Page 71 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

She looked up.

Whatever words he’d been holding onto scattered like leaves in the breeze.

Her eyes—gods, those eyes—held a depth that hit him like a blow. Raw dread. Grief. Something else he didn’t dare name. All of it crashing into him in a single, unguarded look.

It gutted him.

The force of it struck deep, sharp and unrelenting, like she’d reached inside and found the last fragile piece of him still left untouched.

He couldn’t look away. Wouldn’t. Because at that moment, she saw him. All of him. The beast, the curse, the man.

And she didn’t run.

“Well, then, we best unravel the rest of the riddle, then, eh?” He said it with bravado he didn’t quite feel.

Before she replied, Dickens charged in with the cart. The teacups rattled with every roll of the wheels as he pushed it into the room. The decadent smell of delicious food wafted from the tray. Warm, golden freshly baked scones rested in a linen-lined basket. Clotted cream and strawberry preserves were served in delicate porcelain dishes. Soft-boiled eggs, crusty toast, and fruit completed the ensemble.

The faint aroma of Darjeeling tea wafted from the teapot. Comfort disguised as civility. Next to it, cubes of sugar and creamer.

“Shall I serve, my prince?” he asked.

“No, that will be all for now, Dickens.”

He gave a nod of his head and departed.

Bella rose from the desk. “Oh, that smells wonderful.”

“I take it you missed breakfast.” He grinned at her as he poured her a cup of tea, then one for himself.

“Yes, I was in a bit of a rush to get out of the house.” She gratefully took the tea, sipped it, and closed her eyes to enjoy the fruity, muscatel notes.

He picked up a small plate and handed it to her. “Help yourself.”

Taking the plate from him, she filled it with reckless abandon. As though she hadn’t had a proper meal in ages. When he had his plate, they sat together in the small seating area with the low table in the center enjoying the light breakfast in silence.

He was so overcome with emotion at having her there with him in this quaint almost perfect moment, his stomach cramped. He placed the plate on the table and sat back in the cushions of the sofa. He didn’t want her to notice, but she noticed.

“Everything all right?” she asked. She stabbed half a soft-boiled egg with her fork and popped it into her mouth.

“Bella…” He pressed his lips together, unsure what he wanted to say.

No, that wasn’t right. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. The words pressed at the back of his throat. So many things and all of them wrong. Too much. Too personal. Too dangerous.

What were they to each other, really? Associates?

It began that way. Simple. Transactional. He told himself it would stay that way, that he needed it to. But somewhere between the silence and the shared glances, the hours spent unraveling curses and shadows, the lines blurred.

And now? He couldn’t name what they were anymore.

But he knew what he felt.

Undeniable. Irreversible.Hers.

And yet, how could she possibly feel the same?

Not when he was like this—broken, cursed, marked for ruin. He couldn’t even offer her a future, only the weight of a name stained by magic and loss.

So, he said nothing.

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