Page 90 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle
The magistrate glanced back down at his papers. “We begin with testimony from the petitioner, Lord Vincent Blackwell, who filed the complaint.”
Bella’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as her head snapped in his direction. Howdarehe. Disbelief followed by shock pounded through her as she stiffened in her chair, her gloved hands clenched so tight they ached.
Lord Vincent stood, not giving her a second glance. “The facts are simple, your honor. Two of Mr. Rinaldi’s ships were destroyed by a mysterious fire while the third was still out to sea carrying unlisted cargo of questionable origin. One in particular known to be cursed.”
She clenched her jaw. How did he know about that? The only viable explanation was Emmaline suspected and must have told him. He looked directly at Bella, then.
“His daughter, your honor, has possession of that cursed item.”
Saints preserve her. The loathing for the man shot through her in a hot, wild beat. More whispers swelled throughout the room. She shot to her feet, her mind working to come up with an explanation—any explanation—that was less condemning.
“My father had nothing to do with the book. He didn’t even know it was on board.”
Her father sucked in a sharp breath. “Bella, no.”
“Is that so?” Lord Vincent smirked, knowing the truth all too well.
“What was this object, Lord Vincent?” the magistrate asked.
“A book, your honor. A book of dark enchantment that was likely cursed. Why, every nobleman in port knows the girl can translate arcane languages. That she skulks around dusty libraries. She wanted the book for herself. She wanted to use it to cast dark spells.”
Fury boiled through her. “I did no such thing.”
But he was not to be dissuaded in his impassioned argument. “I saw the book myself. She conjured a beast with it. She is a witch, your honor.”
Gasps rippled through the gathering, followed by a rumbling of voices as the onlookers formed their own opinions of her.
“What?” The word burst through her before she realized what she was saying.
Her father leapt to his feet. “My daughter is no witch!”
“Silence.” The magistrate banged his gavel to calm the crowd.
“Howdareyou,” she muttered, her hands still clenched into tight fists.
But Lord Vincent continued. “What made you think you had the authority to remove and conceal an object of such power, Miss Rinaldi?”
“She acted onmyauthority.”
The familiar voice sent a tremor through her as her heart stopped. She turned, as did the entire court. Even Lord Vincent.
The man rose from the last row and stepped into the aisle. Straight-backed. Sure-footed. Pale brown eyes gleamed with control.
Leopold.
He walked toward the bench with quiet authority, his gaze never leaving that of the magistrate. He wore a dark high-collared coat, finely tailored. A thorn pattern trimmed the cuffs and collar in a muted silver thread catching the light. His waistcoat was equally tailored in dark charcoal with silver buttons lying flat against his frame. Perfectly pressed trousers, tall boots polished to a high shine. Not ostentatious. Not flashy.
High born. Royalty. An undeniable force.
And everyone in that room knew it. Especially Lord Vincent who glowered at him as he passed by to pause at the front of the room. He was so close to her, she caught the faint scent of roses lingering on his coat.
“And who are you, sir?” the magistrate asked.
“Leopold Thornhurst, your honor. Prince of the Southern Mountains. I can assure you Miss Rinaldi is no witch. Nor is Mr. Rinaldi a criminal. I claim full responsibility for the cursed item in question. If it can be called cursed.”
The magistrate lifted a brow. “Do you?”
The room fell into a deathly silence. Bella found it difficult to breathe. Here he was, the man she loved, standing here defending her honor and her father’s reputation. How did he know to be here? She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t told anyone. Not even Gerald.
