by Lindsay Mead
“Belle! Mademoiselle!” Someone shook Belle’s shoulders roughly. “You must wake up.”
A horrible sensation swept through Belle’s body. It was somewhere between disorientation and nausea. Pushing herself up, Belle blinked and grabbed her head. The glowing courtyard was gone…Aleksander was gone. Disappointment shattered within her.
“You’re in the library, my dear,” said Ms. Tops, who leaned over her. “You fell asleep here. Laramie has come to fetch you.”
Body aching, Belle stretched. Her mouth was dry. The memory of Aleksander’s closeness, of her desire to kiss him, came back to her and she knew exactly why she was so parched. Belle was filled with a sudden awareness of the Prince now. Her skin buzzed from the strange, new emotions he’d put upon her. He was in her thoughts, his name was on her tongue, his touch on her hand, and it was hard to deny that he might have a hold on her heart as well.
Taking a second to adjust herself, Belle stared at the roaring fire before her. The hearth was so inviting it was no wonder she had fallen asleep while reading. No more than a few hours could have passed, but her dream felt much longer—as though she’d spent a full evening with the Prince.
Not wanting to keep Laramie or Ms. Tops waiting, she stood and quickly pushed the wrinkles out of her dress. Even Ms. Tops helped to fluff and fix Belle’s crushed hair. The library was dark. Aside from the fire, there were no other sources of light. All around her was a vast blackness. Belle found that she didn’t care for libraries at night. It was a bit too spooky for her taste, and it ruined the newfound tingles on her skin.
“Come, Dear,” Ms. Tops encouraged, taking the lead.
She held a candlestick aloft, its wax melting and dripping down the long taper. Belle stayed close, listening to their echoing footstep and seeing the glint of gold from the wall inlays and the finely painted book spines. The library’s center, the circle of statues, was the worst. The subtle illumination along their faces and sharp weapons made the figures appear far more menacing than during the day. Clutching her Greek books to her chest, Belle couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Ms. Tops pushed open the library door when they reached the entrance. Though the hallways were only lit by candelabras every few yards, it was still brighter than the library. Laramie, holding a candlestick of his own, turned at the sound of the door opening. The usual two guards waited at his side.
“Here she is, monsieur,” Ms. Tops said, holding the door as Belle past through. “Don’t reprimand her too harshly, I believe his Royal Highness had her in one of his dreams. You know how hard those are to wake from.”
Laramie nodded to Ms. Tops. “Thank you, madame.”
“But, of course. Good night, Belle.” Giving Belle a wink, she turned back into the library and the door pulled closed on its own.
“So were you in a dream?” Laramie gestured for her to walk alongside him.
“I was, yes. I’m surprised Ms. Tops guessed.” Belle kept pace with Laramie, relieved that he didn’t seem angry with her. The clopping of heavy soldier boots followed behind and, after the unsettlingly dark library, she was grateful for it.
“She has an eerie intelligence.” Laramie looked over at Belle as they rounded the stairs. “I’m sorry she had to wake you. I’ve been awoken abruptly from a moon dream before and I know how unpleasant it can be.”
Putting a hand on her unsettled stomach, she said, “Not quite the same as waking from a normal dream is it?”
“No, not at all.” They fell silent as they traversed the rest of the way until they reached the guest rooms. Then Laramie turned a half-smile toward her. “To forewarn you, Madame Gulbrandsen was worked into quite a tizzy when she summoned me to fetch you. Worried like a mother hen.”
“Oh, dear.” Belle laughed.
One of the apartment doors swung open and someone stumbled into their path. Laramie drew up short and Belle halted only a pace behind him. At first Belle didn’t recognize the person, but then her eyes focused as the candlelight fell on the man. Belle bit back her surprise.
