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CHAPTER THREE

BELLE

“N o, no, no!”

I heard the queen’s cries long before I saw her. The words grew sharper, louder, punctuated by the rapid clicking of heels against stone. The sound was a metronome of panic. The sharp clatter dulled to a muffled, uneven rhythm as she stepped into the unturned earth near the wall.

It was too late. Charlotte was already gone. The last swish of her white skirts disappeared over the lattice wall, leaving only the faint rustle of disturbed ivy and the soft thud of boots hitting the ground on the other side.

“Charlotte!” The queen's voice was a shouted whisper, the kind a parent directs at a misbehaving child while out in public. “You will come back this instant, Charlotte! Do you hear me?”

Queen Indira paused, listening, as though expecting a response. None came.

Her alabaster-pale face was flushed with fury as she turned to me. “This is your fault, Bess. I trusted you to keep her in line."

"Me?" The only line I kept with the princess was her measurements.

"Instead, you let this happen.”

I wanted to protest, to tell her that I hadn’t let anything happen, that her daughter was as uncontrollable as wildfire would be in the deserts of the Deadlands. Queen Indira didn’t want excuses; she wanted someone to blame.

Her gaze dipped to the gown in my hands. I pulled it tighter to me. Queen Indira was a master at turning chaos to her advantage. I could see her mind working now, fitting the pieces of this disaster into something resembling a plan that would have her as the primary benefactor.

"It could work."

I didn't respond. Because I had no idea what I might be getting myself into.

“You share the same coloring,” she said smoothly, her voice regaining its regal composure. “And from a distance, no one will know the difference."

I hadn't gotten the highest marks in school. I was far more interested in thread count and color combinations than math and literature. But I knew how to read a pattern, and I could see that the final product of the queen's designs would be a disaster that would unravel all around me.

"You'll pretend to be Charlotte."

Clearly, I would've gotten a gold star for my prediction. What I really needed was a healer to take the queen by her hand and tend her during her temporary insanity.

"You’ll wear a veil. It's an old human custom. Something to do with protecting the bride from vengeful spirits—or other suitors—who might try to claim her before the vows were spoken.”

The fairy queen tried to pull at the gown in my hands. That's when I found my voice.

“Queen Indira, I know you're upset. We'll find Princess Charlotte. Just send the guards after her.”

"There's no time. The Beast Prince is waiting."

"I can't pretend to be a fairy princess."

“You can. And you will.”

Queen Indira turned away and strode to the back of the carriage. Her hands deftly untied the straps that held the luggage in place. Where was that dexterity when the attendants had been loading all the trunks back in Evergrove? No wonder they'd all scattered to the servants’ quarters the moment the carriage came to a halt. Within moments, Queen Indira had pulled out a lace veil, its delicate pattern shimmering faintly in Avarix's pale moonlight.

She draped the veil over my head. The material wasn’t even good lace. Its uneven pattern betrayed a rushed hand, the inconsistencies glaring to someone like me who had spent countless hours perfecting the gown still clutched in my arms.

The veil wasn’t delicate. It wasn’t refined. It didn’t match my carefully tailored dress in color or design. Where my gown was soft and luminous, this veil was coarse and dull, its edges poorly finished and curling in places where they should have been smooth. It was an insult to my craft, to everything I valued, and it was now on my head.

“He likely wants to sniff you. Or mark you. I hear beasts do that.”

“Mark me? You mean bite me?”

“Just hold still while he has his way with you. You obviously know what to do. It’s not like you’re pure like my Charlotte.”

I wanted to snort, to laugh in her face, but I bit my tongue—literally, as the lace of the veil slipped into my mouth. Charlotte. Pure? The memory of one of our more candid conversations during a fitting flickered in my mind. Charlotte had known things that a proper fairy princess shouldn't know about her body and how it worked.

“Meanwhile, I’ll send the guards to search for Charlotte. We’ll have her back by dinner.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to say something—anything—to stop this madness. The moment I did, the veil betrayed me again. The coarse lace slipped into my mouth. I gagged, the taste of dust and desperation sharp on my tongue.

