by Laura Kenyon
She trailed off, waiting for Hazel to explain the smug look carved all over her face.
“What?” Belle finally asked.
Hazel sucked her cheeks in and ran a nail along her plunge neckline. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Belle hesitated before giving a barely convincing, “Of course not.” She swallowed. “Why would you say that?”
Hazel sighed and shifted her weight. “Because I received a very strange call from Ruby Welles a few hours ago, trying to recruit me for some magical mission to break Donner’s curse.” Belle said nothing as Hazel flattened her palm to examine her cuticles. Oops. “Did you know about this?”
Belle’s jaw seemed to be glued shut.
“Listen,” Hazel continued, lowering her hand and giving Belle a little space, “I don’t trust that sanctimonious ‘last remaining pureblood’ fraud as far as I can throw her—even if I can throw her quite a distance. So if you’re involved in this, you’d better start talking. Otherwise, I’m telling her thanks, but no thanks, I’ll handle my son’s problems my way. And trust me, she’s not going to like my methods.”
Belle rubbed her lips together. In five years of marriage to her son, she’d never taken Hazel the least bit seriously when it came to the general public. She’d always seemed more lipstick-stained-wine glass than gavel. But when it came to her family, she was a lioness.
“What is it you want to know?” Belle asked, sliding her knees towards her chin and wrapping her arms about them. It was a simple movement, but with the blanket and the IV tube and the hospital gown, the whole action just seemed so … incriminating. “Ruby knows Donner’s curse is back and she’s trying to break it. It’s pretty straightforward.”
“Why?” Hazel asked, spinning on her sandals and pacing the room. “Why the hell does she care what happens to my son? She detests him.” She halted to decapitate one of Belle’s roses. “Well, speak up. Telepathy isn’t one of my powers, believe it or not.”
Belle did a few quick calculations in her head. If she told her Donner’s curse had transferred to the baby, Hazel might ask too many follow-ups. But if she said Angus had simultaneously cursed Donner and stripped Ruby of her powers, she could satisfy Hazel’s question without exposing Rye.
“Umm,” she began, hugging her knees tighter and staring at the window. The weather was perfect for a walk with Beast. Poor guy, all locked up in Rapunzel’s sterile apartment. It was so unnatural for him. “Well, you know how obsessed Ruby is with keeping the monarchies intact.”
Hazel reached the bed in three giant strides. She hooked both hands on her hips and tilted forward. “So?”
Belle stared back for a moment, then looked away. She’d hoped Hazel would fill in her own blanks and make life a little easier. After all, Angus had control of two kingdoms and was calling for Snow to leave Tantalise too. Anyone could see that the monarchies were in danger.
“So Ruby thinks Angus Kane used some sort of magic to bring back Donner’s curse,” she said, screening each word carefully. “And he did it because he wanted the throne … which he now has.”
Hazel didn’t move for a full five seconds, then squinted as if she was trying to sharpen the features on Belle’s face. She felt a chill zigzag up her back.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” her mother -in-law said, her fingers flapping against her elbows again. “Angus doesn’t have powers. And what does breaking his curse have to do with saving the monarchies? It’s your separation that caused all this. Belle, if you want my help, tell me the truth.”
Seeing no other choice, Belle opened her mouth to give Ruby away. But barely two words in, Hazel tossed her hands in the air and commanded her to stop. “No, never mind. No more stories,” she said, her tone suddenly a bit more jovial. “I already know why Ruby wants to break Donner’s curse.”
Belle didn’t know whether to smile back or prepare for an offensive. “You do?”
“Of course I do. I’m a woman too, after all. I get it.”
Belle’s head tilted the way Beast’s did when he was trying to process human speak. “It’s pretty transparent, actually. I just wanted to hear you admit it.” Holding back a smirk, she leaned close enough for Belle to make out all the cracks of foundation on her cheeks. “You still have feelings for him,” she said, pausing to let the words sink in. “Don’t you?”
Belle’s lungs seemed to pull apart and suck in every last square inch of air. It was ridiculous, but it was exactly what she needed—a lifeline that kept Rye far below his misguided grandmother’s radar but still guaranteed her help. The question was did she want to take it?
