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

by Brittany Fichter

  “No!” Megane’s face had gone from pink to a near gray. “Oh, please don’t tell Papa! I was only trying to help!”

  “Yes, and you wanted your bit of fun while you were at it, didn’t you?” Isa sighed and drew her sister in for a hug. “Megane, what am I going to do with you? You are to tell no more such falsehoods, understand?”

  Megane nodded miserably into Isa’s chest. “I’m eleven now, Isa. You don’t have to worry so much about me. I’m not a baby.”

  “And you sometimes think you’re fifteen.” She pulled back to study her little sister’s face. “Part of growing up means doing what is responsible, rather than fun.” Suddenly, something caught in Isa’s throat, and it was difficult to speak around it without croaking. “Father and Mother are going to need you now more than ever now. Launce and I can’t be around to take care of them all the time, as much as we would like to.”

  “Isa,” tears began to run down the girl’s face, “you will be coming back, won’t you?” She wiped her face with her sleeve and tried to smile. “You promised you would take me to my first ball! You can’t go breaking it on me now.”

  “I’ll do my best, Megs,” Isa choked out.

  “Wait now,” Megane pulled back and gave a shaky laugh, “You’d better stop crying before your face gets all blotchy and ugly like it does when you cry.”

  Isa was about to smack her sister with her glove, but a flash caught her attention through the attic window that faced north. In one movement, Isa had shoved her sister down on her bed and in a flash, was up against the window. At first, there was nothing, only the rooftops of the city’s northern quarter looking just as they should on an early summer day. But just as her fingers touched the open window, a swish of green fog appeared before her.

  With a shriek, Isa jumped back, then regretted it immediately. She had shown the Fae exactly what it was looking for. Who knew how many more were out there looking for them?

  “Ever!” Isa grabbed Megane by the wrist and turned to drag her downstairs again, but the sound of breaking glass made her pause. A green wisp flew past them, and a man with a vague, flat face and slitted green eyes materialized at the bottom of the attic steps.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Son

  “You’ve been quiet,” Ansel said, shooting Ever a sidelong glance.

  Ever continued brushing the horse. It was disrespectful not to answer his father-in-law, and Garin would have given him a withering look for such behavior. But today, as with the night before, no words came. Ever simply had none left.

  “I built this stable soon after we realized Isa would always struggle with walking,” Ansel spoke again. If he was trying to make Ever feel better, he wasn’t doing a very good job. The last thing Ever wanted to think about was Isa’s accident. But Ansel kept talking anyways. “Before that, we’d only ever needed one horse, so he’d made do with a lean-to that attached to the house. After her accident, though, I knew two horses wouldn’t fit into the tiny space, and since I figured we would always have more than one horse after that, I thought I might as well build a decent stable.”

  Ansel stopped fiddling with the saddle he’d been mending, and gave a distant smile. “You should have seen the look on her face when I brought her to the horse breeder. She immediately fell in love with this hulking midnight-black fellow, a giant of a horse. But when we asked the owner how much, we couldn’t afford him, and I realized very quickly that bringing her along had been a mistake. I’d raised her hopes only to break her heart again.” He sighed. “I cannot tell you how shameful I felt the next day when I brought back the most pathetic, half-starved beast you’d ever seen instead. I’d bought him from an acquaintance for less than a third of what the black steed would have cost.

  “I felt like a failure as I finally presented her with that sad excuse for a horse.” Ansel went back to the saddle he’d been working on. “Isa was not a begging child. There was only one thing in the world she had ever truly asked of me, and it killed me that I couldn’t get it for her.”

  “What happened?” There were few topics in the world that could generally entice Ever from his worries, and stories of Isa’s childhood were one of them.

