Five Enchanted Roses: A Collection of Beauty and the Beast Stories

by Kaycee Browning

  “Do you remember anything more about what happened yesterday?” She tried to keep her voice casual, but her fingers suddenly felt clumsy. Barend did not like talking about anything related to the curse, and Karyna usually respected his feelings. But today she felt unable to keep quiet on the subject any longer.

  Barend shifted his weight away from her. “It felt like that first night.” He turned his huge head to one side, gazing off into some unseen middle-distance. “As though something physical and tangible swarmed out of the Throne Room and struck me. That is all I remember.”

  Karyna drew out the burr, then ran her fingers through the fur to remove the last knots and brushed away more leaves. This task complete, she knelt back down to attend to the flower beds. With her head bowed she gathered courage around her like a cloak. “Like that first night?” she repeated. “Can you remember what happened then?”

  A growl rumbled in Barend’s throat. “I cannot.”

  “Nothing? Do you remember what happened to Bellenya?” Karyna held her breath, hoping he would not stalk away and leave her questions unanswered. She hoped for a hint, a clue, something to give her an idea of why the curse had been cast, or by whom.

  “Bellenya . . .” Barend lifted his head and gazed across the garden. “We left the ball to walk in the gardens. I remember talking, but I do not recall what we said. I remember returning to the Throne Room, standing in the doorway, looking toward Bellenya, and then . . .” His voice trailed off. He glanced at Karyna, who had stopped working, her eyes turned eagerly up to him. “No. I do not remember anything else. Something crashed into me, knocked me over, and the next thing I knew, I was as you see me now.”

  Karyna’s shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her work to hide her disappointed expression. Barend pawed at the ground and let out a whuffling sigh. Karyna wanted to ask more questions, dig at the problem, try to find a solution. But she could tell Barend was done talking. She pressed her teeth together on the tip of her tongue and moved a bit farther down the row. The tension in the air faded.

  “I hear you gave Lady Ahren quite a tongue-lashing yesterday,” Barend remarked after a long silence.

  “I did not!” Karyna protested. “I kept my words quite civil.”

  “You called her a fool.”

  “I implied only.”

  Barend rumbled with laughter. “You would make a splendid queen.”

  “Covered in mud and with leaves in my hair. Is that acceptable attire for queens in snowy Norvue?” Karyna cast him a quick, wry smile.

  “In my homeland, queens can come from anywhere, even the gardens.”

  A strange, serious tone lurked in his voice. But when Karyna glanced up at him, he no longer looked at her but seemed to study one of her rosebushes instead.

  Karyna ducked her head again and dug her fingers into the soil. A shock of cold struck her fingers, and she realized she had neglected to put her gloves back on. Though the soft wet ground was ideal for the work she was doing, it was also chilly due to the melted snow. A chuckle escaped her lips.

  Barend stiffened and put back his ears. “I will leave you to your task,” he said.

  He stalked away before Karyna could reply. She watched him go, confused until she realized that he must have thought she was laughing at him. Had she inadvertently offended him? For the second time in as many days, she wished she could call him back and explain herself.

  Chapter 3

  THE SUN ROSE over Wilshaw just as the old sentry arrived at his post by the north gate. Before he could get settled he noticed a figure emerging from the forest a ways down the road. He peered at it, squinting in an attempt to ascertain what was coming.

  Out of the haze of distance rode a lone traveler. As he came closer, the sentry could tell he was a young man, probably from foreign parts. He rode a majestic sorrel horse and wore a fine cloak of dark green over a black shirt with loose sleeves and silver ties laced up its front. The sentry guessed that this was a nobleman of some prestige.

  The young man reined his horse to a halt at the gate and hailed the sentry, his eyes earnest and kind with a sparkle of humor in their depths. “What town is this?” he asked, his voice lightly accented. The sentry told him, and the young man asked, “How much farther to Thorndale Castle?”

  “Perhaps four days’ journey, if you ride hard,” the old man replied, mystified. “But you don’t want to go there, lad. It’s cursed.”

