The Beast and the Enchantress by Camille Peters
Chapter 6
My interaction with Prince Gladen haunted me for days afterwards, making it impossible to focus on my magic studies, a lapse in concentration I couldn’t afford when my powers were still so weak, having still not recovered from the darkness I’d allowed to taint them.
As a result of my fading magic—as well as penance for the actions that had led to it—Enchantress Ivy had not only postponed my upcoming exam but had been giving me fewer tasks, leaving nothing to distract me from my confusing thoughts concerning the prince, even though a distraction was something I desperately needed.
When I’d first met Prince Gladen, I’d believed I’d had him all figured out: he was quite obviously handsome and princely, yet conceited. But after our time together in the library, he now seemed…different. He’d been friendly, even charming, despite the curse tainting his skin. It left me unsettled.
The fact that the prince wasn’t what I’d expected haunted me, as did the doubt the realization brought with it. If Prince Gladen wasn’t who I’d thought, had I been wrong to curse him? Guilt always followed these questions, an unwanted emotion that made it impossible to concentrate on my magic studies.
I couldn’t endure these unsettling thoughts a moment longer. Desperate, I went in search of Enchantress Ivy and found her in the preparation room, brewing up a spell to entertain the king’s guests later this evening. “I need a task. Please, Ivy.”
“A task? Hmm.” She paused in her stirring to ponder my request and I waited with bated breath, hoping that despite everything that had happened, she still possessed enough trust in me to mercifully grant me one. When she remained silent too long, I stepped closer, my eyes wide and imploring.
“It need not be a big one; a small one will do. I just need to do something, anything.”
It was doubtful she’d trust me with anything too large or important; she hadn’t said as much, but I sensed I was on an unspoken probation, a thought that was unbearable; magic had always been a part of my life—my refuge that brought me light no matter the darkness surrounding me. How could I live without it?
But if my powers didn’t fully return or I didn’t find a way to break the curse on the prince, I feared I’d soon find out.
Enchantress Ivy watched me with a thoughtful pucker. “It seems to me you should be spending your time trying to find a way to break the curse.”
I shifted guiltily. I’d initially spent hours this past week searching every book I could find for any hint of a way to reverse the spell I’d created, yet it was as if the answer had vanished into thin air, or perhaps no countercurse to atone for my mistakes existed.
My lack of progress had caused me to repeatedly bury my discouragement in hours of reading or spending time with my sister rather than trying to find another avenue. “I tried, Ivy, but I’m at a loss as to how; I seem to be hitting nothing but dead ends.”
She tilted her head. “You really don’t have any ideas?”
I nibbled my lip. As I considered, my gaze flickered over the ingredients scattered across the table where Ivy worked, a variety of plants and carefully crafted potions. An idea slowly formed, inspired by something I’d learned at the beginning of my magic studies: every property used in magic had an opposite. What if…
My mind slowly worked through this hypothesis, examining it from every angle. “Could I create a countercurse by taking each of the ingredients I used to create the curse and creating another spell that is its complete opposite? Will that work?” I looked at Enchantress Ivy expectantly.
“That is for you to discover.” She waved her hand and a piece of parchment bearing her familiar handwriting appeared and floated towards me. On it was scrawled a list of the ingredients I’d used to create the curse.
I rummaged through the nearby shelf for the encyclopedia of magical ingredients and herbs and settled in a chair in front of the hearth to begin looking up each of the curse’s ingredients. The process was arduous and required me to cross reference several tomes in order to ensure accuracy, but eventually I had a new list of ingredients. Now all that was left was to gather them.
I looped a basket through my arm and turned to leave but paused when I caught sight of the knowing glint glistening in Ivy’s eyes. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” But her twitching lips betrayed her lie. “Have a good time. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
I doubted I would…unless I discovered magic lingering in the forest that could be bottled.
I left out the back door, my spellbook following close behind. While the front part of the enchantress’s cottage faced the palace, the back opened up to the vast woods, packed with foliage that harbored all manner of magical properties and ingredients, all within easy access for whatever potions and spells we might need them for.
I took one of many well-worn paths that twisted its way deeper into the thicket. The breeze smelled of pine and the day was bright and pleasant, such a contrast to the dark uncertainty crowding my mind. Normally I took great solace in my walks through the woods, especially after the peace it’d brought me in the months following each of my parents’ deaths.
