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

by Kaycee Browning

  She cringed, remembering the indignity and helplessness she had felt as hard lips rammed against her own, bruising them. Paralyzed yet fully aware of the smell of sour breath and stale sweat, she had wished for the first time that she might actually be as dead to the world around her as she appeared. But it was her curse to experience every dragging, eternal moment of the century as it passed, eternal moment of a passing century, and every discomfort of a kiss so desperately unwanted.

  When his first kiss did not awaken her, the man had tried again, sure that success must only require a different technique; but still the enchantment remained upon her. Apparently he then remembered the requirements of the spell, for he’d said, “O beautiful princess, I do truly love you with my whole heart and soul,” then kissed her again. She was as helpless against that as she was against the ringing slap he had dealt her cheek when she didn’t wake up.

  Lona had burst into the room then in a fury of words and magic. She’d turned him into a fish and released him into the murky water of the fens. There, Arabella knew, he would spend the rest of his life hiding from the herons and snakes that stalked the shallow waters in search of easy prey. In her opinion, it was the perfect fate for such a man.

  “Where is he now, Your Highness?” Lona asked from behind her.

  Arabella turned to her. Lona had changed little in all this time. She was as dainty and spry as most fairies were (or as they started out, anyway), and though she was half out of her mind from her hermitic existence, her eyes still sparkled with an intelligence and pragmatism that had helped spare Arabella’s own sanity.

  “In the keep at the edge of the forest,” Arabella said.

  “Do you think he is a nobleman?”

  “He is highborn, though he is no stranger to work or to battle, I believe. As to whether he is noble . . . we shall see.”

  The next morning dawned bright, though the storm of the evening before had left its mark in the form of damp boots and clothing. After a loaf of rye bread, salted cheese, and a jug of ale to break their fast, Edmond and Martin readied their horses for the day’s ride. Though the stable boys had done a fine job of brushing mud from the horses’ legs and seeing them fed and warm, the two men preferred to saddle up for themselves.

  A short while later they led their horses across the quagmire of mud and straw in the courtyard. The inhabitants of the keep barely looked their way, bustling about on their own business. Only the chamberlain wished them a good journey as they mounted on the open drawbridge and rode away.

  They followed the road that led through a village behind the keep and into the thick forest of trees bordering it on three sides. Edmond trailed warily behind Martin. His whole life had been spent on the sparse crags and slopes of his home, exposed to wind and sun but open to the freedom of the sky.

  Sparrows and finches flew and twittered around them, disturbed by their presence, while squirrels ran across their path and scolded them from the safety of high branches. Pale morning sun filtered through the branches of soaring trees, sending shafts of light between their columns. Edmond cast his awed gaze at Martin and caught a hint of pleasure upon the older man’s face as he took in the beauty around them with eager eyes.

  “It’s a wondrous place,” Edmond said in hushed tones.

  “Yes,” Martin said. “But like all beautiful things, it is dangerous as well. Stay on your guard.”

  “How far is it to White Thorn Castle?”

  “Only half a day’s ride. The keep guards the border. White Thorn Castle guards the fens.”

  “A grand castle to guard a marsh?”

  “The fenlands are rich with mystic power, and their springs are the lifeblood of our fertile lands.”

  “Tales describe the fens as a charming place, with quicksands and bogs and . . .”

  “Blood-sucking devilfish,” Martin added.

  “I cannot express how delighted I am that the sleeping princess lies in Briar Fen Castle.”

  “So you should be. Few people have dared go nigh the place, thus the princess remains undisturbed—almost as if she has been waiting for you.”

  Edmond narrowed his eyes at Martin’s teasing. “Perhaps the castle is closely guarded to hide the fact that the princess does not exist.”

  Martin shrugged and shook his head.