“After all,” Hazel continued, making up Belle’s mind for her, “there’s no point in breaking the curse that gives my son superhuman strength . . . just so he can be secured in a jail cell for the next thirty years while the mother of his child takes another lover, and his son grows up without a crown.” She paused to smile. Then she locked those two blue lasers on Belle again. “I’m sure as a future mom, you’d agree.”
Seeing no other way, Belle immediately exhaled into a fluttery smile and told her yes. She’d guessed it. Even though Donner’s sins against her numbered on the epic, she just couldn’t get past the idea of her happily ever after, which was supposed to be with him. She just needed him to stop being so controlling. And egotistical. And unfaithful.
“Sometimes I still imagine me and Donner and our children at the castle,” Belle said, channeling Beast’s dinnertime eyes and trying not to regurgitate in her mouth. “It’s the reason we were going to try again. The reason he came over that night. But I just don’t see how that can happen while he’s cursed.”
“Oh, of course you don’t,” Hazel said, mirroring her daughter-in-law’s tone and sliding onto the bed again. Belle poured it on thick as Hazel reached up and ran her fingers along her cheek. “I knew you’d get sick of all that stressful inn nonsense sooner or later. Independence is good for some people, like your friend Rapunzel. Sure, you can sit around in sweatpants all day eating ice cream, you don’t have to shave every day, and you can go to bed without being physically accosted. But eventually, those sweatpants start to lose their appeal and the warmth of a furry companion just isn’t the same as a big, strong man, is it?”
Belle struggled to come up with an answer. What had she done? “So you’ll be part of the triad?” she asked, holding her breath.
Hazel smirked and glanced out the window. Then she grabbed Belle’s hand, gave it a one-two tap and a fierce squeeze, and bounced to her feet. “Now, no more dwelling on the past. We’re gonna snap this curse, break Donnie out of jail, and whip him back into the prince you always dreamed about. How does that sound?”
“Umm, great.” Belle hesitated. “But when you say break Donner out of jail—”
“Oh, sorry. Poor choice of words. I’m not a felon—registry debacle aside. Stripes don’t look good on me. But now that I know how you feel, I think you’ll agree that the best hope for Donnie is for the woman he attacked to come out calling for his forgiveness. Blame magic. Confirm what the world already suspects and blame his curse. Heck, blame the way I raised him, for all I care. Just get my son out on bail and try to help the public see that he’s not a monster. He’s just had a tough life.”
Belle felt suddenly sick to her stomach. Judging from Hazel’s previous comment about the early morning news,” Donner had officially been charged and was facing much more than a slap on the wrist. It was why lying about her feelings had come so easily—she’d thought their reunion was impossible anyway.
“If you can do that,” Hazel continued, hoisting a polka dot beach bag over her shoulder and draining the last of her daiquiri, “I’ll stay far away from you and Marestam until it’s time to break the curse.”
Belle nodded but couldn’t help interpreting that as a threat. If she didn’t hold up her end of the bargain, Hazel could pop in on her—and Rye—at any moment.
“Do you really think my forgiveness is going to make any difference?” she
asked. “From what I’ve been told—which isn’t much, since everyone seems to be on strict orders to keep me as in the dark as possible—the public is livid.”
“Oh, they are,” Hazel replied. “But you’re carrying their future king and they respect you. They’ll listen.”
Belle was starting to panic. “But what about Angus?” She should have just kept that storyline and left it at that. “He seems to be on some sort of power trip and—”
“Also true,” Hazel cut her off. “But power isn’t the same as influence.”
“So what exactly are you suggesting I do?”
Hazel smiled and loosened her head as if she was standing in the center of a rose garden, smelling something enchanting from all sides.
“Well, you saved him once. In the dark, empty corner of an enchanted castle,” she said as a newspaper popped into her hands. She placed it on the bed. “You can do it again. Only this time, it’s going to be right out in the open, on the front page of Marestam’s least deplorable newspaper.” Belle’s entire body froze. What had she gotten herself into? “A front-and-center feature about the Wickenham’s secret and the victim calling for absolution. Matilda Holt’s idea. I believe you know each other.”
