The Beast and the Enchantress by Camille Peters
Chapter 4
Iawoke the following morning to a prickling sensation spreading across my palms and up my arm. I groggily opened my eyes to stare at the hand curled near my face. I bolted upright with a sharp gasp and lifted my hands to examine them in the bright morning sunshine tumbling through my window, light far too cheerful for the condition afflicting me.
Warts covered my skin, distorting it in ugly patterns, just like those that marred the prince.
Horror stole my breath as I gaped at the blemishes before my hands went to my face. Still smooth, but my frantic mind didn’t believe what my fingers felt. I scrambled as quietly as I could from my bed to avoid waking up my still-sleeping sister and hurried to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. I tentatively peered into the glass, fully expecting to find my features as distorted as the prince’s had become last night, only to see my usual flawless complexion.
I sank against the wall, but my relief was short-lived as worries crowded my mind. I scrambled to push through the panic in order to sort out the puzzle. Where had these warts come from? They were obviously the result of the curse I’d cast, but why was I suffering from its effects in addition to the prince? Had something gone wrong?
Even midst my paralyzing anxiety, it didn’t take long for me to remember when my control over my magic had faltered, just for a moment, evidence my powers had not been up to the task for the spell I’d chosen. That one lapse in concentration had allowed the spell to touch my skin. Dread pooled my stomach. Had the curse…backfired?
Over the course of my studies I’d read about such occurrences, but considering last night was the first instance I’d lost control of my magic, I’d allowed the neglected facts about curses, countercurses, and backfired spells to gather cobwebs in the recesses of my mind, leaving me entirely without guidance now. Did curses wear off on their own? Or would I need to create another spell to counter it? So many questions without any answers.
Desperate to discover a solution, I sought guidance from my faithful spellbook…only to find it moodily sulking in the corner, where it’d been determinedly giving me the silent treatment ever since last night. I walked over and grazed its spine with my fingertips, only for it to dart away, stubbornly keeping itself closed to prevent me from accessing its spells.
I sighed. Apparently it was still upset with me concerning my choice to curse the prince…and thus myself. I crossed the room and made another attempt to cajole it into my hand, only for it to float up towards the ceiling with a disgruntled ruffle.
I had no time for this. Since my temperamental spellbook refused to offer its assistance, that left me only one other way. I quickly dressed in a long-sleeved dress to better disguise the warts marring my skin before hurrying from my bedroom down the narrow stairwell to the library.
The room was thankfully abandoned, allowing me to explore the magical tomes undisturbed. It took several combings of the vast collection to find what I was looking for: a book of magical theory, where I was certain I’d discover information about curses and backfired spells.
I frantically turned the pages, searching through the mass of text for what I needed. I paused to read the section on curses, but in my urgency and anxiety the words blurred together, taking me several attempts to read the paragraphs…only for them to tell me nothing. I stared at the words, as if doing so would compel them to change into something useful, but instead they only taunted me with their lack of information, leaving me no way out of my current predicament.
Annoyed, I slammed the book shut and shoved it back onto the shelf before glaring at my wart-covered hands, so scarred, so ugly. However would I get rid of this? Surely Enchantress Ivy would have a solution, but I feared asking her, for then she’d know what I’d done. The last thing I wanted was her disapproval.
But I feared it was something I couldn’t escape. There was little time to uncover a solution before Enchantress Ivy returned from her usual morning rounds in the village, and then her acute observation would see the blemishes tainting my skin and she’d realize what I’d done.
My panic rose. That couldn’t happen. Desperate, I strode to another section of shelves and tugged out the well-worn, familiar Concealment Charms.
My rising panic made using the book necessary even though I was an expert in these types of spells, for they were ones I’d learned at an early age and used frequently in order to cover the mishaps I’d often found myself in. I reexamined my hand. Though their presence was jarring, luckily the magical blemishes only covered a small area of skin, nothing a simple charm couldn’t mask.
I carefully read over the familiar spell before summoning my powers…only to find myself unable to access them, as if an invisible barrier stood between us; no matter how much I searched, I couldn’t find a way around it.
I pulled my powers back with a worried frown. Had the curse addled my magic? Don’t be ridiculous, curses can’t do that…can they? I rigidly shook my head. No, of course they couldn’t. My magic was such an intricate part of me I couldn’t imagine anything being strong enough to make it disappear permanently.
