Heart of the Beholder

PROLOGUE

THANE CHUCKLED AS THE DUCHESS of Ashland nipped at his ear. He hastily guided her down the corridor of the royal wing with an arm around her waist. His rooms were just around the corner. He could control himself a moment longer. Hopefully, his valet was out attending to other business. Thane was stopped short by the duchess as she pushed him against the wall. She grabbed the front of his waistcoat with both hands, a wild gleam in her eyes. Thane grinned in response. She was attractive—a man would have to be blind to disagree. With the combination of dark curls that fell over her bare shoulders and full lips painted a tempting shade of red, she was the exact kind of distraction Thane had been hoping to find. He pulled her flush against him by her hips and met her lips with his.

Sometimes it really paid off to be the crown prince of Oakwater. He often got to enjoy the curves of a woman before learning her first name. This was the same for his current companion. He hadn’t needed a lot of convincing to leave his little brother’s birthday celebration. A flick of her eyebrows and a whispered word in his ear was enough to convince him to slip out with her past the guards and through the kitchens without his father noticing. He would eventually ask for her name, but it could wait.

Thane leaned in and kissed her softly on the neck. She let out a sigh that sent a thrill throughout his body. He kissed along her jaw then tried to pull back, but she had a solid hold on him. Thane shifted against the wall. He might just have to pick her up. He needed to get her into his rooms before—

“Excuse me, Your Highness.”

He sighed with disappointment. “Not now, Senara. I am occupied at the moment.”

“I am here under your father’s orders. He said I need to prevent you from ruining the Blackmoore name,” Senara said in an even tone.

Thane looked at the sorceress, who stood tall in her white hooded cloak. Her piercing blue eyes rebuked him silently. “We both know there’s nothing I can do to ruin my family’s name that hasn’t already been done by my ancestors.”

Senara raised an eyebrow at him. “I should clarify. The king, my master , ordered me to find you and bring you back to the party. Do you still want to question my purpose?” Her eyes flicked toward the duchess.

Thane groaned and said, “Fine.” He looked at the woman in front of him. It was too late to learn her name now. “I am sorry we have to cut this short. I can have a servant show you to a room where you can freshen up before you return to the ballroom if you would like, my father has called and I must obey.”

The duchess frowned then slowly pulled her body away from him, making him crave the warmth she took with her. She glared at the sorceress but didn’t give him a second glance as she turned and left without saying a word, her shoes clicking as she went.

Thane ran a hand through his thick hair and faced the sorceress. “You take pleasure in ruining my fun, don’t you?”

Senara let the ghost of a smile touch her pale lips. “What kind of protector would I be if I didn’t?”

Thane walked past her and she followed.

“A dead one.”

He meant it as a joke, but it was the truth. The oath she had taken as she swore her loyalty to the royal family bonded her duty to her like a curse—she promised to protect and obey the ruling king. If she did not obey, or failed to succeed, she would be “doomed.” No one, not even Senara, knew exactly what being doomed entailed. It could be death or it could be a curse of its own. It didn’t help that the oath was made over five generations ago and everyone involved other than Senara was long since dead. Though she did not remember everything, Senara was vigilant in her calling.

They walked for several moments in silence. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but Thane had a number of other things he would rather be doing, most of them involved the duchess or any of the other ladies who had been eyeing him before he snuck out.

“You might not agree, but I do have your best interests at heart, Your Highness,” Senara said reverently.

He scoffed. “You do? So, if you did not have direct orders from the king to retrieve me, you would not have interrupted?” He was partially teasing.

“No, I still would have interrupted. She is not good for you,” Senara said.

“And how do you know that?” he asked, offended.

“She makes you ugly and repulsive.”

Thane stopped in his tracks and glared at the sorceress. There was no teasing in her voice. She walked past him and into the next room down the hall without a word. Thane found the nearest mirror and looked himself over. He looked exactly the same as he had that morning: handsome green eyes that could make even the older ladies of the court swoon, wavy dark brown hair that women couldn’t help but run their hands through when they had the chance, and a charming smile that proved irresistible to the feminine crowd time and time again. Senara was a fool.

