Page 16

L eopold paced the length of his private sitting room for the third time, his hands behind his back as he waited for Dickens to return. He counted the steps on the same worn path of the carpet where the light didn’t quite reach. The blue-tinted sunlight bleeding through the tall lancet windows made everything feel colder than it was.

Books lay in loose stacks on the shelves and floor, exactly where he’d left them. He hadn’t touched any of them in days. Couldn’t focus long enough to read or research. Not since the day Bella walked into his life with that cursed volume.

The hearth stood cold. The firewood untouched. He could light it with a word, but the silence felt cleaner somehow. Less like pretending to be civilized. He was far from civilized, though his put up a good facade.

Dickens was gone most of the day, giving him hope that when he returned, he would have more information for him about Isabella Rinaldi and her father’s merchant business. Now, the day waned, and twilight was upon them once again.

Disappointment flooded him when the carriage returned late that morning without her. It was a sure sign she refused to return. He hadn’t expected the ache deep in his chest when she didn’t. He suspected it was because of his eccentric library. Or perhaps his brazen confession he was cursed. Her face paled when he told her. He shouldn’t have told her.

It was even more disturbing when he woke up in the middle of the foyer at sunrise face down on the floor. The cold tile seeped into his aching bones. All he wore were his trousers with ripped hems. His shirt was gone. His shoes were nowhere to be found. The rose branded on the inside of his forearm pulsed with an agonizing throb. And he knew, the moment his eyes opened, what had happened the night before.

He halted his pacing to rake his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. Frustration edged through him. He and Dickens had taken every precaution necessary to keep him contained and still it was not enough. He’d broken through the manacles that had chained him to the dungeon wall. That meant he likely burst through the cell door, too. He hadn’t gone to see about the destruction because he didn’t want to face the reality. The shame of it all.

The curse was getting stronger. His ability to remain confined to the castle during a full moon was becoming more difficult. Perhaps it was for the best the lady did not return, for he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her when he was in his ghastly form.

His gaze flicked to the desk.

The hourglass waited there, a foreboding presence that overshadowed his life’s existence. Its iron frame curled with delicate vines, tiny rosebuds etched into every twist, like it had been grown rather than forged from magic. The sand shimmered in shades with no name. Not gold, not silver, but something older, like starlight and blood.

The sands were still slipping through it. Slowly trickling from top to bottom. Soon, the remaining shimmering sands would all but fall through the narrow neck, forever sealing his fate.

At last, there was a knock on the chamber door. His gaze flew to it as Dickens opened it and stepped inside, the shadows following on his heels. He pushed a tea cart inside the room. His face looked grim, which told Leopold the news he had was not going to be good news.

“What did you find?” he asked, an urgency pounding through him.

“My prince, perhaps you’ll wish to sit.” He motioned to a nearby chair with a calm wave of his hand. Then reached for the teapot and poured a steaming cup.

“I don’t want to sit, and I don’t want bloody tea. Tell me, Dickens. What news?”

Dickens replaced the teapot with reserved calm, then grasped the cup in his hand. He stepped toward him and extended the tea, even though he insisted he didn’t want it. He took the cup, holding it between his hands and allowing the porcelain to warm his fingers. He had not realized how chilled to the bone he was until that moment.

His old valet returned to the cart, poured himself a cup, added two lumps of sugar, and stirred. As though they had all the time in the world.

He walked toward the seating area near the cold hearth, peering into the gray ashes. “Fire, please.”

The fireplace flared to life upon his command. Then he sat in the oversized wing-backed chair, crossing one leg over the other as though he were prepared for a long chat. Agitated, Leopold moved to sit across from him, clutching the cup in his hands and waited. His valet would tell him what he discovered in his own time. It would do no good to needle him.

“I spent a good portion of the day in port learning what I could about Mr. Enzo Rinaldi.”

“Bella’s father?”

He nodded. “His boatswain was more than happy to share information with me.” There was a twinkle or mirth and confession deep in his eyes.

Leopold sat back in the chair. “You magicked him.”

“I felt it was the most expedient course of action, my prince.” He paused to take a sip of his tea.

He wasn’t too happy that his valet used magic to get information but perhaps he was correct in that it was the quickest way to find out what happened.

