Page 45 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

Sitting back in the chair, she examined her perfect penmanship as she read the words aloud.

“In the darkest night, no name remembered. No light is welcome.”

She tapped the end of the quill against her chin. What did it mean? Further, what didthe hourglass bleeds its lastmean? Was there an hourglass in this castle? And if so, where would it be?

“Leopold’s chamber,” she whispered to herself.

The candles above her seemed to flicker in agreement.

She glanced at the door, an idea forming. She needed to see this hourglass. Perhaps it would help her solve the riddle. The only problem was she knew where nothing was the castle. She’d only seen the library and the small dining room. Did she dare attempt to find his chamber and the hourglass within?

Bella lifted her gaze to the floating candelabra above her. “Do you know where it is?”

It flickered as if in answer.

Her heart thrummed as her breath came quick and hot.

Leopold never mentioned she wasn’t allowed in any other part of the castle. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind if she took a stroll. Rising from the chair, she bent backward, her hands on her lower back as she stretched her muscles trying to ease away the dull ache. She’d hunched over the parchment and the book for far too long.

As she headed for the library door, the floating candelabra followed her overhead, lighting the way. At first, she had been startled, even frightened, by it. Now, she found it amusing that it seemed to sense where she wanted to go. She pulled open the door and stepped into the drafty hallway, pausing there to scan the area. No one was about. Not even Dickens.

“Which way?” she whispered.

The candelabra flickered and started down the hall. She followed, keeping her gaze lifted slightly to see where it led her. At the foyer, it started up the long staircase. Taking a deep breath, she alighted the stairs, pulling her skirt up to keep from tripping. At the landing, the candles turned left.

They moved down the hall, riddled with opaque shadows that seemed to cling to the corners. She continued on her way until at last the candles halted outside a door that seemed oddly out of place in this long corridor. She glanced left, then right, but no one was about. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her hand around the knob, turned and pushed it open.

It swung open with an eerie creak, the long tendrils of dark beckoning her inside. The candelabra wasted no time as it slipped through the open door. The puddle of blue-white light reminding her of moonlight was in the center of the room.

She took a tentative step and paused inside the room. Faint cerulean light pressed against the panes of glass in the double lancet windows on the far wall. One bookshelf was crammed full. More books were scattered about. Stacked on the floor in neat piles to the side of an oversized velvet garnet chair. A hearth stood cold and dark. Next to it, a stack of firewood.

Her gaze flicked around the room until finally it landed on the writing desk. The chair sat in front of it, askew, as if someone had hastily stood, shoving it backward. The top was littered with scrolls and parchment, a quill, an inkwell.

And an hourglass.

Her breath pooled her throat and for a moment, she told herself she should not be here. In his private chamber, invading his personal space. This was clearly a room meant for a secluded retreat. A place to find solace in an otherwise chaotic world.

But the hourglass.

She had to see it.

Moving closer, the candelabra dutifully following and keeping her in its circle of light, she paused a step away from the edge of the desk. She bent forward for a closer look. It was the most remarkable thing she had ever seen. The iron frame had delicate vines and tiny rosebuds curled around the glass. Inside the glass, shimmering sand in iridescent shades of gold, silver, and a pale crimson. Slowly, the sands dripped through the neck from top to bottom, as if ticking off moments of a lifetime. And, she noticed, it was almost empty. She reached her hand toward it—

“What are you doing in here?” Leopold’s voice startled her.

She gasped, pressing a hand against her fluttering heart, and spun to face him. He stood in the half light of the doorway, his hair still tousled. He no longer wore the waistcoat. His collarless shirt was open the throat, revealing an expanse of golden skin beneath. He didn’t sound angry, at least, but he didn’t exactly look pleased to see her standing there in front of his desk reaching out to pick up the hourglass.

“I-I’m sorry. I was just…I…” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to come here. I shouldn’t have. I’ll leave.”

She was aware her words ran together in a quick clipped tone. She dipped a quick curtsy and headed for the door, but he was blocking it. She decided that wasn’t a deterrent, and she’d step around him. The moment she was a breath away from him, he reached for her, placing a gentle hand on her arm and halting her. Her head snapped up, their eyes meeting, and deep within those pale, odd, brown eyes, she saw suspicion and a bit of curiosity.

“What were you doing here, Bella?” he repeated, his voice low, rumbling around deep in his chest.

He stood so close to her. He smelled of cedar and ash, like a fire long since burned out—and something darker beneath, like leather left out in the cold. There was a hint of rose, not sweet, but faded. Dry petals crushed between pages of a book never meant to be opened. And something else. Magic, perhaps. Or sorrow. Whatever it was, it wrapped around her in a tender embrace.

Her mouth went bone dry. Finally, she found her voice. “I-I translated a section of text in the book. It saidthe hourglass bleeds its last.”

With his hand still on her upper arm, he continued to stare at her. His face was expressionless, something he had perfected. But all she noticed was how warm his fingers were on the sleeve of her gown. How his palm pressed against her and his long, slender fingers wrapped around her. And how the curve of his lips seemed to be the perfect shape for kissing.

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