He entered the room, ready to call her out, but fell silent. Senara knelt on the floor in front of a stone pedestal in the center of the round room. She whispered words of either a prayer or a protection spell, he wasn’t sure, then rested her forehead on the floor. The sides of the pedestal were carved with smooth edges and intricate vines. The top of it was uneven and rough where a glass rose rested, glittering in its own light that cast the small chamber in a pale blue.

The rose had existed before the birth of the Oakwater Kingdom, granting a certain population of the area with unnatural powers. There were some people who could help heal by mending broken bones or by stopping the bleeding of a deadly wound. Others could move heavy objects with a flick of the wrist. Some claimed to be able to see the future, for a price. Then, there were those who had the knowledge to curse their foes.

The enchanting essence of the glass rose made it an object many coveted. Those without magic tried to steal the rose, but it was sacred to those with magic, so the magic wielders defended it. Tension built between the groups; the non-magic people didn’t want to risk upsetting a person with magic and be cursed to live their days as a toad or lose their ability to speak, so they attacked. In the midst of battle, Senara had stepped forward, but not before most of the magic wielders were slain. She’d offered to protect those who ruled the land if they promised to stop hunting the people of magic.

And so, the Oakwater Kingdom was born on a vow of magic. The man who would become the first king had agreed to stop killing the magic wielders, so long as Senara used her power to protect him and his family. There were others before Senara and the first king who had made vows with magic but had suffered devastating consequences, like death or a terrible curse, when the terms were broken, so neither party would dare go back on their word for fear of what might happen. The rose was left untouched and the castle was built around it so Senara could protect it, just like she had protected the royal family for the last five hundred years.

The kingdom continued in relative peace, with no killing of the magic wielders, and the royal family never being in true danger. As far as Thane knew, there were not a lot of people with magic left. Most of them had been killed before Senara’s vow or kept to themselves to avoid conflict, but there were some magic wielders out there using magic every day to earn money or make their lives a little easier.

Since she was able to have unlimited access to the glass rose, Senara was the most powerful sorceress in the land, and Thane respected her for that. He wasn’t afraid of her, because she had vowed to protect him. Others were afraid of her because they knew she would do anything in her power to remove them if they got in the way of her keeping her vow. That was why Thane sent the duchess away. He may not have cared to know her name, but he didn’t want her to suffer at Senara’s hands because of him. He wasn’t quite that selfish.

Senara whispered a few more words then finished her worship and stood with ease. Thane rarely came into the glass rose chamber—the feeling in the room put him on edge. He would do well to state his case and leave. “I need you to clarify what you meant.”

“She is engaged to be married to the Duke of Coalwind. If she were caught in your bed, your people could use that against you when you take your father’s place,” she said in her calm way. There always seemed to be someone that claimed to be in line for the throne, in relation to a long dead prince or something of that nature, to try and strip the current ruler of their title. It was a good thing he had the assurance of Senara’s protection.

“And that makes me hideous?” Thane asked, making sure to catch her eye.

“If there were a mirror that could show you your soul, then you would understand.” Senara ran her pale hands down the front of her white hooded robes. Thane couldn’t remember a single time the sorceress had lost her temper. If his goal was to make her angry, it was in vain.

“Then I guess it is a good thing people don’t care about what they can’t see,” he said.

To Thane’s surprise, a flash of sadness showed in Senara’s eyes and it made him uncomfortable. “I do not find that a good thing, Your Highness. It is a tragedy. Fortunately, there are some who don’t judge the value of someone by only their outward appearance.”

He fought to not squirm under Senara’s gaze. She was talking nonsense. People who didn’t care about appearances? He would make sure to stay clear of people like that, and make sure to not be infected by their negligence. He couldn’t afford to look anything but pristine.

“Out of all the princes I have come to know over the last five hundred years, you are the one I have held the most hope for. You were such a good boy when you were little. You spent your time painting whatever was in your heart. You begged every servant to play chess with you. You had ambitions and dreams.”

Thane looked away. “You say that as if I am none of those things anymore.”

“When was the last time you touched a paintbrush? I don’t think you have even looked at your chess set since your mother passed,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it didn’t pierce his heart. Thane thought of the immaculately hand-carved white and black marble chess set his mother had given to him for his twelfth birthday. He had packed it carefully away the night his mother died almost two years ago as he couldn’t bear the reminder of her absence; he couldn’t bear being happy without her. Senara continued, “You no longer look at the stars or lose track of time when you read. You make yourself numb with strong drinks or pleasures of the flesh. You have forgotten the beauty of life. You have forgotten yourself.”

