Enchant: Beauty and the Beast Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale Book 1) Read online

  "Your Highness is too kind," she murmured. "I am certain there are many ladies here far more beautiful than I."

  Vardan barked out a laugh. "None that I have seen this week. But, as you say, you know nothing of curses. Least of all the kind of curse that turns a man into this." He unshuttered his lantern and held it high, so that she might see his face.

  Zuleika recoiled in horror. What she had taken for a man, was in fact something so hideous she could scarcely bear to look at him. She wasn't even sure what creature he'd been transformed into. Some sort of monstrous…feline? Canine? Bear? And were those…tusks, or horns?

  He lowered the lantern before she could decide, hiding himself in the shadows once more. There was no laughter this time. "So you see, Lady Belle, that there will be no breaking of my curse. Do you still wish to know more?"

  What had he done to deserve such a fate? The curse she had visited upon his brother for her brutal rape was mild in comparison to this. Perhaps Vardan was a pirate after all, and a worse man than the king. If he deserved this curse, he would not dupe her into removing it. In the unlikely event that he had been cursed unjustly…then she would help him. But she would take her time to determine the truth of the matter before she made her decision.

  "I do, your Highness," she said with her eyes closed.

  "Then on the morrow, you shall have a tour of Beacon Isle." And with that, he swept out of the room.

  Fourteen

  He should never have unshuttered the lantern, Vardan scolded himself. He could not explain the strange urge that had taken hold of him, to show himself to her as though he expected her reaction to be different to anyone else's. The horror in her eyes when she'd seen his face…

  Horror, but not fear, he reflected. At least that was something. And she had agreed to tour the island with him, which he had to admit had surprised him. He'd never taken anyone on a tour of Beacon Isle before. What would a lady wish to see?

  He would ask…who? No one knew her. He didn't even know her name, for she'd meekly accepted the teasing moniker he'd thrown at her without a murmur. Yet a moment earlier, she'd been as fierce as a she-bear, calling him a pirate. Synonymous with scum…a lady of some education, then, who spoke her mind even as she read his own. For she'd known about his distaste for pirates, he was certain of it.

  And for all his thirst for answers, she hadn't told him anything. He hadn't counted on her being so clever. For a woman so beautiful…it seemed almost too much that she had a mind to match.

  He needed to spend more time with her. His idea to take her on a tour of the island had been a good one, he was certain, but he wanted more time before that, too. Time to set her at her ease, to persuade her that however hideous he looked, he was still a man of honour, and she would be safe beneath his roof. Safe enough to spill some of her secrets into his ear.

  "I'll invite her to dinner!" he exclaimed.

  "Very good, master," Inga said behind him.

  He whirled. "How long have you been following me?"

  "I have not left, master. After I undressed her, I waited outside in case I was needed. I hope you will change her mind about breaking the curse."

  So Inga had heard everything, it seemed. Vardan wasn’t surprised. "Any advice you'd care to offer me on that count? For I have yet to find a woman who can stare at someone as beastly as I am and not shudder in disgust."

  "Love is not all about how one looks, master," Inga said reproachfully.

  "Beasts don't love. Only men do that."

  Inga grasped his arm. "And women. Don't forget that, master. Of all her children and grandchildren, the good Queen Margareta loved you best of all. She would want happiness for you. If you can win this lady's heart and break the curse, then – "

  "Then men will fly, we will enjoy fresh strawberries every day, and King Thorn will declare that Beacon Isle is its own kingdom, to be ruled by what the ancients called a democracy, or a republic, or some other mythical name. Do not let your hopes rise too far, or their wings will melt and your spirits will fall so low you will have no hope left." Vardan closed his eyes. "I am sorry. This bitterness shall pass. I will set my hopes low: that she will one day look at me without disgust, and that she will share a meal with me."

  "Invite her to supper, then, master, for if it is dark in the great hall, you can better hide in the shadows."

  Vardan nodded sharply. "I shall. Who knows? Perhaps one day I will not need to hide."

