Heart of the Beholder

27

brIDGETTE WATCHED ALICE WALK AWAY after the girl had agreed to help by giving the message and coins to Doc. A few moments passed before she looked at the ripped piece of parchment in her hand again. There was no doubt the miniature portrait portrayed the man she knew as Lord Leander Thornwood; he had the same dazzling green eyes and head of thick dark hair, but there were some differences. Of course, the man in the painting wasn’t covering part of his face with a mask. He also looked serious and confident and royal, all of the things expected of a prince, unlike the Leander she had come to know.

This new revelation fit perfectly with every puzzle piece she had collected about her mysterious employer over the last few weeks. From the portrait of the late queen that hung in the entrance hall, claiming it was his aunt; to him hiding his obvious expertise in preparing for large events, like throwing a ball in a single day. The late king had two sons, but the older one had disappeared right about the time Bridgette’s house in Willow Haven burned down. They said it happened because they were chasing the mad prince, or some sort of beast. Lord Thornwood, or whatever his name was, had knelt over her father’s dead body, with gashes in the chest that looked like they came from the claws of a bear.

It was too much to fully accept at the moment. There were still many more connections she would have to make later. For now, she needed to decide what she was going to do, because the king of Oakwater was probably already at the manor, and he was out for blood.

“What are you going to do, Bridgette?” she asked herself out loud. “You are no hero. You are no swordsman. You don’t have magical powers. What could you possibly do?” Something sang to her from above. She looked up, and the white dove sat on a branch above her head. “You again,” she said. The bird tweeted as if it were responding to what she’d said. “He needs help, but what can I do? Is it better to find someone else? Am I going the right way?” Bridgette asked the bird in desperation.

The dove tweeted again and flew from the branch in the direction of the manor. Bridgette chased after it, taking it as a sign to follow. She pushed herself forward, trailing after the fluttering white bird, until they crested the last hill. Bridgette looked across the meadow to where the manor sat and gasped when she saw the fancy carriage and black horses standing in front. But there were more horses than the two hitched to the carriage—there were at least half a dozen more horses with the royal seal hanging from their saddles. Bridgette hid behind a tree when she saw two guards in dark uniforms standing at the front door.

“Of course there are guards,” she whispered frantically to the dove that perched itself in the tree she hid behind. “I am done for. I am the clumsiest person in the kingdom. There is no way I could make it past them without some sort of help or miracle.” The bird dropped down onto Bridgette’s head and started pulling at her hair. “Ow!” She reached up to cover her head. “Okay, okay! I am going, but I can’t just waltz up to the front door or even take the main pathway. They will see me.”

Bridgette peered around the tree and searched for a solution. There was always the back door, which they might have disregarded as one would have to walk around the manor to get to it. If only there was a way for her to do that unseen. She looked down at the meadow and tilted her head. The flowers and other plants were tall enough that if she crawled through on her hands and knees, she would be hidden. If she got across the stream, she could follow it up to the waterwheel, where she could hide as she figured out her next step.

If she sat and thought about it too long, she would talk herself out of it, so she watched the guards and waited for them to face each other. She then darted across the road, and tumbled down the slope a bit before coming to a stop among the fragrant wildflowers. She sneezed when a leaf tickled her nose. Bridgette clamped a hand over her mouth and waited. There was no commotion from the manor, so she crawled forward, praying there wouldn’t be any surprises for her in the weeds.

When she reached the stream, she peeked up at the manor and saw the guards. She wouldn’t be able to stand up to get across the water, or she would risk being seen, but she didn’t want to crawl across either. She got her feet under her in a low, wide squat and gathered the ends of her skirt and cloak in her arms. She waddled forward like a drunken frog into the cold water. She clenched her teeth to keep from squealing at the surprising temperature and move forward an inch at a time. As long as she didn’t make any large movements, she would stay hidden. Slow and steady. She kept her focus and didn’t stop, even though her feet were throbbing from the cold, and her thighs were burning from the exertion. When Bridgette got to the bank on the other side, she hopped out of the water, still looking like a silly frog, but her footing wasn’t good, and she tipped backward. Bridgette grabbed the nearest plant, but it pulled out of the dirt, causing her to splash down into the stream, soaking the skirts she had tried so hard to keep dry.

Bridgette scrambled onto the bank of the stream, keeping low, and crawled into the weeds. Once she was hidden again, she listened for any sound from the guards. After a moment passed in silence, she let herself relax. “That was the least graceful way you could have done that, Bridgette,” she complained to herself. “But you can’t stop now.” She crawled through the weeds toward the waterwheel at the top of the hill, close to the manor. She felt her wet clothes start to pick up mud as she went. Her arms started to shake as she climbed the steepest part of the hill and got closer to the wheel. She held her breath as she moved through the thinning brush and finally reached her first destination.

