Isabeau
Iwoke before dawn, Alain’s arm a warm weight across my waist, his breathing deep and even against my neck. For a moment, I allowed myself to savor the simple comfort of another body beside mine. Not demanding, not taking, just there.
But the claiming mark on my shoulder throbbed like a second heartbeat, reminding me that somewhere beyond the veil between worlds, my beasts suffered. Every second I lingered in this borrowed peace was another moment of their torment. Icouldn’t afford the luxury of comfort, not now. Not when time was running out for all of us.
Carefully, I extricated myself from his embrace, watching as he shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake. The wound in his side was healing remarkably well—my magic had seen to that—but he still needed rest. The river had nearly claimed him yesterday, and the gryphon’s attack before that. He’d pushed himself beyond what any normal man should endure, riding through the night to find me, to warn me of the hunt.
A hunt that was likely still coming.
I padded barefoot across the cold stone floor, my borrowed dress swishing softly around my ankles. The castle felt different this morning. The air heavier, the shadows deeper, as if the building itself sensed the darkness spreading through the forest. Or maybe it was just my own dread coloring everything around me.
The corridor outside my chamber stretched long and empty, dust motes dancing in the pale dawn light that filtered through high, narrow windows. I hesitated, listening for any sound that might indicate danger. Nothing but the settling of ancient stones, the whisper of drafts through cracks too small to see. Making my decision, I headed toward the kitchens, drawn by practicality and hunger in equal measure.
The great hall was as I remembered it. Cavernous and grand, with faded tapestries depicting scenes I couldn’t decipher hanging on walls that might have once gleamed but now crumbled at the edges. My footsteps echoed as I crossed to the servants’ passage that led to the kitchens, each sound seeming to reverberate through empty corridors where servants should have bustled centuries ago.
The kitchen was a massive space with long-cold hearths and work tables scarred by countless knives. When I’d first come here, I’d found it oddly comforting despite its size. A place ofpurpose and creation. Now, the darkness that tainted the forest seemed to have seeped in here as well, dulling the copper pots hanging from ceiling hooks, withering the dried herbs that still dangled from rafters.
I moved to the back door, the one that led to what had once been the sacred acre. The magical heart of the castle grounds where uncorrupted animals had lived in harmony. My hand trembled slightly as I lifted the latch, dreading what I might find.
The sight stole my breath.
What had once been a vibrant sanctuary now lay in partial ruin. The emerald grass that had glowed with inner light now appeared patchy and dull, large sections blackened as if burned by invisible fire. Trees that had borne fruit regardless of season drooped, their leaves withered and falling. And the animals...
A deer limped at the edge of the clearing, one of its legs wrapped in what looked like living shadow, the darkness creeping up toward its belly. Nearby, a fox watched with eyes clouded by the same corruption that had claimed the gryphon. Even the birds seemed affected, their songs discordant and broken when they should have been melodious.
The claiming mark on my shoulder burned hotter, reacting to my distress as I took in the decay before me. This was wrong. This was my fault. I’d left the castle, left the beasts, left the acre unprotected. I’d known the Dark Lord’s corruption was spreading, but I hadn’t imagined it would progress this quickly in their absence.
“They were the protectors,” I whispered to myself, understanding flowing through me with terrible clarity. My beasts, they had been the guardians of this place even in their cursed forms. Their presence, their strength, had helped hold back the darkness. But now they were gone, trapped in a hell dimension beyond my reach, and the corruption advanced unchecked.
I closed the door, unable to bear the sight any longer, and leaned my forehead against the rough wood. My thoughts raced, tumbling over each other like stones in a landslide. The castle library held countless ancient texts. Somewhere among them must be answers about how to break the curse, how to free my beasts from their prison, how to heal the forest.
But time was a luxury we didn’t have. The sacred acre was dying. My beasts were suffering. Hunters from Durand were likely already in the forest, searching for me. And the Dark Lord’s sorceress, Enid was still out there, still working her dark magic.
The truth hit me with sudden simplicity: I needed to kill her. Cut off the head of the snake. If the sorceress died, would her magic die with her? It was a desperate hope, but it was all I had.
My gaze fell on a row of storage barrels against the far wall. One of them contained dried beans I’d set soaking the night before, thinking ahead to a meal I could prepare quickly. Food. We would need provisions for whatever journey lay ahead.
I busied my hands with practical tasks, letting the familiarity of cooking steady my racing thoughts. The kitchen’s hearth still functioned, though it took some time to coax flames from damp kindling. While the fire grew, I kneaded a simple dough for journey bread—flour and water with a pinch of salt and sugar from the kitchen’s stores. Nothing fancy, but it would travel well and fill our bellies.
As I worked, my mind continued spinning plans like a spider crafting its web. Alain would help me, I was almost certain. He’d promised as much last night, and the man who had slept in my bed seemed different from the prince who had locked me in a tower. The river had changed him—or perhaps it had merely revealed what had always been there beneath the crown and title. Either way, I needed him. For his sword arm, for hisknowledge of Durand’s lands, for... other reasons I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.
The beans cooked while I shaped the bread into flat rounds and laid them near the fire to bake. The simple acts of cooking grounded me, reminded me that no matter what magical battles lay ahead, we were still human, still bound to physical needs of hunger and thirst. My mother had taught me that food was its own kind of magic. Transformative, life-giving, an act of love even in the darkest times.
When the beans were tender and the bread had developed a crisp exterior, I packed them carefully in clean cloths. The bread was still warm as I wrapped it, its yeasty scent bringing a brief comfort that faded too quickly. I added dried fruits from the pantry, a skin of water, and what herbs I could find that might be useful for healing or protection. Everything went into the pack Brigida had given me, its leather worn but sturdy.
I hurried back through the castle, supplies clutched to my chest, anxiety quickening my steps. I’d been gone longer than I’d intended. Alain might have woken, might be worried. Or worse, he might have left on his own, seeking to escape the strange magic of this place.
But when I pushed open the door to my chamber, he was there, awake and moving with surprising energy for a man who had nearly died the day before. He’d found a leather satchel somewhere and was stuffing blankets into it with methodical efficiency.
“You’re up,” I said, stupidly stating the obvious.
He turned, relief washing across his features. “I thought you’d fled again.”
“No,” I replied, setting down my supplies. “Just gathering food for the journey.”
“Good thinking.” He continued packing, his movements betraying an urgency that set my nerves on edge. “We need to leave. Soon.”
“The hunters?”