  They arrived at White Thorn Castle when the sun was high overhead. The castle itself burst upon their view suddenly because of the closeness of the surrounding forest. Its turrets soared among the trees’ uppermost branches, and their thick trunks appeared to support its walls. But while the trees were a rich tapestry of greens and browns, the stones of the castle were a brilliant alabaster white. Vines, ivy, and sprays of ancient roses climbed the walls and framed the shuttered windows.

  The road became smoother here as it crossed over a stone bridge spanning a quiet river and ended at the drawbridge of the castle. The great gates were open to those on the road, but entry was delayed as the guards carefully examined each cart and wagon lined up to get inside.

  “Let us ride ahead. They will not expect us to wait with the merchants,” Martin said.

  Edmond nodded and followed Martin in a weaving path around the wagons and carts. At the gate, a guard held up a hand to stop them. “State your name and business here.”

  Edmond did not wait for Martin to announce him this time. He gave his name and said, “I desire speech with the Lady Regent.”

  “I will inquire, Your Highness.”

  The guard waved to another to take his place before he set off through the bustling market of the courtyard and into the great hall of the castle. He was gone long enough that dozens of carts had moved in ahead of them, but at last he returned and motioned to a couple of stable boys. When he had approached near enough to be heard over the surrounding din, he said, “The Lady is pleased to see you. If you will come with me?”

  Edmond and Martin dismounted, turned over their horses to the waiting stable boys, and followed the guard into the great hall.

  There were few windows, so the hall was dim and cool. Edmond could just make out that the carved woodwork on the pillars and ceiling was designed to look like tree branches sweeping out in all directions and generously laden with wooden leaves, fruits, and flowers. Heavy tapestries depicting dancing fairies with blossoms in their hair hung on every wall. Elegant courtiers stood in clusters around the room, and all turned toward Edmond and Martin as they walked behind the guard, who led them down the hall to the raised dais at the end.

  A diaphanous pillar of light fell through a wide, glassed window in the ceiling, highlighting a mosaic depicting the stages of the moon, which was inlaid in the stone floor before the dais. Just beyond the light, Edmond saw the hem of a white gown and the tips of dainty gold slippers, but the rest of the figure was lost in shadow.

  Edmond knelt there on the mosaic before the throne with one hand on his sword, knowing full well that the lighting set him at a disadvantage. The Lady Regent was free to study him at her pleasure while he was kept in ignorance of her.

  “Prince Edmond of Stone Haven?” a sweet, refined voice said. She spoke with precision, lingering over the syllables of his name and title.

  “Yes, my lady. At your service.”

  “I have long waited for your father to send one of his sons.”

  “Indeed, my lady?”

  “Certainly. Ever since I declined to marry your father thirty years ago, I have expected this. He could not have this throne himself, but he intends to see a son upon it. You seek Princess Arabella, of course.”

  As Edmond’s mind struggled with this startling new information, instinct warned him to be cautious with this woman who may be guarding her throne jealously. “But surely the sleeping princess is no more than an old wives’ tale,” he said. “Would we not do better to seek stronger ties with the true power of the land?”

  “Your kingdom is not known to be content with alliances.”

  “I hope we have grown wiser, my lady.” Silence met his rema
rk, but a lifetime in his father’s court had hardened Edmond’s fortitude. His face remained impassive.

  Lady Rhoswen leaned forward until the light revealed her face. Edmond’s breath caught at the youthful vision before him. Her skin was as pale and translucent as the light spilling over her, and every line of her face and form bespoke her noble heritage. Fine auburn brows arched as she caught his scrutiny. Then she whispered, “No. You do not seek an alliance.”

  Edmond kept his eyes steady on hers, giving nothing away.

  She stood abruptly, sending her guards and attendants into low bows. “I desire an audience with you, Prince Edmond.” She turned to walk behind a tapestry being held aside for her, and a guard with one hand on his sword motioned for him to follow her.

  Edmond hesitated, feeling he was safer while still in public view, but it was impossible to deny her request. A soft shuffle of feet at his back alerted him that Martin stood ready to follow, but Edmond held up a hand to signal him to stay. Edmond knew with sharp certainty that Lady Rhoswen intended this to be a private conversation.