Belle stared straight ahead but saw nothing. Her brain was suddenly three months behind her, on the steps of this very hospital, giving the story of the century to a masculine woman with a Mirror neck lanyard and a surprisingly warm disposition. Well, if she had to sell her soul to a reporter, it might as well be her.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Hazel said. “She’ll give you all the details at the arraignment.”
“The arraignment?” Belle needed a paper bag, pronto. “I’m not going to any a—”
“Oh yes you are,” Hazel cooed. “I’ve already pulled the necessary strings. Judge Ford has agreed to let you speak, and they’re moving the whole proceeding to the hospital so you won’t have to worry about traveling. That’s how much the people respect you.” She lifted her empty glass into the air in a one-sided cheers. “Oh, and one more thing. The longer you hang out in this hospital bed, the worse it’s going to look for Donner—and you seem remarkably healthy minus the eye bags. I can’t imagine a strong woman like you needing any more than four days here.” She paused, the rest of her threat coming out through her eyes. “Now get some rest. Stress from the mom transfers to the baby, after all.”
Belle sat there, stunned, as Hazel disappeared. A few seconds later, a knock sounded at the door and Kirsten waltzed in pushing a rumbling bassinet, squeezing a book of baby names beneath her arm, and praising what a beautiful, bright September morning it was shaping out to be.
Chapter Six
ANGUS
Two mornings after Belle's attack, the Marestam Prime Minister stretched his way out of bed, kissed his mother's picture, and steeped a giant cup of gotu kola tea. His bones ached even more than usual, but his heart was a glowing ember. Despite the odds and the obstacles and the bats-out-of-hell chances, everything was working out according to plan—with a few, generally fortunate exceptions.
Angus had fully expected his physiological meddling to cause a public relations fiasco—the kind that inspires rallies and calls for immediate impeachment—or, in this case, dethroning from a completely undeserved position in the first place. The way he imagined it, Donner’s surging hormones would cause a paparazzi-magnified meltdown, launching him into a paranoid rampage during a massive public event or during a talk show interview gone completely awry. But setting his estranged queen’s new home ablaze, endangering the lives of a half-dozen innocent tourists, nearly killing Belle and her unborn child, and putting Angus’s own niece into a coma? Well, that was beyond even Angus’s wildest expectations.
“You must have given him too much,” he could hear his mother saying. “You’re not a pharmacist. You should have been more careful. If your wife’s niece loses her life as a result of this revenge quest, can you really say it was worth it?”
The career politician’s eyebrows drew so close together, they appeared to overlap. His first impulse was yes, it would still be worth it. For you, Mom. For everyone who has been cast aside because their blood contained no magic, no royal lineage.
Angus always knew Donner had some magic—sixty-one percent, to be exact. But he’d adjusted for that. The anabolic steroids he’d been injecting through the corks of his anonymous “Whiskey of the Month” gifts shouldn’t have had such an intense effect, even with that final dose multiplied. There must have been something else at play. He just wasn’t sure what. Nor was he sure that it mattered. At the end of the day, what’s done was done. There was no point questioning whether the ends outweighed the means, or how he could have possibly over calculated. All that mattered now was how close he’d come, after all these years, to fulfilling his promise.
Chapter Seven
RAPUNZEL
Rapunzel wanted to turn around the instant her foot crossed the threshold of Cribs and Cankles. The store was a pastel nightmare, with stuffed animals lining the ceiling, music that somehow crossed elevator jazz with lullabies, and an invisible sensor that giggled when the front door opened. Throw in a temperance band and she’d officially be in hell.
“Baby dust to you!” a woman sang from behind a rack near the far side of the store. She was standing on her tiptoes, sorting through a dozen variations of the same empire-waist, bow-beneath-the-boobs sweater.
