Why did you do it?” Ari blurted out at last.

  “It was for you,”’ Liliath whispered, her earnest gaze pleading for understanding. “Everything I did, it was all for you.”

  She took a step forward as though to embrace him, but stopped herself before she could, turning and fleeing up the ramp to the small ship where her parents were waiting. His last sight of Liliath had been her silhouette standing at the bow, her back toward him, unable to see his final wave as the ship carried her away from Gurion and the known world and beyond his reach forever.

  Regret gripped Ari’s lungs like a vise, and he closed his fist against the tree trunk, forcing himself to breathe normally. Now was not the time to dwell on the past—not here, not with his future at stake.

  He looked again at Rose, contemplating her from the shelter of the tree while anxiety clawed at his insides. Had she truly meant what she had said when he had lain dying, or had it merely been a pledge born of distress? Even if she had been sincere, she had not known at the time how he had deceived her. Would she—could she—still love him, now that he was a man and no longer a beast?

  Suddenly, he saw Rose stiffen and turn her head in his direction, her eyes probing the shadows as though she could sense his presence. Knowing he would soon be discovered, Ari took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  * * * * *

  Rose had forgotten just how handsome a man Ari was. His figure was very different than Jon’s: dark instead of fair; green eyes instead of blue; a broader chest that tapered a little too lean, as though he had not yet gained back the weight he had lost in his final weeks as a beast. As he strode toward Rose, she could not help noticing how gracefully he moved—smooth and light footed like a dancer, but with the suppressed agility of an acrobat, ready to leap into motion at the slightest need.

  “Your Majesty,” he greeted, halting a short distance away and giving what she had come to learn was a proper bow. Her ladies-in-waiting had fallen silent and were watching the two of them with rapt interest.

  “My lord prince,” she returned, giving him a stately nod. It was not “the way,” she had been told, for royalty to rise or to curtsy within their own home.

  “I hope you have been well,” he stated, looking as awkward as she felt.

  “Very well, thank you,” Rose replied, already tired of the polite exchange. She wanted to talk to Ari, not simply trade trite comments as though they were strangers while her ladies watched and listened.

  Abruptly, she turned to address them. “If I told you to leave, would you do it?” she demanded.

  They looked startled.

  “You are the queen. If you commanded us to go, we would have to,” the first one answered.

  “But it would be very rude. Our families might take it amiss,” the second one added shrewdly.

  “And your royal image would suffer if we left you unchaperoned with a man.”

  Rose fought to control her dismay. “Even if that man is a prince?” she asked.

  They nodded in unison. “Especially if that man is a prince.”

  Ari looked as though he were trying to hide a smile. “Your Majesty, your ladies speak the truth, but they have failed to inform you that propriety would still be served if we strolled around the garden while they stayed here, so long as we remained in sight.”

  Rose immediately stood up. “Then that is what we shall do.”

  Ignoring the disappointment in her ladies’ faces—now they would be unable to listen to their conversation—Rose led the way down the garden path, wending amongst the flowers and trees until she was certain they were too far away to be heard. Only then did she whisper eagerly to Ari, “You came!”

  “Of course I came. I only wish I could have come before this. Forgive me for staying away so long.”

  His speech was so correct, so perfect, it almost terrified her. “Stop it!” she exclaimed. “I know you are prince now—you have always been a prince, it seems—but just for a moment, could you please simply be Ari? My friend?”

  “I will always be your friend,” he replied, his smile faltering for a moment as he regarded her.

  What was wrong with him? So much had changed over the last year—had he changed, too
? More than from a beast into a man?

  Rose bit her lip and looked away, struggling to regain command over her feelings. She felt Ari take her hand in his.

  “Hey,” he said, pulling her around to face him. “Tell me what is wrong.”

  “You . . . me . . . all of this,” she said, waving her hand toward the palace. “I am the queen, and yet I know less about ruling a country than the servants do! I cannot even dismiss my ladies-in-waiting without risking an insult to their noble families. And you—I have missed you so much, and yet I feel like I scarcely know you. The prince you, I mean.”

  He sighed. “I wish I could have told you who I was, but if I had, you would never have been able to break my curse.”

  She nodded. “Elaine explained it to me—after she got back from helping the other fairies send the northern armies home, that is. I understand now why you kept asking me to marry you.”

  Ari squeezed her hand for a brief moment. “Yes . . . but the curse was only one of my reasons.”

  The corner of her mouth tugged up in a smile.

  “Well, how are you handling it? Being human again after such a long time?” she asked, truly curious.

  He quirked a grin. “Truth be told, I feel a little naked without all that hair.”

  Rose felt her cheeks flame at the vivid memory his words produced, and she hastened on, “Is that why the beard?”

  “Perhaps. Do you like it?”

  She frowned, reaching out to lightly touch his chin. “It does look good on you, but I feel like it hides you nonetheless. . . and your true face has been concealed from me for so long.”

  His expression turned thoughtful. “I suppose I have been hiding behind it in a way. Foolish, I guess, to seek the shield of a beard after everything else I have endured. I should probably shave it off.”

  “It could have benefits,” she winked at him, then blushed further, appalled at herself for being so bold.

  His smile widened. “Is that so? Do tell.”

  Rose shook her head, quickly changing the subject. “It must have been nice to see your family again.”