Bridgette sat with her back to the wheel and gasped for air as quietly as she could. Her dress was a complete disaster; she was sure the rest of her didn’t look any better. Once she had her breathing under control, she shifted and peeked through the cracks of the wheel as it rotated and poured out water. The guards were both facing forward. She looked to where she had to run to get past their line of sight. There was no way she wouldn’t be seen.

A low coo made her look over to the weeds she had just crawled out of. The dove sat there watching her. It cooed again. “Can’t you see I am trying? I need a distraction. Do you think you can help me with that?” she whispered.

The dove took off without another sound. Bridgette readied herself to run as she watched the bird fly directly at the farthest guard’s face and veer off at the last second. Nothing happened for a moment, then the guard yelled out, and Bridgette saw a white liquid substance drip down his face. “That bird just defecated in my mouth!” he spat. His companion doubled over laughing. Bridgette picked up her heavy, wet skirt and ran as quickly and quietly as she could, as one guard wiped bird excrement from his eye and the other pointed to a spot he had missed.

Bridgette didn’t slow down once she passed the front of the manor; she kept up the pace all the way to the gate leading into the back gardens. To her relief, there was no one in the gardens. She opened the gate, careful not to let it creak as it closed behind her. She made sure to keep close to the manor, in case someone was watching out the window. Bridgette made it to the servants’ entrance and held her breath as she opened the door and looked inside. There were no signs of life, no candlelight, or noise. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign. Should she call out for Edgar? Should she knock on his door?

Bridgette stepped inside and closed the door painstakingly slowly to avoid making any kind of noise. She tiptoed past the door to the kitchen and searched the servants’ quarters. They were empty. When she came back to Edgar’s door, she knocked quietly and whispered, “Edgar?” There was no answer.

She snuck back to the kitchen door and pushed in. The door squeaked, and her stomach dropped. She saw movement, Bridgette was ready to bolt until her eyes adjusted to the dim room with its curtains drawn. A lone chair stood in the middle of the empty space with a man sitting hunched over in it. His wrists were tied behind the chair, and a cloth was tied around his head to gag him. Edgar looked at her with wide eyes.

Bridgette hurried over to him and immediately got to work loosening his gag. As soon as she pulled it off him, he started talking. “Miss Bridgette, what are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse.

“I am going to ask the questions,” she said as she tried to untie his wrists. Whoever had tied it must have been strong, and her little fingers were proving useless against it. She fetched a steak knife from one of the drawers and asked, “What does he have that the king wants?”

“You know, then.”

“Do I know my employer is actually the eldest son of the late king? Yes,” she said as she sawed through the rope. “What I don’t know is why he is hiding in a forgotten manor and not ruling as king, as is his birthright.”

“To put things simply, he was tricked by his brother, who had him cursed,” Edgar said.

Bridgette sucked in a breath. She had had a suspicion there was magic involved, but it was so foreign to her, she couldn’t accept it until she saw it. She paused her work on the rope and asked, “What kind of curse?”

“A curse that turned him into a monster; his outward appearance reflects what is on the inside,” Edgar said.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Bridgette said, continuing her work. “I have seen him. He is not a monster. Even with the mask on, I could tell he was a man,” she said. I also touched my lips to his and nothing seemed strange or out of place, she added in her mind.

“What about when he killed your father? Was he a man then?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, feeling frustrated. “He was a man with a human body and skin. He had hands and fingers. There was no fur or claws or whatever it is everyone claims to see.” The rope finally fell to the floor.

All Edgar said was, “That is interesting.”

“What is interesting?” Bridgette asked. Edgar rolled his shoulders still sitting in the chair and winced. Bridgette walked around to face him and bit down a gasp. She had been so distracted by her anger and anxiety that she had failed to notice the butler’s black eye and swollen cheek. Dried blood crusted his face under his nose and stained his white shirt and gray vest. “Oh, Edgar, what happened?”

He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I was trying to protect my Master. I may know a lot of things, but combat is not one of them.” He might have been trying to make a joke, but he sounded so discouraged. Bridgette hurried to the sink and put water on a dish towel. She wrung the towel out, then knelt in front of him. She held out the towel to him, but he didn’t take it. “He didn’t fight back; he just let them beat him. He didn’t try to escape; he just gave himself up. I couldn’t stand by and let it happen, but I don’t think I made any difference, Miss Bridgette.”

“Have you seen him as a beast?” she asked.

Edgar nodded. “I have seen many stages of his beast form. The kind of mood he was in determined how beastly he appeared. It first takes his softer features away, like his hair and warmth in his complexion. His veins are more apparent, and his eyes go dark. When he is completely overtaken by the beast, he has fur and twisted horns. I believe I have also seen claws and possibly fangs, but he always hides when he reaches that state, so I haven’t seen either of those clearly. When I saw him emerge from your cottage dragging your father’s body, he looked to be that beast with horns. And when I found him after I dropped you off at the doctor’s home, he didn’t look as monstrous, but he wasn’t completely human.”

