The Beast and the Enchantress by Camille Peters
Chapter 7
My spellbook gave an aggravated rustle as I slammed it shut in frustration. Enchantress Ivy glanced over from where she worked on a spell, the embodiment of calm, an emotion that eluded me. I felt as if I were trapped in a dark labyrinth with no way out, my weakened powers unable to create even the smallest glimmer of light to guide me.
So far the makeshift counterspell I’d been attempting over the past week wasn’t coming together like I’d hoped. My powers hadn’t even been adequate enough to make much of whatever I’d managed so far—finding the correct ingredients was proving an arduous task, and I couldn’t even begin to guess the amounts to use of those I had acquired or the order to combine them. I was becoming more and more discouraged and impatient in my need to find a solution—a need that had strangely grown ever since my recent encounter with the prince. But as before, none could be found.
What good was my magic when it couldn’t fix anything? Instead it’d only made everything worse.
Your magic wasn’t what led to your predicament, my conscience prickled. It was your choices. You and you alone chose this path, despite deep down knowing that dark magic shouldn’t be tampered with…
Despair, heavy and relentless, pressed against me. I rested my hands on the table and leaned over my spellbook.
My sister paused mid-hum from where she read near the hearth. “Are you alright, Astrid?”
At the sound of Rosemarie’s sweet voice I spun around to face her, where I found her watching me, wide eyes clouding with concern.
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.” The last thing I wanted was for her to worry.
She frowned, clearly unconvinced. “But you’re not. You haven’t been yourself all week. Something is clearly troubling you.”
Of course it was. I was trapped in a prison of my own making with no clear path forward. I rubbed my hand along my arm, where beneath my sleeve the curse had spread, too far for me to be able to adequately cover it all with magic. But it was no longer anger that fueled the curse’s power, but the crushing helplessness that swirled like a constant cloud around me.
Yet while I’d endured such a dark state, my sister seemed to be doing much better. Despite her concern for me now, light still filled her expression, dispelling the last of her heartache from Prince Gladen’s rejection. Guilt twinged my heart at the friendly interaction the prince and I had shared, one entirely inappropriate for how much he’d hurt my sister.
I stepped forward and took her hands. “How are you, Rosemarie? Are you doing well?”
Her eyes lit up as she nodded, an assurance that did wonders for my darkening mood. “I am.” Her cheeks pinked and she suddenly looked rather shy.
“What is it?” I asked, but instead of answering, she only smiled.
Based on her accompanying blush and shy smile, I hoped her mood was because a new man had caught her eye. Despite my burning curiosity over the details, I decided not to press her. I gave her hands a squeeze.
“I’m truly glad you’re doing better.”
It was unsurprising. While I’d spent my time pursuing darkness in my quest for revenge—a path that had only led to my own misery—my sister had chosen the nobler one. But surely it wasn’t too late for me to change my own course.
Rosemarie rose from her chair, and after a quick kiss on my cheek she left to tend her flower stand in the village. The moment the door closed behind her, my gaze was drawn to the vase resting on the windowsill, where the cursed rose resided, its vibrant crimson petals still in full bloom, a constant reminder of the enchantment it possessed. It was almost haunting in its beauty, with no hint of the dark magic harbored within.
The sight of it caused anger to flare in my breast, hot and burning. I stomped over to the vase to seize the rose. I tried to crush it within my fist, only to discover when I unclenched my fingers that it remained unharmed, the curse’s magic acting as an unyielding barrier.
“It won’t wilt or die on its own.”
I spun around to face Enchantress Ivy, who watched with her usual composure, which had no place midst my frustration. “Every curse can be broken,” I said. “If it can’t be done by creating a reversal spell or by destroying the magic’s base, then what is the solution?”
I expected her to remain elusive, just as she’d always been since I’d found myself in this mess, but instead sympathy softened her expression.
“The answer is actually rather simple when one understands the nature of the magic at work here: the curse’s power comes from the dark emotions overshadowing the prince’s heart…and yours.” Her gaze flickered down to my hand, where the weak concealment spell continued to act as a mask for the curse’s effect on my skin.
I returned my gaze to the rose, deep crimson yet with a shimmery black glow about it, only discernible to my magic-trained observation. The warts covering my skin prickled as I traced each of the flower’s petals, a reminder of not only the magic that afflicted it, but the emotions that had led to the curse—my sister’s past heartache…and my own. But while her heartache had healed, mine still remained.
