TFT 01 Beauty and the Beast

by K. M. Shea

  “Why now? Why so sudden, Severin. Are you hiding something?”

  “No.”

  “Then why the big hurry?” Elle asked, folding her arms in front of her.

  Severin smiled, careful not to betray a hint of worry. If Elle knew he was sending her from danger he would have to load her on Fidele, kicking and screaming. “I have my reasons.”

  Elle shook her head. “That isn’t good enough. You place the well being of everyone in this castle before your own. Something is going on.”

  “You sound paranoid. Nothing unanticipated is happening, I merely desire for you to be free and safe.”

  “Fine, but I would rather leave tomorrow.”

  “No, you are leaving today.”

  Elle narrowed her eyes and tucked her head like a mule.

  “I need you to trust me, Elle. Please, go,” Severin said.

  Elle sighed. “Very well, you win. But I will be back,” she warned, tapping Severin on the chest with a finger.

  Severin engulfed her hand with his. “I look forward to it.”

  Elle blushed faintly and looked sideways. “We leave now?”

  “You are leaving now, yes.”

  “You’re not coming with?”

  “I am unable to, but I have arranged for a guide,” Severin said, turning around as Burke hustled the courier from kitchen hallway.

  “I am to return already? But I arrived not even an hour ago,” the courier complained as he wound a new scarf around his face.

  “He doesn’t exactly inspire confidence,” Elle said.

  “I apologize, the palace does not have as high of expectations as I do when it comes to staffing,” Severin said, leading the way outside.

  The sun was out, and while the air was chilly there was no breeze. Oliver stood in the courtyard, holding the reins of Fidele and a spare mount.

  The courier bowed to Severin before taking the spare horse from Oliver and mounting up.

  “Wait, I’m riding Fidele?” Elle asked as Oliver tugged her pack of money from her and strapped it to Fidele’s saddle.”

  “You are. Sit lightly.”

  “Don’t you dare. Why am I taking Fidele? Much of the snow has melted,” Elle said, backing out of Severin’s reach.

  “Because Rosemerry would not be able to keep up. In a few days I will send him after you,” Severin said.

  “No. This doesn’t feel right. You’ll be stranded here if I take Fidele, what if there’s an emergency? You can’t ride any other horse. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Elle,” Severin said, halting her tirade. “Please, go.”

  Elle studied Severin, meeting his eyes and facing him down. “Very well.” she said.

  Severin opened his arms and Elle walked into them, squeezing Severin in a tight hug. Severin set his chin on top of her head, briefly closing his eyes. Even if she never came back, this was enough. Severin knew Elle cared for him.

  “Be careful,” Elle said when he released her.

  “Sit lightly,” Severin advised before lifting Elle onto Fidele’s back.

  “Emele, Burke, take care. Tell the others I say farewell,” Elle called.

  Emele nodded—judging by her lack of objection Burke must have filled her in. It was fortunate she hadn’t told Elle.

  The courier saluted Severin. “At your orders, Milord.”

  “Return to Noyers and tell my brother that I understand. Watch out for this girl, Elle. See that she gets all the way to the palace,” Severin said.

  “Very well, Your Highness,” the courier said before bowing from horseback and starting off.

  Elle and Fidele followed after him. At the edge of the courtyard Elle stopped. “Severin,” she shouted. “I’ll be back. I promise!” she said before cuing Fidele into a trot to catch up.

  Severin watched her go, staying outside long after she had disappeared. When he finally went inside he felt a great deal more confident, and the knot of worry loosened.

  His servants had assembled in the hall—for once without dramatics or sly antics. They were as serious and staunch as they were the day Severin explained the curse to them.

  “I have some daunting news,” Severin announced. “Two Rangers intercepted plans for an assassination. My assassination.”

  Severin rolled his stiff shoulders, nodding to the soldiers who passed him, marching down the hallway.

  “Good morning, Sir,” a soldier said, approaching from the other direction.

  Severin glanced at the man. “Good morning, Captain Remon.”