Bridgette blinked once and pondered the information. “Doc said the same things. It was dark, but I know Leander—I mean Thane, or what have you—had hair and no claws or horns. I promise I am not crazy, Edgar.”

“I don’t think you are crazy, Miss Bridgette,” he said, and finally took the wet cloth and wiped the blood off his face.

“What did you see yesterday when I was here? Did any of the beast show?” Bridgette asked, still kneeling before him.

“I saw absolutely no trace of the beast. He looked exactly as he did before the curse, except for the mask.”

“Why did he wear the mask?”

“To hide the mark of the curse and a burn,” Edgar said, as he finished cleaning himself up the best he could.

“Is it bad?”

“He got it from an explosion, but I think the curse prevented it from healing. It looks the same as the first day he got it: angry and red. I have worried if it causes him pain, but I think he has grown numb to it, or the curse has actually made the pain numb.”

“Was the explosion in Willow Haven about ten months ago?” Bridgette asked.

Edgar looked apologetic when he said, “Yes.”

Bridgette stood up and walked a few steps away. “You're wrong.”

“Miss Bridgette?” he asked.

“You said you haven’t made much of a difference, but you are wrong.” She turned back around to face him. “You have seen him at his worst, and yet, you have not left. You stayed and fought for him to the point where they had to tie you up in here. If you didn’t make any difference, they wouldn’t have had to do that.” The old man nodded. “And since you are still alive, you can still be useful to your master. I am going to need your help to save him.”

“Of course, but there are many guards with swords. And a sorceress. And the king,” Edgar said with disgust. “What are we to do?”

“We need weapons or something to defend ourselves,” she said, and walked over to the table, where she had set the knife down. “Knives could work, but we have to be close to use them. I would prefer to keep my distance.”

“I may have something,” Edgar said, and left the kitchen with a slight limp toward the servants’ quarters. After a minute, he came back with the rug beater in his hand. He walked over to the fireplace and picked up a fire poker before joining Bridgette again. “Lord Thornwood—I mean, His Majesty does have a sword, but it is upstairs. These are the closest things I can think of.”

“Edgar, I am very happy you did not bring out a sword, because I would have no idea how to use it. This, on the other hand,” she said, taking the rug beater from him, “I know how to use.” She examined the tool she had used to clean the rugs, but in a new light. It was probably as long as most swords and was made up of some kind of sturdy metal. The metal weaved together and looped around to make a large, flat paddle shape at the end which was efficient for getting dirt and dust out of rugs. Hopefully it would prove efficient for knocking her foes senseless too. She looked at Edgar’s fire poker. “These will work.”

“I don’t think we can just walk up the stairs,” Edgar said, his voice shaking. “I know someone is stationed on the small landing to call out if they see anything, or if the guards outside need something.”

Bridgette bit her bottom lip as she thought. There had to be a different way to the upper floor. Her gaze slid over to the fireplace. “What room is above us?”

“There are a few, Miss Bridgette,” Edgar said, clearly confused.

Bridgette walked to the fireplace and looked up into the dark space. “If I go up the chimney to the next fireplace, I should come out in one of the bedrooms upstairs, right?”

“One of the back bedrooms,” he said cautiously.

“That will work,” Bridgette said, feeling a little excited. “Where do they have him?”

“They found him in the study, but I think they moved him to the library,” he said, looking haunted.

“Perfect. I will sneak up there and see if I can hear or see anything,” Bridgette said and stepped into the fireplace.

Edgar grabbed her shoulder. “Wait. You will be on the wrong side of the manor. When you exit that room, go across the hall to the room farthest down the hall on that side. There is a door inside that room that leads to another room that is on the other side of the manor. That way you won’t have to use the stairs. It will put you across the hall from the Master’s bedroom.” Bridgette nodded, but he didn’t let go. “I wish I could come with you, but I don’t think my age is doing me any favors.”

Bridgette turned and took his hand in hers. “I will get up there and try to see what we are dealing with. I think I will have an advantage if I can surprise them. You could try and sneak out through the entrance hall, and when the path is clear, you can use the stairs. I am sure as soon as I am found, they will leave their posts.”

“So you are planning on being caught?” he asked, looking a little pale.

“I can’t think of any other plan, but if I can distract them and you can get up there, it will be the two of us against them. And if I know His Majesty like I think I do,” she said awkwardly, “I can hopefully spark something inside him to fight back.”

Edgar looked like he was on the verge of losing control of his emotions. “Thank you for coming back, Miss Bridgette. I’ve known Thane since he was born and have since seen the potential for the man he could be. Over time, others have taken parts of him away and left him broken. I have stood by and silently hated those who did it to him, thinking there was nothing that could make him whole again.” A single tear fell down the old man’s cheek. “But now, I can see you have always been the missing piece that fits perfectly into the hole in his heart. You were made to save him.”