  Inga sounded sad. "I hope that day comes."

  Fifteen

  Zuleika waited until she was certain he was gone before she climbed out of bed and dressed. It wasn't until she realised she didn't know who had removed her clothes, she wondered whether he had done it. The laces she was trying to tie dropped from her numb fingers. No – surely not. The green woollen gown had been neatly folded in the chest, much like it was when she found it. A prince would not know how to fold gowns. Like his brother, he probably only knew how to tear them off helpless women.

  No, her clothes had been cared for by one of the mysterious maids she had yet to meet. As if to prove a point, someone knocked tentatively at the door.

  "My lady?" It was a woman's voice this time. "The master has supper served in the great hall. If you are feeling well enough, you are invited to join him." A pause. "But if you are still unwell, I shall bring a tray."

  Zuleika was not so lazy as to wish to make extra work for the maids. "I will join him."

  "Very good, my lady. Will you need my help to dress?"

  Zuleika considered the laces she'd given up on. "No, I think I can manage." After all, she'd travelled to many places in the world without a maid, and managed to dress herself. But supper alone with the prince in the great hall… Now, that called for something a little more fancy than the green wool travelling dress she had chosen earlier. Instead, she chose a red velvet one, the colour of wine, much finer than the red dress she'd arrived in.

  She took her time with the shell combs, knowing that the more beautiful she looked, the more information she could extract from the prince. For all his talk of a curse, no magic had touched the cargo. And where were the crew? If he had captured them and sold them as slaves…

  Zuleika shook her head. If the man was a slaver, then he deserved his fate.

  Instead of her boots, Zuleika chose a pair of soft slippers she found in the chest. They fitted her so well, it was almost as if they had been made for her. She felt a peculiar urge to dance. Later, she told herself. Once her investigations were finished, her father's cargo had been returned to him, and the man responsible for sinking his ships had tasted justice.

  She needed no spell to guide her to the great hall this time, for she knew her way. A good thing, too, for it appeared that her lengthy preparations had made her late for dinner. The prince sat at one end of the long table, while a place was set for her at the opposite end. Platters of more food than two people could eat covered the wooden surface between them. When Zuleika sat down, she found the lighting so dim that she could scarcely see her food, let alone the man at the other end of the table.

  "Do you normally eat in the dark, or do you simply dislike the sight of me?" Zuleika asked the prince.

  He pretended not to hear her, though she was certain that he had.

  Zuleika folded her arms across her breast. "I will not eat what I cannot see. I need more light."

  Silence swelled for a moment between them, before the prince clapped his hands and called, "The Lady Belle demands more light. She wishes to see."

  Zuleika heard the sharp intake of breath behind her, followed by scurrying feet. Perhaps the prince did like to eat in darkness. Minutes passed, before Zuleika heard the tramp of feet. Not one pair, like before, but a veritable army of servants, bearing light. When they came into view, it was her turn to gasp. For there were no servants in sight. All she could see was a row of lit candles, marching in midair. Yet she had heard the sound of feet on stone.

  Djinn, was her first thought, or another enchantress li
ke herself. "What is this magic?" she demanded.

  The prince gestured at his hideous visage, now clearly visible in the bright illumination. "It is merely a part of my curse, Lady Belle," he said. "Not even the strongest man on the island wishes to share a meal with me, for one look at my face turns his stomach. I did not wish to ruin your appetite for supper. My cook may be invisible, but her sturgeon pie is the best in the region, if not the world."

  Invisible servants. No wonder Zuleika hadn't seen her assailant. There had been nothing to see.

  Reluctantly, Zuleika returned to her seat. She met the prince's eyes squarely across the length of the table. Though he looked hideous, more beast than human, his eyes were the exception. His eyes missed nothing, and right now they were evaluating her reaction to his enchanted servants. She refused to be found wanting. She tore her gaze from his mesmerising eyes, and surveyed the now well-lit table. "You recommend the sturgeon pie, you say? Then I must taste some."