  “I have the newest missive from your brother, Sir,” the soldier said, handing over a letter. “A courier arrived minutes ago with it.”

  Severin only glanced at the letter, he saw much of what he was expecting—a complaint in Severin’s failure to send a letter with the returning courier the previous day.

  “Very good, thank you,” Severin said, briefly skimming the letter before folding it and placing it in his pocket.

  “Any additional orders, sir?”

  “Not yet. Was the courier taken to the kitchens?”

  “He was, Sir.”

  “Good. I wish for him to make the return trip today, but he may have two hours to recover,” Severin said, glancing outside.

  “I will see that he is informed of your desires, Sir.”

  “That is all, Remon. Thank you.”

  “Yessir.” The young captain snapped a salute before leaving.

  Severin watched him for a few moments before he followed. Severin entered the main hall and exited the front door. He nodded when the soldiers stationed there saluted, and followed a walkway to the gardens.

  The gardens swarmed with soldiers like every other part of the chateau, but they were completely devoid of plant life. Severin still found the place soothing, and he breathed in the fresh air with gusto.

  He parked himself on a bench nestled into a copse, keeping his back to the trees. From his spot he could see the patrolling soldiers making the rounds.

  Severin yawned. “So much for one squad,” he grumbled. “Lucien has half of the third regiment here. If the assassins make an attempt now they are either vastly underpaid, or total idiots.”

  Severin wondered how long the army would have to be camped out in his grounds. Perhaps he should return to the palace for the time being. Elle was there, and the palace was swaddled in guards. Even the best assassin wouldn’t try his/her luck there.

  “It would only bring trouble,” Severin supposed. “The best chance is to speak to the Arcainia monarchs so they remove the price over my head.”

  A crow landed on a branch above Severin and cawed, sounding forbidding in the howling wind. Severin lurched to his feet, frowning when he didn’t see the next pair of patrolling soldiers.

  A twig snapped in the trees behind Severin. The prince casually placed a hand on his rapier, lifting his nose to the wind and sniffing.

  He swung around, sliding his rapier free of its scabbard. He lifted it up in the air, blocking a sword strike from a man clothed entirely in black.

  Severin leaned forward, using his hulking mass to press the assassin backwards. His lips pulled away from his fangs as he opened his mouth to roar out a warning when he was hit on the head from behind.

  Severin toppled over and stars exploded in his eyes. The pain was nauseating, and Severin could barely resist as the assassins dragged him into the copse of trees.

  “Cover our trail,” an assassin grunted.

  Severin hung limply as the assassins pulled him by his arms. His vision started to clear when they dropped him.

  Severin waited until an assassin knelt next to him to move, grabbing the man by the throat before he could react. He rolled onto his back and tossed the assassin into his cohort, sending them flying.

  Severin leaped to his feet, shaking his head to clear it before facing the third assassin—who had returned from stamping out the drag marks Severin’s body had made in the ground.

  Careful to listen for back up, Severin dodged
a thrown dagger before leaping at the assassin like a cat pouncing on prey.

  He chopped the assassin in the neck, making the fiend sag and fall to the ground. He twisted just in time to avoid a nasty strike from a recovered assassin. A roar ripped out of Severin—one that he hoped would bring the soldiers scurrying to him—before he dodged another dagger blow and grabbed the assassin by the arm.

  Severin lifted the man into the air and shook him, jostling the assassin until he dropped the dagger and flopped like a rag doll. Severin then threw him on top of the recovering assassin. He swiped the dagger just in time to raise it against the assassin with the sword.

  Severin greatly outmatched the assassin in strength, but Severin was also willing to bet his opponent’s weapon was coated in poison and he took no risks.

  While wondering where the soldiers were, Severin roared again, letting the assassin push him back. Several times the assassin’s sword was perilously close to slicing him. The assassin even managed to slash a wad of fur off Severin and cut his waistcoat.

  Severin glanced at the others assailants, who were standing again. They were holding throwing daggers, waiting for a clear shot.

