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B ella remained in the castle until morning. With Leopold still recovering, she took a bedchamber down the hall, thanks to Dickens. She slept that night for the first time in days. A deep sleep that was not interrupted by howls or curses or shadow things.

Before she left, Bella peeked into Leopold’s chambers to see he still slept. Likely he would need rest after the ordeal of the curse for the last several centuries. Plus, he had wounds that needed healing.

The old valet walked with her down the stairs to the front door in amicable silence. As if perhaps, he was trying to decide what to say and how to say it. After she left Leopold to rest, Dickens took her to a room without a word. It was an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of them that she had broken the curse and he was grateful.

Dickens was much changed. No longer did he have baleful eyes or frightful pale skin. He had color in his face once again. His eyes had changed from dark and piercing to a sparkling blue. His hair, once slicked back, now fell across his high forehead. The shaggy ends dusted his thick eyebrows. He looked different. Alive. Healthy.

He turned to her, grasped her hand, and held it a long moment. His fingers were warm around hers. There was relief deep in his eyes as he looked at her. Relief and admiration.

“My lady, what you did—”

“No need to thank me, Dickens,” she interrupted.

She didn’t need accolades for doing the right thing. She’d grown fond of the old valet and didn’t want him to shower her with his praises. She cast a glance back to the stairs.

“I hate to leave him.”

“When he’s strong enough, he will call on you at Hawthorne Hall.” For the first time, Dickens smiled. A genuine smile that lit up his face and warmed her from the inside out. Then he kissed her hand.

“I look forward to that, Dickens.”

When she stepped outside the door of the castle, she inhaled a sharp breath. Morning sunlight filtered through the tall trees. Gone were the shadows and shade. In front of her, the carriage waited on the curved gravel drive. Beyond, a lush verdant lawn immaculately trimmed. On the breeze, the sweet scent of roses which caught her attention. Along the stone wall, where once the night rose bloomed, now there was nothing but color. Pink, yellow, orange. The petals vibrant, their soft faces turned upward reaching for the sun.

She stumbled outside and turned to look up at the castle. Even the dark-blue facade was changed. No longer did it resemble twilight. Now, the stone walls gleamed in the light. The spires and towers rose toward the brilliant blue sky. Even the gargoyles who once peered down with soulless, stone eyes were now nothing more than statues carved from alabaster.

Dickens joined her and followed her gaze. He stared at the much-changed exterior of the castle for a long moment, his face impassive as though processing what was before his eyes. A complete transformation from dark and bleak to light and welcoming.

“It has been restored to its former glory,” he said at last.

The curse had truly effected everything.

“The prince will be overjoyed to know,” he added. Then he turned to her and for a moment, she thought she saw the mist of tears in his eyes before he blinked them away. “Safe travels, my lady. I will send word when his highness is better.”

She nodded. “I look forward to it.”

Then she climbed into the carriage and headed back to Hawthorne Hall for a good long rest.

When she arrived back at Hawthorne, she sensed a shift in the air. Gerald paced the length of the small foyer with a pinched expression on his aged face, a paper clutched in his hands. The moment she saw him her senses went on high alert.

“What is it, Gerald?”

“Oh, miss, there you are.”

He came to a stuttering halt, looking her up and down. She realized then she wore the same dress as yesterday. Glancing down, she saw it was full of wrinkles. Her hair was a mess about her face. She’d long since lost the ribbon that tied it. She didn’t know where it was. She flushed as she realized she must look a mess, and she didn’t have a ready explanation to share with the old butler.

Then she decided she didn’t need to explain to him where she was. She was the lady of the house, after all. She eyed the paper clutched in his fist.

“You have news?” she asked.

“Yes.” He handed her the letter. “This arrived earlier this morning.”

She took it, her heart climbing its way to her throat as she glanced down at the handwriting. It was unfamiliar, but the seal was all too familiar—the Port Leclare Magistrate. By the way Gerald was acting, he likely already knew what was written there.

“I’d like some tea and whatever breakfast you have, Gerald. I’ll take it in the parlor.”

She didn’t wait for a reply as she stepped into the parlor and sealed herself inside. Her hands shook as she opened the seal and walked toward the nearest chair. As she flipped open the paper, she sank into the worn cushions.

In two days, her father faced the inquiry to respond to the charges of smuggling, violating port regulations, and colluding to traffic contraband. The magistrate was ordering her to testify on her father’s behalf. You are hereby summoned to appear before the Magistrate’s Court two days henceforth at the hour of eleven bells in the forenoon, at Port Leclare Hall of Justice, to offer testimony in the matter of Rinaldi v. Port Leclare Port Authority.

It was signed Magistrate Eldred Halverson of Port Leclare.

Her first instinct was to crumple the letter in her fist. But she didn’t do that. Instead, she laid it on the table before her and stared at it. She drew a deep breath and clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from quivering.

Moments later, Gerald arrived with the tea cart and leftover scones from the day’s breakfast. But she found she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

“Everything all right, miss?”

“Yes,” she said, the word nothing more than an icy hiss. “It appears I will be returning to Port Leclare.”

“Mr. Rinaldi?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said again, keeping her eyes forward. “I’ll need to pack a bag. Emmaline can travel with me, but you and Edith should remain here.”

“Ah…” He cleared his throat as tension filled the air between them.

She glanced up at him. “What is it?”

“Miss Emmaline left this morning to return to her family home, miss.”

“Oh.” The word came out on a rough whisper. “I see, then.”

With stiff movements, she rose and poured herself a cup of tea. It was the only normal thing that felt right about the moment. Pouring tea. Eating scones.

Gerald remained where he was, clearly unsure what he should do.

“You may go, Gerald. Thank you for telling me about Emmaline.”

He gave a quick bow and left her alone in the parlor.