It was almost as if she were putting a curse on him to remember everything that was once beautiful and good, and to know that it was no more. But he knew she wasn’t actually laying a curse because she would have to touch him and leave a mark on his skin. Not to mention, it would be pointless as he already blamed himself for all that was gone. He needed to get away from Senara.

“You said my father wanted to see me?” he asked, pointedly changing the subject.

“Yes, they are waiting for you to make the toast for your brother.”

Thane didn’t waste another breath on the sorceress and fled the room.

“It is never too late to go back to being that boy.”

He barely heard her words as he made his way to the ballroom. He turned down a narrow hallway. It would be better to sneak through the servants’ entrance than be seen by all if he were to go through the main doors. He flipped around a corner and collided with a small maid. Rolls went flying, dishes shattered on the floor, and hot soup drenched the front of his pants, soaking down into his boots. He growled and grabbed the shoulders of the maid. “You need to be more mindful of your surroundings!” The maid stood frozen, her face pale and eyes wide in horror. A servant stepped up with towels. Thane let go of the girl and stepped back to let the servant dry him off. The maid’s eyes teared up as she scrambled to pick up the broken dishes at his feet.

“I am so sorry, Your Highness,” the man said as he did his best to fix the disaster the maid had caused. “Mary was just employed yesterday. We will chastise and train her accordingly. It will not happen again.”

“Terminate her employment immediately,” Thane ordered.

“Your Highness, I—”

“Or would you like to lose employment as well?” Thane glared down at the servant.

“N-no, Your Highness,” the servant stuttered and glanced at the maid. The girl muffled a sob and ran off down the hall with the broken pieces of plate in her hands. “Should I send for a change of clothes to be brought down, Your Highness?” the servant asked, not looking him in the eye.

Thane took an aggressive step back from the man’s dabbing. “Enough. I am late as it is.” The servant bowed, and Thane left him. At least his breeches were dark, and there were worse things to smell like than roast and potato soup. He would endure wet clothes so he didn’t have to endure his father’s wrath.

He entered the grand ballroom at the servants’ door nearest to the head table. He quietly slipped past the guard stationed at the door and took his seat next to his father. A bowl of soup was placed in front of him before he took another breath.

“About time you showed up,” the king muttered under his breath without looking at Thane. He didn’t have to see his father’s expression to know he was livid.

“Well, I am here now, so there is no need to fret about it,” he said, then took a sip of the too-hot soup from his spoon. He covered up his pain with a large gulp of wine.

“As the ruling family, we must show a united front, or they could question our authority. You know your duty, Thane. You are to be king one day. I have raised you as such,” the king said, then paused his lecture to take a bite of his soup. Thane’s eyes traveled over the tables of noble guests and caught the eye of the Duchess of Ashland. Her hand was on the arm of the man next to her—undoubtedly her betrothed, who was homely in appearance. The duchess smiled at Thane, and he smirked back.

His father slammed his spoon on the table. “But what do I get? A pathetic excuse of an heir that can’t seem to focus on anything when there are breasts in the room.”

“Not just any breasts; they must be of noble birth. That is how you raised me.” His father’s hand flew back, and his royal ring cracked against Thane’s tooth.

Mortified, Thane looked around to see if anyone witnessed what just happened. No one was gaping at them, which was a good sign. Thane’s eyes stung. He checked his teeth with his tongue and thanked the Fates, nothing was chipped. He touched his top lip, and his finger came back bloody. Blast, the madman! If his father wasn’t the king, they would have had some words. More specifically, Thane’s fists would have had something to say to the old man’s wrinkled face.

Thane’s brother entered through the main doors with an attractive blonde on his arm. The room applauded his entrance. Thane glanced at his father, who had the nerve to look pleased. “So I get a hit to the face, and he gets your approval? Of course, your favorite son would not be punished for being late to his own party,” he grumbled. He knew his father would not be happy, but he didn’t care.

“Keep your mouth shut, unless you want a beating.”