But it brought no solace now. All I could think about were my fading, darkness-tainted powers and the interaction with the prince that hadn’t gone at all like I’d expected, the memory of his warm manner and charming smile…
I gave my head a rigid shake. The last thing I wanted was to humor the conceited prince by thinking of him, but my mind had no sooner traversed that familiar path than guilt knotted my stomach. Our interaction in the library had only proven that as far as the prince’s conceit was concerned, I’d sorely misjudged him. I bit my lip to suppress a sigh. How I hated being in the wrong.
I forcefully pushed lingering thoughts of His Highness away and consulted my list. The first item I needed to gather were toadstools, and I knew the perfect area to find them. Happy to have a purpose, I marched to the clearing, where I foraged not only toadstools, but several herbs, flowers, and berries, all while my spellbook happily soared through the trees, keeping close by.
I was just starting on removing some elder tree bark when a chuckle pierced the tranquil silence, causing me to still. I listened intently, but other than the twittering of birds and the gentle breeze swaying through the leaves, all was silent. I was just beginning to wonder whether I’d imagined it when the sound repeated, coming from nearby.
I slowly straightened and scanned the nearby trees. My breath caught when my gaze settled on the prince himself, sitting beneath a shady oak, fully engrossed in a thick book. He chuckled again.
I immediately scowled. What was he doing here? In all the hours I’d spent in the woods, I’d never encountered anyone else, much less His Highness. The odds of my doing so now…
I frowned suspiciously as I recalled the mischievous look Ivy had given me as I’d left on my errand. Had she somehow known I’d encounter the prince and encouraged my foraging for that very purpose? With how powerful she was, I didn’t doubt the possibility.
I told myself to leave before the prince noticed me, but I found myself watching him instead. A sliver of sunlight penetrated his shady canopy to illuminate his face, still distorted and scarred, yet his features were calm and relaxed, making him look almost…not ugly.
I startled when my spellbook gave me an encouraging nudge from behind before tucking itself under some of the plants in my basket and going still, pretending to be a normal book rather than magical. With its encouragement, I spent a minute struggling to recast my spell of disguise and ensuring it fully cloaked me before I nervously ventured forward.
The prince looked up at the sound of my footsteps. At first he merely stared, looking almost puzzled by my presence…and for a moment of paranoia I wondered if my spell hadn’t worked and he recognized me as the enchantress who’d cursed him.
But then he dispelled these worries with a large, boyish grin that almost caused his cursed appearance to melt away. I stared, almost breathless.
“I remember you,” he said warmly. “I was hoping to encounter you again. Lady Dahlia, was it?”
I didn’t answer at first, still too startled by his unexpected presence. My heart hammered wildly to be near him and I told myself I was apprehensive because of the tense way our last interaction had ended. Yet the prince seemed friendly, even cheerful. He wouldn’t behave in such a way towards me if he knew the truth behind his curse.
He was awaiting my response, so I managed a nod, which earned me another grin. “And I’m Prince Gladen, in case my appearance didn’t give my identity away.” He winked.
His kind manner and wink only deepened my unease and I felt the strangest inclination to apologize—not for the curse, of course, but for the way our last encounter had ended—yet the words wouldn’t come.
“I don’t recall seeing you in the woods before, Your Highness,” I managed instead.
“I come to the forest often, though admittedly not as often as I’d like.”
As he spoke, he bookmarked his book, not seeming bothered I’d interrupted him, such a contrast to how he’d treated Rosemarie when she’d disturbed him in the rose garden. I tried to inconspicuously eye the title, finding myself curious despite myself. Was it another book of poetry? He noticed and chuckled, causing me to hastily look away with a heated blush.
“You can look; it’s not a secret.” He held the book up to reveal the title: it was a book of legends. “I have others, too.” He motioned to the large stack beside him, the top book of which was a tome of mathematics, a rather unconventional subject for a prince.
“No poetry?” I asked. He raised his eyebrows in silent question before he slowly grinned. The heat swarming my cheeks deepened at my previous nosiness back in the library having been caught.
“Actually, I do have a volume here.” He rummaged through his stack and withdrew a thin book, different than the one he’d been reading the other day. “But I’ve already finished it. I’ve spent most of the day here. Without meetings or the pressures of court, I find I have plenty of free time to spend ‘hunting’.” He made quote signs with his fingers.
I raised my eyebrows. “Hunting?” Only then did I notice his bow and quiver of arrows lying discarded near the feet of his accompanying guard who stood several yards away, as if the prince had tossed them unceremoniously aside at the earliest opportunity.