“If you don’t go in there, he could call it all off. Then no one will see your gown.”

She had me there. I swallowed hard against the lump of lace in my throat. If I didn’t go in there, if the prince called off the wedding, everything I had worked for—all the hours, the meticulous stitches, the aching fingers—would be for nothing. My masterpiece would vanish into obscurity, just as I feared I would.

“Give me the gown, Bess.”

That was where I drew the line. “No one handles this dress but me. And it's Belle.”

"No. It's Charlotte. At least for the next quarter hour or so. That's about as long as the act takes."

Wow, if that's all the action the late king gave her in the bedroom, no wonder she always looked like she had just sucked on a bitterbell bloom.

The queen gave me a push to the castle doors. I shifted the gown in my arms, adjusting it with practiced care. Inside, the Beast Prince awaited. People called him monstrous, cursed.

And he might bite me.

I wasn’t sure what beasts ate. There were blood fae and mages who feasted on flesh. Stone shifters who I supposed ate rocks. Dragons who, if you believed the stories, preferred virgin sacrifices. I'd grown up with rumors that fairies were sweet, like the flowers we evolved from. There was truth to that in the carnal act. But outside the bedroom, I had no clue what we tasted like.

The beast came from a pride of lions. Those jungle cats were carnivores, right? Blood was savory, not sweet. There was only sap in my veins, not blood. Therefore, I couldn't be a delicacy. Right?

Chamberlain Colson gestured for me to step forward. His face held that practiced unreadable expression of the elevated servant class. I caught glimpses inside rooms as I trailed him down the hall. Outside, the castle looked abandoned, forgotten. Inside, it was like stepping into a museum. Every object was preserved but untouched. All around me were the echoes of a life lived in warmth and love, now muted by time.

My eyes roamed over the ornate furniture, the gilded frames, and the heavy drapery that seemed to drink in the dim light. Sadness crept into my chest. This house had known joy once, I was certain of it. Now it was as hollow as the footsteps I left behind on the marble floor.

Colson opened a door. I felt the queen step up behind me, but he held her back. The last thing I saw was the thunderous expression on her face before the door shut her out. Surprisingly, I didn't wish she was by my side as I stepped into the room. She was not the ally anyone would want at their back.

The faint light from a distant hearth flickered, casting long shadows across the walls. I could hear my own breathing in the quiet of the room. It was uneven and shallow, mingling with the creak of the floor beneath my feet and a strange whirring sound.

I gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the room. Movement stirred in the shadows. A figure emerged, tall and broad, his presence unfurling like a creeping vine overtaking its surroundings.

He wasn’t what I had expected. Not with those chiseled features and that piercing gaze. His broad shoulders and commanding frame were impossible to ignore, especially in his military uniform with all those medals and gold. He was handsome, but there was no warmth in his eyes. No softness. Only a cool, assessing look that made me feel like a butterfly pinned under glass.

“If you don’t want to be queen, all you need to do is scream.”

The air rippled around him, heavy with his presence. I forced myself to stand tall, lifting my chin in defiance. “Are you going to bite me now?”

The faintest flicker of confusion crossed his face. He looked at me like I was a clock showing the wrong time. “Remove the veil.”

My fingers curled into the folds of the wedding gown. The familiar fabric grounded me. “Human custom dictates it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding day.”

His expression changed then. The cool mask dissolved into something… monstrous. This must be the beast everyone feared. He moved, sudden and fluid, lunging toward me as though to rip the veil away himself.

I staggered back. I reached for the door and wrapped my hand around the door knob. Before I could turn it, something shifted in the corner of the room. The flickering shadows twisted and came alive. A low, guttural sound rumbled through the air. My blood turned to ice.

The roar shattered the silence. It was so loud it actually shook the walls. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. It was a living, breathing beast with teeth sharp enough to tear me into many pieces.