  Behind the tapestry lay a cozy chamber where Lady Rhoswen sat in a large, cushioned chair. She was attended by several pretty young ladies with carefully downcast faces. After one of these handed her a silver cup, Lady Rhoswen asked, “Will you take refreshment, Your Highness?”

  “I would relish a drink, my lady.”

  Lady Rhoswen took a sip, eyeing him over the rim of her cup. When she lowered it, the wine had tinted her pale upper lip. He found it difficult to look away from the splash of crimson on her fair countenance as he thought of the youth potion she was said to drink.

  Handing her cup to the girl waiting behind her chair, Lady Rhoswen gestured with slender fingers to Edmond. As the girl brought him the cup, Edmond realized she intended him to drink from it.

  “Do not worry,” she said. “It is only wine. The Elixir of Abeyance is much too valuable to share.”

  After taking a drink, Edmond asked, “What is this elixir you speak of?”

  “It suspends my body in time. So long as I take it, my body does not age or change in any way.”

  “Making you immortal?”

  “No. The ingredients used in it are toxic and slowly poison the body over time—or all at once, if a careless hand prepares it. But having lived more than a century, I cannot think anyone would enjoy immortality for long.”

  Edmond finished the wine, and the girl who had given it to him relieved him of the empty cup. “Leave us,” Lady Rhoswen said to the girls, who curtsied and scurried out.

  When they were alone, she rose with languorous grace. “You are quite the noble specimen,” she said, inspecting him. With slow, floating steps she walked around him. Her finger brushed his shoulder, tracing across his back and down his arm. “So strong.”

  Edmond remained silent, but his nerves jumped. “No more so than any man.”

  “Humble too. Surely good characteristics for a king.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Lady Rhoswen took her chair again and drummed her fingers on its carved wooden arm. “If you desire a crown, there are alternate paths before you.”

  “Are there?”

  Her nod was slow and deliberate. “You interest me, young Edmond. It would be such a waste to throw your life away in a vain pursuit.”

  “And what pursuit is that?”

  “You cannot deceive me. I know you have come to find Arabella. But do you know the dangers ahead of you? The mires and thieves and dragons? You do not even come with a force of soldiers at your back.”

  “I thought you would be opposed to so many armed foreigners traveling across your land. And I have Martin, of course.” One of the lady’s arched brows lifted in question, so he enlightened her. “The guard your father, Lord Galloran, sent to my father in exchange for . . . other goods.”

  “Indeed? I did not recognize him. If you truly have one of my own countrymen with you, you will fare better than most. But you will fail in the end.”

  “Because there is no princess?”

  Lady Rhoswen laughed. “No. Because you cannot love her.”

  Edmond crossed his arms. “I have heard that you love her. How is it impossible that another should do so?”

  With a smile still upon her lips, Lady Rhoswen’s cheeks lifted, and her eyes narrowed as if at some private joke. “Ah, but I have the benefit of knowing her.”

  There were depths to this woman he could not yet fathom, but clearly she intended to dissuade him from his quest. Edmond did not like to be manipulated, so he murmured quietly, “Perhaps all that is needed is for our souls to touch.”

  “You are not such a fool as to believe that. You will discover nothing but a crumbling castle and a poor soul trapped forever in an evil curse. But here, power and riches could be yours for the taking.”

  “How so?”

  “My kingdom needs an heir. I offer you what I have offered only one man before, and that long ago.”

  “What offer is that?”

  “Myself. Marry me and rule this kingdom at my side.”

  Edmond caught his breath at this new danger. She had the advantage here, with armies at her command. Though he was a prince, he was a younger son, disposable to his father. An insult could prove deadly.

  But to accept was unthinkable.

  “Who was the other man?” Edmond said, prompting her to speak and buy him time.

  “My first husband. I married him long ago, and he has since passed from this life. I did not know then that the elixir would make me barren, but so it has. I will not be drinking it much longer, and my body will once again resume its natural functions. I want strong sons and daughters, and you could give them to me.”