Yet if my sister’s heart could be changed to become whole once more, and if my own could begin to see past my initial impression of the prince, could whatever darkness was deep inside me be rooted out?
“How do I change my heart?” I asked. “I’ve been trying, and yet…”
Enchantress Ivy considered. “The problem has been your focus. From the moment you noticed the curse backfired, your motivation has primarily been to break the curse on yourself, not Prince Gladen. Perhaps if you look outward you can heal your heart, and in the process you can learn what is tainting the prince’s.”
While I’d come to better understand in part what was tainting the prince’s heart—bitterness that nobody saw him for himself—I was still at a loss on how to weed out the emotion. Apprehension washed over me at the daunting task before me, but for a far different reason than when I’d first faced it several weeks ago. I wasn’t entirely sure what had accounted for this change, or what exactly this change was, only that it left my heart pounding wildly.
I wrung my hands. “But how will that fix anything? I’ve already spoken to Prince Gladen on two occasions, yet nothing has changed.”
Ivy tilted her head. “Hasn’t it? Doesn’t the fact that you feel enough remorse that you now want to break the curse on the prince mean things aren’t what they once were?”
Her eyes glistened knowingly, and not for the first time I wondered whether she could read my mind. My shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I admit…that the prince isn’t entirely what I expected…” But the admission had no sooner escaped than my stubbornness stirred, causing me to straighten. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he did treat Rosemarie poorly, despite their shared history.”
Ivy’s look became searching. “It appears there’s another emotion within your heart aside from resentment or even your current feelings of helplessness: pride. Why are you having such a difficult time fully admitting you’re in the wrong?”
I bit my lip. While I now realized I’d misjudged the prince and perhaps shouldn’t have cursed him, there was something hidden within his heart that had caused him to treat Rosemarie the way he had, and until I fully understood this part of him, I couldn’t allow myself to entirely forgive him. For if I did…then I’d have to fully face the reality of what I’d done, something I wasn’t quite ready to do.
A few additional warts appeared, sharp and prickling, against my cheek, followed by several along my back, just above my collar. Oh, bother.
When I gave no response save for a stubbornly lifted chin, Ivy sighed wearily. “It appears you’re still in need of some guidance, so allow me to leave you a bit of wisdom: to reach the level of magic you desire requires the humility to not only know when one has made a mistake, but to admit it. Remorse is the first step to true change.”
And with those words she departed for her afternoon appointments, leaving me alone with my whirling thoughts. I had no distraction from my guilt and regret, my ever-present companions, making it impossible to focus on today’s tasks or my flimsy powers; the cauldron simmering over the hearth and the ingredients surrounding me on the table seemed to taunt me, reminding me of the magic I could no longer perform.
A sudden knock sounded on the door, likely someone seeking out Enchantress Ivy for a spell or trinket. Despite being unable to help in her stead, the interaction would be a welcome distraction, providing a much-needed reprieve from my discouragement.
I stepped into the empty parlor and hoisted the front door open, only to discover not a customer, but—my breath hooked sharply. “Prince Gladen?”
For a moment I was breathless as I stared at him, a reaction I had no logic to account for. Despite his curse, he appeared rather dashing standing at my door with his warm eyes and boyish smile…both of which faded the moment he saw me.
At first he seemed just as startled by my presence before his eyes narrowed darkly. Too late I remembered that I didn’t wear the disguise for Prince Gladen not to recognize me before realizing it wouldn’t make any sense for Lady Dahlia to answer the door at the Royal Enchantress’s cottage, leaving me no choice but to confront the prince as myself.
I braced myself for his reaction at being faced with the enchantress who’d cursed him. As I anticipated, his entire manner hardened; gone was the friendly manner I’d grown accustomed to during our time together, and even though that prince was still new to me, I was left unsettled by the coldness eclipsing his manner now.
“Enchantress Astrid,“ he said through gritted teeth.
I flinched at the iciness of his normally polite tone, one that was surprisingly already familiar to me, even after so short a time.
I wasn’t prepared for this confrontation and wanted nothing more than to hide behind my disguise. Even though the prince had no way of connecting me to Lady Dahlia, I still didn’t want him to see me for who I truly was: one who’d allowed her anger to lead her to behave impulsively.
“Can I help you, Your Highness?” I shakily managed when I’d found my voice.
“No, you cannot; I want nothing more to do with you or your magic.”
