The Beast and the Enchantress by Camille Peters
Chapter 2
It was impossible to concentrate with the worry shrouding me as I cast repeated glances towards my sister. She perched in the nearby window seat in the cozy two-bedroom cottage we shared with Enchantress Ivy. Ivy had been Mother’s apprentice, so the position of Royal Enchantress had been passed to her with Mother’s death three years before.
Rosemarie sat with her legs curled up beneath her and a book in her lap, one that remained unread as she stared unseeing out the window overlooking the royal grounds, the same position she’d been in all week. Her melancholy was such a contrast to her usual cheerfulness, and I hated seeing her in such a state.
Whenever my sister found herself in one of her somber moods, she had the tendency to remain nearby anytime she wasn’t working in the village, unable to bear being alone with her dark thoughts. And while I welcomed her company, in this instance my concern only proved a distraction.
Normally it only took Rosemarie a few days to recover from her disappointments, but this one showed no signs of ending anytime soon; I hadn’t seen her in such a state since our mother’s death. Apparently, her feelings for the prince had been deeper than I’d originally thought. I wondered if she associated the loss of the prince’s friendship with the loss of Father; perhaps the resurfaced memories and emotions might explain why she was taking His Highness’s rejection so hard.
My anger towards him grew as I cast her several anxious glances while I worked, my chest tightening as I studied the sadness marring her expression, one which became more acute with each passing day. My sister was gradually slipping away, a thought which caused my heart to wrench.
“Astrid?” At the sound of my mentor’s voice I turned away from my sister to find Enchantress Ivy waiting expectantly, her hand extended. “The unicorn tears?”
Of course, I was supposed to be assisting her with her current spell. My shaking hands nearly caused me to drop the potion vial as I handed it to Ivy. I caught a glimpse of her raised eyebrows before I turned away and began hastily chopping the vervain, the next ingredient for the charm. I felt her watchful stare as I finished my chopping and gathered the minced purple flowers to add to the brew bubbling in the cauldron over the hearth, only pausing at Ivy’s gentle touch.
“The vervain isn’t added until the unicorn tears have steeped for three minutes.”
My cheeks burned at the mistake, one of many I’d made in the week following what had transpired with the prince in the gardens. But how could I concentrate? As much as I loved my magic studies and the hours spent helping Enchantress Ivy with her spells, it all seemed inconsequential compared to my sister’s breaking heart, something I’d only become more protective of since our parents’ passing.
My gaze darted towards Rosemarie again, only to find her looking not mindlessly out the window but at me, her forehead puckered with concern.
“Are you alright, Astrid?” Her glassy eyes widened, a silent plea for me to be well.
“Of course,” I lied. “There’s no need to worry about me.” The last thing I wanted was for my well-being to weigh on her heart, already in a fragile state after Prince Gladen’s cruel rejection. The heat of Ivy’s gaze prickled the back of my neck, and I knew she at least had detected my lie.
“I know much is weighing on your mind,” she said. “But you must do your best to focus. These are no ordinary spells—they’re for Prince Gladen’s upcoming engagement party and thus must be our best work. Nothing less for His Highness.”
From her perch in the corner I heard Rosemarie’s breath hook and I stiffened. Oh no…I risked an anxious glance towards her to find her face white with shock and her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“The prince is soon to be engaged?” she asked in a wavering voice.
Enchantress Ivy hesitated. “The match has been in the works between the kingdoms of Rosileya and Analasia for several months. The engagement will be made official at the ball held in two weeks’ time. As the Royal Enchantress, I’ve been tasked with creating a magical performance for His Highness and his guests’ entertainment.”
Rosemarie stared blankly at her before her gaze darted towards me. I sensed her unspoken question, one I didn’t have the heart to answer. While Rosemarie’s work in the village kept her away from many of the goings-on at the palace, because of how closely Enchantress Ivy and I worked with the royal family, I’d of course known about the prince’s upcoming arrangement for quite some time.
Perhaps it’d been wrong to keep it from my sister how close the prince had been to making his upcoming union official, but at the time I’d only thought of protecting her and her fragile dreams, as foolish as those dreams were. Though I’d suspected she’d inevitably encounter the prince and discover what type of man he truly was, or learn of his impending engagement, I’d foolishly hoped both had occurred in a less traumatic way.