Tears fell down Bridgette’s cheeks. “He was made to save me.”

“I hope we all come out of this alive,” Edgar said. “But if not, I wish you both the happiest of lives.”

The butler slipped out of her grip and walked toward the door to the dining room. “Edgar,” she said.

“I’ll be waiting and ready for your call, my lady. May the Fates be on our side,” he said nobly, then pushed through the door with the fire poker in hand.

Bridgette turned back to the fireplace and wiped her eyes. She hadn’t planned on crawling back into a chimney so soon, but here she was. She set down the rug beater and unclasped her cloak. The burgundy fabric fell to the floor, and she took off her heeled shoes which were covered in dried mud and grass. Once she was barefoot, she picked up her weapon and stepped forward. She set the beater on the smoke shelf, and pulled herself up. It was too long to hold horizontally, so she kept it pointed toward the sky.

When she was crouched on the smoke shelf, she paused and remembered what she did last time. Bridgette rested her back against the bricks behind her and used her arms and legs to slowly inch her way up, all while balancing the rug beater on her shoulder so it would climb with her. She tried not to rush so she didn’t slip in her haste, but it was hard not to let the anxious feelings overwhelm her. She needed him to be okay. He had to be okay.

Bridgette found a new ledge, which told her she had made it to a new fireplace in one of the bedrooms. She pushed the rug beater up and forward, then let it gently drop onto the smoke shelf. Bridgette got herself onto the ledge and carefully lowered herself to the bottom of the fireplace. The floor was cold under her bare feet as she turned back and pulled the rug beater out of the chimney. Her heart jumped into her throat when it got stuck, but she only had to turn it a bit, and it slipped free.

She padded across the room and held her breath as she twisted the knob and opened the door. There was no one in the hall, so she shut the door quietly and dashed across the empty space to the room Edgar told her about. Something moved up ahead near the stairs. Bridgette pressed herself against the door and held her skirt close to her body. Most of the doors in the manor were deep-set into the walls with thick trim, but she hadn’t thought much about the design until now, as she tried to make herself melt into the wood behind her so whoever was standing down the hall could not see her from their angle.

Bridgette strained her ears and heard footsteps go back down the stairs. She let out a quiet breath and entered the room before she lost her courage. In just a few moments, she was out of that room and into the next without any problems. Bridgette paused at the door that led into the hallway. She honestly had no idea what she would do when she opened the door. Would she have to hurt someone? Would she get cut in half before she got to see him? How did she even get here? A part of her was frustrated that he’d lied to her. Had he told her the truth, they might not be in this situation. If she wasn’t currently risking her life to save him, she would have a lot of things to say. But he was in danger, and she needed to do something. Words could wait.

“Bridgette, if you live through this, you need to consider safer hobbies,” she whispered out loud. “Though, I do admit I did not know what I was signing up for when I took this position.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Well, can’t turn back now, you silly goose.”

Bridgette pulled the door open and listened. Muffled voices came from the direction of the library, just as Edgar had said. She leaned forward and looked down the hall. A guard had his back to her and was talking to someone inside the study. He turned, and Bridgette moved back into the room, out of sight. She could see the painting room from her position, and the door was open. Her arms shook with anticipation. If the guard turned his back again, she could run across the hall. The painting room was connected to the bedroom, which was connected to the study. If she could get into the bedroom, she could maybe hear what was being said and know what she was dealing with, and then call for Edgar. It was not a masterful plan, but it was something.

She peeked out again. No one was in the hall. She didn’t waste one moment and dashed into the paint room with her heart pounding like horse hooves. Her feet froze to the floor when she saw the painting exactly where it had been the night before. Despite the frustration she felt, she couldn’t help but be affected by its beauty and meaning. She stepped closer to it. This was the reason she was here. This was the reason why she was carrying a rug beater and covered in mud and ash. He may not have been completely honest with her, but he had given her things she was certain he hadn’t shared with anyone else. She reached out as she stepped closer. Her hands were still shaking with nervous energy as she touched the corner of the painting. A loud voice sounded in the hallway and made her jump, knocking the painting off the easel. She snatched it up with her free hand before it hit the ground and froze as still as a deer, as she waited to be found. No one came. Slowly, she let her shoulders relax and tucked the rug beater under her arm so she could use both hands to set the painting back on the easel.

She needed to focus on the task at hand—no more dilly-dallying. She turned toward the door to the bedroom, then cringed when the end of the rug beater, still tucked under her arm, knocked a jar of paint brushes off the table. She was not quick enough to prevent it from crashing to the wood floor. Glass shattered and scattered across the room.

