Page 30 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

He continued, “I believe that book is the key to breaking the curse. I apologize for not explaining that to you before. That’s why I gave you those other books. I thought, perhaps, they would aide you in your translation. But perhaps I was wrong.”

Silence stretched between them as she considered his words. She was in no position to turn down a paying job such as this. She thought of her father returning to Port Leclare to sort out the messy affairs of this merchant business. She thought of the potentially empty larder back at Hawthorne Hall if they ran out of money trying to pay for his business expenses. She thought of how Edith, Gerald, and Emmaline depended on her to make sure the household ran smoothly, and all were taken care of.

And that was what made her decision easier.

“Mr. Thornhurst—”

“Leopold, please. Call me Leopold.”

She flushed, the heat pounded through to her cheeks and settled there. She glanced down at the tepid tea and the buttery cake resting on the saucer to hide her blush. In her line of work, she’d been around noble men, but she’d never called them by their given name. Not once. When she reigned in her emotions, she lifted her gaze back to his.

“I will stay and attempt to translate the book.”

When she said it, his face broke into a wide smile. He flopped back in the chair, relief creasing his features as he blew out a breath.

“Thank you, Miss Rinaldi.”

“Bella,” she corrected.

Surprise flickered over his face. She flushed again.

“My friends call me Bella,” she said.

He got to his feet then and walked over to her, dropping to one knee. He held out a hand, waiting for her to accept. Her heart rammed a wild and erratic beat against her chest as she reached for him, placing her hand in his. His warm fingers closed around hers as he tugged her hand closer and pressed a breath of a kiss on the back of her hand.

“I’m honored to call you friend.”

The breath of his words fanned across the back of her hand, making the hairs stand on end and gooseflesh rise. She pulled her hand back as demurely as possible and then held the teacup between both of them. She sipped the now-cold tea.

He got to his feet, then, and backed away a few steps. “I should let you return to work. The carriage will be ready and waiting for you at dusk.”

“Thank you,” she said with a nod.

And then he was gone, leaving her alone once again in the enchanted and mystical library.

Chapter 12

Whenshehadherfill of food and tea, she returned to the table, glancing up at the snuffed-out candelabra. The wicks were cold and dark.

“Light, please?” she asked, her voice timid and quiet.

The wicks flared to life with their blue-white flames, not exactly pushing back the shadows but clinging to them.

She did find it odd that Leopold hadn’t noticed the snuffed-out candles, but then, he seemed distracted by the tea cart and the fact she was hovering near the seating area of the library. The book her father gave her was off to one side. She pulled it toward her and examined the cover. A twinge of familiarity skipped through her as she stared down at it.

Turning, she gazed over her shoulder at the stained-glass window. The rose on the window was almost exactly like the one on the cover of the book.

An eeriness spilled through her as she gaped at the window and then turned back to the book. She traced the outline of the rose with the tip of her finger. What was the connection to the two of them?Werethey connected?

Her father stated he bought it from a bookseller, but beyond that he gave her no more information. He traveled a lot, stopping in various ports across the continent and the adjacent one. Perhaps he didn’t even recall where he bought it, but it was worth asking him.

When she opened the book to a random page in the center, it cracked with age. She pushed it under the puddle of light to get a better look at the oddly flowing script that curved down the page. The script that seemed to be intertwined with the runes and symbols that meant…what? She hadn’t a clue.

As she moved the book under the silvery light of the candles, her breath suddenly caught in her throat. The ink shimmered with a low, pulsing sheen, like moonlight across dark waters. Almost as if the letters themselves were alive and breathing. The writing curled across the page in long flowing loops and sharp barbs. Sliding across the page as though it were a living thing. As though it were it were a flower about to bloom. But as the petals tried to unfurl, the thorny barbs snarled them, keeping it from opening. Keeping them from flourishing.

Even as she stared at it long and hard, her talent for translating the words failed her.

Then she noticed something astonishing. One of the swirling loops that seemed to travel across the page wound around one of the runes and in the center of that rune was a letter. Curved at the top. Curved at the bottom.

---