Thane obeyed, but only to preserve his appearance. He did not want to have to hide away for a time if he were to get a black eye, Fates forbid.

The king stood up with his arms raised. “Attention, attention!” The room fell silent, and everyone looked at the king, except Thane—he looked at his brother’s smug expression. Vincent was an exact copy of their father, only thirty years younger: hair so light it was almost white, immaculately styled as always, blue eyes so pale they made Thane shiver every time he looked in them, perfect complexion, strong jaw, sharp nose, and a defining brow. Most of the men of the Blackmoore line had the wickedly handsome looks that gave the devil a run for his money. Thane’s softer face and darker hair came from his mother, which he preferred. He stood out in a good way. “I thank you all for accepting our invitation to celebrate my son’s eighteenth birthday. It was my proudest day when Vincent was born. On that day, I knew he would be capable of great things.” The king spoke in a boisterous voice that made Thane cringe. However, it wasn’t entirely surprising that the man spoke as if he only had one son. “I wish my dear wife could be here to see him make his way into manhood. She would be proud. I am proud. Happy birthday, Vincent.” Everyone raised their goblets of wine and cheered.

Thane tried his best to look thrilled as he stood next to his father. He raised his own goblet and said, “I couldn’t imagine anyone else being my shadow. Happy birthday, little brother.” The crowd cheered again.

Thane didn’t miss his brother’s glare before he hid it with a smile. Vincent took his blonde companion to an empty chair among the guests, then joined them at the head table, sitting on the other side of the king. “Thane, so nice of you to come. I had wondered if you would put forth the effort to show up,” Vincent said in a frustratingly polite voice.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Thane said and took a long swig of his wine. It wasn’t a complete lie; Vincent was his brother after all. There had been a time when they had been inseparable. They had been two brothers ready to take on the world until Vincent decided Thane was the enemy and everything turned into a competition. It had stung at first, but Thane eventually grew calloused to it. “I do apologize, though; I did not get you a gift.”

“Have you seen the festivities in the inner courtyard? Father has really outdone himself,” Vincent said, ignoring Thane’s apology. Servants came and switched their bowls out for plates with roast duck and asparagus.

“I have not been to the inner courtyard, but it is good to hear that Father hasn’t yet forgotten to bring the circus home for his little boy’s birthday,” Thane said with a sarcastic sigh. “I suppose I shall stop by before the night is through.” He hummed with approval as he tasted the tender meat.

“You’ll find it a little different this year, Thane,” Vincent said in between bites. “No more ponies or magic tricks, since we are no longer boys. Father brought in exotic dancers, tigers, and a fortune teller.”

Thane’s eyebrows rose. He had never seen a tiger with his own eyes, as they were from faraway lands. He had heard about exotic dancers whose descriptions would certainly be enough to get him to the inner courtyard. “A fortune teller? Must be a fake. We already have Senara to guide us.”

Vincent leaned forward to see around their father and grinned at Thane. “Where is your sense of fun, Thane?” he teased. “You should go see Madame Rajani. I think you would enjoy what she has to say. She did not hold back when she read my fortune.”

“Is that so?” Thane asked in mock interest. “Did she tell you how you would serve me while I am king?”

“No, quite the opposite actually,” Vincent said lightly. What does that mean? “You can ask her anything, and she will tell you what she sees.” Vincent sat back in his chair so their father blocked him from view again. The king kept silent and ate his food.

“Why waste my time when I already know my future? Like I said, we already have Senara, who does a good enough job. But I would happily agree to visit the exotic dancers,” Thane said loudly as he finished his plate. The king huffed, but said nothing. After the guests finished their meal, they started to move about the room and make their way to the courtyard.

Vincent pushed his chair back and stood. “How about I take you to Madame Rajani myself, and as a birthday present to me, you can get your fortune told? Then you can spend the rest of the evening with the dancers.” He moved and stood next to Thane, towering over him.

Thane didn’t say anything. Vincent placed a hand on Thane’s shoulder. It took all of his willpower to not shrug it off. “It would mean the world to me, brother,” he said with a gleam in his eye. Something odd was happening, and Thane wasn’t sure what, nor did he care to find out. Lately, Thane had tried his best to avoid Vincent, who had a tendency to say things in a way that implied a double meaning. He had a cruel sense of humor and always seemed to be planning something. It was exhausting. The fortune teller had to be one of his schemes. Did Vincent pay someone to dress up and tell him outrageous things that would mess with his mind? Probably. But Thane could put up with it if he was able to erase it all with the dancers later.