“Did you hear that?” a voice said from the hall.

“It was down that way,” said another.

Bridgette opened the door to a wide cupboard which was closer to her than the bedroom door. As she crammed herself and the beater inside, she knocked something over before pulling the door closed. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, pretending not to exist. Footsteps crushed the glass as someone entered the room. Bridgette bit her bottom lip as they got closer.

Another set of footsteps entered the room. “Did you find anything?” a deep voice asked.

“Not yet,” the first guard said. “I checked this whole room earlier and found nothing, but I don’t think ‘nothing’ could have knocked the jar off the table.”

Bridgette heard one of them move past the cupboard she hid in and open the bedroom door. “Are you sure it wasn’t the wind?” the deep voice asked.

“You know who we work for; it could be anything,” the other said.

“Just stay alert. If anything goes wrong, we will be the ones to pay.”

“Yes, sir.”

The footsteps left the room, and Bridgette slouched in relief. She opened her eyes and was surprised to find her surroundings illuminated by a blue light. She shifted to the side, looking for the source. The old dented paint case she had seen before lay open, face down. Bridgette lifted the case, and the light grew brighter. Her jaw dropped as she realized what she was looking at: a glass rose. Edgar had never answered her question about what Lord Thornwood had taken from the king, but she knew this had to be it.

She reached for it, then took her hand back. Would it hurt her if she touched it? She had no idea. Using the material of her skirt, she picked it up and marveled at the mystical aura it gave off. “By the power of the glass rose,” she whispered.

The cupboard door swung open, and a guard glared down at Bridgette. “There you are.” Bridgette clumsily grabbed the rug beater with both hands and swung pathetically at the man’s knees. The armor under his uniform clanked with the contact. He chuckled and yanked her up by her arm. “Nice try.” Bridgette tried and failed to get out of his grip and wasn’t able to get a good hold on her weapon. He got her up to her feet, and the glass rose fell to the floor, but did not break. The sound it made drew the guard’s attention. He gaped at the magical object. It was enough of a distraction for Bridgette to free herself. “I found it!” The guard called out, as he half-heartedly reached for her, not able to take his eyes off the rose. “I found the—” His words were cut off by a hard smack of the metal rug beater to the back of his head. The man’s eyes rolled back, but before his body hit the floor, two more guards entered the room.

Bridgette held the rug beater out like a sword. “If you don’t hurt me, I won’t hurt you like I did your friend here.”

The guards looked at their unconscious companion, then the glass rose. They both charged forward, one coming for her, the other for the rose. She kicked the rose back to the wall behind her and knocked the easel over with her rug beater, grabbing the painting at the last second. The easel tripped the guard going after the rose but only delayed the other. Bridgette set the painting on the floor and swung the rug beater, but the guard was quick and efficient at blocking her blows with the armor on his forearms. He used one of his blocks to twist the beater out of her grip. It clattered to the floor as his hands grabbed her wrists, flipping her around into a chokehold. “The king will be happy to see you,” he grumbled in her ear. Bridgette struggled to get away, but it was no use.

Something swung over her head, and after a loud thwack, the guard yelled out and dropped her.

“I suggest you not touch the lady again unless you want one of these in your eye.”

Bridgette looked up at Edgar, who was standing tall with the fire poker pointed down at the guard's eye. The guard was on his knees, a large welt on the side of his head. She looked over and saw the other guard pick up the glass rose.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, and picked up her rug beater.

TWO GUARDS SHOVED THANE DOWN onto the chair they had brought from his study, and one of them made quick work of tying his hands behind him. They had left his cloak and hood on, so Thane kept his head down and his gaze on the floor.

“You two stay here. The rest, join the others in searching the manor,” Vincent ordered his men. “Check in with the two outside. I want to be warned if anyone comes for a visit.” The guards took their orders and left. Vincent took his time walking around the library, ignoring Thane’s presence, as usual. Finally, he said, “So, brother, where is it?”

“Where is Edgar?” Thane asked in response.

“Answer my question first,” Vincent said. Thane could hear his brother’s impatience hidden behind his feigned calmness.

“Where is Edgar?” Thane growled and he angled his head so he could see his brother’s face from under the hood.

“The old sloth?” Vincent scoffed, then smirked. “You should be thanking me for taking care of the decrepit man. He has outstayed his welcome. It was probably more work for you to keep him around, than to do things yourself.”

Thane didn’t give his brother a reaction, but the scene of Edgar standing up to Vincent and his guards repeated in his head. His old friend hadn’t stood a chance; he was quickly taken down by force and then kicked until he bled from his nose, looking dazed. It had all happened so fast. Thane had rushed into the chaos to save his valet, but the injured man was dragged out of the room while four other guards held Thane back. Thane knew his brother used emotions against his foes to manipulate their thinking. He wouldn’t believe Edgar was dead unless he saw it with his own eyes. If he didn’t put up a fight himself, hopefully no one else would have to pay for his mistakes.