But despite my reassurances, there was no doubt I was having difficulty accessing my powers. Desperate, I tried again. This time when I searched I found a crack in the impenetrable obstacle before me, allowing me a thin passage to my magic. But even after I managed to seize hold of it, it was difficult to control, as if something had shifted inside me. My powers felt…different, almost tainted, as if a shadow had now entered a previously illuminated room.
I fought to ignore this pinprick of darkness tainting my magic so I could perform the spell. Despite my practice with this very enchantment, the spell was a struggle, much like it’d been years ago when I was first learning how to use my magic, as if my powers had dimmed between now and last night.
The panic I’d been fighting to quell rose again. What was happening?
I struggled, fighting through the difficulty, until the charm seeped over my hand and fully covered my warts. The spell completed, I slumped against the desk before shakily putting the books away and making my way up the stairs.
At the top of the steps I found a much-needed distraction from my worries. In the time I’d been perusing the library, Rosemarie had risen and was now enjoying a breakfast of porridge and toast in the sun-filled kitchen.
She looked up with a smile. “Good morning, Astrid.” Her cheerful expression faltered upon seeing mine. “You’re rather pale. Are you alright?”
Her inquiry was lost on me, my attention riveted to the light in her countenance. Ever since Prince Gladen’s rejection she’d been languishing more every day, wilting like a flower away from the sun, but now…it was as if she was beginning to bloom once more.
I slowly bridged the distance between us to settle in the seat beside her in order to better examine her; she looked even brighter up close. “Rosemarie?” I asked in a stunned, disbelieving whisper. “Are you alright?”
Confusion puckered her brow before her smile returned. “I am. I did give you cause to worry, didn’t I? For that I must apologize. I do tend to allow my emotions to get the best of me.”
“So…you’re doing better?” I was almost afraid to ask. Though I wanted nothing more than her well-being, I couldn’t understand how she could have improved so suddenly.
Her smile only brightened, finally reaching her eyes after all these weeks. “I’m doing much better. Thank you for being so concerned for me.” Her quiet contentment quickly became shadowed by her own worry as she surveyed me with ever-widening eyes. “And what of you? You don’t look well. Are you ill?”
I waved away her inquiries; my state of being was of little importance compared to the riddle before me. “But…how is it you’re doing so well?” I scrambled for an explanation. Had whispers about the prince’s curse already spread from the palace? Had seeking justice for his slight against her been what finally healed her?
She shrugged as she returned to her porridge. “Perhaps simply…time.”
Time? My brow furrowed. How could something so simple heal such a broken heart?
But I couldn’t deny that there’d been a change in her. I ignored the plate of toast she pushed towards me and continued studying her. She did look much better. Though I could see that some of her wound lingered, for the first time in weeks I felt as if my sister had returned, a thought which caused my heavy heart to lift.
“Please stop staring, Astrid, I’m fine. But you’re clearly not. Do eat something.” Rosemarie gave the plate another nudge, and though my swirling stomach made eating the last thing I wanted to do, I’d do it to appease her.
I nibbled at some toast. “Any word from the palace?”
I frowned as she shook her head. So she hadn’t heard about the prince’s curse, which meant her improvement had nothing to do with my taking revenge on her behalf but was simply her…getting better.
I tried to ignore the unease nudging my conscience at that thought, but it was impossible to escape the doubt it’d brought. Perhaps I’d acted impulsively and the curse had been unnecessary…but I hastily pushed those thoughts away. Though it’d been my prime justification, Rosemarie’s healing hadn’t been my sole motivation behind the curse; unless Prince Gladen was taught a lesson, he’d only continue to break other girls’ hearts.
Rosemarie stood to take her dishes to the wash basin. “I just remembered: a messenger arrived from the palace early this morning for Enchantress Ivy concerning an urgent matter.”
My bite of toast lodged in my suddenly dry throat. An urgent matter…could it possibly be concerning Prince Gladen’s curse?
Foreboding prickled my skin, and for the first time since coming up with my scheme, I fully realized its implications. Had I truly expected the secrecy I’d maintained while preparing the curse to linger after it’d been cast? Of course one look at Prince Gladen would reveal what had happened, and with only two magical beings residing in Rosileya’s capital, the potential caster was limited to me…and Enchantress Ivy.