He nodded. “It’s my code word, an excuse to venture into the woods for a reason that will appease my father without letting him know what I’m really up to.”
Which was a lot of reading, apparently. “You don’t like hunting?”
He pulled a face. “Not at all. In truth, I’m a rather dismal hunter; the animals in the woods are never safer than when I make an attempt to find them.” He chuckled to himself, a rather warm, appealing sound. Not that I noticed.
I stared in surprise. “But isn’t hunting what princes do?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it’s a common past time for most princes, more so than reading, I daresay. But I find it far more worthwhile to read; an educated king will be far more useful to his people than one who focuses solely on sport. So I often come to the woods to pretend to hunt and instead spend time with my books. The charade is all to satisfy one of the many demands of my father.” He leaned closer, as if to impart a great secret. “But though I read all manner of useful subjects, I can’t resist the occasional indulgence.”
“That being poetry and legends?” It was so unexpected, and I was tired of the unexpected with him.
He nodded. “Exactly. A bookish prince is considered to be of little value in the royal court. If they found out…think of the scandal.” He chuckled again, a sound that was growing more alluring each time.
“I find bookish princes are much more interesting. Reading is one of my fondest past times.” The admission escaped before I could check it.
His grin widened, his enthusiasm contagious. “You enjoy reading? What are your favorite subjects?”
I almost shared about how much I adored my magic studies before I forced myself to swallow the confession. He could never know that.
“Fairytales. I used to read them to my sister.” But it had been years since we’d spent our time together in such a way, not since I’d grown so busy with my magic studies, a negligence which pained me. I silently promised myself to do better now that my current inability to practice my magic left me with more time.
“I occasionally enjoy a good fairytale,” Prince Gladen said. “My governess used to read them to me as a boy. Perhaps I should read them again, especially considering my own tale seems to be unfolding much like those I used to read.”
“I’d imagine a prince who indulges in fairytales is almost more scandalous than one who studies for pleasure.”
He chuckled. “True. Thus, both must be kept a carefully guarded secret. I warrant you can be trusted? Though even if you can’t, I daresay my reputation can’t get any worse after what’s happened.”
For the first time since our interaction had begun, his good humor faltered, revealing the sadness in his eyes, which sent an unwanted pang through me for what I’d done.
“I’m…sorry.” The words escaped before I could contain them.
His eyebrows lifted. “Sorry? Whatever do you have to be sorry about?”
I struggled to speak, but my mouth had gone dry. I couldn’t admit what I’d done, not now. “I—for—” I scrambled for a reason to apologize before settling on the lesser of the two evils. “For…my behavior during our last interaction. I was rude and spoke out of turn, and I fiercely regret it.”
He seemed puzzled for a moment before understanding settled over him. “Oh, I see. Thank you for your apology. You are forgiven.” He extended it so easily, forgiving far more willingly than I ever could…or had. The thought only made me more uneasy.
I wondered whether this would be the end of our interaction and he’d return to his reading-rather-than-hunting. But he didn’t. Instead he kept his book closed and motioned for me to join him with the same look I’d seen in the library, the one that made me suspect he was lonely.
Against my better judgement sympathy tugged on my heart, compelling me to linger despite my good sense ordering me to leave. But there was something more that kept me here: the unresolved mystery behind who the prince truly was.
I stepped closer, my body acting on the decision I hadn’t consciously made. As if only just remembering his manners, he stood with a bow, as if he were greeting me at a formal ball rather than out in the woods. Standing brought his face more fully into the sunlight. I stared, slowly taking in the work done by my curse—warts, distortion, disfigurement, all of which caused the knots invading my stomach to tighten further. This wasn’t what I wanted my powers to be known for.
My thoughts had caused me to slow, almost hesitant, and Prince Gladen’s easygoing smile faltered. He shifted nervously and cast his eyes downward. “I—are you too uncomfortable to be alone with me?”
My brow furrowed. “Why would I be uncomfortable?” Considering I was the one who’d cast his spell and shared in the curse as well, I was the last one who needed to worry about what proximity to the prince could do. I looked at my own hands, which only appeared smooth because of the concealment spell, and bit my lip to suppress a sigh.
He frowned, clearly unconvinced. “Because of how I look…it’s always seemed to matter before.”
A wave of sympathy I didn’t want to feel washed over me, dispelling the resentment that used to fill my heart. I tilted my head and studied him. It was strange, but…his appearance didn’t look quite as beastly as it had before. Instead I felt as if I was really seeing him for the first time…and it’d taken a curse for me to do so.
