Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
She’s like all the other maidens in this town—willing to say “Yes” to any man with money or prestige—all for the sake of marriage.
Still, just to be sure, I grab one last catalogue from the shelf and return to the tavern.
Amidst the singing and dancing, I move behind my bartering table and unlock the top left drawer.
Pushing aside papers, I uncover one of my rose blooms.
Blush red, it sits still and lifeless, a tell-tale sign that no maiden in this room—not even the Swan—will be much help with the curse.
The petals are supposed to glimmer and sparkle if I ever encounter “the most beautiful and wisest girl,” but I’ve only witnessed that once.
It was several months ago, when I left one for Isabelle after loaning money to her father. Although he agreed to my terms, he tossed the bloom outside when I left.
While riding around that night, I caught sight of it near their basement window, sparkling and glowing brightly against the stone.
It rolled toward me when I approached, beckoning me to step closer, but I held my ground and watched in disbelief.
It confirmed that Izzie was the girl I should pursue, but that won’t stop me from finding out who the other woman is in the meantime.
I need to figure out her name…
A Secret They Won’t Share
Belle
Izzie and Father walk through the front door while I’m lighting dinner candles on Sunday. Armed with shopping bags, they laugh in their own little world before noticing me.
“It smells great in here, Belle,” Izzie says finally. “What are you making for dinner?”
“A rabbit roast.” I set their bowls on the table. “I used Mother’s recipe.”
“I can still see a layer of dust on the cauldron.” Father plops down in his chair. “I also saw dirt on the steps outside, so you’ll need to wash those before taking a bite.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod, grateful that I’ve already eaten.
“Izzie was approached by a very wealthy seaman today,” he says proudly. “Her best catch yet.”
“He’s a prince!” Izzie squeals. “I believe he said his name was Prince Eric. He’s promised to come visit me in a few days.”
“She told him to expect a freshly baked apple pie, so I suggest you pluck the best ones before bed.” Father shoos me away. “Go do that now.”
“Will do.” I head toward the door, but he suddenly grabs my arm, squeezing it hard. “Ouch…”
“Why the hell is my rifle out of place?” he asks.
“There was a visitor who came by the other day,” I say. “I thought he was attempting to rob us.”
“Ha!” He laughs, releasing me. “If Izzie isn’t here, there’s nothing of value in this home.”
Izzie, ever the Queen of Complacency, smiles sheepishly.
“I’m assuming it was one of the Yardham brothers?” She frowns. “I’ve already told him no. He’s far too poor for me.”
“Perhaps it was Mr. Ellison.” Father taps his chin. “Maybe he’s come to his senses and tripled his offer.”
“It was neither,” I say. “It was Gabriel Aston.”
“Who?” Izzie and Father utter in unison, their spoons frozen in mid-air.
“Gabriel Aston,” I repeat. “He said there was something important he needed to discuss, but he was too good to leave a real gift like the other suitors.”
“What else did he say?” Father asks.
“I think that was it.”
“Think harder, girl.” He narrows his eyes. “What else did he fucking say?”
“That’s all I remember…”
The color slowly drains from his face, and Izzie sets down her spoon. They turn to look at each other, and their hands begin trembling.
Confused, I wait for them to explain, but they remain speechless. The only sounds are the flames crackling under the cauldron and the wind howling outside the windows.
“Go feed Phillippe, Belle,” Father demands. “Then make sure his horseshoes are secure.”
The word “Why” attempts to escape from my lips, but the crazed look in my father’s eyes keeps it trapped under my tongue.
He looks like he could murder me…
I wrap a shawl around my shoulders and head outside.
Through the window, I watch as Izzie and Father pace the floor, their faces contorting with worry.
Why is she crying?
Phillippe trots over to me and nudges my cheek.
“I missed you too, boy,” I say, watching Father cover his face with his hands. “Have they treated you well since I’ve been away?”
He shakes his head, and I run my fingers across his mangled mane.
“I’m so sorry. Do you know what’s going on in there?”
He neighs as I unravel a knot.
I lead him closer to the window so I can attempt to read Izzie’s lips, but Father glares at me and draws the drapes shut.
“Come on, Phillippe.” I sigh and lead him to the trough. “Whatever it is, I guess they’ll tell me tomorrow…”
When they finally allow me to return, the sun is rising on a new day, and the only words they’re willing to offer are cleaning demands.