Thane spotted movement across the large room. Senara was moving in his direction with her eyes on him. Thane groaned internally. He did not want to talk to her or deal with her uncomfortable questions. For once, Vincent was the more preferable companion. “Fine, take me to Madame Rajani.” Thane stood up and followed his brother around the room to the double doors that led to the inner courtyard.

The guards stationed at the doors nodded to them both as they passed. It seemed Vincent was in as much of a hurry as Thane was to get out of the ballroom. They rushed past caged wagons that held large beasts with sharp teeth and strange-colored coats. Men and women taunted the animals and laughed. A large tent was set up in the middle of the space—the thick black and red stripes reminded Thane of the circus from his childhood, but with a darker appeal. Music and smoke crept out of the tent’s dimly lit entrance. Thane watched several men enter with smug looks on their faces. Vincent did not stop at the tent for the exotic dancers, but he headed for what looked like a small house on wheels tucked into a dark corner of the courtyard. There were steep steps up to the single door on the side. The lack of lights made the caravan look abandoned and eerie.

“It really is a one-of-a-kind experience,” Vincent said, flashing a smile at Thane. “Madame Rajani can change your whole perspective on life.”

Thane glared at Vincent’s back as he stepped up and knocked. The door creaked open and revealed a woman unlike any kind of woman Thane had ever seen. Her skin was neither pale, nor dark. Her cosmetics were thick and bold. A colorful cloth was wrapped around the top of her head, and long locks of black hair flowed from underneath and fanned down over her shoulders. Her dress was a deep burgundy, and from what Thane could tell, finely made. Jewelry hung from her headwrap, ears, nose, neck, waist, and wrists. Her fingernails were painted black and longer than any human nails should be. She smiled like a cat ready for its next meal, and her eyes were fixed on Thane. “Ah, Vincent, let us see what you have brought me,” she purred as Vincent helped her down the steps. She stopped on the last step and used a finger to tilt Thane’s chin up. “You Blackmoore boys and your looks, you really could have anyone and anything you want,” Madame Rajani said with pursed lips and a ridiculous voice, as if she were talking to a baby or a puppy. She squeezed his cheeks with one hand and smiled. “Come, let us see what the future has in store for the crown prince of Oakwater.”

She grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. Thane glanced back to see Vincent below with his brows raised, clearly entertained. The door was shut tight behind him, and Thane felt blind in the dark space. Madame Rajani pushed him down into a chair. Her jewelry clinked as she moved away. Something rustled behind him.

“Place your right hand palm up on the table,” Madame Rajani requested. Thane felt around and found a small table to his left and did as she asked. Her two slender hands grabbed his. “Tell me, Prince Thane Blackmoore, what do you desire most?” she asked in a whisper as she trailed a fingernail down each of his fingers. It made him shiver in an unpleasant way.

“I have everything anyone could ever want. I don’t desire anything. I simply want something and I get it,” he said.

She said something in a language he didn’t understand and pinched the tip of his smallest finger. “What do you fear?” She asked.

“Nothing,” he said confidently.

She made a noise as if she didn’t believe him and pinched the tip of his ring finger. “What is your greatest strength?”

“My good looks, royal title, ability to seduce women—take your pick.”

She pinched his middle finger. “What is your greatest flaw?”

“Does being too handsome count?” he quipped. This had to be a joke. How much did Vincent pay her to do this?

She pinched his pointer finger. “If your soul was a fruit, would it be bitter or sweet?”

“I have no idea what that is supposed to mean,” he said, annoyed. She pinched the tip of his thumb. This was a waste of his time.

A match was lit, and Madame Rajani’s concentrated face appeared across the small table from him. The flame was blue. Thane stared at it for a moment, and then Madame Rajani dropped it onto the palm of his hand. He would have pulled back if she didn’t have an iron grip on his wrist. The flame hit his skin, but it wasn’t hot; it was cold. It flickered in his palm for a few seconds before splitting into five separate flames and traveling up each one of his fingers, then continued out onto the table and toward the wall closest to them. The flames met the wall and traveled up, then multiplied again, and again, and again. Each little spark went its own way, burning a path into the wall. They swirled around each other for a few moments before burning out, leaving Thane and the fortune teller in darkness once again. It all felt strange and unnatural.

