Beauty Beheld: A Retelling of Hansel and Gretel (The Becoming Beauty Trilogy Book 3)

by Brittany Fichter

  Isa focused all of her energy on the truth that she had just spoken. As she continued to hold Agnes’s wrist, the woman’s pulling and thrashing stopped, and she fell to her knees in the mud. “Forgive me,” she sobbed. “My husband passed last year.” She looked up at Isa through red, glassy eyes. “She’s all I got left!”

  Isa’s anger dissipated at the woman’s pleas. “We will pray for guidance and continue to search for answers,” she said letting go of the woman’s wrist. “Perhaps the Maker has another way in mind.” After helping the woman stand, Isa mounted her horse once again, and they set off to the Fortress. As they went, though, Isa could still feel the tension they were leaving behind. Agnes’s change of heart wasn’t reflected in all of those who had witnessed Ever’s failure. Or even many of them. Most of the crowd still consisted of confused, angry parents, grandparents, and friends. Isa got the feeling she would be using her gift more than ever before in the coming days, and she prayed she would be up to facing the task.

  As soon as they were at the foot of the mountain, Ever turned to one of his men. “Hamon, show me the gash you received two days ago in training.”

  The red-haired man looked startled but did as Ever said, removing his glove to reveal a puckered scar above his fourth knuckle. Ever placed his hand above it. As the fire burned brightly for a brief moment, Isa wondered whether or not it would work. To her relief, when Ever pulled his hand away, all signs of the man’s scar had disappeared.

  “Thank you, Sire,” Hamon said, bowing his head.

  Ever looked up at his men. “I want the rest of you to return to the Fortress. Hamon, report to Garin what happened here today. I need to speak with my wife alone.” He dismounted, then held his hands up for Isa to do the same.

  Isa’s stomach did a flip as she climbed down to face him, and she suddenly felt like a little girl, when her father would call her to his chair to admonish her for some wrong she had committed. Rather than rebuking, however, Ever only took her hand in his and began to run his finger over her knuckles, a nameless expression upon his face. Isa tried to read his heart, but it was too muddled.

  “I am not angry,” he finally said in a soft voice. “I only wish you had come to me sooner.” He met her gaze, the fiery rings capturing her in their depths. “You of all people should know by now that we must do this together. You’ve never wanted me to leave you behind.” He arched an eyebrow, inviting her to challenge him. But of course, she couldn’t. “Now I have this request of my own. You cannot try to shoulder your burdens alone.” He clasped her hand tightly in his own, and Isa reveled in its warmth and strength. “Are we agreed?”

  Isa nodded, despite the tears that were running freely down her face. Ever gave her a sad smile and reached up to wipe them away. Was it possible for her to love him any more than she did now?

  “Now, though I am afraid of the outcome, let me see what I can do for you.” Gently, he laid his right hand over her belly while he held her arm with his left. “I will be using a much stronger fire than usual,” he warned her. “This may hurt a bit.” And with that, he pressed in.

  At first, it was just a flicker of warmth, the way it felt when one sat too close to the hearth on a cold day. But the longer he pressed, the hotter the flames became, and it took everything in Isa not to leap away. Please let this work! she begged the Fortress, gritting her teeth and mashing her eyes closed as hard as they would go. She could vaguely feel Ever stroking her hair as he continued to work, but it was of little comfort. The pain was too severe. If it could heal her though, she could survive anything.

  Finally, however, the fire was simply too hot, and Isa let out a cry of pain. Immediately, Ever stopped and grabbed her arms so she wouldn’t fall. Isa hobbled over to a large, flat rock, and laid herself down. Ever sat beside her, drawing her close until she was recovered enough to breathe and take stock of herself.

  “Well?” Ever asked, hope rising up within him even though Isa could feel him trying to quell it.

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s still there.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Boy's Touch

  “Where is Miss Isa?” Henri asked the servant tending to the garden.

  “The queen,” the servant woman gently corrected him, “is with King Everard in the Tower of Annals.”