  “I am honored at the compliment, my lady, but I pray you will allow me time to consider your generous offer.”

  Lady Rhoswen’s lips tightened. “Very well. You may remain as my guest until you decide.”

  Edmond bowed but said nothing.

  Her whole expression hardened and she waved him away. “Leave me, but return in the morning with your answer.”

  Edmond bowed again, and his footsteps echoed behind him as he left, as did her words. She would be outraged when she found him gone in the morning, but urgency consumed him. Instinct told him her offer was a ploy to keep him from his quest, and why would she make such a bold move unless she feared he might be successful?

  Chapter 4

  THOUGH HE AND MARTIN arose and sought out their horses before dawn, hoping to go unnoticed, they were not alone. Six other horses were being saddled.

  Edmond met Martin’s eyes and motioned him toward one of the stable boys. Understanding his silent command, Martin asked the boy, “What is all the stir about?”

  “A prince is come with his knights. They ride to Briar Fen Castle.”

  “Is that so? I did not see them yesterday.”

  “No, for they came late in the night and ride out now on the Lady Regent’s business.”

  “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? What is the name of this prince?”

  “Nicol of Windemore.”

  Martin produced a small coin and handed it to the boy, who deftly pocketed it before any of his fellows could see.

  Edmond heard all this as he saddled his horse nearby. “What is the Prince of Windemore doing here at the beck and call of Lady Rhoswen? Nothing good, I expect,” he murmured to Martin.

  “True, sir, but this may work to our advantage. I had misgivings about how we would be able to leave, for the guards may have orders to not let us go, but now we may ride out on their heels.”

  Edmond felt his muscles tense, knowing their backs would be exposed to arrows from the battlements. But unless they escaped on foot, this was their only option. “We must not draw attention to ourselves. Keep to the shadows.”

  The eastern sky turned pale, but no sunlight breached the castle’s high walls. Only a few torches dotted the dark courtyard. Edmond and Martin led their horses to a shadowed area of the wall near
the gate. When, with a creak of wood and rattle of chains, the portcullis was slowly raised, they mounted and stood ready.

  Six mounted men clinking with mail and armor passed through the gate in single file, their horses moving at a trot. As the last one passed onto the drawbridge, Edmond and Martin dug their heels into their horses’ sides. Their mounts leapt forward into a mad gallop through the gate and around the horses in front of them, quickly passing them by. The guards, taken by surprise, could do no more than shout “Halt!” after them.

  Glancing back over his shoulder, Edmond saw a mad scramble among the dark figures silhouetted on the battlements and knew that their departure was indeed more of an escape. Behind them, Prince Nicol and his men increased their pace, endeavoring to overtake them, but Martin signaled for Edmond to follow him off the deeply rutted road and into the trees.

  It was nearly impossible to ride horses through the dense foliage and scrub, but Martin found a clear path with the surety of a woodsman. For a short while they heard sounds of the other men struggling to follow, but by sunrise they had left all signs of pursuit far behind. Martin did not return to the road but pressed on into the forest.

  The leaves of oak and beech laced the canopy above, obscuring the weak morning light. Brambles and thickets pressed upon them from all sides, showering them with dew as they passed, but the animals of the forest had made a sure path among them. Martin followed the winding path up and down the slope of the land and around rocky outcroppings. Before long, Edmond had lost all sense of direction.

  “You do know where you are going?” he asked Martin, realizing that he was following his man blindly.

  “Yes. I travelled this way many times in my youth. The main road is quicker, but it turns north half a day’s ride from the castle. Besides, I doubt that any pass that way in safety unless the Lady permits them to, and I do not think she will be content to let us go.”

  “Nor do I.”

  Eventually the trees began to change to elm, and still the land sloped downward until the elms were joined by great drooping willows. The two men forded a small stream, pausing halfway across to let their horses to drink.