by Laura Kenyon
“It’s nice to see you standing up and out of the hospital,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she answered instantly, refusing to lower her guard. But then came the tiny crack of a window. “Tired,” she added. “Overwhelmed. Scared. Angry. But grateful at the same time, and a little ashamed for not being more so.”
Donner looked to the side to disguise an amused smirk. This was Belle in a nutshell. Beating herself up for feeling.
“There’s nothing wrong with getting angry once in a while,” he said, no longer able to keep the distance between them. Before he knew it, her shoulders were between his hands and she wasn’t pulling away. “Or scared. It doesn’t take away from whatever gratitude you feel or make you any less saintly.”
She laughed—a sharp, staccato laugh that accused him of pulling compliments out of his ass. “I’m not a saint.”
“Maybe not entirely,” he said, letting his arms fall. “But I don’t know anyone closer. How many other people would have asked a judge to be lenient after what I did to you?” She flinched, as if it wasn’t extraordinary. “And now look at you. Fresh out of the hospital and you’re helping out with your friend’s adopted baby at six in the morning?” He looked around at the nursery. A little simple for his tastes, but cute in its own way. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
An awkward silence dropped. He bit his lip and stowed both hands in his pockets. His fingers wound through the bracelet. Its magic would have let him come and go from Marestam as he pleased, without the risk of being caught and sentenced for a crime over which he’d had absolutely no control. But there was a difference between having a forced relationship with his son and having a good one. He’d decided to let Belle make that decision. It would have been a nice gesture a few days earlier, after she’d promised to return to him anyway. But now, with a price on his head and absolutely no hope for reconciliation anymore, it was the ultimate sacrifice.
“Belle,” he said, clasping the bracelet in his fist, “I’d really like you to—”
“You still haven’t explained what happened,” she interrupted, delaying his offering once again. “What set you off?”
Donner sighed and pulled his hand out of his pocket, empty. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice cutting a sharper edge than he intended. But it was frustrating. Not an hour had passed without that horrible night playing and replaying in his head. He remembered every detail, every feeling, and every movement. But still, he didn’t understand how he let it happen. It was as if his body had been manipulated by something else—some alien over which he had no control but that was part of him nonetheless. “I wasn’t myself,” he said, trying to boil all of his thoughts into a few simple words. “I’m cursed again, remember?”
“I know you’re cursed,” she snapped back, her fists pumping at her sides. “Everyone knows you’re cursed. But the last time, I could still see you in there when you flew off the handle. Last week I … when I looked into your eyes, I didn’t see anything I could grab onto. I didn’t see anything I could use to pull you back. What was different?” She bounced on one leg and bit her lip. “Was it because of Gray?”
Donner felt the rage instantly. He snorted and pulled back, veering his head toward the crib. There was no good way to answer that question. Was he angry that his wife was being courted by a penitent gangster with an enticing smile? Absolutely. Was his appearance at the Phoenix the trigger that set him off on Friday? Possibly. But was jealousy enough to fuel such a terrifying rampage? He shook his head. He was stronger than that.
“I’m not naive enough to think you’d ever come back to me now,” he said. “But if I’m going to lose you, I want to make sure you and the baby are safe. I want it to be because you found a genuine happily ever after—not another beast in disguise.”
Belle’s eyes boomeranged toward the ceiling and back. “I know about Gray’s past,” she said. “Or I know as much as I need to. Scars or not, he’s a good man now. He wouldn’t hurt a fly now if he didn’t have to. I, on the other hand, would do anything to protect our son. Anything. Without hesitation and without remorse. So if you’re going to talk about one of us being a monster, I think you have to point the finger at me.”
Donner stood in shock for a moment. So this is the woman he’d been repressing for all these years. He felt a tiny spark of pride in his bottom lip. Then he grabbed the bracelet one more time and started explaining before she could protest.
“It’s not an attempt to buy you back,” he said. “And it’s not an ordinary piece of jewelry.”