  Henri sighed. Exactly where they had been for the past three weeks. Did the king and queen ever do anything besides sit up in that tower?

  If it had been up to him, he and Genny would have been spending the day differently as well, in kitchens, rather than outside of them. But Genny had insisted on coming outside to chase butterflies. One of these days, he swore to himself, he was going to stop letting his little sister always have her way. Butterflies were fine, but Cook’s bread was delicious.

  It wasn’t Genny’s fault that he was in a bad mood, Henri reminded himself as he munched on the tomato he’d snatched when the servant wasn’t looking. It was King Ever’s fault. Or perhaps, it truly was his. He wasn’t sure anymore.

  During their second week at the Fortress, long after the other children had been returned to their parents, the king had taken to reading books at the table while they ate. Henri could tell that Miss Isa didn’t approve of the king’s habit much, judging by the little frowns she would send him and his books every few minutes. But she said little about it, often spending her time talking with the children instead. And Henri didn’t at all mind missing out on the king’s company. The king frightened him.

  Though Henri had seen taller men, King Ever had arms and legs thicker than both of his legs put together. His voice boomed, and his ability to fight would have put Henri’s brawny father to shame. The king was generally in a rather short mood, and though he would make attempts to talk to the children now and then about little details such as the weather, Henri simply preferred to stay out of his way completely.

  The night before, however, which had marked three weeks since he and Genny come to the Fortress, Henri had made a grave mistake. As they had sat down to supper, something that seemed a nightly tradition at the Fortress, Cook had brought out a new frothy drink, one with foam and bubbles that nearly spilled over the sides of the cups.

  “Madame Gigi told me you two might enjoy a new kind of treat,” he had said, a twinkle in his thin brown eyes. Henri had immediately taken a sip, and to his delight, had found it the sweetest thing he had ever consumed. Genny, on the other hand, seemed to have plans other than actually drinking her treat. As soon as Miss Isa stepped away from the table, the little girl had giggled, then blown a few pieces of foam onto her brother’s plate. Without thinking, Henri had returned the favor with his own foam. Unfortunately, he blew much harder than he’d meant to, and to his horror, a large bit of the foam flopped down right on the ancient text the king was reading.

  Henri’s face had flushed with embarrassment as King Ever fixed his steely blue eyes upon him, and the look the king had given Henri had made him want to run upstairs and hide in his new room forever.

  “This text is over four hundred years old.” The king’s voice had reverberated in Henri’s chest in its low, menacing tone. “I do not think blowing our drinks across the table is appropriate supper behavior.”

  Henri’s horror had only grown when Genny had piped up without hesitation, “But Miss Isa says readin’ at the table is not a-pper-o-piate supper behavior, either!”

  The king had stared at them for so long that Henri thought he might toss them outside right then and there. Finally, however, he only slammed the book shut and stomped out of the room, probably, Henri had guessed, to head back up the tall tower, taking his supper with him.

  Now, as he watched his sister chase the butterflies, Henri wondered again what he would do if the king and queen threw them out. He couldn’t deny that he had quickly grown accustomed to warm beds and full stomachs. It was nice to see Genny happy, and no one, not even the king, had raised a hand against either of them since they’d arrived. Though he was far from trusting that the situati
on could last, for it seemed quite too good to be true, Henri wished to the Maker desperately that it might. Being rejected by parents who had never truly loved them had been bad enough. He didn’t know if he could stand being rejected by someone as kind as the queen.

  Henri had never known a woman like Miss Isa. He remembered little of his own mother, and whenever Helaine had turned to address him directly, it was usually to bark out an order or to make sure he remembered his place, often with the backside of her hand. Miss Isa, though he would never admit that he liked it, was full of hugs and kisses. She reprimanded them enough, but her words were never cruel. And she made Genny happy.

  Henri stood and walked out to where his sister had collapsed on the ground, breathing hard after nearly an hour of running in circles and jumping up and down. Plopping down on the grass beside her, he asked, “Do you think Miss Isa looks more tired today?”