Rapunzel flashed a quick smile and made a beeline for the nursing bras. She didn’t want to be rude, but chitchatting with a maternity store associate was the last thing she had time—or energy—for right now. Perhaps if she’d gotten a little more sleep. But Rapunzel’s sunrise slumber had lasted a whopping three hours, after which she’d tossed Beast into Ethan’s room and rushed off to meet with a rubbernecking insurance agent at the Phoenix. By three o’clock, her phone was filled with photos of Beast—catching tennis balls in Capitol Park, jumping on a hot dog vendor in midtown, getting a bath at a spa on Fifth Avenue—as well as a screenshot showing an afternoon flight from Marestam to Stularia the next day. All booked, the accompanying message said. How are you making out? Let me know if you need help packing, etc. Do you have someone to check on Beast while we’re gone? P.S. We’re having a blast. If all dogs are this much fun, we should highly consider getting one.
Rapunzel had stared at the phone for a good five minutes before deciding on her response, which consisted of two words and completely ignored the last statement. He had a lot of nerve suggesting they take such a monumental step now. Evidently, he’d already put the whole betrayal thing behind him. What next? A damn wedding ring at the bottom of her morning coffee?
“Ah, that’s our best selling nursing bra,” the saleslady said, creeping up behind her with a smile that made Rapunzel want to throw up. According to the stork-shaped tag on her shirt, her name was Shirley. “For you or a friend?”
Rapunzel twirled around, her hand still clutching a beige contraption with a few too many hooks and far too much fabric. At least it only had two cups.
“Oh, a friend,” she said as Shirley’s eyes grew two sizes. She turned away immediately, but it was too late.
“Oh. My. Goodness,” she heard as the woman’s bulb nose darted back into her view. “Rapunzel Delmonico?” Rapunzel winced as Shirley’s hands clapped together and her voice climbed two octaves. She wasn’t sure what was more nauseating: the overhead fluorescent lights, the oscillating music, the overpowering scent of peppermint potpourri, or the hurling pitch of this woman’s voice.
“Oh my gosh you must be here for Belle! The poor thing! I couldn’t believe it when I heard! But thank goodness she and the baby are okay.” She paused and slapped her hand around Rapunzel’s wrist. The bra’s left strap snapped from its hanger. “The baby is okay, right?” She held her breath, desperate for the inside scoop.
Rapunzel paused for a moment. Perhaps doing Belle’s shopping herself hadn’t been the best idea. Perhaps she should have sent Ethan instead.
>
“Yes,” she said as the woman finally exhaled, blasting her customer with hot coffee breath tinged with … was that vodka?
Shirley’s bony fingers flapped against her collarbone. “Oh thank goodness. There’s nothing more sacred than our children. Sacred, priceless, the point of all existence. Honestly, if we can’t protect them, what good are any of us?”
Rapunzel just stared. It was the sort of statement that would have sent her raging a few days ago, insinuating that everyone without children, whether by choice or circumstance, was good for nothing. That they were expendable, selfish, a waste to the species. But instead, she simply nodded, plucked up a handful of different nursing bras in what she gathered to be Belle’s post-pregnancy size, and headed for the register.
“Oops,” the woman said, confiscating the bras and giggling as if Rapunzel had just tried to wipe her face with a jockstrap. “I think you’re underestimating a bit. The Queen’s still got four months of growing before she pops, right?”
Another nod.
“Then trust me, you’re going to need a bigger cup. Those puppies are going to swell up like a Saint Bernard caught in a beehive by the time she really needs these.”
A tiny taste of vomit reached the base of Rapunzel’s throat. She checked her watch. Hospital visiting hours ended at nine o’clock. It was already six, and she was only halfway through her to-do list. She didn’t have time to convince Shirley that she was wrong.
“I’ll just grab a bunch,” she said, scooping half the rack into her arms. “Better safe than strapped, you know? Ha, no pun intended.” She hated herself at the moment. “You can explain your return policy on my way out.”
Chapter Eight
BELLE
“She totally played you,” Rapunzel said before dropping an overstuffed duffel bag on the hospital floor and demanding that Belle “hand over that scrumptious ball of baby goodness this instant.”
Belle quickly covered up and obeyed the request with a hesitant smile.