  He looked away and started to walk once more, leading her down an avenue of trees ripe with vivid orange fruit. “My mother was ecstatic, of course. My brothers, I had never before met. They are men now, or nearly so—seventeen years of age this last spring. I thought Tibalt—he is the oldest twin, by three minutes as Tristan often reminds him—would be disappointed at my return. My father had been training him to be king after all, instead of me. But Tibalt confided he was actually rather relieved when I was re-proclaimed the official heir. He and Tristan are very close, you see, and my father’s intentions had created quite a strain between them. Well, I knew that already—the Mirror Room,” he explained.

  “And your father? Was he glad to have you back?” Rose asked tentatively, sensing a history in his omission which she knew nothing about.

  Ari hesitated. “I hardly know. He did reaffirm me as crown prince, but I suspect he had little choice in the matter. In spite of his promise to disown me, he never did remove me from the line of succession—a decision he probably regrets now.”

  “That seems rather harsh,” Rose said as lightly as she could. “One day, you will have to tell me the details.”

  “One day,” Ari agreed, guiding her into a trellis tunnel covered with lavender wisteria vines. He trailed one hand along the vines as they walked, causing them to ripple in their wake.

  “What about your father—the King, I mean?” he asked after a moment. “Were you able to make it to Nathar before he—?”

  “No. King Derik was dead by the time we arrived.”

  “I am sorry.”

  She shrugged. “I would have liked to have met him. From what people say, he was a good man. My mother is nice,” she offered, at a loss for a better description.

  He studied her. “But not family.”

  “No,” she admitted. “Not the way my dad and my aunt and my sisters are. Not the way you are.”

  Ari stopped walking and regarded her solemnly. “So, I am like a brother to you?”

  She shook her head. “Only if you want to be.”

  “You know what I want.”

  “Do I?” she challenged. “I know what Ari-the-Beast wanted. But Ari-the-man?”

  He reached out and pulled her closer. “This man wants you more than ever, to be completely and wholly his, now and forever.”

  “How? As your prisoner?” she teased.

  “Mmm, you can think of it that way . . . because this time if you say yes to me, I will never, ever let you go.”

  For an answer, Rose stood on her tiptoes and kissed him fervently. In the distance, she could hear the excited squeal of one of her ladies-in-waiting, but she scarcely cared. When at last she broke away, it was with satisfaction—one that was mirrored in the startled, semi-glazed look in Ari’s eyes.

  “I think being married to a man will be far more enjoyable than being married to a beast—and not just due to the improvement in your looks,” she smirked.

  This time it was Ari’s turn to flush, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “I am glad to hear you like my appearance—I had it custom designed just for you.”

  “Oh, really? In that case, you might want to get a refund. You are a lot shorter than I remember.”

  “Is that so?” He pulled her alongside him, wrapping one arm possessively around her shoulders. “I thought it might be awkward for my wife to have a husband so much greater than she is. As things are, I am still head and shoulders taller than you.”

  Rose gave a gasp and pretended to push him away. “Greater? How dare you! I am a queen, whereas you are merely a lowly prince. I could have you beheaded for so insulting me.”

  “Beheaded? You have been reading too many stories.”

  “Well, whose fault is that?”

  “Not mine, I assure you . . .”

  Rose chuckled, even as she backed away from Ari, her saucy grin inviting him to follow her down the path. “Well, I think it is a good thing that Father has already left for home—he believes you to be an absolute beast. Imagine what he will say—no, do!—when he hears we are betrothed!”

  Ari raised an eyebrow, the warmth in his eyes melting her heart. “I will just have to spend the rest of my life proving to him how much I have changed.”

  “Your Majesty! You must return! We cannot see you anymore,” a chiding voice called.

  Rose’s shoulders slumped at the reminder, and she sighed. Ari smiled.

  “You know, it is not wise for a queen to spend all her time in her castle. She should see the extent of her lands and meet other rulers. My family, for instance. And I would like to meet yours—properly, this time.”

  Rose’s eyes lit up at the prospect, but then her countenance fell. “But Bertard says I cannot leave. The Prophecy—”

  “—only says that you need to be their queen,” Ari replied gently. “It does not say you have to stay cooped inside this castle forever. Trust me, I know—I have spent the last several months relearning the dictates of duty. It will wear you to the bone if you let it.”

  “I would like to meet your family,” Rose agreed, warming to the idea, “and see more of Nathar . . . like the town where my father grew up and my mo—I mean, his wife—is buried. And maybe we could stop by the lodge on the way to your castle, and visit my village, and then we could—”

  “Whoa, slow down there!” Ari urged, smiling broadly. “We have plenty of time. Our whole lives, in fact.”

  “Together?” Rose asked.

  “Just the two of us, forever.”

  “Your Majesty!” the voice called again.

  “And . . . ladies-in-waiting,” he added reluctantly.

  “And servants.”

  “And courtiers.”

  “And advisers,” Rose replied. “You know, those books of yours are very misleading—they always end with the prince and princess living happily ever after. They never mention how they have to deal with att
endants, and protocol, and boring council meetings on a daily basis—let alone more serious matters like trade disputes and war. Being royal in real life is much more difficult.”

  “Yes, it is,” Ari agree. “But those difficulties just make us cherish the happy moments we share even more. I, for one, intend to give you many such moments to treasure.”

  “Well then,” Rose said, wrapping her fingers through his curls and pulling his head down for another kiss. “You may as well start on our ever after right now!”

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