Rosemarie said nothing at my reluctant nod, but I could sense her heartache as Enchantress Ivy began discussing the spells we were preparing in greater detail—the enchanted effects for the decorations, the show of magical lights, and the magical orchestra we’d prepared in the flowers that would waltz throughout the room as the prince danced with his intended. All the best for a man who believed he thoroughly deserved it, of course.
I scarcely heard the enchantress’s stream of conversation, my attention riveted to my dear sister. I ached to know what she was thinking. Clearly her heart was breaking, so caught up in her infatuation that the news of the prince’s upcoming marriage was too difficult for her tender emotions to bear. It’d been the sole reason I’d been purposefully vague about what I’d been assisting Ivy with this week.
Ivy paused long enough to look up from her work to take in our expressions—Rosemarie’s teary one and my hardened one. Understanding softened her own before she cast her gaze across the table laden with jars of ingredients. “It appears we’re in need of more dragon’s breath.”
I mutely started for the stairs that led to the damp storeroom but paused at her gentle touch on my arm.
“I’ll retrieve it.” She left without another word, leaving me and my sister alone…and with a chance to talk.
The silence seemed heavier without Ivy’s soothing presence. I cast a wary glance towards Rosemarie, who looked…unnaturally calm, a countenance I was certain was only a façade to the pain encasing her soft heart.
“Rose…” I began, before she hastily spoke over me.
“You needn’t worry,” she assured me. “My feelings aren’t so fragile as to need protecting.”
I frowned, unconvinced. “But aren’t you upset about Prince Gladen’s upcoming engagement?” Though I privately considered the prince unworthy of her regard, I still cared for her own fragile feelings.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m happy for His Highness. Such a wonderful man deserves nothing less than a princess.”
The man deserved something far different than a princess. The desire for revenge that had been simmering in my heart all week returned, stronger than ever. “He hurt you.”
“I’m sure his dismissal of me wasn’t rudeness, but his being faithful to his intended. He likely didn’t even recognize me.”
I stiffened my jaw. Even if his actions had stemmed from loyalty—which I highly doubted—he could have dissuaded Rosemarie’s affections far more kindly.
“Rose—” I began again, but she continued talking, her words coming out more rapidly, as if in a rush to get them out before her emotions unraveled completely.
“Even if he weren’t nearly engaged I don’t deserve him. Despite our history, who am I to think—” Her lip trembled before she lifted her chin in an attempt at bravery she likely didn’t feel. “It’s better this way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be alone.”
And blinking back tears, she hurried from the room, leaving me staring after her.
* * *
I gavemy sister an hour to herself before my relentless worry compelled me to check on her. I peered tentatively into the room we shared and found her slumped in front of the vanity staring gloomily at her reflection. She fiddled with her hair and gave her cheeks a pinch to encourage more color into them before pausing to study the effect, only to heave a dejected sigh.
“No wonder he didn’t want me.”
The anger that had been a constant companion since the incident in the gardens emerged anew. Prince Gladen had done this to her.
Rosemarie noticed my reflection in the glass and swiveled around with a forced smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, Astrid.”
“Hello.” It was an effort to sound cheery. I crossed the threshold and settled on the edge of the bed near her. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m well.”
Unconvinced, I gave her a look, and her expression faltered.
“I suppose I’ve been…better. He used to be such a good friend. Is it silly to feel so disappointed?”
“Of course not.” I took a steadying breath in an attempt to quell the poisonous emotions seeping over me, which would do nothing to heal the wound afflicting my sister’s heart. I tended to become quite impulsive when I allowed my anger to get the better of me, but now was not the time for such things, especially when the prince wasn’t worth any more of my consideration.
Yet it didn’t immediately fade. My hands curled into fists, needing an outlet for the emotion swirling within me. Keep control of your temper. But despite my best intentions to quell it, the fire swelling my heart only flared, aching to escape.
It hadn’t been this strong since the afternoon two years before when one of the potion master’s apprentices had accidentally added an ingredient to the newest apprentice’s hair shining tonic to dye it purple. In return I’d accidentally set fire to his notes, and had taken great satisfaction when their loss had caused him to fail his next exam. But rather than dwell on that satisfaction, I now firmly reminded myself of the remorse I’d felt later when I saw his devastation over the failure.