Madame Rajani breathed in and out. The hairs on the back of Thane’s neck stood on end. “You lie.”

“You are not a true fortune teller.”

“Thane Blackmoore,” she spoke as if making an announcement to a crowd. His hand and the wall lit up where the flame had traveled and stayed alight. Thane blinked many times before he realized what he was looking at. The lines on the wall made a picture, almost like a stained glass window but on a wooden wall, and the outline emitted light. A young man stood tall with a crown on his head and a foot on another man's head, who lay on the ground. “Your greatest desire is to be worshiped and adored, even if it comes at the expense of others.”

The image changed to a small child who hung his head in front of a man who wore a crown and looked angry. Thane’s heart clenched. “As a child, you could never live up to your father’s expectations.” It changed again: this time, two boys stood in front of the king. One grinned while the other one glared. “Your younger brother has always been highly favored by your father, the king.” The picture switched back to the first image, but it was different. The man standing tall with a sword in his hand bore the same grin as the younger boy from the scene before. The expression of the man on the ground was identical to the older boy who had hung his head before his father. “You fear your brother rising above you and taking your place as future king.”

The image changed again to the glaring young man looking at his reflection in the mirror. “You were right to think that your greatest strength and greatest weakness were one and the same. You have become overbearingly confident in your looks, which helps you gain the favor of others, but also makes you blind to how much they hate you on the inside.”

The picture shrunk and was joined by all the pictures he had seen, and more, depicting events in his life. They looked like seeds planted in the dirt. Roots grew up from the scenes and out of the ground. A thick trunk emerged with large branches. A single fruit grew on a low branch next to a girl with long hair, standing at the base of the tree. She picked the fruit. Thane stared slack-jawed at the moving picture on the wall.

“No one has control over their past, only how they react to it,” Madame Rajani continued in her storytelling voice. “No one has control over their future, only how they will prepare. The choices we make are like seeds planted to grow into our tree of legacy that bears the fruit of our soul. You may look like the perfect tree on the outside, but one would have to partake of your fruit to know the true you.”

Thane’s heart pounded as the girl took a bite of his soul. She spat it out and fell to her knees. “Your soul is bitter. It is a poison that corrupts those you interact with.” The girl fell to the earth and looked lifeless.

“So, what does your future hold, Prince of Oakwater?” Madame Rajani asked. Her hand covered his, and the image on the wall returned to the man looking at his reflection. “If you do not change anything, you will see discontent, loneliness, pain, and regret. The very things you desire will become your prison. Your fears of what might be will become inevitable. Your weakness will only sink you further into your own destruction.”

“A life of loneliness, pain, and imprisonment,” Thane said. It honestly didn’t sound much different than what he dealt with every day. “If I change, will my future be different? What am I supposed to do?”

“I do not tell you how to live your life. I only read the future.”

This had to be a complete hoax. But how did she know about his life? The pictures on the wall were not fake. “So that is it? You tell me my future will not be anything but terrible and let me go on my merry way?” Thane yanked his hand from her grasp and pushed his chair away from the table.

“Wait,” she said insistently. “There is one more thing.”

“What?” he snapped. He wanted this to be over.

“I have come from a long line of sorceresses who were wronged by your ancestors, and they vowed to seek revenge.”

Thane rubbed at his face. Did she want him to give her compensation for something?

“We were thrown out, away from our source of power and living,” she said, her eyes growing dark in the faint light of the image on the wall. All the hairs on Thane’s body stood on end. “The vow of my ancestors has passed to me. And now, after hundreds of years, your brother has finally given us the opportunity to take back what we have lost.”

“I have to go.” Thane quickly stood and felt around for a door. Madame Rajani reached for him, and he lunged away, but something caught his ankle and made him trip. He caught himself hard on his hands and knees. Where was the door?

“A glass rose, a selfish man; five hundred years ago our story began,” the sorceress half growled, half sang.