  Ansel smiled as he placed the saddle on one of the horses. “It is funny how the Maker uses our failures. Isa was disappointed to be sure. But that pathetic creature was in such poor condition that it was only a matter of minutes before Isa was fawning all over the poor beast, brushing out the snarls in its mane, bringing it carrots, and doing everything in her power to restore it to health.” He paused. “I think that’s when she truly began to heal... when she had another creature that needed her. And the Maker knew she would never find that with such a fine horse as the first fellow she saw.

  “You know,” he said, placing a calloused hand on Ever’s work, forcing him to stop. With resignation, Ever turned to look Ansel in the face. The wrinkles around his mouth and eyes had deepened considerably in the last few years, and the hair that had been peppered gray and black when Ever had first met him was now mostly gray. He stood a tad shorter than Ever remembered, and his midsection was a good bit rounder. But the intensity in Ansel’s eyes held Ever to the spot. “I see the fear in your eyes,” Ansel said, “when you look at those children.”

  “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.” Ever snorted. “The first thing everyone mentions is how much I am like my father. And the older I get, the more I see it in myself. Now I’m taking children into my home, and I find I have no home to take them to.” He looked at Ansel, suddenly desperate for the older man to understand, though he really wasn’t sure why. “What if I slip?” He went back to filling the saddle bags. “What if I can’t protect them? How could they even want me after what happened last night?”

  “Are you regretting your decision then?”

  “Of course not. I just pray to the Maker that I don’t fail them as my father failed me.”

  “Oh, you will fail them. There is no question as to that,” Ansel said. Ever gave him a skeptical look, but the older man just shook his head. “Every father fails his children. And he does it again and again. What I have found, if you wish to take my humble experience, is that asking forgiveness and simply speaking with them can strengthen our ties to our children far more than the best gifts ever could.”

  Ever chuckled without humor. “Now you sound like Garin.”

  “Good. At least one of us is—”

  But before he could finish, Ever’s skin prickled, and a scream sounded from the house. Ever dashed to the stable door. It was midday, and the sun nearly blinded him after being in the dark cool of the stable. After a second of squinting, he made out a broken window in the upper attic. Another scream sounded.

  “Megane!” Ansel cried, but Ever was faster, his sword already drawn as he sprinted to the house. Before he could reach the back door, however, the house disappeared, and the friendly noon sun was gone. Sand bit his eyes and tried to burrow into his skin, and the gentle sun became cruel and blisteringly hot. And there was nothing. Nothing for miles and miles except for dunes of loose sand and gales of wind blowing the sand around like walls of biting insects.

  “What is this?” Ansel cried out.

  “Don’t believe what you see,” Ever called back. “The Fae are here.” But even as he spoke these words, another shriek came from the direction that the house had been. It was Genny’s this time. Drawn by the scream, Ever began to push forward again, but just as he should have reached the house, a green whorl stood in his path. Ever stabbed at it, but the blade sliced through the cloud-like creature as though it weren’t there at all. The green mist darted behind him, and Ever realized it was heading for his father-in-law, who was still protesting, demanding to know where he was.

  As the green mist began to whip around Ansel in circles, the older man stumbled and fell, fear filling his eyes as he beheld the ghostly creature. The green mist began to materialize into the shape of a woman, but before she could finish, her legs still invisible, she flippe
d her head, and her strange green eyes widened as she looked at Ever.

  What was she staring down at? Ever looked down to see his own hand to see a ball of blue flame floating just above his palm. Then he remembered the Fae in the children’s bedroom, as well as Garin’s words.

  Fae are sensitive to power of any kind. Even if it is one they can’t use, they can still feel it.

  “Cover your face!” Ever yelled to his father-in-law. “This might hurt.” As he spoke, Ever ran through the risks in his head. It was dangerous to gather too much power in a place as closely contained as the little city neighborhood. In his throne room, he had used the Fortress as his aid, and he knew exactly how well the great room could contain his strength. But here, with houses crowded beside one another and people still in the streets, there was always the chance his power would touch someone unintended.