“I truly don’t mind.” And to prove my sincerity, I settled beside him on the grass, closer than was likely proper. My spellbook still lingering in my basket subtly shook its disapproval, but I ignored it.
He stared first at me then at the small distance between us, all with wide, almost disbelieving eyes, before slowly lowering himself back to the grass. “Are you certain? Considering what I look like now, I’d understand if…” He trailed off.
“Why are you so worried?” I asked.
He lowered his eyes. “I’m not used to anyone seeking out my company for the sake of myself.”
“I don’t see why,” I said stiffly, almost begrudgingly, still annoyed with myself with how I’d gotten everything so terribly wrong before. “You’re pleasant company.”
“Am I?” He sounded so startled by this assessment that my sympathy for him only deepened.
“I think so.” And to my surprise I found I truly meant it.
He averted his gaze, suddenly looking rather shy. “Forgive me for marring an otherwise pleasant conversation with my insecurities. I’m certainly making a muddle of things. I…don’t really know how to talk to women.”
“But you’re a prince. Haven’t you spent a lot of time with women of the court?”
“I’ve been around women,” he corrected. “But rarely have I talked with them beyond a superficial level. Conversation is rather difficult when they’re fawning over me.”
Before today I would have found such a statement conceited, but now I recognized the weariness in his eyes as he made this assessment, eyes which were still a deep, pretty blue despite the curse.
“That does sound exhausting.” I admitted. “But surely there have been exceptions. Didn’t you converse with your former fiancée?”
He shook his head. “Even when we were practically engaged, she spent as little time in my company as possible. She found me dull. We were certainly well-suited in that regard.” Sarcasm hardened his tone even as bitterness transformed his expression. “Did you know she agreed to the match before she even had a chance to meet me?”
“Isn’t that common amongst political arrangements?” I asked.
Disgust twisted his features. “Such arrangements are more than that—they’re like an auction, with me as the prize. My intended”—he spat the word out like a curse—”never cared for me. All she needed was my portrait to convince her. Or perhaps it was the fact that marrying me would make her queen, take your pick.”
His tone was hardening, bringing with it another line of warts across his cheek to join the ones already marring his skin, a manifestation of the bitterness that filled his heart.
“You want a woman to see you?” I asked gently.
He sighed. “I know it’s impossible. Even before this happened to me, I was already cursed, just in a different way; being a prince is its own sentence. Yet I still foolishly hoped that perhaps one day I’d meet someone who’d be different, or that miraculously my intended would eventually care for me rather than what I could give her, but now…I’ve lost even the possibility of love.”
He glared at his wart-covered hand, which only caused more warts to appear. His eyes widened at his hand before he hastily lowered it, as if unable to bear looking at it. Instead, he began pulling up the grass by handfuls and breaking the strands apart with his fingers, his gaze wandering, as if embarrassed or seeking a distraction. It was soon drawn to my basket and his grin returned, softening his features.
“What do you have there?”
He reached for my basket but I protectively clutched its handle, a blush warming my cheeks. “Just…some herbs, mushrooms, flowers…”
His eyebrows rose. “Ah, so foraging is what brought you to the woods?”
My mouth went dry and I was at a loss as to what to say. I couldn’t very well admit the true purpose of these ingredients was for magic…a countercurse specifically. The more I got to know the prince, the less I wanted him to ever find out our true connection.
His brows lifted further as he eyed the way I shielded the basket from his view and he only looked more intrigued. “Ah, so that basket contains more than herbs and flora, but also…secrets.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
Despite my nervousness, an unexpected laugh escaped my lips before I could suppress it. “I’m afraid my basket’s contents aren’t quite so interesting as that.”
“Really? Then why are you trying to hide it?” His grin was teasing and annoyingly endearing, causing me to soften my tense posture.
I was drawing far too much attention to myself by being so anxious. I reluctantly loosened my tight hold on the basket and scooted it forward so he could peer inside, which he did with rather adorable boyish eagerness. His eyes lit up as he sorted through its contents.
“What a fantastic collection. While many of these plants are familiar, there are several I don’t recognize. If only I’d brought my field journal so I could study them properly.”
The prince had his own field journal? I ached to tell him of my own, of the hours I’d spent outdoors with it, soaking up as much knowledge as I could and carefully chronicling it in my notebook. I felt a sudden urge to compare them with the prince’s, exchanging notes, stories…before realizing such a thing would be impossible when so many of my observations centered around magic. Already I was growing tired of all I was being forced to hide about myself.