Fear shot down Thane’s spine as he felt the air thicken with magic. He rushed forward on hands and knees. He crashed into what felt like a bird cage on a short stool. Something rustled inside. He tried to go around the cage, but found a solid bookshelf full of glass jars. Voices rose from outside the caravan.

“Generations gone, generations come; different times, but still the same scum.”

Thane was no stranger to curses. He had never been cursed himself, but he had seen Senara curse countless people who meant to harm the royal family. He also knew the curse would fail if Rajani stumbled on her words. He knew the curse would not be complete unless she touched him to leave a mark. If he could escape, he would be spared. Thane grabbed a glass jar off the shelf and threw it over his shoulder.

He heard the jar hit Madame Rajani and smash to the floor, but she did not miss a word. “An opportunity, a solution; restoration will only cost a delusion.”

She stepped forward, and Thane scrambled to his feet. He felt for the wall. Things hanging from the ceiling smacked him in the face. He ripped them out of his way.

“Once brother, now traitor; the younger yearns to be the greater.”

The voices outside were yelling now. Thane found the wall and inched his way along, grabbing for anything that felt like a doorknob.

“The dark agree, the light chastise; a prince’s soul for my prize.”

His fingers found a gap in the wood. It had to be a door!

“Vanity is your weakness, vanity is your strength; take that away and what is your fate?”

He found the knob and gripped it hard. It wouldn’t twist. The door didn’t budge. He banged on the door, but no one opened it from the outside. Thane cursed and ran, then slipped on something wet and fell again. He pulled something from underneath him; it felt like a chicken foot. Madame Rajani’s shadow was standing above him. He threw the chicken foot at her and missed. He tried to scoot himself back, but a sharp pain in his hand made him stop. It was glass from that blasted jar he threw! Two hands grabbed either side of his face. He tried to pull away, but his body wouldn’t move.

“Thane Blackmoore, I curse you this day. No more will you be handsome, no more will you be sought after, for your outward appearance will reflect your bitter soul. Whenever someone looks upon you they will not be deceived; they will see the beast that has hidden within.”

The dark sorceress pressed her palm over his right eye. His skin burned under her touch; his skull felt like it would split. He could not find the air to scream.

“You will be the very nightmare that haunts bad dreams. People will look at you and only see their worst fear. Who would want a monster as a king?”

Rage shook Thane’s body. He would not be defeated like this. This would not be his end. She was touching him, but all curses needed a way to be broken or they would fail. He could still break it.

“And so it shall be, unless you can find a true rarity. The majority look with their eyes and judge what they see. But for the one who beholds with their heart, they are the key. For they would have the power to see through the magic and to change you from bitter to sweet, and my curse would fall like a chain at your feet.”

Madame Rajani released him and stepped back. Thane collapsed to the ground and gasped. She went to the door and easily opened it. He wanted to growl. He looked around, then up on the wall. The image still showed a man looking into a mirror, but this time his reflection looked like a demon from a book he once read in the castle library. He reached up to the top of his head and felt no hair. He gasped again. He ran his hand down over the eye she had touched. It was swollen shut and the skin around it was rigid and stiff, like a poorly healed burn.

It couldn't be real. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find a mirror.

Thane scrambled to his feet and reached the open door, then his stomach dropped. A crowd had gathered around the fortune teller’s caravan. Gasps and cries rang out. Someone fainted. At the bottom of the steps stood Vincent, grinning with his perfect features. Madame Rajani stood next to him with a smug look.

“Very nicely done, Madame Rajani,” Vincent praised.

Thane stumbled down the steps, ready to strangle his brother. He missed the last step as Vincent slid out of the way. Thane fell to his knees. The crowd backed away from him and gawked. He covered his face with his hands. Vincent chuckled. “I’ll admit, I was uncertain if anyone could make you ugly, brother. Madame Rajani managed to make you the most hideous and grotesque thing I have ever laid eyes on.”

Thane pushed to his feet and charged Vincent. His brother just smiled. An invisible force threw Thane onto his back. He coughed as Madame Rajani stood over him. “Sorry, but you cannot harm the crown prince. He is under my protection now.”