I returned my attention to Rosemarie, the effort to cheer her up the perfect distraction. “How about you and I pick berries and bake them into a pie?”
My mind filled with warm childhood memories of the afternoons we’d spent doing that very thing—our fingers becoming stained from berry juice as we held contests to see who could pick the most the fastest, before returning to the cottage to help Mother bake them into pies, which we ate while curled in Father’s lap as he recounted stories around the hearth. My heart twinged in longing for those evenings.
Rosemarie released a sad breath. “The prince and I used to pick berries together.”
Drat, I’d forgotten that had been one of the activities Rosemarie had done with Prince Gladen during the many afternoons they’d spent exploring the surrounding forest as children. I grimaced, frustrated I’d been the one to delve up the reminder.
I nibbled my lip, deliberating, before another idea lit my mind. I knew just the thing to cheer her up. I curled my magic against my palm, and with a flick of my wrist caused it to rain down in a stream of glitter and light, a trick that had never failed to make Rosemarie smile. But her somber expression barely changed, causing my panic to rise. It had been years since she’d been this down, not since…
I hastily pushed all thoughts of our parents’ deaths aside to focus on my sister. If only there was a spell I could use to heal her broken heart, but I knew of none. I had to do something to help her…but what?
“Please put His Highness out of your mind; you’re far too good for him.”
Her sigh was heavy. “That’s simply a kind way of telling me I’m not good enough for him…which is the truth. He’s a royal, and I’m nothing more than the daughter of an enchantress. Who am I compared to him?”
“You’re the daughter of not just any enchantress, but one of the most talented enchantresses the kingdom of Rosileya has seen in centuries,” I reminded her.
The shadow of a smile caressed her lips. “Footsteps I have no doubt you’ll follow.”
My worn book of magic gave an impatient wriggle as I hugged it close to my chest. For a moment I forgot my grudge against the prince as I allowed my thoughts to fill with the dreams I’d harbored for as long as I could remember—the spells I would learn, the people I could help, the fame I’d receive, the advice I’d give the king after I completed my training…
…a king who’d unfortunately be the prince I now despised. My temper once more flared. Such a self-centered prince who cared so little for his people would be nothing less than a tyrant when it came time for him to rule. His arrogance and rudeness needed to be taken down a notch before he became king, and I was just the person to help him learn his lesson.
These dark thoughts slithered into my daydreams of my future role, causing their light to fade into shadow. The vision gradually shifted and I envisioned myself not only as a powerful enchantress helping those in need, but using my powers to bring about justice by accessing an arsenal of spells I’d never previously studied.
My breath caught as an idea suddenly blossomed to life. At first my sense tried to suppress it, but after an internal battle, my anger emerged triumphant, quickly seducing my good sense.
“What is it, Astrid?” Rosemarie asked halfheartedly, her attention still clearly on her broken heart.
I didn’t answer, my mind eclipsed with nourishing my epiphany drop by drop. Perhaps there was a spell I could use, an enchantment from an area of magic I’d never studied. My fingers tingled as my magic pinpricked my fingertips, itching to access these spells.
“I have an idea,” I said. “I need to return to my studies. Will you be alright to be alone for a while?”
She nodded distractedly before turning away to settle her gaze on the vase on her nightstand, which contained a single rose, one that had likely been taken from the very rose garden where Prince Gladen had broken her heart. I gritted my teeth at the sight of it. Rosemarie had a tendency towards the dramatic—she’d undoubtedly plucked it as a reminder of the pain she’d experienced in that very garden, a fitting token for a poetic martyr.
Dear Rosemarie.
The sight of the rose only solidified my determination. I kissed my sister’s cheek and hurriedly made my way from the room and down the rickety stairs to Enchantress Ivy’s private quarters, my faithful magic book trailing close behind with a rather dejected slump, annoyed I was seeking wisdom outside its own pages. But the spell I needed was far beyond the abilities of my faithful companion. I wasn’t entirely sure whether the books I needed could be found within her vast library, but I wouldn’t know unless I looked.
Luck was on my side, for my mentor was absent, likely on an errand for the king, an absence which allowed me to conduct my forbidden search without her unwanted questions. I tried to ignore the twinge of guilt prickling my conscience that my plans even warranted such secrecy.
