I closed my eyes, focusing entirely on the claiming mark and the connection it provided. Through it, I could feel Isabeau’s fierce determination, her absolute refusal to accept defeat. And beneath that, driving her forward with unstoppable force, was love. Not just for one of us, but for all three. Equal and unconditional and powerful enough to challenge a curse crafted by the Dark Lord’s most powerful servant.
“She can’t break it entirely from her side,” I said, opening my eyes to meet my brothers’ gazes. “But she’s creating cracks. Weaknesses we can exploit. We need to keep climbing. Keep pushing. Show the curse we won’t be broken.”
Bastien nodded once, sharply, then turned back to the path. Laurent squeezed my shoulder briefly before following. And I pushed my exhausted body up once more, ignoring the pain,focusing only on the warmth of the claiming mark and the woman it connected me to.
“We’re coming, Isabeau,” I whispered, though I knew she couldn’t hear me across the barrier between worlds. “Hold on. We’re coming home.”
The mountain might be endless. The curse might be designed to break us. But they hadn’t accounted for Isabeau. For her stubborn heart and her evolving magic and her absolute refusal to abandon those she loved.
And they certainly hadn’t accounted for us. The three princes trapped in bestial forms, climbing an impossible mountain with nothing left to lose but everything to gain.
We kept climbing.
fifty-six
Gaspard
The stench of magic crawled up my nostrils like a dying animal seeking shelter. This forsaken place reeked of it, polluting the air I breathed with each step deeper into what should have been abandoned land.
Behind me, the king and his eldest son waited with their guards, too precious to risk themselves before I confirmed it was safe. Cowards. But it served me. When I dragged Isabeau backto them in chains, they’d have no choice but to acknowledge who truly deserved her. Who truly owned her.
“Do you see anything, Coventry?” The king’s voice carried across the clearing, impatience bleeding through his regal composure.
I didn’t bother turning around. Let him wait. Let them all wait. “I need more time,” I called back, my focus locked on the castle looming before me. This was where she’d hidden before, where I would’ve recaptured her if that bastard Prince Alain hadn’t interfered. The second son. The spare. The fool who’d stolen what was mine.
Not again. Not this time.
The roses captured my attention first. The unnatural things that pulsed with a sickly light. They lined the pathway to the castle gates, twisted blooms that no gardener would claim. Too vibrant, too large, too wrong. I’d seen them before when I first tracked her here, but something had changed. They seemed...hungrier. As if they watched me through nonexistent eyes.
One of the guardsmen approached me, his face pale beneath his helmet. “Sir, the men won’t go any closer to those flowers. They say they can hear whispers.”
“Then they’re weak,” I snapped, stepping deliberately on a fallen petal, crushing it beneath my boot. “Tell them their king waits for results, not superstition.”
The man retreated, but not before I caught the fear in his eyes. Good. Fear kept men in line, kept them from questioning orders. Fear had kept the villagers of Thorndale from asking too many questions when Isabeau’s father had been chosen and she came to live under my roof. Fear would serve me again when I brought her back to her wanting room.
The castle gates stood partially open, rust eating into ancient hinges that should have collapsed under their own weightdecades ago. Magic held them up. The same magic that had kept the entire structure standing when nature should have reclaimed it. The same magic that thrummed in Isabeau’s blood. Magic that would be mine to control once I had her back, beasts be damned.
“We’re wasting time,” Prince Theron’s voice came from behind me, closer than his father had ventured. The crown prince had dismounted, his hand resting on his sword hilt as he surveyed the castle with poorly disguised unease. “My brother has half a day’s head start. If the witch is with him—”
“She is.” I cut him off, not bothering to hide my irritation. “And I’ll find them both.”
“You seem very certain of that.” Something in Theron’s tone made me turn to face him fully. Unlike his father, whose pudgy face showed only petulant impatience, the crown prince watched me with sharp calculation.
I smiled, knowing it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’ve tracked her before. I know her scent.”
“Like a dog,” he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.
My hand twitched toward my hunting knife, but I controlled the impulse. Prince or not, I’d slice his throat without hesitation if circumstances allowed. But not here. Not now. I needed the king’s blessing for the hunt to continue, needed royal sanction for what would come after.
“Stay here,” I told him instead. “I’ll scout the interior.”
Without waiting for his response, I signaled to six of my own men, fellow hunters from Thorndale who’d sworn loyalty to me, not the crown. Men who knew better than to question my methods or my orders. Together, we pushed through the gates and into the courtyard beyond.
The castle grounds felt wrong, like walking into a grave that hadn’t been filled in yet. Dead leaves skittered across stone that should have been covered in moss but wasn’t. Fountainsstood frozen in time, water transformed to stone mid-splash. And beneath it all, that same pulsing wrongness from the roses outside, as if the entire place waited for something. Or someone.
“Check the perimeter,” I ordered. “Two by two. Anything moves that isn’t us, kill it.”
The men nodded, separating into pairs as I approached the main entrance. Massive oak doors towered over me, bound with iron that had turned black with age. One door hung partially open, and I noticed immediately what had caused it. A heavy wooden bar lay splintered on the ground before it, the ancient iron brackets that had once held it twisted and bent as if something had torn its way out from inside.