Horror clenched my heart at the thought that my impulsive actions would cause problems for the woman who’d become more than a mentor, but also my adopted mother. Because I was under her guardianship, she’d be forced to take responsibility for my actions. Would her royal position suffer? And what of my own future position? Would I lose my apprenticeship? My mind whirled with each horrifying possibility, ones I hadn’t considered when I’d first begun this journey, so blinded by revenge I’d lost all sense.
“Astrid? Astrid?” Only my sister’s worried voice could tug me from my frantic thoughts, where I found her hovering over me, eyes swirling with concern. “You truly don’t look well. Are you sure you’re alright?”
I was many things, but alright was definitely not one of them. But how could I explain to my sister what ailed me?
Luckily I was spared answering by Enchantress Ivy’s return from the castle. I stiffened at her entrance and my gaze snapped up to meet hers. She stood in the doorway, watching me, her expression graver than I’d ever seen it since she’d informed me and Rosemarie of our mother’s passing. She undeniably knew of my guilt; I’d been a fool to think I could hide what I’d done.
I shifted beneath her disapproving perusal, waiting for her to speak…only for her to remain silent except for her nonverbal invitation for me to join her in the magic prep room. I shakily stood and followed her, my heart beating erratically with every step.
“Today we’ll be working on some healing tonics.” Her tone was calm, controlled, with no hint of the impending interrogation I was certain would shortly come.
It took my anxious mind a moment to register today’s task was different from the spells we’d spent weeks preparing. “What of the enchantments for His Highness’s engagement ball?”
She didn’t answer for a moment as she arranged the ingredients and vials on our work station, a task that normally fell to me. “It’s the strangest thing…his engagement has been canceled.”
I gaped at her. “Canceled?”
Apparently a broken engagement was one of many consequences rendered on the curses’s behalf. While I cared little for the prince’s relationships, I knew enough about this alliance to know it’d been important for the kingdom.
This wasn’t an outcome I’d foreseen, and while I was secretly pleased the prince would now feel the sting of rejection and perhaps gain some much-needed humility, my mind whirled with the consequences to the kingdom that would come from this.
With a swirl of glistening magic, Ivy began chopping up ingredients and stirring them into the simmering cauldron. “Apparently the prince finds himself in quite the predicament: he’s become disfigured, a condition my analysis concludes is a result of magic. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Her look became piercing.
“Of course not,“ I shakily managed when I finally found my voice.
She pursed her lips. “Indeed.” She continued watching me, her gaze penetrating. “I recognize a curse when I see one, and considering there are no other known enchantresses in the area, that leaves a very small pool of suspects.”
My heart pounded painfully in my chest. I ached to lie, to deny any involvement in the prince’s curse, but I knew doing so would be utterly pointless. My shoulders slumped, my silent admission.
Ivy released a long, weary breath. “Curses are not condoned, Astrid. And to curse a prince! What were you thinking?”
I flinched at the scolding, one deep down I knew I deserved, before my pride flared, pushing any hint of remorse away. “I—he deserved it.”
“No one deserves to be cursed,” she said. “I warned you against this path when I caught you poking around my forbidden books, yet you ignored me. Now we must deal with the consequences, ones I suspect extend beyond Prince Gladen.”
Her gaze flickered down to my shaking hands. She seized my right one and lifted it eye level, her trained observation no match for my rough concealment charm. With a wave of her own powers the magic faded, revealing the warts scarring my skin; more had appeared between when I’d cast my cover-up charm and now, so that the cursed affliction now covered nearly my entire arm.
She didn’t speak for another long moment, causing the tension filling the silence to tauten. “Hmm.” Without another word she released me and resumed her work.
That single sound was almost more painful than if she’d given me a long scolding. I stared at her back facing me like an impenetrable wall. “Ivy?” I asked tentatively.
She didn’t speak for another agonizing moment. “Magic can do many things, but even the most powerful of spells cannot hide a guilty conscience…nor can it soften a hardened heart, as I’m sure you now well know.” She gave me another piercing look that somehow still managed to be loving despite her clear disappointment. “You don’t feel any better than before you cursed Prince Gladen, do you?”