I entered the practice room where I usually studied and wove around the table piled high with books, quill, and parchment crowded with scribbled notes, the half-completed task Enchantress Ivy had bid me to do earlier this morning, but from which my worry for my sister had distracted me.
From this room I slipped into the abandoned corridor that twisted its way to the library, crammed with shelves sunken beneath the weight of hundreds of books. I scanned the faded spines, searching, but none of these magical tomes were what I was looking for. Yet I wasn’t deterred. The prince needed to be taught a lesson, else he’d only continue to treat others poorly, and as one of the only wielders of magic in the kingdom, I had to be the one to do it. For Rosemarie…and the kingdom.
Time crawled by as I continued perusing the shelves. Still nothing. I slumped wearily against the shelf, defeated. If I couldn’t find what I was searching for, how would I ever get the justice I so desperately sought?
I set my jaw. No matter the obstacles or how long it took, I would do whatever it took to teach the prince a lesson that would benefit him and the kingdom during his future reign, I’d be certain of that.
My determination compelled me to search the shelves again, this time much more carefully. I combed over every book, even opening several to scan their contents. Still nothing. I shoved the last book onto the shelf with a dejected sigh before my gaze darted towards the door at the end of the library, one that blended seamlessly into the wall.
I nibbled my lip, hesitant. Enchantress Ivy had shown me her secret room only once, and while she hadn’t exactly forbidden me to enter, I knew it was highly discouraged considering my magic vows to only use my powers for good. The books that room contained were not only magic beyond my current skill level…but ones far darker than either Ivy or I practiced.
Yet perhaps it was only darker magic that could provide what I most craved.
I lit a candle and made my way to the door. An ominous creak pierced the air as I pushed it open to reveal a set of stairs descending into darkness. With a steadying breath I made my way down, each creaking step causing a cloud of dust to rise up as I descended lower and lower. My spellbook followed me down, shivering as we went.
The air was heavy with neglect, a sign it’d been years since anyone had ventured down here. I wasn’t surprised; Enchantress Ivy solely used her powers for good, and thus wouldn’t need any of the enchantments these locked away books contained…and yet I was seeking them out.
Guilt prickled my heart, causing me to hesitate on the bottom step. Each step closer to this forbidden room was one step away from the path Mother and Enchantress Ivy had taught me to always follow. Was I doing the right thing in venturing here now?
I forced myself to push away these disquieting doubts. This had to be done, for Prince Gladen couldn’t be allowed to treat his future subjects in such a way. This thought compelled me to take the final step into the abandoned room, shrouded in dust and cobwebs and containing a single bookcase. One glance at the volumes filling the shelves revealed they were exactly what I was looking for: curses. My lips curled into a satisfied smile. Excellent.
I scanned the selection before my gaze settled on Basic Curses, just the volume I needed for my still-budding powers. I brushed away my spellbook’s attempt to nudge my hand away and curled my fingers around the spine to tug it from the shelf with another cloud of dust. The book felt heavy in my hand, while its faded leather left an unsettling feeling against my skin.
I struggled to ignore the sensation as I opened the book and flipped through its pages. Despite being basic curses, most of the spells were too dark, even for a conceited jerk like the prince. I didn’t want to harm him, per se…though in truth I wasn’t exactly certain what I wanted, only to teach him a much-needed lesson. I was certain I’d recognize the appropriate punishment the moment I saw it.
I paused on a page containing a faded spell and brought the faint, flickering candlelight closer. Written at the top in spidery black scrawl were the words: To Take on the Appearance of One’s Heart.
My own heart beat rapidly as I read through the spell. Casting this curse on the prince would transform his outward appearance to match the state of his cold heart and disfigure his handsome features, which would damage his pride and provide him some much-needed humility. I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect curse if I’d created one myself.
My elation faltered as I more closely studied the spell. I worried my lip. Even for a supposedly basic curse, it was rather advanced; I’d never worked with magic that required so many steps, most of which were beyond my current abilities.
I straightened my shoulders. I would learn. Like Mother before me, I had a gift for magic, not to mention fierce determination. I would dedicate as many hours of study as I needed. Such time would be difficult to come by with how much of it was occupied by my apprenticeship to Enchantress Ivy and studying for my upcoming exam, but the effort would be well worth it.
