Page 70 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

She stepped into the grand foyer and spun to face him. “No. Leopold, I have news.”

He blinked surprise at her sudden announcement. For a moment, they stood staring at each other and the words she practiced fled her mind. Did he remember last night? Did he recall, as the beast, that she sensed him outside the manor while Lord Vincent made his departure? Did she tell him she worked in the library into the wee hours of the night while listening to his distant howls?

“What news?” Hope tinged his words.

“I had a breakthrough.” She reached inside the cover of the cursed book and slipped out the parchment with her messy script. She hated her handwriting was almost indecipherable, but she wanted to get down the words before they disappeared. “I was able to translate this line.When the sky is blind and the stars dare not shine.”

He leaned closer to her to get a better look at the paper, the scent of him washing over her. That familiar smell of winter and wildfire she came to associate uniquely him. That and the heat radiating off him that warmed her.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“I think it has something to do with the new moon.” She lifted her gaze from the parchment. Close. He was standing so close. “The new moon is coming.”

Elation ignited deep in his eyes with a hint of relief. “Dickens, bring tea and breakfast to my sitting room. We will work in there today.”

“As you wish, my prince.”

Chapter 29

Leopoldpressedahandto the small of her back. With his other hand he motioned toward the grand staircase. She didn’t hesitate as she turned toward them.

It was difficult not to touch her. With her standing so close, he scented her sweet, intoxicating fragrance. He was unable to resist touching her. She didn’t recoil from him, much to his delight.

Together, they ascended the stairs and walked in silence down the hall to his private sitting room. The room with the offensive hourglass that ticked away the days of his life. With every shift of the sand, his end grew closer. But now, there was hope. Hope that she was closing in on the answer, the way to break the curse.

When they entered the room, he immediately hurried to the desk and began tidying it to give her space. She stood inside the door, clutching the book, and watching him with those ocean-colored eyes. Eyes he felt it was impossible not to get lost in.

He stacked papers, neat and orderly. Closed books and removed them, placing them on the floor. Found fresh parchment for her writings, his favorite quill, and an inkwell. But the hourglass remained.

He hadn’t been able to move it. Not even touch it. It sat on the desk like a silent sentinel, its sand glowing faintly, unnatural, like starlight bleeding through a wound. Grain by grain, it marked the end, steady and unforgiving.

His end. Every time he looked at it, the urge to smash it warred with the knowledge that he couldn’t. That it would outlast him. That it was already winning.

Finally, he stood back and waved her toward the desk.

With tentative steps, she headed toward him, still wearing her bonnet and gloves. With careful motions, she placed the book on top of the desk. That’s when he noticed she carried another book as well. Something with a blue hardback cover and silver writing. When she tilted the book just so, he caught a glimpse of the title in silver.Celestial Events.

He stepped back to give her space. She removed her gloves and bonnet and dropped them on the desk next to the books. In one fluid motion, he scooped them up and removed them, placing them on one of the nearby side tables so they would be out of her way. Her lashes fluttered as she watched him do it, then granted him a smile.

“It’s all right if I sit here?” She pointed to the chair behind the desk.

“Yes, of course.”

Determined not to stare her down or fidget, he snatched up one of the books off the floor and flipped it open, pretending to be suddenly engrossed in the pages. Truthfully, the words were nothing more than dots on the page.

“Dickens will arrive soon with tea,” he said, as though he needed to explain about the delay.

“Last night, I was able to decipher a second line,” she said.

That caught his attention. “You did?”

“Yes.The final form shall take root.”

Her gaze was fixed on the paper in front of her, as though she were afraid to look at him. A strange sensation shifted through him as the words played over and over in his mind.

“The final form…” he said slowly, carefully. Though he was afraid to ask, he said it anyway. “What final form?”

“I take it to mean your beast form,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

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