  The young man nodded seriously. “I know. But I hope to find a way to break the curse.”

  The sentry gave a bark of laughter devoid of amusement. “You think we haven’t tried? We’re on the brink of ruin and war. If we could break the curse, we would.”

  “Are things that bad?” The young man’s eyes darkened in concern then filled with a determination that sparked unexpected hope in the sentry’s heart. “What news can you share?”

  “Rumor is Lord Fredrig finally managed to secure control of the regency,” the sentry replied. “Whether he can make any changes for the better or hold onto the title remains to be seen.”

  The traveler looked thoughtful. “May I have leave to travel through your fine town?”

  “I see no reason to stop you,” the old man replied. “Mind you take care. The people here are wary of strangers and foreigners. I’d recommend you ride straight through and keep going. Perhaps you’ll get a warmer welcome farther down the road in Hawksglen.”

  The traveler nodded his thanks and continued on his way. The old sentry watched him pass and then settled down on his stool with a sigh, knowing that exchange was likely to be his last interesting encounter of the day. He amused himself through the long morning hours by imagining all sorts of adventures to come for the enigmatic young man.

  Her bitterness seethed around her, pulsing with a rhythm like ocean waves rolling up onto the shore and receding. She stormed around the large parlor and stared out the window that looked across the courtyard to the forest beyond. A silent three-tiered fountain adorned with carvings of birds in flight caught her eye. A pang of sorrow lanced through her. Once this place had been filled with laughter. Now it lay dormant. White sheets covered the furniture. The halls lay silent, empty.

  Why did no one come? Could it be that no one cared? Loneliness threatened to overwhelm her. She was like a prisoner in a cold dungeon, forgotten by everyone. Her loneliness was second only to her pain.

  It had been two years, but her heart ached as though the wound were yet open and raw. It consumed her. Only when she poured her magic into the rose could she know any comfort or balm.

  Climbing the steps, she returned to it: a single red rose floating in the air above a square glass vase (so thin and fragile that a glance could shatter it) adorned the center of her dressing table. The rose itself was a perfect specimen. A dark green stem, long and slender—leaves perfectly shaped—petals of the deepest blood-red, so soft they could be used to clothe a newborn babe. Even its thorns were objects of beauty.

  She knelt before the table, her gaze fixed upon the rose.

  Karyna woke, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her heart ached with remembered pain and bitterness as the nightmare faded.

  Six weeks had slipped past since the incident with the Throne Room. The skies were blue, flowers bloomed in abundance, and the air was warm. But nightmares continued to afflict Karyna’s sleep. She remembered nothing more than vague images upon waking, but these left her feeling tired and unsettled.

  She stumbled out of bed and over to the washbasin, where she splashed water on her face and tried to dispel the final remnants of the dream. After clearing her head, she began her daily routine. It was late by the time she made it out to the gardens to tend the rosebushes. She had been keeping careful watch, attentive for any sign of pests or disease. The buds would be opening soon, an event Karyna looked forward to every year.

  The afternoon sun shone warm on her back as she stepped outside. Blossoms adorned the fruit trees, and squirrels chased each other up and down their trunks. Karyna�
�s eyes lit up as she spotted a group of butterflies fluttering around the lantana. The scents of the garden and the warm air filled her with joy.

  The entire garden was Karyna’s delight, but there was one rosebush she cared for with special attention. This glorious rosebush at the end of the path captured the attention of all who visited the Queen’s Garden. Its blooms had been Bellenya’s favorites, the same variety Karyna now painstakingly dried and placed in the princess’s empty chambers. Cuttings of this rose had been brought to Thorndale Castle from Rivenloch Palace as a wedding gift to the king and queen from the king’s mother.

  As Karyna approached the bush she could see that many of the buds had burst open. But something was not right. She squinted at them, worried. The color of the flowers was strange. This bush always bore beautiful red blooms, but these flowers seemed too pale, almost gray.