  “No,” Genny shook her head as she kept her eyes trained on the robin egg blue sky above them. “Miss Isa always looks beautiful.”

  “I don’t mean that she doesn’t look beautiful,” Henri scoffed. “I mean I think she looks tired. Her eyes are dark, and I think she seems... sad.”

  “No,” Genny chirped again, still unperturbed.

  “I don’t know why I even bother asking you.” He stood and brushed himself off before heading for the kitchens. Sometimes he wished Genny were just a few years older. Having a conversation with a four-year-old could be nearly impossible. If she was so determined not to talk sensibly, then she could lay there by herself. He was going to get some of Cook’s sweet bread.

  Just before he had made it back to the vegetable plot, the door was blocked by Gigi, the older servant who fussed over the king as though he were Genny’s age and not thirty-one, as Miss Isa said he was.

  “There you are!” She smiled at him, though he thought it looked strained. “The queen is sorry she cannot have the midday meal with you today. She’s very busy. But Master Garin has informed me that he would like to speak with you over the meal instead. He’s sent for a picnic so you can all eat out on the Fortress’s front lawns.”

  She said something else, but Henri didn’t hear. All he could think about as he looked at the size of the basket Gigi carried was the loaf of bread his parents had given him before leaving them in the forest.

  The king was sending them away. If it had been the queen who had issued such an order, he might have thought otherwise. But the horrible memory of the foam-stained page from the night before was suddenly all he could think about.

  They were being rejected again.

  “I don’t think so,” Henri said in a small voice, shaking his head vehemently as he fell back a step. “I think I will just wait for Miss Isa.”

  “Nonsense.” Gigi tsked as she reached for his hand.

  Henri panicked, and before he knew what he was doing, a thin blue flame had not only engulfed his hand but hers as well. With a cry, Gigi fell back, clutching her hand to her chest. Henri couldn’t move. He stood, frozen in place, as he watched her cradle the hand, already red and swollen.

  Like a rabid wolf, the king was suddenly there, although Henri had not the slightest idea as to where he had come from or how he had known what had happened, as there were no other servants about. The king gently took the older woman’s hand and rubbed his own hand over it. He was asking her something, but Henri couldn’t hear it for the sudden roar in his ears. Then the king grabbed Henri’s arm so tight that it felt like it might break. Without pause, he dragged Henri all the way up to the children’s room, where the king practically flung him onto the bed and slammed the door behind him.

  Trembling, Henri hugged his knees to his chest as he rocked himself back and forth on his bed. He had never hurt anyone before with his trick. He’d only used it to provide light at night or for Genny’s amusement. In fact, he hadn’t even known that his fire could burn someone. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt the old woman. His flame had been instinctive, as though it had a will of its own. Shame and fear took turns riding the tide of dread within him.

  At best, he and Genny would merely be cast out of the Fortress. At worst... Henri shivered. He didn’t even want to think about the worst that King Ever could to do him.

  Miss Isa had spoken before about the power of the Fortress, how it heard her thoughts and created her the power within her. She had also said that the Fortress knew one’s heart, even when others couldn’t see it. Well, he thought feverishly, if that’s true, Fortress. I need you now!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Story About a Boy

  Isa let herself fall into bed, allowing her weary limbs to relax one at a time in its feathery depths. How many times had she tried hide away in her room like this just to be thwarted by another knock at the door? It seemed there was always a needy servant or a desperate parent begging her to return to Soudain to see to a child whose condition hadn’t changed in weeks. Not that she wished to shirk her duties, but rather, Isa simply longed to have an hour to herself to pause and breathe.

  Just one hour.

  As if on cue, Isa could hear her husband’s heavy, quick footsteps fast approaching their door. She sighed up at the red canopy above their bed, counting down the seconds until he burst through the door with some new emergency, no doubt, that simply could not be remedied without her.

  Sure enough, the door banged open. “Come here.” His voice had an edge to it that Isa hadn’t heard in a long time.

