Page 29 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

“I haven’t tried yet.” She sipped her tea to keep from telling him more.

“You haven’t?” His voice was even with a hint of curiosity.

“No. Because…” She moved to sit across from him, holding the teacup in her hand as she gazed at him. “Why did you give me those books?”

He looked perplexed. “I’m sorry?”

“Curses and Cures. Spells and Incantation. Hexes,” she said. Even saying the words aloud sent a shiver through her.

His face blanched, but only for a moment. His fingers tightened on the cup as he stiffened, his back ramrod straight.

“Apologies, Lord Thornhurst—”

“I am no lord,” he interrupted. He shot to his feet and dropped the cup back onto the tray.

She snapped her mouth shut, peering at his rigid back. If he was not a lord, then…what was he?

“Your grace?” she tried.

He said nothing as he remained standing there, his stiff back to her. She wasn’t sure if that was the right title of address, either, since he didn’t respond.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “I fail to understand how those books could help me translate mine.”

His shoulders drooped a little—an imperceptible movement that she might have missed if she hadn’t been looking at him. Finally, he turned enough to give her his profile.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you, Miss Rinaldi.”

It was her turn to stiffen. She held the teacup tight in her hand. Her fingers cramped. “You haven’t?”

He picked up one of the small cakes and placed it on a saucer. She watched intently, expecting him to eat it, but he didn’t. Instead, he brought it over to her and extended it. She took the saucer and balanced it on her knee as he moved back to the cart.

“It will be difficult for you to hear this.”

He leaned against the cart, his hands gripping the edge and his knuckles leeching of color, as if what he was about to say was something horrible. She braced herself.

“I am cursed.”

He said it so softly, she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. Her brows drew together as she kept her gaze on his strained shoulders and the clenched muscles in his back.

“Cursed?” she repeated. A quiver of fear slipped through her.

She wondered what sort of curse but since he didn’t offer more information, it seemed rude to press for more details. Was he cursed to live in this strange, enchanted castle for the rest of his days until it was broken? And how would it be broken?

So many questions floated through her mind.

“Yes.” He spun to face her, his face creased with worry. “If you wish to leave and never return, I understand. If you wish to terminate our agreement, I understand that, too. But…”

His gaze dropped as he moved a little closer. For a moment, she thought he might pause in front of her and drop to a knee, but instead he perched on the opposite chair, clasping his shaking hands in his lap. He was nervous. He was afraid of her reaction, of how she might see him now.

Finally, he lifted his gaze and met hers. She saw deep in them, the desperate hope glittering there.

“But?” she asked, sounding more breathless than she wanted.

“Seeing that book of yours…with the rose and thorns on the cover…I’ve never seen anything like it before in all my travels and all my searching. My last hope was the bookshop in town. And that’s when I met you.”

His face flushed, as though it made him uncomfortable to tell her this.

Though he didn’t say it, she suspected he thought their meeting was kismet. And though she never truly believed in destiny or fate or luck—she believed one made one’s own destiny—she was compassionate enough to understand why he felt this way. Perhaps it was a last hope or desperation that drove him to follow her out of the bookshop.

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