Lord Audun Calland grasped an open wine bottle. He wavered in place as his glossed eyes moved from Laramie to Belle. Even in the dim light, she could see that there was more wrong with him than drunkenness. One eye was swollen, his skin blackened. His lip had been busted and Belle would have guessed there were more injuries she couldn’t see. When her gaze shifted to his disheveled clothes, she found a fair bit of dried blood.
“My Lordship,” Laramie said, bowing.
Audun stared at Belle, seeing and not seeing her. He raised the mouth of the wine bottle to his forehead in a sort of mock salute. Then his gaze shifted wildly around the hall. Lips pursed, he gave them a wide berth and continued without looking back. Laramie signaled for one of the guards to follow the Calland heir.
When Laramie saw the look on Belle’s face, he added, “Best not worry about that.”
Belle sighed and sunk lower into her morning bath, listening to the servant girl read from one of the Greek books. It was the usual stuff, a story of a hero who came in search of changing fate. Every chance Belle had she was reading the new material. She even requested that a servant read aloud while Belle bathed. There was no time to be wasted.
The door burst open with a clatter. Belle reflexively covered herself and the servant girl jumped in surprise. When she recovered, clutched her chest, the girl mumbled in Vakrein about losing her place. The intruder was Edvina, who came and went as she pleased and didn’t notice the shock she’d created.
“Oh dear! Oh dear!” she worried audibly as she shuffled through the tray of bathing amenities. “So much to do!”
“Edvina, what is it?” Belle asked, watching the woman frown.
“Well, he’s given us no time!” The woman picked up a bottle, read it, and then chose another. She glanced at Belle quickly with wide eyes. “It is exciting though, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Both Belle and servant girl said in unison.
“The ball, of course!” She opened up one of the bottles, sniffed it, and poured the oil into Belle’s bathwater. Realizing that they were staring at her, she added, “Don’t tell me you don’t know? The Crowned Prince is throwing a ball. Tonight!”
The servant girl jumped up, letting the poor book tumble to the floor. She squealed something incomprehensible with her Vakrein accent. Edvina turned and hopped with the girl, including her own excited giggles.
Then she paused and said to Belle, “In your honor!”
“Me?” Belle sat up, pulling her legs into her chest. The bath was starting to get cold. It was still so strange to Belle that she couldn’t just flip a lever to add more hot water. “But why?”
“Don’t be daft, Child.” Edvina waved her off. To the servant girl, she said. “Come, there’s a lot of preparation to be done.”
With no other word to Belle, they left. The room went silent; no sound other than the wind outside, the sloshing of the bathwater, and the crackling fire. It was odd to be alone, since that hardly happened in this castle. Normally there was even someone there to wrap her in a towel as she climbed from the tub.
Belle stood, shivering as the water ran off her body. She stepped out of the tub and grabbed the towel laid nearby. Quickly, she started to dry herself. Leaning down to dry her legs, Belle noticed that she’d gotten water on the book. She swore and snatched it up, dabbing at the pages. Ms. Tops was going to chastise her for sure.
Her eyes glanced over the pages she dried, realizing that she hadn’t read them before. Her hands stilled, noticing one emphasized section.
The Laws of Fatum as spoken by the Oracle of Delphi:
Once the path is set, a Fate cannot leave it.
A Fate wields a universal power unto her path and unto all else, she wields none.
Only by her own power can a Fate be destroyed.
“Oh my God.” The words came out as a whisper. She clutched the pages with barely contained excitement. Something new! Something that could lead to lifting the curse.
Belle rushed to the door with book in hand. She stopped short of the handle, realizing that she had to dress. But there were more obstacles than just proper clothing standing in her way. Aside from the library, the guards would permit her to go nowhere else. She had to get the book to the Prince, but until Edvina returned there was nothing Belle could do. Not even a moon dream would work, since it was daytime and the act required them both to be asleep.
Instead, Belle dried and threw on one of the many silk nightgowns kept in her wardrobe. Sitting by the fire, she reread the page several times and the surrounding chapters. By the time Edvina reappeared, Belle had taken to pacing as she attempted to fully comprehend the Laws of Fatum.