“Where is the glass rose, cursed one?” Madame Rajani asked.

Thane growled at the new voice, which made his skin crawl. Madame Rajani was the last person he wanted to see right now. He could feel the evil power she exuded.

“Come now, we don’t want a fight,” she cooed behind him.

“We can do this the easy way, brother,” Vincent said, as he stepped up to stand right in front of Thane. He leaned close enough that Thane could see the pores in his brother’s skin. “You can tell me where the glass rose is, and then I will leave you to live out the rest of your lonely, pathetic life in peace.”

“I’ll believe that when you have her take the curse away,” Thane said, then grunted when Vincent’s fist met his gut.

Vincent stepped back and chuckled. “No, I am sorry—that is not how it works. I need you to stay a hideous, ugly beast so I can be king. You have already taken so much from me; I will not allow you to take anymore.”

“I have taken so much from you?” Thane asked in disgust. “I am the one who was forced to leave the castle and be on the run for the last ten months. You took my freedom, my title, my home, my identity, and my future away from me—after I cared for you as my younger brother. Now you have the audacity to say I took everything from you ,” he ground through his teeth.

“Oh, how oblivious you have been, brother. From the moment you were born, you took everything from me. You were the Crown Prince, Mother and Father loved you most, you had purpose. Me? I was the second born that should have been first. I had the talent and the mind to be king, but you beat me to it, so I had to intervene and take what was supposed to be mine,” Vincent said as he paced the floor in front of Thane.

“What are you talking about? Father favored you over me,” Thane argued, still under his hood.

Vincent belted a sarcastic laugh. “You think he favored me? That is adorable, brother.” He started to slowly walk in a circle around Thane. “As far back as I can remember, he chose you over me. When you were old enough, he started to call you into his meetings and started to teach you things himself instead of having a hired tutor do it. I started making trouble, and he barely batted an eye at me. I got you in trouble, and you got his undivided attention. I hated it. So, I threw myself into my studies I had been avoiding, and I did everything he expected you to do, but better. I made sure he saw me.”

“He did see you. He started to push me into the shadows so you could take my place before I was even gone. He treated you like a treasure, while I was just an inconvenience,” Thane said.

Vincent continued circling around Thane. “That is what I thought too. He told me how proud he was of me and threw me a birthday celebration. I thought I had finally replaced you, so it was time to get rid of you, without actually killing you. But after you were gone, he turned angry and blamed me for your disappearance.” Vincent stopped behind Thane. “We got into an argument one night, and I asked him why he cared about you so much when you failed so miserably at everything.” Vincent leaned down and whispered next to Thane’s ear. “You know what he said? He said when you were born, he knew you would be exactly what this kingdom needed in a leader. He was only so hard on you so you could be strong enough to be king. He said he was trying to prepare you in every way, so you could rise to your birthright in perfect form. He said he would never have chosen me as his heir if he had a choice.” He paused, and Thane held down the temptation to throw his head to the side and break his brother’s nose. “That’s when I slit his throat.”

Thane bristled. “I knew you killed him.”

“So you see, even in the end, you took Father from me.” Vincent walked back around to stand in front of Thane again. “I am impressed by your self-control. I thought the beastly side of you would make you lose your temper instead of control it,” he said, with piqued interest. “Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if I told you the fate of our mother.”

Thane stilled. “You did not touch her. She was sick.”

Vincent brushed invisible dust off his decorative coat. “There are many ways a person can get sick,” he said lightly, as if talking about the weather.

“What did you do to her?” Thane asked in rage.

“Let’s just say a little bit of poison every day for a while can slowly make someone sick. So slowly, they never notice until it is too late. It was lucky the family physician thought it was a serious illness which could not be cured.”

Thane shook as he remembered ordering the doctor to be taken to the dungeon. This time, he struggled against his bindings. “What did you do?” he roared. “You were her son. She loved you, and you killed her!” The chair rocked back and forth with his efforts to get free and strangle his brother.

“There is the beast I have been waiting for,” Vincent declared victoriously. “The thing is, she loved you too much and didn’t love me enough. I took Father’s approval away from you, but you still had Mother. She made you strong and confident. And she spent so much time with you, playing chess and listening to you play piano. I couldn’t have that. Unfortunately, she had to go, so you could fall and I could rise.”

“She loved you just as much as she loved me, Vincent,” Thane said, heartbroken and angry. “Half of the time she played chess with me, she told me she went to you, but you turned her away. She told me all the ideas she had of trying to figure out your interests, but was sad because you wouldn’t let her in.”

“Stop it with your lies,” Vincent said in a dark tone.

“They are not lies. You were too preoccupied with taking me down, that you didn’t realize you had a mother trying to love you,” Thane said.