  Before she could work out which pie was the one in question, a pie-laden plate rose off the table and flew toward her. It stopped at her elbow. A respectful female voice asked, "How much would you like, my lady?"

  Invisible servants, Zuleika reminded herself. Beside her stood an ordinary maid who simply had the misfortune to be invisible. Zuleika indicated a generous slice, which appeared to part itself from the rest of the pie before floating to her plate. Even for an enchantress, accustomed to using magic every day, it was disconcerting to see floating food. She forced herself to smile directly at the prince as she picked up a knife and cut herself a small portion of pie. She popped it into her mouth without dropping her gaze.

  Her eyes widened in surprise as she realised the prince was right about his cook's skill. The sturgeon pie, with its mix of salt and spice, and perhaps even a little cheese, was indeed the best she had ever tasted. Zuleika hastened to scoop up another bite.

  "What do you think, Lady Belle?" the prince asked.

  Zuleika swallowed. "I think," she said carefully, "that your strongest men are weak indeed. I would gladly share a meal with a far more frightening man than you, if it meant more of that delicious pie. I have half a mind to try to steal your cook."

  "My staff are loyal to me, even despite the curse. You would have better luck trying to steal a casket of jewels from my storeroom, and you have seen how badly that turns out." His voice held a warning edge.

  Stealing from one's host was a gross violation of the laws of hospitality, as Zuleika well knew. She lowered her gaze. "I meant no disrespect to your household, your Highness."

  "Vardan," he corrected. "I am a merchant prince, more than a royal one. Yes, I rule this isle, but not because of my birth. To everyone else here, I am the Trade Master of Beacon Isle. From what little I know of you so far, Lady Belle, I suspect you call no man your master." He smiled in what appeared to be amusement, but his eyes held a challenge.

  "In that, you are correct, Vardan," she said sweetly. "Will you tell me more about how you came to be cursed?"

  Vardan's gaze wandered around the room. "You may go," he said, waving his hands.

  If Zuleika closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the servants clearing the room, leaving her alone with the prince as the candles formed an honour guard down the length of the table between them. "How do you know they are all gone?" she asked. "Someone could be standing silently in the corner, and you would never know."

  His enormous shoulders rose and fell in a noncommittal shrug. "So it is true what they say, that there is no loyalty amongst thieves. Lady Belle, you betray yourself every time you open your mouth. Servants will listen to the master's private conversations, and mine will learn all my secrets whether I will it, or no. Loyalty is how I know they will keep their mouths shut about it outside my household. But what I will tell you this evening is no secret. In fact, they know the story so well that they will add their own details to it and I will not be able to get a word in. You will forgive me if I'm selfish enough to wish to keep your attention to myself. We get so few visitors here."

  Zuleika felt his eyes on her again. "Then tell your tale, oh, selfish prince. Why are you cursed?"

  He lifted his goblet and drank deeply from his wine. "Those are two different questions, but the answer to both is the same. In truth, I am not certain, but I shall tell you what I know." He took a deep breath, then continued, "As my brother's herald is my witness, I retired one night, an ordinary man in a household of ordinary servants. On the morrow, I awoke to a household in uproar. Every man, woman and child in my employ had been cursed with invisibility, and when I emerged from my chamber, I was as you see now. Why I became impossible to look at, instead of invisible like the rest, heaven only knows. The only person in the house to escape the curse was my brother's herald, Sir Ryder. He had recently brought me a name day gift from my brother, the king. He took ship the following morning, bearing a message to my brother, asking him to investigate this curse which had befallen us.

  "Some time later, my brother's answer arrived. His inquiries revealed that I had offended a powerful witch, who would never lift the curse as long as she lived. His advice was to hunt the woman down and slay her."

  "And did you?" Zuleika blurted out.