“My goodness, Child,” Edvina said as she came through the door and took one look at Belle’s fretting. “You’ll worry yourself into your death bed. What is it?”
“Edvina!” Belle marked the page and rushed over to the woman. “This needs to be taken to the Crowned Prince. He must read the page that I’ve marked.”
Edvina took it from her, glancing over the book. “Oh, did you find something?”
“It could possibly be…the hope that Aleksander was looking for.”
“Aleksander, is it?” Edvina looked at her with a sly smirk.
Belle frowned. “Really, Edvina. Now is not the time.”
Edvina chuckled, her whole body shaking. “All right, Dear, I’ll make sure it gets to him right away.”
The woman disappeared outside the door, leaving Belle ringing her hands. After several minutes, Edvina came back. This time without the book.
“Don’t fuss, he’ll be reading it soon,” Edvina said. “Now, we have to talk about your hair.”
Belle looked at her strangely, her hand going to the nighttime braid. “My hair?”
“Oh yes. What you wear to the ball is out of our hands, but your hair will keep us plenty busy.” She started ushering Belle over to the vanity. “That stylist had better get here soon.”
And he did, along with a small team. They combed and oiled each lock, layer by layer, prepping it for the complicated design he had planned. Hours drew by with Belle seated patiently. Only once, at Edvina’s insistence, had she been allowed to stand and stretch her limbs.
Edvina was busier than the stylist, overseeing the entire affair. Servants came and went frequently, each with some new problem that needed to be solved. As the Majordome for the guests, it was Edvina’s job to make sure they all had everything they needed for the event. A few times she was even pulled away to see to a problem in person. The stylist was just finishing up when Edvina returned from her last excursion.
“It’s lovely, Dear,” she said as one of the assistants handed Belle a mirror.
Holding the small mirror up, Belle turned her head from side to side. Her curls were piled high onto the crown of her head. Each ringlet was tightly set in place. Only a handful of hair hung without restraint. It laid down her back’s center like a waterfall of curls. The expensive oils had done their jobs, giving Belle’s hair a brilliant, controlled sheen. Belle found that she could hardly stop staring. Her Governess machine back home had given her many lovely and complex hairdos, but this was something that only talented, human hands could do.
The bedroom door burst open and a whole troupe of people traipsed through. It startled Belle, causing her to almost drop the mirror. The assistant took it back with a smile.
“I have done it.” The head seamstress parted the crowd with her proclamation. She wore a simple but ornate black and white dress. Glasses hung on a chain at her chest, measuring tape on a loop at her hip, and a marking pen and several pins were stuffed in her bun. “I’d been designing it for days now, per his specifications. Then just like that he wants it done all in a day. Never mind that every lord and lady in this castle suddenly wants work done.”
“Is it the dress?” Edvina clutched her chest with overwhelming excitement.
“Of course.” She gave Edvina a very dry look. “His Royal Highness commissioned this dress nearly a week ago, for Mademoiselle LeClair. And despite the little time he gave me to do it, I have created a masterpiece.”
Belle looked over the crowd, trying to find any sign of a dress, but there were too many people. They had piled in, filling up half the room. Judging by their attire, many worked for the head seamstress and others were servants that had clearly come along just for the reveal.
“Enough.” The seamstress waved an arrogant hand at the twittering servants. “Let them see it then.”
The crowd started to shift, all vying for a glimpse and making room. Through the doorway and up the center of the crowd came two younger seamstresses. They gently carried a mannequin. Upon it hung the dress. They set it down and stepped back.
Belle was speechless. She pushed off from her chair to come closer to the gown. Her hand tentatively reached out to touch it but stopped short for fear of hurting it somehow. Edvina and the dozen other people in the room all gasped and commented on the dress’s beauty, but Belle heard none of it.