Belle crossed her arms and looked away, but Donner thought he saw a flicker of recognition. By the time he finished explaining, the bracelet was curled up in her cupped palm and she was looking down as if it might jump up at any second and turn into fireworks.
“Is this the whole stone?”
He nodded. It was. He’d had every bit of his ring chopped up and fashioned into something he thought she would wear. “The power’s one hundred percent yours. This is the master. It can take you anywhere you want, not just one track. And it will accommodate two people if you want it to. Just make sure your mind is clear before you use it—easier said than done, yes, but with practice you’ll be able to do that in the middle of a hurricane if you need to. And don’t let Parliament find out.”
“But why—” Her head shook a few times and she looked up. “Why would you give this to me? It’s your ticket out of here. Everyone in Marestam is looking for you and—”
“And I could use that to start a new life, sure, but it would be a lonely one. Without my son.” He paused, the word feeling wonderfully strange and perfect rolling off his tongue. “Without the people I care about the most.”
Belle’s pupils contracted just the tiniest bit, and he could feel her studying his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Finally, she pulled off her wedding ring and pressed it into his palm. Now it was his turn to look confused.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll take the bracelet. But only if you take the ring.”
Donner shook his head and started to hand it back. “You should give that ring to our son. When he’s older. It will connect to the bracelet so that way he’ll always have a link to you.”
Belle put her hand up, refusing to take it back. “He’ll always have me anyway. But this way, he’ll always have a link to his father too. And if I decide I want a magical tunnel connecting us, I can always just give him the other one.”
“The other one?” Donner reached up to rub the back of his neck. He thought back to a party a few months ago at Riverfell Palace, when she accused him of giving “booty call rings” to women he’d been sleeping with. As if he had some bevy of mistresses whom he summoned to his bedroom using dozens of magical rings all cut from and linked to his own. As if he was running an underground harem or giving out party favors. Thanks for the ride. Accept this ring as a token of my appreciation. It was absurd.
Judging by Belle’s frown, however, she actually believed it. And in truth, he had created another one—but only one. It had belonged to Karen, and he highly doubted it would connect with any ring other than the original. But was it really worth explaining that to Belle now? Would it be worse for her to think of him as a sex-crazy philanderer or a broken-hearted pansy still hung up on a woman who died years ago?
“Thank you,” he said, choosing the former and slipping the ring onto his finger. Rapunzel would probably tell her about Karen anyway, when he wasn’t in the room. “But are you sure?”
Belle gave an assertive nod. “I don’t want our son to grow up not knowing his father—his real father, not the louse they write about in the history books.”
Donner felt pressure start to build behind his eyes. He didn’t deserve her—even as a friend. They looked at each other for a moment longer, then he cleared his throat and said he should get going. Rapunzel and Snow were probably starting to worry, and he needed to figure out a way to get out of Marestam immediately, before anyone spotted him and called
the authorities.
“Wait,” she said just as he was about to move in for a hug.
He instantly jerked back. “Sorry,” he said, flinging his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“There’s something I need to show you,” she said, opening the door and motioning for him to follow. “It won’t take long.”
He stood frozen for a minute and then obeyed. Through the hallway. Down the stairs. Out into the tiny living room where Griffin and Rapunzel were trying to look as if they hadn’t been eavesdropping seconds earlier. Snow was leaning over a bassinet, cooing.
Softly, Belle took Donner’s hand and led him over to Snow’s baby. He had no idea what she was trying to do—gauge how he dealt with children?
As they got closer, he could see that it was a little boy. He had chestnut brown hair, similar to Belle’s, and curly lips that reminded Donner of his father’s. He wasn’t red or squished, which indicated that he wasn’t a newborn. But there was something unusual about him. Donner had an odd feeling in his gut as he leaned over.
“Donner,” Belle said, cupping his hand in hers. The child’s eyes flew open at the sound of her voice. They were black as the grate inside Snow’s fireplace. They were black as his own. “Meet our little miracle. Four months early and with one heck of a story to tell. Meet your son.”
