Page 79 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

Not taken, not stolen, not owed.

A crown cast down. A heart left open. A vow made in silence.

Speak the truth that lives between the thorn and the bloom.

Name it, and he shall be unmade and made whole again.

“Speak the truth that lives between the thorn and the bloom,” she whispered.

The thorn…did that mean Leopold?

The bloom…was that her?

Her mind raced as she worked out how to break the curse. She shoved aside the parchment and searched through her other writings. Desperation pulled at her. She had to put it all together. She found her previous scribbles and writings and organized the pages. Then she took out a fresh sheet of parchment, dipped her quill in ink, and rewrote the phrases.

Shadows stir. The sands of time slip away.

Silence forever in the gloaming.

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

The hourglass bleeds its last.

When the sky is blind and the stars dare not shine,

The final form shall take root.

Not beast. Not man. Something in between.

Bound by thorn. Named by none.

One shall bleed, though no wound is seen.

One shall choose, though no path is clear.

To break what binds, name what was given freely.

Not taken, not stolen, not owed.

A crown cast down. A heart left open. A vow made in silence.

Speak the truth that lives between the thorn and the bloom.

Name it, and he shall be unmade and made whole again.

As she rewrote the last line, she read it again. And then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Merciful skies! I know how to break the curse.”

She shoved aside the parchment pages that didn’t matter. Then took the one with the fresh ink and the completed curse—spell?—and folded it in half with a gentle hand. She slipped it between the pages of the book, then slammed the cover closed.

She scooped it up and hurried across the room to the library door with one destination in mind—to get to Leopold.

But then she halted in the open doorway, her heart racing. Leopold’s carriage would not be waiting for her at this time of night in the village. She would have to walk alone in the dark. The only thing that gave her comfort was knowing the beast was out there to protect her.

No, it was too great a risk. Other perils excited on the dark road at night. Vagrants. Highwaymen. She did not want to risk her safety—or that of the beast’s—trying to get to Thornhurst Castle in the middle of the night.

She turned back to the room, headed inside, and snuffed out the candles. Still clutching the book, she toed off her slippers and settled down on the small sofa in front of the fire. This would have to do for tonight. Still holding the book, she watched the flickering flames until, finally, she was fast asleep.

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