Page 7 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

“You said you had a gift for me, Father.”

He laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t forget. I wondered how long it would take for you to ask.”

He rose and left the dining room, then returned moments later with a large parcel in his hands wrapped in brown paper. He handed it to her.

“I thought you might like this.”

She ripped open the paper and then halted, peering down at a leather-bound book embossed with a circle of interwoven thorns forming a perfect ring. In the center of the thorns was a fragmented rose, as if caught mid-transformation from bud to bloom. There was a gold embossed border around the edges, and the title was in a language she had never seen before.

“What is it?” she asked, shoving aside the paper. She pushed away her empty plate and placed the book on the table in front of her, opening the cover. It cracked with age.

“A book, of course.” There was humor in his voice.

“But what kind of book?”

She flipped the pages yellowed with age and written in a careful, perfect hand with more of the same language inside. It was not written in traditional lines, but in spirals or what appeared to be blooming clusters. Whenever she came across a book with a unique language, she was almost immediately able to translate it. But not this one. It did not speak to her like the others.

“What language is this?”

“I thought you might like a challenge, my dear. The bookseller I bought it from had never seen this language, nor did he know where it came from.”

The book fascinated her. Her eyes skipped down the pages, trying to pick out a word or two she was able to understand. So far, nothing. Her language skills were definitely put to the test.

“I love it,” she breathed, though she wasn’t sure why she loved a book she was unable to read. “But I have no idea what it says.”

He chuckled. “You will in time, my dear. I have no doubt about that. Now, tell me what you’ve been working on.”

She closed the book and sat back in her chair, placing her hands in her lap. She told him about the rose and thorn language she was translating for Lord Vincent and the terribly sad story of the prince who was cursed to live alone locked away in his castle for eternity.

“I have a few more pages to translate, but I’m not sure I want to return to Lord Vincent’s.”

Her father arched a brow as he reached for his crystal wine glass. “And why is that?”

“Well…” She paused, unsure how to tell him the man invited her to dinner. “He asked me to dine with him this evening. Of course, I declined, because I knew you were returning today.”

He blinked surprise, and then the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. “And you don’t want to return because you don’t want to turn him down again.”

She flushed as she looked at her father from across the table. She reached for her glass and took a sip of the too-sweet wine. “I do like him just…not the same way he likes me.”

Her father chuckled. “I’m not surprised he asked you. It was only a matter of time.”

Bella tipped her head to the side. “What does that mean?”

“He asked permission to court you,” he said, as though it were common knowledge.

The blood drained from her head in a whoosh. “Oh. What did you say?”

“I told him you were headstrong with a mind of your own and if you wished to be courted, you would certainly let him know.”

She stared at him as the shock rolled through her. Her father often surprised her. Now, especially. Though he didn’t want her left alone in the world when he was gone, he also would never make her marry for the sake of marrying. She, of course, knew that but hearing him reinforce that made her happy.

“Thank you, Father.”

“I know you want to marry for love,” he said. “I do hope some security will come along with that.”

Meaning, he wanted her to marry well. She understood that, too.

“But I’m sure whoever you choose will make you happy.” He downed the rest of his wine and pushed back his chair. “I think I shall retire for the night.”

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