* * *
Donner could have scaled twenty stories without a safety rope. He could have leapt off the Prince Williams Bridge and entered the water with a gold medal splash. He could have lifted a five-ton elephant and lobbed it onto the highest turret atop Braddax Castle. Or at least that’s how he felt as he waltzed his way out Snow White’s front door, through two miles of trees, and down towards the island kingdom’s western ferry dock.
He was in love. He was more in love than he ever had been before and ever imagined he could be again. He was a father. A secret father, sure. But a father. And what’s more, Belle had chosen to tell him. Perhaps it was just obligation. Perhaps she just had to obey that moral advisor perpetually perched on her shoulder. But he didn’t think so. He wanted to believe that something magical had happened tonight. No, not magical. At this point in their lives, “magic” was a dirty word, not a cause for celebration. What happened between them tonight was miraculous. She’d forgiven him, perhaps not with her words, but with her actions. And she’d chosen to keep their family together—at least in practice, even if the public version fractured into two jagged chunks.
It was the clemency he’d been longing for. It was the second chance he needed. It was the apocalyptic kick in the ass that would justify his becoming a better man—because there were still reasons to do so and people who cared whether or not he did.
Now, as he marched down the hill and hid his face inside Griffin’s gray hoodie with the words Love Matters scrawled across the front, Donner saw the black void in front of him liquefy. In a matter of minutes, his future had gone from a cold, dark cell with little to no contact with his family … to a tropical island with a secret, undetectable tunnel to Belle and the son he’d always dreamed of having.
All he had to do now was get back to Braddax Castle undetected, throw some essentials into one of his bottomless trunks, decide which tropical paradise would least likely extradite a U.K.M. royal, and bribe someone to get him there. What could possibly go wrong?
THE MARESTAM MIRROR
Diamond Ropes and Velvet Cake
By Perrin Hildebrand, King of Gossip
JUST one day before Riverfell’s grand celebration and three days after heavy rains turned their ballroom into a swimming pool, Queen Letitia and Prince Logan have finally moved the Royal Coronedding to Selladóre Castle. Personally, I’m more than a little disappointed. Here was an opportunity to throw the first ever all-night downtown Carpale royal rager … but instead we get more stuffy halls, uncomfortable seats, and terrible acoustics. Plus, the three-thousand-plus guests will have to cram their way onto looping neon green ferries in order to get there. Classy.
Online coverage starts bright and early. Logan and Penelopea will take the spotlight first, priming the crowd for what promises to be another glitzy, gaudy, diamond-crusted display from her Royal Divaship, Queen Letitia.
But while my fingers are crossed for excitement, even Your King of Gossip must admit feeling a little bored by the guest list. With Donner Wickenham on the lam, Cinderella and Aaron Charmé still hiding somewhere in Ellada (at this point, I’m convinced Ruby Welles gave them a cloaking spell before they left—it would explain her lack of flare of late), and Snow White staying home with her new bundle of joy (who my sources say is both adorable and in extremely loving, capable hands—take that, Monarch Morality freaks), the only royal couple in the audience will be Dawn and Hunter Tirion. Oh goody. You’ll excuse my lack of enthusiasm.
EARLY this morning, Yours Truly received a series of photographs showing Belle Wickenham and her insultingly handsome groundskeeper sharing a bottle of wine late into the evening yesterday.
Yes, you read that right, wine. And from what I saw, a lot more than a sip. So what’s the deal, people? Has our esteemed Belle toppled off the wagon? Has she found a rebound man and lost all of her senses? Has she decided that her unborn baby’s health is worth less than a few hours of liquid relief? Or … and I’m falling apart as I type this … is it possible the doctors at Marestam General were a little less than truthful when they said the heir to the Braddax throne had survived its father’s rampage unharmed?
Answering these questions will be my top priority over the next forty-eight hours—that and photobombing Queen Letitia without a single wedding guest noticing.