His reaction was understandable, but his words and the way he flung them at me like daggers cut deep, as did the anger and hatred swirling in his eyes, all of which I knew I deserved. And perhaps that truth was what hurt the most.
“I came here seeking Enchantress Ivy,” he said. “If you’d be so kind as to retrieve her…”
I made no motion to heed his request, which only deepened the darkness marring his expression. As if his anger and bitterness were giving the curse power, his features distorted further.
“Oh, do you first need a moment to gloat?” He pushed his sleeves up. “Look at your handiwork. I’m not sure what you sought to accomplish, but if it was to make your prince entirely insignificant to those in the royal world I’m forced to be a part of, then you succeeded.”
His harsh words broke through my shock at seeing him. “You speak of such things as if it matters when, in truth, I know your world is one you place little value in.”
The words escaped before I could check them. I stiffened. Would he wonder how I had acquired such knowledge about him?
His eyebrows rose. “An interesting insight.”
I shifted beneath his perusal. I ached for the prince to leave so I might avoid this inevitable confrontation and before I incriminated myself further—yet at the same time I wanted him to linger simply because I’d already grown to enjoy his company. A most perplexing inward battle.
“I didn’t come here to speak with you, but now that I have the opportunity, I can’t resist asking…why did you do it?” His manner had changed, becoming less hardened and more…desperate, as if he needed to know the reason. But that was something I couldn’t give him. I wasn’t completely sure why, only that the thought of trying to defend my decision to him left me with heavy dread.
“There is always a reason behind every magic an enchantress performs, and curses are no exception,” I responded vaguely. “Just know I didn’t make the decision to do what I did lightly.” Though admittedly I had made it rather impulsively.
“Yet you made the decision nonetheless,” he said stiffly. “Have you failed to remember that I’m a prince? And with my position, I have the power to remove you from your own.”
Though I now knew the prince well enough to suspect that he wouldn’t truly do such a thing, his threat still nourished my fear that I’d lost a future filled with magic.
The thought left me suddenly weary. I leaned against the doorframe with a sigh. “Whether or not you want my assistance, it’s my duty to help you in any way that I can. Why are you here?”
My lack of defensiveness seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment he looked as if he was debating whether or not to tell me. “I’m in need of a spell,” he finally said. “Again, not from you; I no longer trust your magic.”
I winced, even though the attack was justly deserved. “I’m afraid my magic is all that is currently available, for Enchantress Ivy is out for the afternoon. Perhaps I can tell her what spell you’re in need of.”
“That’s none of your concern.” His words were clipped, and again I missed the easygoing manner and laughter we’d experienced during our previous encounters, as well as how open he’d been with me while I was disguised. But not even a portion of the trust he’d given “Lady Dahlia” could ever be extended to the enchantress who’d cursed him.
Yet I foolishly wanted some of it all the same. “I’ll find out what you need eventually; as Enchantress Ivy’s apprentice, I assist her with many of her spells.” I gave him a shaky smile, which he did not return, causing my own to falter.
“I understand your role under the Royal Enchantress,” he said. “But while I know that you assist her, what I’m curious about is whether she, in return, assists you.”
I knew what he was truly asking. “Enchantress Ivy had no part in what befell you,” I said fiercely. “I acted alone.”
“I see. Does she know what you’ve done to me? I know it’s been deliberately kept quiet from everyone else; it wasn’t lost on me that someone’s magic hid the truth from my parents. The question remains: whose was it?”
“Hers,” I said. “But her spell can’t keep the truth hidden should you tell them what befell you, and yet …you haven’t done so?” I raised an eyebrow in silent question.
His look became challenging. “Did you want me to?”
“My opinion matters very little; I wouldn’t expect you to take my feelings into consideration after everything.”
He tightened his jaw, trapping the words I was certain he wanted to speak. Despite his anger, he clearly still feared my powers, though he had very little reason to; not only had they weakened ever since the curse, but I wasn’t inclined to curse him again—but he didn’t know that.
For some reason, the fact that he didn’t know this about me made me achingly sad. And suddenly I wanted nothing more than for this confrontation to end, especially as each moment spent with him only deepened my remorse.
“You now know Enchantress Ivy is gone for the remainder of the day and you don’t trust me to allow me to assist you in her stead,” I said. “So I will inform her of your visit and allow you to take your leave. If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness, I have work to do.”
To my surprise he remained, as if he couldn’t make himself leave. “You never fully answered my question: does Enchantress Ivy know what you’ve done to me?”
