Page 37 of The Beautiful Blade

She turned to me, surprise flashing in her green eyes. For a moment, we shared a strange sort of camaraderie. Two people bound by impossible choices and the love of people who’d never truly be ours.

Then the wedding bells tolled, breaking the moment.

I didn’t move. I sank onto a nearby rock, my body screaming in protest, and stared toward the distant palace. Ten minutes passed in silence, each second dragging like an eternity. The bells rang again, their tone brighter, announcing the vows had been said.

It was done. Charlotte was married. She'd said the vows to another man. It was lies, but it was a contract that couldn't be undone.

Then the roar came.

It wasn’t a sound—it was a force, shaking the ground and reverberating through the city like a shockwave. Raw and guttural, it carried rage and heartbreak. I didn’t need to see who it belonged to. I knew.

Belle and I exchanged a glance. Before we could move, the air shifted. Guards poured in from every direction, their armor gleaming even in the dim eclipse light. Not mage guards, not shifters—fae.

They knocked Belle out with barely a tap to the back of her head. She wasn't a fighter. She'd screamed like a damsel back at the summer castle. If I'd had Charlotte at my side, I might have made it out of this.

The guards at the prison just watched. I wasn't their problem any longer.

"The queen wants a word with you."

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHARLOTTE

The silk of the gown pooled around me in decadent waves, the fabric so delicate it felt like I could dissolve into it. My fingers traced the intricate embroidery along the bodice—Belle’s handiwork, every stitch a masterpiece. She had been right. It was beautiful. The kind of gown meant for a fairy princess, meant to be admired, envied, worshipped.

All eyes had been on me. Too bad the only pair of eyes I’d wanted to see hadn’t been there.

I had whispered my vows with my eyes closed beneath the veil, pretending it was him standing beforeme. I had spoken words of devotion, of duty, of forever, and I had meant every single one of them—not for the Beast Prince, but for the man who had held my heart long before I ever knew what love was.

But then the veil had lifted.

Prince Adom’s sharp eyes had met mine, and in that moment, the fury that should have ignited never came. Instead, his face slackened, his pupils dilating. His lips parted, as if he meant to speak, but then—he wavered. He collapsed. Then he shifted.

The man in the bed was no beast. He was unfairly handsome. His features were sharp, regal, as if the gods had sculpted him with a perfection meant to frustrate artists. As a beast, he had been fierce and commanding; as a man, he was a vision.

But not my vision.

He was not Jorge.

And yet I'd bound myself to him.

How could I do this? How could I go another three minutes, let alone three years, without his face, his touch, his voice murmuring my name like it was sacred?

My grip tightened on the dagger. I wasn’t going to stay. I couldn’t.

I'd said the vows. The curse was broken. The beast was human. The moon was appeased. There was no edict that I had to stay. But escaping wouldn’t be easy.

The Beast Prince stirred. Though perhaps I shouldn't call him that any longer. Since he was human.

Prince Adom stirred, his golden lashes fluttering as he opened his eyes. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his face slack with confusion. Then he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. His movements were unhurried, as though he'd woken in a stranger’s body. His gaze landed on the mirror across the room, and he rose, stalking toward it.

He stood before the mirror, studying himself. Was it vanity? Or disbelief? His fingers brushed over his jaw, his reflection’s smooth, unmarred skin where once fur and claws had ruled. He turned sharply, finally noticing me in the room.

“Hi, I’m Charlotte. Your wife.”

“I’m Adom. Your husband.”

We stood in silence, appraising each other like adversaries rather than partners. He sank heavily onto the bed, running a hand through his wild mane of hair. I hesitated, then joined him, careful to keep space between us.

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