P.S. The photos arrived with no name and no return address (citizen journalists, I both love and detest you), which would give any honorable journalist pause. Yes, there is a chance they were doctored … but do you really wish I’d held them back? I think we both know the answer to that question, and thankfully for you, I run a gossip column. I gave up honorable journalism years ago.
FOR those of you who skipped last night’s State of the Realm Address, here’s a quick recap: Magic is evil. The monarchies may be worse. Opinions are changing and Marestam must change accordingly. Oh, and don’t forget there’s an election just around the corner. Yada yada yada.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SNOW
When Snow agreed to give Belle’s baby a temporary home, she had no intention of becoming the den mother for a pack of rebels seeking to overthrow Marestam’s federal arm. But she certainly didn’t mind. Neither she nor Griffin had ever been one for rules. And in her experience, authority just opened the door for corruption … or abuse … or mental illness with a dash of poisoned-apple filicide.
“So what now?” Rapunzel asked as Snow prepared a tray of veggie sticks and hummus for her guests. “Do we need to find a cauldron and some dead rabbits so you can cast your spell?”
“Yeah, let’s get started,” Belle said, bouncing in her seat next to Hazel, who had no idea “Snow’s adopted baby” upstairs was actually her grandson. “The sooner Donner’s curse breaks, the better.”
“Agreed.” Snow nodded as she placed the snacks in the center of the table, then pulled up an empty chair. Her insides were a wonderful sort of jittery.
“Yes,” Ruby said as she laced her hands together and dropped them onto the table. Her jumble of bracelets clacked against the wood. “Time is certainly of the essence. Unfortunately, it’s not actually that simple.”
“Ugh!” Rapunzel groaned, scraping her chair against the floor. “Of course it’s not! I knew we shouldn’t have gone along with this cockamamie plan. We should have just come out with what we knew from the get-go. Sometimes simpler is just better.” She panned from Grethel to Belle to Snow, seeking backup. “What do we need to find now, Ruby? The hair of a unicorn?”
Ruby narrowed her eyes. “For one thing, finding a spell that would break Donner’s curse was probably harder than finding Grethel. So you’re welcome.” Rapunzel made a face
but backed down. “And secondly, it was that simple initially. All these three had to do was join hands, chant a few spells together, and voila! We’d have an all-human Donner, a drop of blood pinpointing the Charmés’ exact location on a map, and a thirty-second glimpse into the inner workings of Angus Kane’s brain.”
“Thirty seconds? That’s it?”
The old fairy frowned. “That’s all we’d need. And we could have done it anywhere.” Her voice was sharp. “But that was before we found out there could be three-hundred-year-old magic involved.”
“The strongest three-hundred-year-old magic you could imagine,” Elmina added.
“Exactly. So now we need a little more oomph, so to speak. We need to channel as much magical energy as we can possibly get our hands on.”
“More oomph?” Rapunzel’s jaw fell open. “It was hard enough to find this much oomph! How are we gonna find—”
“What about the Hall of Curiosities?” Snow cut in, cracking a stick of celery between her teeth. “That’s where all the charms and magical relics are, right? I mean except the ones Angus took for himself.”
Ruby’s outstretched hand told her that she’d hit the nail directly on the head. “Exactly,” she said, giving Snow a symbolic pat on the back. “And the best time to break into a guarded tourist attraction like that is to do it while everyone’s looking at something else.”
“Okay,” Belle said, drawing out the word and spinning her brand new magical bracelet around her wrist. “And when exactly do you suppose that will be?”
“Tomorrow,” Ruby said, plucking out a carrot stick and breaking it in half. “During the Riverfell coronation.” She paused and shot the mortals a mischievous smirk. Snow felt another zap of excitement fly into her gut. Not that she’d enjoyed being hunted by her deranged mother all those years ago, but in all honesty, life had been a little … tame since then. “Then we can fill a cauldron with dead rabbits and chant.”
Grethel made a chastising face and laid a motherly hand over Rapunzel’s arm. “Or, you know, just chant.”