  Another scream sounded, but Ever couldn’t tell whose it was. “Isa!” he shouted, hoping desperately that she could hear him. “I need to find the stable. I need to see!” He waited, holding just enough power to keep the Fae’s attention. As he did, more Fae began to appear around him.

  It wasn’t fair of him to ask her to break their illusion. She hadn’t been able to do it the day before, and there had been only two Fae in the children’s room. But as the seconds ticked by, Ever knew he couldn’t wait much longer. He began to inch his way to where the stable should have been. Each time he moved, the Fae shimmered, as though trying to wake themselves from the spell he held them captive in, and he was forced to increase the fire just that much more. If he wasn’t careful, the stable or house could go up in flames, and he wouldn’t even be able to see it.

  Just as he was about to give up that she’d heard him or that she was capable of breaking the vision, her familiar power pushed its way through, and the vision the Fae had cast cleared just enough for him to dart into the stable and leap upon one of the horses.

  Much to his relief, the Fae began to chase him. The faster he pushed, the more the vision faded, and Ever could once again make out Soudain’s neat cobblestone streets. One glance back told him that even more had begun following him. Now that he was safely in the middle of the road and he could see, Ever increased the brightness of his fire, hoping it would draw Sacha’s entire search party, however many that was.

  But he hadn’t expected the Fae to be quite so fast. Whether it was their desire to stay near his power, or their rage at his escape, they began to gain on him. Ever pressed the horse harder, adding his strength to aid the beast’s speed, all the while holding his left hand high to keep the Fae’s attention. Once he was out of the city, he could lead them to a private place where he might take advantage of their obsession with his fire and pick them off one at a time. Then Isa and the children could make their escape.

  But that, he realized as he glanced back again, was all contingent on getting the Fae out of the city’s borders. Their green eyes glowed and their teeth gnashed as their horde continued to near Ever’s horse. He would need more than just a flat piece of farmland to fight them in. He would need someplace with obstacles where they couldn’t all descend on him at once. For twice he had clashed with the Fae, and twice, he had nearly been killed in the process. He would need to do more than to simply get out of the town.

  He needed a miracle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Diversion

  Please, Ever begged the Fortress as he left the city, I don’t know what you wish me to do. But for their sakes, show me where to go, even if it leads to my death!

  Just then, Ever remembered an underground cave five miles east of Soudain. The immediacy of the answer to his prayer was both relieving and a discomfort at the same time. Would this fight lead to his death?

  Ever turned off of the main road into a vineyard. He could barely see the raised lip of the cave over the edge of the vines. Just a little longer, he thought. But his arm shook with the effort of staying raised, and Ever gritted his teeth. Just a little closer. The cave would provide him some much needed respite. And it would serve to make the fight even.

  Somehow, he made it through the vineyard with his arm still up and then plummeted into the belly of the cave. His horse resisted, but Ever pushed him on into the dark, keeping to the walls of the cave as they skirted its central pool of water. His blue fire threw strange shadows against the stone walls and the stalactites, which sparkled likes knives hanging perilously from the ceiling. As he reached the back of the cave, Ever extinguished his fire, leapt from his horse, and rolled behind a pillar of rock. The horse pounded back toward the entrance, leaving Ever alone to face the beings which he could now hear entering the cave.

  His confidence in the plan wavered as he counted the green mists floating in. He had expected perhaps six or seven, including those that had first sought out Isa and the children, but not fourteen. Still, he was too deep into his plan to back out now.

  The mists floated cautiously above the pool, pausing hesitantly beneath the glow worm colonies that hung between the stalactites likes stars in the dark of night. Ever began to inch his way back toward the entrance of the cave along the outer wall. It was highly tempting to break into a sprint every time a green mist would stop and begin to float toward him. But Ever forced himself to breathe through his nose and take his time.