This was not happening. Thane refused to believe it. He managed to get back to his feet. He looked at those who had gathered. Where was Senara? He felt nauseous. Thane had hurried from the ballroom to get away from her. She was trying to do her duty to protect him, and now where was she? Was she dead?

“Help me,” Thane said to the nearest group of lords and ladies. They all stepped back quickly. “Help me,” he said as he turned to another group. A woman screamed. “She did this to me. I am still your crown prince. Help me!”

His eyes found a familiar face. The Duchess of Ashland. He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. She stumbled backwards, looking horrified. The hand he held out caught his attention. His skin was pale and translucent, his veins so dark they looked black. His nails were also black and sharp like claws. Thane touched his face again with shaking hands. Vincent laughed loudly behind him. “Finally, a look that matches your black heart. Should we put him in a cage with the rest of the beasts?”

People laughed and shouted. Thane ran. He didn’t have to push through the crowd because the people scrambled away from him. He needed to find a mirror. He needed to be alone. He rushed into the ballroom and more screams greeted him. He ran past women who fainted and guards who stood frozen with fear.

The king stood from his chair at the head table, but Thane didn’t take the time to see his expression. He did not stop until he was up the stairs to his rooms. He flung open the door and ran straight to his floor-length mirror. He growled when he saw his reflection.

“Your Highness?” he heard his valet ask from the other room.

Thane stared at the horrifying creature in front of him. His face was so pale, he could have been dead. Every dark vein stood out in contrast from his white skin. The mark Rajani had left looked like diseased skin, as if black tar dripped down his face on one side. He could barely see the whites of his eyes around his soul-sucking irises. He was a monster. He was a demon. Thane grabbed the mirror and threw it across the room. He collapsed to his knees and yelled out in anguish.

Cautious footsteps made their way into the room, broken glass crunching with each step. Thane hid his face in his hands.

“Stop where you are,” he ordered.

“What has happened, Your Highness?” Edgar asked. “Are you unwell?”

“I must ask you where your loyalty lies, Edgar,” Thane said through clenched teeth.

“Always with you, Your Highness,” his valet replied.

“And with my brother? My father?” he pushed.

“I have served them before, but if it were up to me, I would choose you over either of them, if I may speak so plainly.” Edgar was always prim and proper, no matter the circumstance.

“If I had to leave, would you follow me?” Thane asked in earnest.

“I have no living family. My work is my life and brings me joy. If you had to leave, I would follow, Your Highness.”

Thane turned to face the valet. Edgar’s eyes widened as he looked at his deformed master, but he did not run. “Then pack the essentials. We are leaving immediately,” Thane said.

Edgar wasted no time in throwing clothes and other necessities into trunks and duffle bags. Thane could do nothing but pace. The curse could be broken. He just had to get somewhere where he could work on that puzzle in peace, then come back and put forth his revenge. What felt like too many minutes later, Edgar stood in front of Thane in his overcoat, luggage in hand.

“Call a carriage to take us to the nearest village. We can stay there tonight and plan our next move in the morning,” Thane said as he fastened his large cloak around his neck. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Edgar nodded, then flew out of the room. Thane rushed into his closet and moved some boxes down from a high shelf. He found the one he was looking for and opened it, revealing his black and white marble chess set. He closed the box and tucked it under his arm. He made one last sweep of his rooms to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything important, then covered his head with his hood and left.

When he woke up that morning, he had no idea he would be fleeing his home. It had to be a bad dream. He hoped it was a bad dream.

Thane stopped dead in his tracks when he passed a room that glowed a faint blue. He peeked his head in and saw the glass rose on its pedestal. He looked down the hall and, seeing no one, slipped inside and closed the door.

He slowly circled the glass artifact that was to blame for all his problems. It was why he was in this mess. Madame Rajani wanted access to the rose, why else would she work with his brother? Thane saw red as his anger simmered in his veins. Voices sounded in the hall.

He was not going to let Vincent win.

Without a second thought, Thane grabbed the glass rose and hid it in his box. By his next thundering heartbeat, he leapt out of the window onto a lower ledge, then used the overgrown ivy to climb to the ground. He ran. He ran away from everything that used to be his. He ran from the only life he knew. He ran toward uncertainty.

Would he be able to find someone to break the curse and return to his former life, or would he be cursed as a monster forever?