Page 37 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

He halted his pacing to rake his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. Frustration edged through him. He and Dickens had taken every precaution necessary to keep him contained and still it was not enough. He’d broken through the manacles that had chained him to the dungeon wall. That meant he likely burst through the cell door, too. He hadn’t gone to see about the destruction because he didn’t want to face the reality. The shame of it all.

The curse was getting stronger. His ability to remain confined to the castle during a full moon was becoming more difficult. Perhaps it was for the best the lady did not return, for he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her when he was in his ghastly form.

His gaze flicked to the desk.

The hourglass waited there, a foreboding presence that overshadowed his life’s existence. Its iron frame curled with delicate vines, tiny rosebuds etched into every twist, like it had been grown rather than forged from magic. The sand shimmered in shades with no name. Not gold, not silver, but something older, like starlight and blood.

The sands were still slipping through it. Slowly trickling from top to bottom. Soon, the remaining shimmering sands would all but fall through the narrow neck, forever sealing his fate.

At last, there was a knock on the chamber door. His gaze flew to it as Dickens opened it and stepped inside, the shadows following on his heels. He pushed a tea cart inside the room. His face looked grim, which told Leopold the news he had was not going to be good news.

“What did you find?” he asked, an urgency pounding through him.

“My prince, perhaps you’ll wish to sit.” He motioned to a nearby chair with a calm wave of his hand. Then reached for the teapot and poured a steaming cup.

“I don’t want to sit, and I don’t want bloody tea. Tell me, Dickens. What news?”

Dickens replaced the teapot with reserved calm, then grasped the cup in his hand. He stepped toward him and extended the tea, even though he insisted he didn’t want it. He took the cup, holding it between his hands and allowing the porcelain to warm his fingers. He had not realized how chilled to the bone he was until that moment.

His old valet returned to the cart, poured himself a cup, added two lumps of sugar, and stirred. As though they had all the time in the world.

He walked toward the seating area near the cold hearth, peering into the gray ashes. “Fire, please.”

The fireplace flared to life upon his command. Then he sat in the oversized wing-backed chair, crossing one leg over the other as though he were prepared for a long chat. Agitated, Leopold moved to sit across from him, clutching the cup in his hands and waited. His valet would tell him what he discovered in his own time. It would do no good to needle him.

“I spent a good portion of the day in port learning what I could about Mr. Enzo Rinaldi.”

“Bella’s father?”

He nodded. “His boatswain was more than happy to share information with me.” There was a twinkle or mirth and confession deep in his eyes.

Leopold sat back in the chair. “You magicked him.”

“I felt it was the most expedient course of action, my prince.” He paused to take a sip of his tea.

He wasn’t too happy that his valet used magic to get information but perhaps he was correct in that it was the quickest way to find out what happened.

“First of all, the merchant’s wife passed on several years ago. I understand she was quite ill. Rinaldi took Bella on his sea voyages until she was old enough to remain behind and run the estate in his absence. She is a talented and brilliant woman who has a penchant for libraries and the ability to translate almost any text.”

Brilliant and beautiful, he thought. Dickens continued.

“It seems Mr. Rinaldi purchased some odds and ends at a market at a port on the south side of the continent of Cappadocia. He was quite taken with the book and a few other items. The boatswain wasn’t sure of the contents of the cargo but he’s not one to question his captain.”

“The book?” Leopold said. “The book Bella has?”

“It seems so, yes. Once they arrived back in Port Leclare, strange happenings began. Something lurked in the cargo hold. A shadow thing, he called it. No one was quite certain what it was, but it was clear whatever it was frightened the sailors.”

“Frightened sailors? That’s never a good sign.” A fluttering of fear cramped his stomach. He took a sip of tea to quell it. Not that it would do any good.

“There were other signs. A cold wind blowing below deck. Lanterns snuffing. That sort of thing. That night, after docking, the merchant’s manor house went up in flames. They were all lucky to escape unscathed.”

“That’s why they came here to Driftbell?” he asked.

Dickens nodded. “Yes. And then almost the moment they arrived, two of the ships were destroyed in port. One was still at sea, so it was saved. However, the Port Authority opened a formal inquiry into the incident and is investigating to see if there was some sort of prohibited cargo onboard.”

“The cargo from Cappadocia?” he asked.

“Likely,” his valet said with a nod.

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