  Severin blocked another downward chop from the attacking assassin as he started calculating a retreat. He was close enough to the copse of trees that he thought he could duck into it.

  The attacker sliced off one of Severin’s whiskers with a curved strike.

  Severin was about to make a run for it when the attacking assassin stopped. His eyes went wide as he fell head first, a black arrow shaft sticking from his back.

  “Don’t move,” ordered a smooth, daunting voice that Severin recognized all too well.

  Severin looked up at the newest members of the drama.

  Three people wearing black stood in a row. The one on the right held a short sword; the one on the left was crouched in an offensive stance, holding a halberd thrust in front of him. The slight figure in the center carried a wicked looking crossbow and wore Elle’s face.

  The remaining assassins exchanged glances. One of them discreetly adjusted his hold on his dagger. He howled in anguish when Elle shot him in the arm without blinking.

  The assassins ran, the injured one holding his wound to try and staunch the blood.

  “After them,” Elle said, whipping her cloak off.

  Elle’s companions were gone before Elle folded her cloak and tossed it aside—still hefting her crossbow.

  Beneath the cape she wore the female Ranger uniform: steely blue pauldrons and gauntlets with a matching chest piece that encased her upper body. She wore the designated Ranger boots, black leggings, and a Ranger Blue skirt that matched her armor. The silver patch over her heart was decorated with the insignia of an eagle with an arrow clenched in its beak. The eagle was Lucien’s symbol, the arrow was the signature of an intelligencer Ranger. Together the insignia meant Elle was a decorated Éclaireur Ranger, the highest intelligencer rank that could be achieved.

  Chapter 14

  The Intelligencer

  “Severin, are you hurt? Did they harm you at all?” Elle asked, running to Severin’s side. She held her crossbow in one hand and lifted Severin’s right arm, inspecting it and Severin’s ribcage from all angles before doing the same with the left. “Severin?” she asked when he didn’t reply.

  She looked up into his eyes and read the shock there. He had never guessed she was a Ranger.

  “Elle, how did you get here?” he finally asked. “The road is blocked off.”

  “I brought my party in through the hunting trail you pointed out on our ride,” Elle said, anxiously circling Severin to look for injuries. “But Severin, did they get you at all? Did they even knick you?”

  Severin stared at Elle. “Who are you?”

  “You know me. I’m Elle, your Intruder,” Elle said, forcing her lips into the mold of a smile.

  Severin shook his head. “No, who are you really?”

  Elle reached out and grabbed his hand. “I am Elle. Nothing’s changed Severin. I’m still the demanding busy body who was bit by a squirrel.”

  In the woods behind them Prince Lucien’s personal horn sounded. The Prince wouldn’t be far off, and after he arrived all of Elle’s lies would come to light.

  Elle briefly shut her eyes. “This isn’t how I planned it. I was going to wait until our next ride when I came back, but I’ve run out of time.”

  “What?”

  Elle grabbed Severin by the shoulders, pulling on him until he looked down at her. “Severin, listen very carefully. No matter what you learn about me I want you to know that everything I said about you is true. You are incredible, Severin, please don’t forget everything I’ve said in your anger.”

  “What are you talking about?” Severin said, his voice turning into a growl.

  The horn sounded again. It was much closer this time.

  “I genuinely enjoyed my time here. I wouldn’t trade these last few months for the world. But I’m doing this for your sake, you deserve to be happy.”

  “Elle?”

  Elle could hear the muffled thunder of horses galloping through snow. She threw her arms around Severin’s neck and whispered, “Severin, I love you.”

  Light flared, tearing Severin away and throwing Elle to the ground.

  Elle pushed herself to her knees, wincing as Severin howled in pain. “Severin!” she screamed, her hair whipping in the sudden wind.

  Severin’s bones snapped and crackled as they rearranged and reformed in his body. His teeth shrank and sank back into his gums as his protruding cat muzzle flattened. His fur retreated to his hairline or fell out entirely—Elle couldn’t tell which in the bright light.