  A moment passed before she comprehended what she was seeing, and another moment after that before she believed it. Her earlier joy dissolved into foreboding. She turned and fled back to the palace.

  “Setella! Barend! Help!” she shouted, racing through the halls until she found them both.

  Mystified by the urgency in her voice and the panic in her eyes, they followed her outside. When they reached the rose garden, Barend and Setella stared in stunned disbelief. Every rose on the bush had turned to stone.

  “It’s spreading,” Karyna whispered. Her worst fear, sprung to life before her. “The curse is spreading.”

  “What does it mean? Why would this happen now, after two years?” Setella asked.

  “Perhaps the curse is getting stronger.” Barend spoke in a low, angry growl.

  “But why this rosebush? And why now?” Setella persisted.

  Karyna twisted her apron in her hands, her mind spinning over the problem before her. A tendril of excitement and hope wound its way through her initial dismay. This was the first clue since the night the curse fell, and she did not want to miss its significance. A hunch began to play around the corners of her mind, growing in strength as memories of her recent nightmares flooded back to her. She gazed around the garden, her eyes scanning the foliage. Her heartbeat quickened as the hunch grew into certainty.

  “Whoever cast the curse and kidnapped the princess is inside Rivenloch Palace,” she said, her voice quiet but full of conviction.

  Barend and Setella turned to look at her, their expressions uncomprehending. “Why would you think that?” Barend asked.

  “The roses. These specific roses. There must be a connection. Why else would this bush be the only thing affected? It’s all the way over here on the end of the garden farthest from the Throne Room, and none of the plants in between appear to be harmed. And,” she hesitated, knowing her words would sound foolish, then plowed on anyway, “I’ve been having nightmares. They started the day I put one of my dried roses on the nightstand by my bed.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Barend asked.

  “In the dreams I’ve caught glimpses of the person who cast the curse and kidnapped the princess.”

  At this Barend growled, sounding terribly animal. One could easily forget he had ever been a prince. “Who is it?” he demanded.

  Karyna shook her head sadly. Her certainty grew as she spoke, but she knew her words sounded illogical, even insane. “I haven’t seen her exactly, but I’ve . . . I’ve been her. I know it doesn’t make sense, but dreams rarely do. I’m certain she’s an enchantress, a powerful one. More importantly, I know that she is at Rivenloch Palace. I’ve glimpsed enough of her surroundings to recognize it.”

  She expected the others to reject her notion out of hand, but instead they looked contemplative.

  “We always knew some strong magic was involved,” Setella said slowly. “And Rivenloch is isolated and has been closed these seven years.”

  Barend’s growling subsided, and his voice became once more that of a prince, though it rumbled in his beast’s throat. “This could be why nobody has found the princess. Yet even if there was anyone left to send, it seems farfetched. How much stock should we really place in dreams?”

  Karyna felt a desperation to act fill her entire being. Her mind raced ahead to the possibility of the curse’s end. “I’ll go!” she declared.

  Immediately Barend growled again. “Absolutely not.”

  But Karyna could not be so easily thwarted. “Please! We could find Bellenya; we could end the curse!” She raised her eyes to the Throne Room windows, and impatience flooded her thoughts. “You could go home,” she whispered, turning then and catching Barend’s gaze. Even as she spoke, a pang of sadness tinged her excitement. And was that her sadness she saw reflected in the prince’s eye?

  “It’s a two-week journey to Rivenloch,” Barend protested. “Henry has said the roads are treacherous these days.”

  “I’ll be fine. I can make the journey in ten days if I travel alone.”

  “I’m not letting you take a dangerous journey to an abandoned castle on the basis of a couple of dreams and a dead bush.” Barend’s voice deepened with his anxiety. “Besides, even if you get there safely, what are you going to do? You can’t face down an enchantress alone. You’re not a knight, and you have no magic to defend yourself. We’re talking about someone powerful enough to reach out from two hundred miles away and touch this rosebush. I cannot allow it.”