Prince Gladen continued rummaging through my basket with interest, which was soon replaced by a thoughtful pucker. He lifted his gaze. “Why have you gathered such an array of ingredients? Are you an herbalist?”
I understood his incredulity. Such a profession was uncommon for the noblewoman he mistook me for. I hesitated before nodding—yet another lie, though it was at least somewhat close to the truth. To my surprise, my admission only seemed to intrigue him.
“That’s wonderful. I admire you for taking a path different than the one expected of you. I wish I possessed such bravery.”
“But you do,” I protested. “Despite the dictates placed upon you, you haven’t given up on the things that bring you joy.” I motioned to his stack of books.
He brightened. “You really think so?”
I managed a nod.
His lips curved up in an endearing grin that caused my heart to give a strange tug, one that frightened me. This fear only deepened with the way the prince looked at me, his blue eyes soft. It was a relief when he tore the force of his gaze away to return it to my basket, his attention quickly captured by my spellbook.
It had been behaving itself throughout our exchange by remaining as still and silent as a regular book, knowing the importance of my not risking discovery. But considering it was still a book, it was unsurprising the prince had eventually noticed it.
His gaze lit up when he saw it. “Ah, so I’m not the only one who escapes to the forest to read.”
He reached for it to steal a peek at the title…one that would reveal it to be a book of magic, exposing my secret.
“Wait, don’t—” I snatched it from his hands before he could flip the volume over; the book gave a relieved flutter against my palm as I hid it behind my back.
The prince stared a moment, seeming surprised at my rudeness at having snatched something from him, something that had likely never occurred before. But the look vanished almost immediately, replaced by amusement.
“I knew secrets were hidden in this basket, but I never expected them to be found within a book. What is it, a romance novel?” Once more he wriggled his brows.
My spellbook gave an annoyed rustle to be confused for such a thing; I stroked my thumb along the spine in hopes of soothing it.
“Yes,” I stammered. “Thus it’s far too fluffy for such a princely prince like yourself.”
He laughed and held his hands up in a conceding gesture. “Perhaps that’s one princely quality I’ll readily embrace. I admit romance is one of the few genres I never read…although remedying that might prove useful. A man who previously only had political arrangements never needed to learn how to woo a woman, but I find myself now growing more interested in the topic.”
My breath caught, and in that moment, a strange energy passed between us, one that only deepened when he scooted closer with an intense look. In it, it was as if he saw something in me that he’d been desperately searching for, something he wanted to learn more about, a prospect which terrified me.
What was happening between us? This was the man I used to hate, one I’d cursed, one I wasn’t supposed to forge a friendship with, yet one growing more likable than I could have ever believed. I was meant to figure out how to break his curse, nothing more. Whatever this was was a distraction from my true purpose. I needed to leave before I got further entangled in…in whatever was happening here.
I hastily stood. “I’m afraid I must go.”
He blinked up at me, suddenly looking rather lost. “Please don’t leave. I wish to converse with you more.” He sounded almost desperate.
“I’m afraid I cannot comply; I have duties to attend to.”
His shoulders slumped and he looked undeniably disappointed. “Very well. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.” He hesitated a moment before his next words escaped in a rush, as if he hastened to speak them before losing his nerve. “I come to the forest often. Perhaps…I’ll see you here again?” His voice hitched in hope, and with alarm I realized that I too desired to encounter him again, a rather alarming thought.
To break the curse, I reminded myself, for other than a bit of foraging for some ingredients for a potential countercurse, I’d made little effort to try today. But that would change the next time I saw him, it had to.
Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded once more before hurrying from the clearing, fully aware of the prince’s soft gaze watching me until I disappeared from view. It took every ounce of willpower not to look back.
It wasn’t until I stepped out of the forest a quarter of an hour later that I relaxed my tense posture. I leaned against an elm with a heavy sigh. What was wrong with me? It took me a moment to sort through my whirl of thoughts in order to realize the truth: I no longer hated the prince. In fact, I found him rather…amiable, as if he’d been the one to cast a spell on me, rather than the other way around.
What was happening to me, and more importantly, how did I stop it?
I glanced back towards the clearing where I’d left the prince with a sinking feeling. Even the few short interactions we’d had were enough to cause me to fear that I’d made a terrible mistake.