  Severin’s claws disappeared, his hands softened, and within moments the beast was gone, leaving behind a man. The man groaned and collapsed in the snow.

  Elle lurched to her feet. “Severin, are you ok?” she asked, crouching next to him.

  Elle held her hand an inch above Severin’s shoulder, wondering if it would hurt him if she touched him.

  Her worry died when Severin pushed his hair out of his face and sat up, looking to her.

  Elle recognized him from the portrait Emele had shown her in the library. He was older now, taller with broad shoulders. His charcoal black hair spilled over his shoulders, and his eyes were still amber although they had normal, circular pupils. He had wrinkles on his forehead and at the top bridge of his nose—probably from squinting and working late into the night with poor lighting. He had a full lower lip, and a stubborn chin.

  He was muscled and athletic from his years as a soldier, and while he did not have the same dazzling good looks as Prince Lucien, he was undeniably aristocratic and handsome, far beyond the likes of Elle.

  Severin blinked once, cracking his jaw. He traced his face with his hands before looking at his bare feet. “I’m human?”

  Elle almost cried. His voice was the same, rumbling like distant peals of thunder, although she suspected he would no longer sound so guttural when angry. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m…cold,” Severin blinked.

  Elle swallowed, forcing a smile on her lips. As happy as she was for the transformed Severin, Elle couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She had fallen in love with a droll, antisocial male. The addled prince before her looked nothing at all like her love, perhaps he would act nothing like him as well.

  Elle viciously silenced her thoughts. Just because Severin was now human—an unfortunately handsome human—didn’t mean Severin wasn’t himself. “That happens when you aren’t covered in fur,” Elle said, grinding her voice into a dry tease as she stood.

  Severin stood as well, wobbling as he adjusted to his body. “I’m human,” he repeated, frowning as he looked at his hands. “How?”

  “Severin, you were the one who explained the curse to me,” Elle said.

  Severin pushed an eyebrow up, fixing Elle with a look of unimpressed disbelief. He opened his mouth but froze. “No,” he declared after a moment.


  Elle blinked, that wasn’t exactly the reaction she was expecting. “Pardon?”

  “Brother!” Lucien rode up on a prancing white charger, all smiles and good cheer, with a squad of honor guards. “You’re human again! You wooed her after all didn’t you, you sly fox!”

  “Lucien.” Severin said.

  Lucien swung off his horse, carelessly leaving it loose for a servant to scramble after. He hugged Severin, smacking his half brother on the back. “Well done, not bad for a day’s work! You can’t believe how glad I am to see you again—the real you! Blast, how I have missed you in the palace. Finally life will be bearable again, but we can celebrate later. Your still may be in danger. The assassins have been taken care of? Don’t just stand there, report in,” Lucien said, turning around to face Elle.

  Elle lowered her head in deference. “The assassins had three parties around the chateau perimeter. One attacked soldiers patrolling the pathway nearest to Severin, another set up a diversion in the courtyard, the third group attacked Severin. One assassin was killed and another was injured. Vie and Aubery are chasing the injured assassin and his companion. I split up the rest of my team to take care of the other assassins.”

  “Well done, well done indeed,” Lucien beamed, not at Elle but Severin.

  “Lucien, what’s going on?” Severin said, shifting from foot to foot in the snow.

  “You haven’t figured it out? The change back must have addled your mind, Severin. In any case, brother, allow me to introduce you to Ranger Seventy Eight, your intruding houseguest.”

  Severin stared at Elle, and Elle forced herself to meet his gaze. She had purposely kept him and his household in the dark. She owed it to him to face the consequences with dignity.

  Even so, Elle felt her heart break as she watched Severin—before her very eyes—grow as stony and cold.

  “Ranger Seventy Eight?” he said, proving Elle wrong as his voice did retain a little of the growl.

  “Yes, it’s why she was indisposed for so long. She was stranded in your house, recovering and—thankfully—falling in love,” Lucien said, rocking forward and backward on the balls of his feet.