I stiffened as the sound of footsteps echoed from the library above: someone was coming. I tore the spell from the book—nothing a simple repair spell couldn’t fix when I’d finished with it—and hastily shoved the book back into the dusty shelf. I’d no sooner tucked the curse into my own spellbook—which it only accepted with great reluctance after a wrestle for me to open it and slip it inside—than the footsteps paused at the top of the stairs.
“What are you doing, Astrid?”
Enchantress Ivy stood at the top of the stairs, shrouded in light and magic, which both seemed almost blinding after my eyes had grown accustomed to the shadowy room. For a moment I stared at her in wonder, for she reminded me so much of Mother—talented, loving, and with a gentle way about her, even when wearing a look of disapproval, as she did now.
I hastened up the steps. She stepped aside when I reached the top to allow me to slip past into the brighter main library before looking down at the forbidden bookshelf at the base of the stairs. My heart hammered wildly as her suspicious gaze flickered towards me. Could she sense the curse I’d hastily hidden away?
I shifted nervously as she shut the door behind me and faced me. “I expected to find you immersed in your studies, not wandering places you shouldn’t.”
She said nothing more, but further words weren’t needed, not with the disappointment shadowing her eyes. Shame burned my cheeks: not only had I been caught somewhere I shouldn’t have been, but I hadn’t been doing what I should have been doing. I didn’t want her to have any reason to be disappointed in me.
“I’ve been…distracted.”
“Indeed.” Her tone, while disapproving, remained kind. I’d almost have preferred if she’d yelled at me, but anger wasn’t her way.
Her attention returned to the closed door before she motioned me to one of the chairs. I perched nervously on the edge of the seat and waited.
“Is your sister’s heart still aching?”
I frowned, surprised by her choice of topic, before managing a stiff nod.
“Love is the most powerful emotion in the world, but while love can be beautiful, it can also cause one to act in ways one normally wouldn’t. You mustn’t allow it to sway you to do anything that is less than honorable.”
“What do you mean?” I stuttered.
“You love your sister dearly, and thus her pain becomes your own, but no good comes from harboring a grudge. Lack of forgiveness creates a poison, but unlike most poisons, this one isn’t administered to the one who caused it, but to the creator themselves; its only antidote is forgiveness. Don’t allow it to taint your heart.”
My discomfort deepened, and not for the first time I wondered if Enchantress Ivy had the ability to peer into my heart and read all the emotions it contained. But as unpleasant as her clear disapproval was, it wasn’t enough to steer me from my chosen course, one I had no doubt was the right one.
I jolted as Enchantress Ivy rested a gentle hand on my arm, a touch that caused me to miss my mother fiercely. I hastily blinked away the tears burning my eyes. She wasn’t here, nor was Father. All I had was Rosemarie, giving me greater motivation to protect her in any way that I could, no matter the cost.
As if she’d sensed my unwavering decision, Ivy frowned. “Remember: magic is both a gift and a responsibility, one that must only be used for good. You possess great capacity, not only for your powers to grow, but to use them in ways that create light. Don’t venture even a single step down the path you’re considering, for taking one will only tempt you into taking another.“ She leaned in a little, waiting for me to look her in the eye before she continued, her words deliberate. “Turn your back to such a path and instead choose the road to healing, for time heals even the most broken or hardened of hearts.”
With those words she rose and left the library, leaving me alone with her counsel, which seemed to linger in the air, causing my doubts to return before my anger resolutely pushed them away.
Though Enchantress Ivy was wise, she was wrong in this instance. I wasn’t choosing a path of darkness, but of justice. Besides, it was only one spell, one I’d chosen for the most noble of causes: to protect my dearest sister and ensure the prince never hurt another in a similar way ever again.
But despite my attempts to rationalize my decision, I was still left feeling uneasy, a feeling which only deepened as I plucked my faithful spellbook from the air and turned to the curse harbored within. The book fought back and repeatedly closed on me until I wrestled to keep the wanted page exposed. My skin tingled as my hand curled around the worn parchment and I tucked it away in my apron pocket, within easy access for me to study it thoroughly.
What good was having magic if I couldn’t use it to help those I loved most?