Vincent rushed to Thane and gripped his neck with both hands.

“Your Majesty,” a guard said, which blessedly caused Vincent to let go of Thane and turn toward the door. “We have searched every room and have not found the rose. Perhaps it is not hidden here.”

Thane held in his laugh. During the time he had lived at the castle, he had come to realize that finding men who were skilled mentally as much as they were in combat was rare. Most guards were all brawn and no brains.

“It is here,” Madame Rajani said. “I can feel it. I will look for it myself.”

“No,” Vincent commanded. “You stay here. That way I know you are unharmed,” he said to the sorceress. “Keep searching or keep watch. We will find it soon enough,” he said to his guards, who left again. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, Mother,” Vincent drawled with frustration. “You two always had such a special bond, no wonder you came to hide in her brother’s abandoned estate. Honorable Uncle Leander Thornwood,” Vincent teased. “The man you chose as your father figure while your own father was still alive,” he said with disgust. “He never liked me, and I never liked him.”

“He was honorable and more like a father to me than Father ever was, but I guess that is thanks to you. If it weren’t for you, Father might have actually loved me like a son,” Thane said.

“Well, whatever the case, good riddance. They are both dead now,” Vincent said. Thane could hear the smile in his voice. He stayed silent, and Vincent sighed. “I was really hoping we could avoid doing this the hard way. I do not want to hurt you, brother.”

Thane watched as Vincent pulled out a sharpened dagger from his belt. He used the blade to push up Thane’s chin, forcing him to meet his brother’s gaze. Vincent grinned when their eyes met. He moved the knife so the cold metal burned under Thane's right ear, threatening to slice the flesh. “Where is it?”

“Why do you want it?” Thane asked. “Why did you hunt me down for months to get it? What can it do?”

“Does it really matter?” Vincent pushed the dagger up, and Thane felt warmth drip down his neck. Thane clenched his teeth. “If you just give it to me, I'll leave you alone.”

“It does matter if you plan on using it against people of the kingdom. Against my people. The role of a king is to protect his subjects.”

“Then why was it a king who took away the source of power from his subjects, so they could not reach their full potential?” Madame Rajani asked.

Vincent cut through more of Thane’s ear. It was a sharp, stinging pain, but he ignored it. “Maybe the king thought it was necessary to limit who had access to it. Did you ever think of that? Maybe he thought there were people who would use it against others.”

“Or maybe he wanted to take it all for himself,” she spat. “That was hundreds of years ago, and every king since has been the same. You would have been the same. Greedy men keeping things which don’t belong to them. Except your brother.” She stood next to Vincent and put an affectionate hand on his arm. She smiled maliciously down at Thane.

“We never kept anything for ourselves. The rose stayed in the castle on the mountain, so the power would flow evenly throughout the whole kingdom. Senara was there to make sure it was protected from anyone and everything,” Thane said in earnest, missing his magic companion.

“Lies!” Madame Rajani hissed. “Senara told lies to the kings so she could be close to the rose and take all its power to live an immortal life. She took it all and gave some benefit to the kings who let her do it.”

“That is not true!” Thane roared.

Vincent moved quickly and removed the entirety of Thane’s ear. Thane bit down on his tongue so he didn’t yell out in pain and give his brother the satisfaction. More warm blood flowed down the side of his face and neck and into his clothes.

“I suggest you not speak to her like that,” Vincent drawled. “She has the power to do much worse than your curse once she gets her hands on the rose.”

“I don’t care what she—” Thane stopped talking when Vincent held up a hand.

His brother tilted his head. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

Thane strained to listen and heard commotion down the hall. His heart leaped—Edgar wasn’t dead. Then his stomach dropped, realizing the valet wouldn’t be alive much longer.

“I found it!” someone yelled. “I found the—” their voice was cut short, then there were many shouts and thuds that followed.

Vincent stepped away and out of the room. He pointed to one of the guards in the room and ordered, “Get the others and figure out what's going on.” The guard saluted and ran out the door. Vincent returned with a smirk. “Looks like you might get to keep your other ear, but will have to lose your valet for good.”

The noises of fighting quieted, and many footsteps started down the hall toward the library. Thane tucked his chin down again and stared at the floor. He didn’t want to see the beaten body of his old friend. “Your Majesty,” a guard said with excitement. “We found the glass rose.”

Madame Rajani gasped.

Thane did not have to look to know for sure. The guards had been in the direction of the paint room. His brother and his sorceress now had their hands on the power source. He had known it would happen eventually. Hopefully he could make one last move to take his brother down, to save the kingdom. Also, to save Bridgette, who hopefully was on her way toward the castle with her mother and Birdie, to find a physician to help Clara. The further away she was, the better.