  “You can’t stop me,” Karyna replied. She spoke quietly but with absolute certainty of her own mind. Nothing could stop her, not now. “You may be trapped here, and you may be a prince, but respectfully, Your Highness, I don’t work for you.”

  “Karyna!” Setella said, her eyes wide with shock.

  Barend’s ears went back, and the dark pupils of his eyes widened. “If you’re determined to do this, then I’ll go with you.”

  Karyna barked a short laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous!” She surprised herself with her own audacity. Barend was a prince, after all. But she could not seem to stop the words from pouring out of her mouth. “You know what happens when you leave the palace grounds. How could you hope to be helpful?”

  Barend gave a growl of frustration. “You cannot go alone.”

  “You said it yourself: There’s no one else. Setella, Willem, and Henry are all too old for such a journey.” Her face softened then, her brow gently wrinkling. “Please, Barend. You must let me go.”

  Setella took Karyna’s arm and patted her hand. “It is evening. Even if we do decide someone must travel to Rivenloch, this is not the time for starting a journey. Let us sleep on it and discuss it more tomorrow. Perhaps some of the nobles who sent their daughters would be willing to undertake the quest.”

  Karyna frowned. She had no desire to delay even a single minute. “Very well,” she agreed, but she had no need to sleep on the decision. Her mind was already made up. She returned to the castle with Setella, her thoughts churning over the list of things she would need to pack and prepare for her journey.

  She did not know that Barend watched her until she disappeared back inside.

  In the misty predawn Barend climbed the exterior of the highest tower of the castle. Every muscle and nerve strained with exertion and focus as his powerful body flowed upward, a dark blur against the pale stone, his claws finding purchase in the gaps and chinking between blocks. Once a rear paw slipped on a gargoyle’s head and gouged a chunk out of its ear. He heard the broken masonry bounce and skitter to the ground far below.

  At last he reached the summit of the conical tower roof and crouched there, one forepaw wrapped around the sturdy flagpole at the top. His front paws were large and clawed but still retained a moderate amount of his human dexterity, for which he was grateful.

  The air was dense and wet, as though the sky were trying to make up its mind about whether or not it should rain. Barend did not feel the mild chill in the air. His shaggy coat protected him, and Suvall never approached the sort of cold he had been used to in his homeland.

  He gazed north, his heart yearning for home. A pa
rt of him was glad the curse prevented him from leaving the palace grounds. It meant he did not have to face his parents while wearing this horrible new form and face. When the reality of his situation had been made clear, Barend had sent them messages, hoping they might be able to find a cure. But magic was scarce in Norvue, and without the resources to combat such a curse, there had been little his parents could do.

  At least here he could be isolated from the prying eyes, whispered rumors, and unkind words that were sure to follow him wherever he went. Outside Thorndale Castle, he would never be just Barend. He would be the cursed prince, the Beast, the pitiable creature. Yes, there were worse fates than being a prisoner.

  A flicker of movement on the ground far below, near the stables, caught his eye and he peered through the mist, his senses on alert, his muscles tensed to spring into action if the need arose. His eyesight was keen, and he was able to see clearly what had caught his attention.

  A mounted figure wearing a pale gray cloak and hood had just exited the stables and now galloped down the road toward the gates opening into the main road. Seeing the horse’s mane and tail flash like silver in the early light, Barend bared his teeth in frustration. The horse was Pippa, which meant the rider must be Karyna.

  “Stupid, stubborn girl,” he muttered. Every fiber of his being wanted to race after her and make her turn back, but he knew he could not catch her before she crossed the invisible barrier.

  Catlike, he bounded down to a flat part of a lower roof and crouched there in a crenellation of the wall to catch glimpses of the rider between obtrusive trees. What could he do? Karyna was pertinacious; she would not be deterred once she had made up her mind. He usually admired this trait, but he wished now that she was not quite so headstrong. Fear for her safety consumed him; he felt as though his heart were tearing in two. He cared for her deeply, though he had said nothing to her. He could neither bring himself to add such a burden to her shoulders nor bear to see pity in her eyes. It was better that she not know how he felt.