I ached to deny her assessment, for she was right: I didn’t feel better, I felt worse. For now my anger was warring with a multitude of other emotions that hadn’t been there before: guilt, remorse, helplessness, and fear. But I didn’t want to admit this, because then I’d be forced to face the truth that my venture into the darkness for a cause I’d believed to be noble had instead all been a huge mistake.
“But—he deserved it,” I stuttered, my last futile attempt to justify my foolish choices, one that sounded weak, even to me.
“He deserved nothing,” Ivy said firmly. “But you couldn’t see that, so blinded by your anger you used your powers irresponsibly, despite your vows to the contrary. Now we must deal with the consequences.” She sighed wearily. “I’ve already handled the first matter. Your actions could bring great harm to our working relationship with the royal family, so I performed a spell on the king and queen, one that persuaded them to believe their son’s condition came from a source other than magic. But that is all I can do. The rest is up to you as you walk a new path alone: one of atonement.”
What did such a path entail? Did she really expect me to undo the curse I’d worked so hard to create? And would doing so even be possible with the strange way my magic was now behaving?
I sighed, already daunted by the task that lay before me. “How do I break it?”
The corner of Ivy’s mouth lifted. “Some lessons are best learned when one discovers the solution for themselves.” She rested a gentle hand on my shoulder, her touch still loving despite my mistakes, before she returned to the healing tonic bubbling over the hearth.
But I still had one more burning question. “If I break the curse on the prince, will it also break the one on me?”
“Perhaps.” She gave the cauldron a few stirs before sprinkling some clover leaves and goose feathers into the fern-green brew. “I’m not surprised the curse backfired—you tried to cast a spell far beyond your abilities and contrary to what your magic is used for…resulting in you getting a taste of your own medicine. I warned you anger and revenge were nothing but poison for the one who experiences it.”
“What do you mean?” I shakily asked.
She glanced at me with raised eyebrows. “You performed a curse for one’s appearance to reflect the state of one’s own heart, correct?”
I should have known her vast array of magical knowledge would make it impossible for me to hide the actual curse I’d performed. I lowered my eyes and nodded.
“I thought so. I’m not surprised such a spell touched you. We can never fully separate ourselves from our powers when we use our magic. As such, casting that curse inevitably left its mark upon you.”
My desperation caused my voice to rise. “But the curse was to serve as a reflection for one’s heart. How could it result in this?” I lifted my hand.
She glanced at me with a wry smile. “Perhaps the prince’s heart is not the only one that needs to change.”
I frantically tried to make sense of her words before the reality of her message hit me full force. “You’re saying my heart caused the same reaction as the prince’s? But how? I’m nothing like he is. He’s conceited and horrible, and I’m—”
But the remainder of my protest was swallowed up as my chest tightened at the realization now pressing against me, heavy and unbearable: anger and revenge had hardened my heart, causing me to turn to dark magic in order to enact my own form of justice, and now the curse was revealing the state of my own heart for all to see.
I undoubtedly deserved such a punishment. After all, I’d broken my vows by allowing myself to go down a path of darkness. And while I’d only taken a few steps, they’d been enough to grant the backfired enchantment its power. Treading this path any further would soon cause the curse to alter my appearance as completely as it’d done for Prince Gladen.
I didn’t deserve my magic.
My shoulders slumped. “Will I lose my position?” I hated how small and frightened I sounded.
Ivy’s expression softened. “Not if you atone for your misuse of magic and rid yourself of the vengeance filling your heart. But if you don’t extract it, it’ll become permanent.”
My desperation rose. No, that couldn’t happen. I simply couldn’t lose my magic. Outside of my sister, it brought me the greatest joy.
Yet the task that would allow me to keep it felt utterly impossible. “But how do I reverse it? There must be a countercurse.”
She carefully removed the cauldron from the hearth. “Seldom are things as easy to undo as they are to do, which is why you must learn to think before you act, especially considering the great power you possess. You must understand that curses are choices of darkness and hatred, none of which have any place in our magic. The only way to dispel it is through light.”
Light? What did she mean? But before I had a chance to ask, she gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before departing from the room, leaving me alone to unscramble the riddle on how to atone for what I’d done.
And although I knew doing so was the right path, it still filled me with dread and uncertainty.