Page 46 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

Whatever was she thinking? She had to get out of here and now, to go back to the library and gather the book and her writings and return to Hawthorne. Her heart fluttered in a mad pulse against her ribcage.

“You know what it means, don’t you?” she asked, her voice hoarse and quiet in the deafening silence of the room.

He dropped his hand, his gaze turning to the hourglass on his desk. “Yes.”

She searched her mind for something to say, to express a profuse apology. “I should go.” With her skirts in her first, she stepped into the open door, ready to bolt.

“No. Stay. Please.”

His voice was low, thin, frayed. As though he could not bear watching her walk away. She stiffened, halting there in the open doorway with her back to him and the material of her gown still fisted in her hands. She turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder. He looked forlorn, lost, desolate standing there with hope gleaming in his eyes. He didn’t want her to go.

But she had questions, and she needed answers.

“You said you were cursed. Is the hourglass part of that?” she asked.

Leopold hid his emotions once again. But now, as he stood there in the pool of blue-white light, something seemed to crack under the surface. As though he had resigned himself to telling her the truth. All of it. His shoulders slumped.

“Yes,” he said at last. He held a hand out to her in invitation. “Come. Sit with me. And I will tell you everything I know.”

Bella hesitated. Wasn’t this what she was seeking? The truth? She’d queried him on it at breakfast, and he had evaded her. Now, he was offering her the truth about him and his curse.

Releasing her skirt, she reached for him, placing her hand in his. His fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around hers, and gave a little tug. Her pulse pounded a wild, hard beat in her throat as she followed him, stepping back into the room. She hadn’t noticed before but there was a small seating area across from the hearth on the other side of the room. Two chairs. A low table. He led her there. When they reached it, he released her hand. She was bereft with the loss of his hand on hers.

He turned toward the hearth. “Fire.”

The moment he said the word, the hearth ignited into a blazing, warm fire that threw a yellow-orange glow throughout the room and immediately warmed her. When he turned to her, the firelight flickered over his face and in it, she saw sorrow, regret, loneliness, and longing. As though he wanted her to see. As though he was ready to bare all he was to her.

“Please, sit, Bella. And I will tell you the story no one else has heard.”

Chapter 19

Leopoldtooktheseatopposite her, leaning back into the soft cushions and stretching out his long legs before him, crossing them at the ankles and settling in. He expelled a tight breath ready to dive into a long tale. She waited, her hands folded in her lap while he gathered his thoughts. He pressed a hand against his forehead, rubbing there, trying to find the words and the way to begin.

“For years, I’ve been searching for a way to break the curse. I never thought I would have to depend upon someone else to help me do it.”

His voice was a bit muffled behind his hand. Then he dropped it and looked at her, giving her a faint smile.

“The moment the curse was enacted,” he continued, “was the same moment the book disappeared from me. As though it had fallen through a portal, forever out of reach. I have spent my lifetime searching for a way to break this infernal torment. Searching for that book with the thorny language. That day in town, when you tried to sell it, I caught a glimpse of the cover. I could not believe it had finally returned to this world carried by a scribe who was able to read strange languages. I thought my luck had finally turned. I would finally see the end of this vexatious blight. I would finally reclaim my life.”

He shoved up the sleeve to his elbow and then extended his arm, tilting it so the light flickered over his forearm. A blood-red brand was there, deeply embedded. It was a crimson rose wrapped in a snarling, twisting vine of brambles and thorns. It was the same image on the cover of her book. The same image in the stained-glass window in the library.

“That’s why you stopped me that day,” she said, staring at the brand.

She resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingertips over it, to touch it. Was it painful?

“It is.” He pushed down his sleeve and placed his arm against his lap, holding it there as if to hide it from her.

But she’d seen it. And it would forever be burned into her mind.

“You know, I was not always a recluse hiding in this enchanted castle, nor was this castle always enchanted.” He gave her a faint smile, as he remembered, and then it faded. He cast his eyes downward, as though looking through the material of his shirt to where the brand resided on his forearm. “I was a prince once.”

Her lips parted in a silent gasp, but she remained silent. When he told her he was no lord, he meant it. When she called himyour graceas she tried to guess his title, he rebuffed her. Now she understood why.

“I was heir to the throne of a powerful kingdom. One that ruled this small province for centuries. It’s extinct now. It’s nothing more than a myth whispered by those who live in this realm, if they even remember.” Finally, his gaze lifted to hers and she saw the depth of his soul in that one glance. So many emotions flickered there—pain, anguish, regret.

“I was determined to be a fair and just ruler, like my father. But then one day war came to our borders. A war I was unable to stop. An ancient enemy returned, one that should have been magically bound for eternity. I sent a small company of warriors and soldiers to the borderlands to fight. They never returned.”

He turned his face toward the fire, the light flickered across his hardened features. The story he was telling affected him deeply.

---