“First of all, the merchant’s wife passed on several years ago. I understand she was quite ill. Rinaldi took Bella on his sea voyages until she was old enough to remain behind and run the estate in his absence. She is a talented and brilliant woman who has a penchant for libraries and the ability to translate almost any text.”

Brilliant and beautiful, he thought. Dickens continued.

“It seems Mr. Rinaldi purchased some odds and ends at a market at a port on the south side of the continent of Cappadocia. He was quite taken with the book and a few other items. The boatswain wasn’t sure of the contents of the cargo but he’s not one to question his captain.”

“The book?” Leopold said. “The book Bella has?”

“It seems so, yes. Once they arrived back in Port Leclare, strange happenings began. Something lurked in the cargo hold. A shadow thing, he called it. No one was quite certain what it was, but it was clear whatever it was frightened the sailors.”

“Frightened sailors? That’s never a good sign.” A fluttering of fear cramped his stomach. He took a sip of tea to quell it. Not that it would do any good.

“There were other signs. A cold wind blowing below deck. Lanterns snuffing. That sort of thing. That night, after docking, the merchant’s manor house went up in flames. They were all lucky to escape unscathed.”

“That’s why they came here to Driftbell?” he asked.

Dickens nodded. “Yes. And then almost the moment they arrived, two of the ships were destroyed in port. One was still at sea, so it was saved. However, the Port Authority opened a formal inquiry into the incident and is investigating to see if there was some sort of prohibited cargo onboard.”

“The cargo from Cappadocia?” he asked.

“Likely,” his valet said with a nod.

Or perhaps somehow it was the book’s doing. He felt it instinctively in his gut the destruction of the manor house and the ships were tied to the book. The cursed book. The book that was supposed to save him from living as an immortal beast, forever roaming the wilderness.

But only if Bella was able to translate it.

“There is more, my prince.” Dickens placed the teacup to the side and leaned forward as though the next bit of news was the worst yet. “Her father was arrested and placed in a portside jail until the formal inquiry concludes, and he appears in front of the magistrate. His accounts and manifests have been seized, and his license has been suspended.”

Leopold stared in cold silence at the man across from him. Dickens’ features were pinched with concern and worry. He understood what this meant for Bella. With his license suspended and his account frozen, the family faced financial ruin. Contracts would fall through. Investors would pull out. Debt collectors would close in, demanding payment. Not to mention his reputation as a trader and merchant was shredded.

And the gossip in town. He pressed a hand against his head. He imagined the gossip spreading quickly into town and higher society.

If Rinaldi didn’t know what he was bringing on board, the burden of proof would fall on him. If he had no proof, nothing to indicate it wasn’t illegal goods, then he’d face accusations of negligence or—worse—smuggling.

Where would that leave Bella?

The thought of her becoming destitute or homeless sent his senses reeling. The arrival of the book was the catalyst, though she may not even realize that. And he only added to her troubles by asking her to translate the book for him . He had to find some way to help her. Some way to make sure she remained in Hawthorne Hall. Not only because he needed her, but because he abhorred the thought of her facing such awful trouble alone.

He placed the teacup on the table in front of him. “Dickens, I think it’s time I call on Miss Rinaldi at Hawthorne Hall.”

“My prince?”

“She didn’t return today. Perhaps if I call on her, I could put her mind at ease about coming back here to finish her translation.”

A dark brow lifted in apprehension. “Do you think that’s wise?”

He cut a glance to the hourglass. By his calculations, if the curse wasn’t broken by the next moonrise and the sands ran out…his life as he knew it was forfeit. “I think it’s my only choice. We’ll go in the morning.”

“We, my prince?”

“Yes, we . You’re coming with me.” He got to his feet and held out his wrists. “Best use the iron shackles this time, Dickens.”

Dickens got to his feet, his expression one of concern and remorse. “Are you certain?”

“It’s the only thing we haven’t tried. If it doesn’t work, then I don’t know what will.”

“As you wish, my prince.” He bowed low and headed for the door.

Leopold followed, his gut in a tight knot. His transformation followed the phases of the moon, from waxing gibbous, to full, to waning gibbous, giving him ample time to cause mayhem. By the time the quarter moon came around, his transformation went dormant.

But if the curse was getting stronger…well, he didn’t want to think about that. They were heading toward a new moon. He hoped Bella found a way to break the curse before the next quarter moon. Otherwise, he’d be lost to this world forever.