  "What do you take me for?" the prince demanded. "I am no coward, slaughtering defenceless women, witch or no. And even if I were to dishonour myself so, I am still not stupid. The curse a witch casts with her dying breath is far more powerful than any she casts in life. Damn near unbreakable, or so I have heard. And it is not just me she would curse. The whole population of Beacon Isle depends on me to break the curse we are already under. So I sent another missive to my brother, asking him to bargain with her. What must I do in order for her to lift the curse? I offered wealth, lands, pledging myself to her service, but her answer was none of these. The witch said I had rejected her charms when she offered herself to me, and if she could not have me, then she would make me so hideous, so repulsive, that no one else could bear to look at me. She would lift the curse if I pledged my love for her, or if a woman, more beautiful than she, fell in love with me in my current form. As my honour will never abide the first, and no woman will look at me, the curse is no closer to being broken than on the day the witch cast it."

  "So you plan to seduce me?" Zuleika asked.

  The prince laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair. "Good heavens, no! Perhaps some of the servants, especially the more romantically inclined maids, hope I will do so, but you are safe from me, Lady Belle. I am not my brother. I do not seduce maidens for my own pleasure."

  "Then you're a better man than your brother," she said vehemently. "He deserves this curse, not you."

  Vardan laughed softly this time. "Ah, he would never refuse a woman's affections. But if the witch were to appear before me now as a beautiful maiden like yourself, I would still choose the curse over dishonour for I would not dishonour her. So you see, I am not blameless in this matter."

  "I still wish to help you, if I can," Zuleika ventured. "It sits ill with me to let a wicked witch have her way."

  The prince inclined his head. "Tomorrow, I shall show you the rest of Beacon Isle, and you shall see the extent of her curse. Then perhaps you will see how pointless it is to oppose a witch so powerful."

  "No witch is invincible," Zuleika said. She thought of her own brush with death, mere days ago, when she had nearly drowned. The prince's servants might well have saved her life bringing her in from the snow.

  "Perhaps not," he agreed. He stretched his arms up behind his monstrous head, fixing his gaze on her. "Now, Lady Belle, I have satisfied your curiosity, while mine hungers for answers. It is time for you to tell me how you came to be lying in my rose garden."

  Zuleika swallowed. "It is?"

  Sixteen

  Haltingly, she told a tale about being aboard her father's ship, before finding herself in the water. She fought not to weep as she described how close she had come to drowning, but still she continued, "And then I found myself in
the snow, where your servants found me." She cast her eyes down and sipped from her goblet.

  Rolf had made his suspicions clear. In his opinion, the girl had heard the rumours that Beacon Isle was haunted by the ghosts of those who had once lived here which kept everyone else away, but she'd dismissed them as mere stories. Vardan couldn't blame her for that – he did not believe in ghosts, either. So she'd come here to search for the treasures the pirates had left in their cavernous lairs around the island, Rolf had insisted. The very fact that when she woke, she'd headed straight for the cellars to steal something precious confirmed it in Rolf's eyes.

  But not Vardan's. Oh, he admitted it was possible. But he'd searched the casket of jewels twice, and found nothing but the pretty purple stones. Of all the jewels in his cellar, they were perhaps the least valuable of the lot. Why choose that when she could have had gold or rubies or diamonds?

  Unless she'd just taken something at random to prove to someone else that she'd found the lost ships' cargo. That certainly fitted with her arriving her by magical means. She must have had help from someone.

  Yet he'd lifted her from the snow himself – he'd felt the weight of water in her clothes, and smelled the salt from the sea. He didn’t doubt her sincerity now when she spoke of near drowning.

  How, then, was she here? And why?

  Vardan wanted to pound his fist on the table and demand answers, but the girl had evidently been through quite an ordeal. That she could tell him anything at all was a miracle in itself. So instead, he forced himself to soften his tone. "And you know nothing of who pulled you from the water, and brought you to my home?"

  She paused to swallow more wine. "No, your Highness. I saw no one."

  Not even when she'd arrived here, as his invisible servants had frightened her so much she'd fainted. For all her strength of character, he must remember that she'd not long since awoken from a swoon. She was as delicate as the first spring flowers that ventured through the melting snow. Precious. In need of protection.