“Very good,” Vincent said. “Did the valet give you more trouble?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard said as someone was pushed into the room and onto their knees before Vincent. Thane tilted his head up and saw Edger, bruised and bloodied, but alive. The man glared defiantly at Vincent. Thane’s heart warmed at the loyalty and courage of his valet. “But we got him.”

Vincent bent forward and slid something into Edgar's vest pocket. Edgar’s eyes widened in shock, then he looked at Thane. With a start, Thane realized his brother had just put his severed ear in the valet’s pocket. “A souvenir for a pesky rodent who just won’t die.”

“We found something else as well, Your Majesty,” another guard said from the doorway.

“Bring it in,” Vincent said.

Thane kept his gaze on Edgar, who looked back at him with an almost apologetic expression. What did they find that had made Edgar so distraught?

Then he caught sight of dainty bare feet, and the tattered ends of a sage dress embroidered with flowers. Thane sat up straight to be able to see Bridgette fighting against the grip of the guards on either side of her, one of whom had an interesting-shaped bruise on the side of his face. It reminded Thane of the tool he had watched Bridgette clean rugs with. Did she do that? He had a mixture of shock, pride, and dread in his tight chest. She came back! But now she was in more danger.

Vincent stepped toward Bridgette, and Thane nearly ripped out of his restraints but forced himself to wait for a better moment. “Ah,” Vincent said, as if he were looking at a piece of art in a museum. “I believe this is the girl in your painting, brother.” Of course, Vincent had seen the painting. Thane silently cursed himself. He should have given it to Bridgette when he gave her the money and the gardening tools, instead of selfishly keeping it for himself. Now Vincent had a small idea of how much Bridgette meant to him, and that was a very bad thing. Thane needed to think very carefully before doing anything, or it could have catastrophic effects. Vincent grabbed Bridgette by the chin and tilted her face up. Thane bristled in his chair. “What a pretty face, even with the ash and dirt caked on her. I can see why you painted her.”

“And I can see why he despises you,” Bridgette said and spat in Vincent’s eye. Thane’s body went rigid. Oh, how he adored her stubborn attitude, but now it would get her killed.

Vincent laughed with delight as he wiped his eye. “A fiery one.”

“She is also the girl from the village whose future gave us clues to the manor,” Madame Rajani cooed. Bridgette gave the sorceress a glare.

“Ah, yes,” Vincent said in a smooth voice. “The maid girl with a close relation to a mysterious Master.” He turned back to Thane. “How did you do it, brother? How did you charm her while being a beast?” His brother stood behind him and whispered again in Thane’s good ear. “Let me guess—she hasn’t seen the beast because you have hidden like a scared puppy under this hood. Shall we see what she thinks of the real you?”

Vincent ripped the hood off and held the dagger at Thane’s throat so he couldn’t duck to hide his face. Thane was forced to keep his chin up and face exposed. He shut his eyes and thought of how Bridgette was seeing the monster he really was, with the mark and the burn and now a missing ear. He could picture the look of disgust on her face mixed with fear. But it was for the best; she needed to know the true him.

“Interesting,” Vincent said and took the dagger away.

Confused, Thane opened his eyes. Bridgette was looking at him, but not with disgust or fear. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she held her head high with pride as she looked at his imperfect face. Was there a name for it? For the way she made him feel? There was, but he was scared of it. The feeling made him want to fight and destroy everything evil so she could have the beautiful life she deserved. He examined her face, noticing the smudge of dried blood from a cut on her cheek, and the bruises on her arms where the guards held her. Thane saw red and ripped out of his bonds. He roared as he lashed out, and grabbed the first person he found. It was Madame Rajani. Good. If he killed her, his brother couldn’t use the rose, still in the hands of the guard standing across the room.

“I would think very carefully if I were you,” Vincent said. His dagger was now held against Bridgette's throat. A trickle of blood was already staining the front of her dress. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths.

“Don’t do it. Let her go,” Thane growled.

“Only if you let me have the glass rose and leave in peace, along with Madame Rajani,” his brother said.

Thane looked down at Edgar and back to Bridgette. It looked like she was trying to shake her head and dissuade him from saving her. “Leave her and Edgar, and I will let you go with the glass rose and sorceress.”

Vincent grinned. “Deal. Men, start heading out. We will follow.”

All the guards exited the room, including the one with the glass rose. Vincent held on to Bridgette, and Thane held on to Madame Rajani, while they listened to the men stomp down the stairs and out the front door.

“Let Madame Rajani leave, and I will let her go,” Vincent said calmly.

Thane released Rajani from his hold and let her leave the library. He held his breath as he watched Vincent carefully. He just needed Bridgette to be safe, then he could make his move. As soon as Vincent stepped out of the room, Thane would take him down. Vincent lowered the dagger with a smile. “Pleasure doing business with you, brother. Have a happy ever after.” Then he stabbed his knife into Bridgette’s stomach.