I hesitated a moment. “She does, and I can assure you that she’s not at all pleased about it.”
He frowned. “And yet she’s done nothing to break the curse?”
“It’s not so simple. While her magic is powerful, there are rules behind every spell, and curses are no exception. But there’s another reason: she wants me to be the one to take care of it so that it can serve as a lesson.”
He snorted. “A lesson? Must I pay the price for your tutelage?” His tone was hardening once more as he gave full rein to his annoyance. “Haven’t I already suffered enough?”
“Is that why you’re here?” I asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? I need this removed”—he motioned to his entire face—”and I only trust Enchantress Ivy to do it.”
“I’m afraid she can’t. You see, one of the rules of magic is that only the enchantress who cast the spell can break it.”
His mouth thinned. “Which is you.”
I nodded.
For a moment he said nothing before he released a frustrated breath. “Then I’m doomed.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “Though in truth it’s more complicated than you might think.”
The most pressing matter being that I still had no idea how to go about such a daunting task. While Ivy had hinted I needed to work to heal the prince’s heart, I still felt trapped in an endless labyrinth with no idea which direction to try next.
I folded my arms and surveyed him. “I am curious about something…you’ve been cursed for several weeks and yet it’s only now that you come seeking help in removing it.”
I expected another retort, but his response was instead very different: his cheeks darkened and he suddenly seemed rather shy. “I—that is—no reason, I just—”
He said nothing more, but the crimson in his cheeks deepened, revealing more than his fumbled words ever could. “Is there a reason you didn’t care about it being removed until now?” I asked.
He lowered his gaze. “I—” Again he said nothing, looking almost…nervous, an emotion which dispelled his previous coldness. “It’s just that…” He shifted from foot to foot, looking vulnerable and almost…sweet, even with the warts marring his skin. “There’s just…sort of a…”
“A…girl?” I supplied, even as my heart beat wildly at the thought. Which girl could he be talking about? He couldn’t possibly mean…Lady Dahlia, could he? Surely not.
For a moment my mind was numb with shock at the idea that the prince could feel anything for the woman who, unbeknownst to him, had cursed him. Such a possibility went well beyond the tentative friendship we were still establishing. I didn’t like the strange flutter my heart gave even entertaining the ridiculous possibility, a feeling quickly followed by guilt. It’d break my sister’s fragile heart should the prince develop feelings for me instead of her, a thought I couldn’t bear to consider.
My guess only caused him to become more embarrassed, confirming my suspicion. “It’s just…I’m no longer engaged,” he said in a rush. “When there was an understanding between me and my intended, I couldn’t even entertain the notion…but now, for the first time, I have the freedom to choose…making the curse more of a bother than it was before.”
I frowned. “You’re looking at it all wrong: perhaps the curse can serve as a protection for you. If a woman can’t see beyond your appearance, then she’d never truly make you happy.”
He sighed. “That sentiment is nice in theory, but with my previous experience…I don’t have reason to believe it would make a difference. Thus I’m here to plead for mercy. Whatever I have to do, even if I have to beg, I’ll do it. Please, I need the curse removed.”
My heart wrenched at his desperation, making it nearly impossible to deny him. But deny him I must, because I didn’t have any other choice.
“I can’t. The thing is…I don’t know how.” My voice sounded very small.
He stared. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t know how,” I repeated, more shakily than before.
“Then summon Enchantress Ivy—” He cut his words off with a sigh. “Right, she can’t. Which means I’m trapped.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, uselessly.
He glared at me. “No, you’re not. You knew full well what you were doing when you cast your curse. What kind of person are you?”
And without another word he left, walking down the garden path that twisted away from the cottage. I watched until he turned the corner and disappeared behind a hedge before I slowly closed the door and leaned against it, where I remained long after Prince Gladen had left, feeling utterly drained after the confrontation.
His question haunted me: what kind of person was I? My choices made the answer clear: I was an enchantress who abused the sacred power I’d been blessed with.
My helplessness pressed against me, a burden so heavy I didn’t think I could continue to bear it, especially with the memory of his sadness and desperation, his fierce need for love that I hadn’t expected.
He doesn’t deserve what I did to him. If only I could turn back time and prevent myself from ever taking this path. I’d give anything…
I startled from my thoughts at the sudden tingling sensation on my arms. I yanked the sleeve of my gown up to see that some of the warts that patterned my skin had faded away, as if they’d never been there at all.