  Finally, he reached the entrance of the cave. Mild regret filled him as he placed his hands against the largest white sandstone pillar and began to push. He had loved visiting this cave as a child. Cracking sounds filled the air as Ever continued to press against the sandstone, sending the whorls into blurs of green agitation. By the time they seemed to realize what was afoot, however, it was too late. Ever rolled to the side as the pillar crumbled and the entrance began to collapse.

  Except for the light blue glow of the worms on the ceiling, the cave went completely dark. The water of the pool lapped up against its edges, the only to follow the great crash, until, for the first time, one of the Fae spoke.

  “What do you plan for us here, oh son of Cassiel?” a thick voice called out, taking Ever by surprise. How did the Fae know of the Fortress’s first king? “You know there are many more of us back at the castle.”

  Ever didn’t answer, but instead, squinted through the darkness as he dropped to his hands and knees and began to crawl toward the center of the cave. A change in the lapping of the water, and that one of them had spoken with human words, told Ever that a number of the Fae had transformed into their more solid bodies. Good. Ever continued to crawl as his fingers first touched the water’s edge, regretting that he couldn’t first take off his boots. Wet boots were miserable, but cutting his foot on unseen rocks at the bottom of the pool would be even more miserable. He could heal himself, of course, but that would take time and power, neither of which he had to waste.

  Ever had nearly reached the center when a green mist that had been hovering above him began to take its more human form. In one moment, he was crawling silently through the shallow water, but in the next he had crawled right into a leg.

  “He’s here!” A female voice cried.

  Ever jumped up and punched his announcer right in the nose. It must not have seen him, he realized, for rather than driving his hand through a shapeless green mist, his knuckles made a satisfying crunch as the creature went down. Buoyed, Ever lifted both his hands into the air. A ball of blue fire blazed between them, and this time, Ever didn’t hold back. Hotter and hotter, the flames grew between his palms until the ball began to lift of its own accord into the air. Sweating with the effort of keeping it raised, Ever left one hand in the air to guide the fireball and unsheathed his sword with the other.

  Just as he’d hoped, the remaining whorls changed into their human forms and walked, agape, toward the fire. Ever retreated slowly to give them more room. He would have only one chance at this.

  In the dance of blood that he knew only too well, Ever began to meet his enemies. One by one, they were felled. Garin had been right. Their thirst for the power, their
draw to it would be their undoing. And Ever would have felt much worse about exploiting such a weakness if it hadn’t been for the fearful cries of the children still ringing in his ears.

  And Garin’s cry.

  It wasn’t long before Ever had taken out ten of the fourteen Fae. But as he continued to fight, relying more on his senses than his eyes in the blackness of the cave, he began to struggle. He wouldn’t be able to hold the flaming globe aloft much longer. As he decided that his power would hold for four more minutes, the sound of splintering rock above him broke his concentration. Just before the blue flame fizzled out, Ever had time to witness a great crack running through the ceiling. As the crack continued to grow, he could hear the thousands of stone icicles above him began their own chorus of snaps and cracks.

  A sharp pain in his left shoulder made him cry out. Warm blood began to seep down his arm. Ever found a gash just between two of plates of his shoulder armor. Thankfully, the rock must have only struck him while it was falling, rather than sticking firmly into his shoulder. Before he had time to resume his fight, however, he was thrown to the ground by a body, and he choked on the water as he went down. Hot hands pressed down on his chest, keeping his face beneath the surface. Ever did his best to lift his throbbing left arm up out of the water, but the gash made it nearly impossible. With a garbled shout of pain, he torqued his body until his hand was free enough to reach up into the air. It fizzled as the blue fire struggled to alight on his wet fingers. Just before he should have passed out, however, the fire grew strong, then fizzled out again. The distraction was short, but just long enough for Ever to shove the Fae off with his sword.

  Leaping to his feet, Ever realized the three remaining Fae had returned to their mist bodies. Ever wrapped the blue fire around his hand once again, but this time, it didn’t burn as brightly or as blue. He was tiring, and wouldn’t last much longer. Never in his dozens of previous battles had he faced an opponent like this.