  She sat up. “What is it?”

  Ever’s face was an alarming shade of red, and the anger within him was nearly palpable. “I need you to see what he’s done.”

  “Who?”

  “That boy of yours. Come with me.”

  Scrambling out of the bed, Isa was immediately alert, all memory of exhaustion gone as her heart pounded away. She considered asking him what he’d meant by her boy, but decided against it. She had learned long ago that nothing good came of arguing with her husband when he was in a mood like this. Better to let him calm down and then discuss whatever had roused his ire. But she wondered how long that would take this time, for she had not seen him in this kind of temper for a long, long while.

  While Ever hadn’t exactly been taken with the children as Isa had been, he had tolerated their antics rather well, even venturing cautiously to speak with them now and then. To his credit, he’d tried, considering he’d never spent much time around children even when he was a child himself. But the way he walked now frightened Isa, and she hurried even faster as they headed downstairs and rounded the corner to the first sick room.

  “Gigi, what happened?” Isa ran to the older woman’s side and gently lifted the hand that the healer had just cleaned. Bright red puffs of skin covered her hand, wrapping around it the way another hand might. Though Isa was no healer, she knew a bad burn when she saw one.

  “Your boy did that,” Ever fumed.

  “Please, Ever,” Gigi stuttered, seeming close to tears. “It was an accident. I only frightened him, that was all!” From the way her voice trembled, though, and the paleness of her round face, it was obvious that Gigi had been shaken by the incident.

  “I wanted you to see this before I healed it,” Ever said, still fuming, “so you would know exactly what he is capable of!”

  Isa didn’t answer him. Instead, she gently lifted Gigi’s burned hand and placed it in Ever’s, before gently squeezing Gigi’s shoulder. She focused on what Gigi had told her, that the boy had meant no harm. As that truth flowed from Isa’s hands into Gigi, Isa could feel the older woman relax. Her white curls ceased to shake, and color returned to her cheeks. Hopefully Ever could do his part now. Isa held her breath.

  Just then, Isa noticed Garin standing in the corner of the room, a tight, intense look on his face.

  “Where are the children now?” Isa asked as Ever set to healing.

  “Locked in their room,” Ever said. “Where I told them they would stay unless they wished for the direst of consequences to befall them.”

>   Isa closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. It was very possible that Ever had just done more damage than good, but she would need to talk him into a calmer mood before she took any drastic measures. As she opened her eyes, Ever let go of Gigi’s hand. Isa sighed with relief as Gigi moved her fingers. It seemed that at least for this ailment, Ever’s powers were still effective.

  Ever gave Garin a meaningful look. Garin nodded, and the two of them stepped out into the hall. As their footsteps faded, Gigi looked up into Isa’s face, her eyes imploring.

  “Please, Isa!” she said, her voice hitching again. “Don’t let him be too hard on the boy! I should have known better, given their... circumstances. I know the boy didn’t mean anything about it. You should have seen the look on his face when he realized what he’d done!”

  “I promise,” Isa said, leaning over to place a kiss on Gigi’s soft cheek. “We will get this all sorted out.” As she spoke, an idea came to her, an answer to the prayer she had uttered only a moment before. She knew exactly what she needed to say. But first, she had to catch Ever.

  Isa broke into a sprint, but as she ran, she wondered with annoyance at how quickly the exercise was tiring her. When was the last time she’d gotten more than four hours of sleep uninterrupted? Her tired mind couldn’t recall. What she wouldn’t give for a nap right now. Thankfully, she didn’t have to run far before overtaking Ever and Garin, for they had been stopped by one of Ever’s soldiers. Isa stopped but waited just close enough that she could hear what the man was saying.

  “... Healing people in the southern woods. The parents who have brought their children to her claim they’ve shown no symptoms since.”

  “How many people know about this?” Ever asked.

  “Enough. Bartholomew says there is a line every time she appears, and she never finishes them all. Mostly the woods people are those who have been going to her thus far, but news is spreading fast.”