“Green. He chose it for your eyes,” The seamstress said quietly, leaning toward Belle. “The skirts are solid silk so that the green can shine from the light. As you see here in the bodice.” She softly grazed a hand over the piece. “The gold embroidered reliefs are the only other color I allowed.” Moving closer to the dress, the seamstress spoke louder, walking them all through the design. “The chest line is low, but not so low as to be scandalous. The sleeves are not connected to the dress.” She stepped behind the ensemble and untied it. “This part wraps your bicep.” It was green with the same gold embroidery to match the bodice. From the wrap hung similarly-colored sheer fabric, long enough to reach past her hands. “This part hangs loose and will look lovely twirling around you on the dance floor, much like your skirts.”
“It’s beautiful,” was all Belle could manage, but her pleasure was clear and the seamstress smirked.
Edvina clapped her hands. “Well, we’re running short on time. There comes a point when fashionably late is simply late.”
Very quickly, the room cleared of everyone, but the head seamstress, the stylist, Edvina, and two assistants. Belle was little more than an object at that point. She was to stand still as they dressed her behind the dressing screen. Eventually, with the corset tight and the detachable sleeves wrapping her arms, Belle stepped out into the open. The stylist rushed over, quickly correcting any loose strand of hair and affixing it over the dress and down her back.
There was a knock at the door. Edvina called for them to enter. In walked a young woman who’s simple clothing and hair told Belle that it was another servant, but her clothing was unique to indicate that she had a specific job in the castle that wasn’t of the norm. In her hands, she grasped a large, thin box.
“His Royal Highness sends a gift,” she said waiting for everyone to fall quiet and look her way. She opened the box and each person gasped. “A selection of the crown jewels to be worn for tonight’s event. They were last worn by Queen Catherine. God rest her soul.”
“Oh.” Edvina clutched her chest, tears starting to form in her eyes. “His mother’s.”
Belle stepped closer in wonderment of the jewels. One necklace, a bracelet, earrings, and a broach; a matching set. The jewels were green emeralds surrounded by diamonds and gold. The necklace’s focal point was three large emeralds grouped together by ribbons of diamonds and four hanging sets of jewels. It reminded her of an upside down crown. The broach was a similar design, except with one teardrop green emerald hanging from it. The earrings were the same tear-shaped emeralds hung by more diamonds.
The keeper of the crown jewels handed the box to Edvina and with gloved hands she removed the necklace. Belle found herself growing straighter as the fine jewelry was placed upon her skin. It was surprising how heavy it was. The same was done with the earrings and bracelet. Only the broach was handed to the stylist, who clipped it into Belle’s curls at the crown of her head.
After finishing touches
and some last minute primping, they guided her over to the mirror. Belle stared at herself in awe. The bodice of her dress gripped low onto her torso, giving her a slim frame. The low cut corset hugged her chest, both emphasizing it and displaying it without being distasteful. The deep green skirt swept out around her, giving Belle a delicate look that she was not used to. The design of her styled hair was regal, but still very womanly. All of this combined with the sheer, sweeping sleeves, and the set of emerald crown jewels turned Belle into someone of elegance and grace.
She found it was difficult to breath and swallowed hard to keep from crying.
“Tonight.” Edvina touched Belle’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You—are—royalty.”
Warmth shown in Laramie’s eyes when he came to escort Belle. He complimented her beauty, saying that the Prince had done well in his choices for her attire. Being reminded that Aleksander was behind all of this sent her heart into a tizzy of flutters and her mouth into a grin that she couldn’t force away.
All the while they walked, Laramie instructed her on what to expect from the night and slipped in a few tips. Belle could hear the crowd of guests on the floor below as they neared the final staircase. Only then did Belle begin to grasp the large number of people in the castle who weren’t servants. Over the past weeks, she’d only seen a few in passing and met even fewer.
They came to the top of the stairs. Men, women, young, and old, all mulled on the floor below, waiting for the call to dinner. Like Belle, they were dressed in their finest clothes and jewelry. The atmosphere was charged, the very air vibrated with their excitement.