The darkness closed around us, absolute without moonlight or stars. I heard Isabeau rummaging in her pack, then a soft whisper. Suddenly, a warm golden light bloomed in the center of the space. She held the amber gem from her pocket, now glowing with an inner fire that cast everything in honey-colored light.
God, she was beautiful.
The thought hit me with a force that sent my heart hammering into a deeper ache. Hair falling loose around her shoulders, skin bathed in amber light, eyes reflecting the gem’s glow. She looked like something from ancient legend. A forest goddess descended to walk among mortals.
I’d noticed her beauty before, of course. I wasn’t blind. But this was different. This wasn’t just appreciation of a pretty face or desirable form. This was recognition of something essential about her, something that transcended mere appearance.
And I was going to lose her.
The realization crushed the breath from my lungs.
Once this quest was done, she would leave. Travel to Eldagh, beyond my father’s reach. Beyond mine. It was the right choice, the only choice that offered her freedom. I knew this. Accepted it, even. But that didn’t stop the ache that spread through my chest at the thought.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, setting the glowing gem carefully on a natural shelf in the wooden wall. “You look... sad.”
I hadn’t realized my emotions were so transparent. A lifetime of court training should have left me better at masking my feelings. But something about her stripped away pretense.
“I was just thinking,” I said slowly, “that giving you up will be the most honorable thing I ever do.” The words surprised mewith their honesty. “But part of me wishes I could be selfish. Follow my own heart for once.”
Her expression softened. “And where would thou’s heart lead?”
“With thee.” The admission felt like jumping from a cliff, exhilarating and terrifying at once. Our use of formal pronouns adding a respecting layer of depth to the emotion behind our words. “Anywhere,” I breathed, “But I’m needed elsewhere. My duty—”
“I understand duty,” she interrupted gently. “Better than you might think.”
Of course she did. Her entire life had been shaped by sacrifice and loss—her mother’s, her father’s, then her own. She understood the weight of obligation better than most nobles I knew.
“Then we’ll have to make these memories enough,” she said, a sad smile touching her lips.
Outside our sanctuary, wolves began to howl. Not ordinary wolves, but the shadow-creatures that had invaded the castle. Their cries sounded like human souls in torment, rising and falling on the night wind.
Isabeau shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s getting colder.”
“We can’t risk a fire in here,” I said, glancing at the wooden walls. “But there are other ways to stay warm.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Is that how thou woos all women into thy bed, Prince Alain? With practical concerns about body heat?”
I couldn’t help laughing, surprised and delighted by her teasing. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman. Royal honor.”
“I know you will be,” she said, her voice growing serious. “You’ve never forced yourself on me. Never tried to take what wasn’t freely given.” She stepped closer, close enough that Icould feel the warmth radiating from her body. “When I’m in your arms, everything feels right. Like I’ve found somewhere I belong, even if just for a moment.”
The wolves howled again, their voices closer now. But inside our magical shelter, with Isabeau looking at me like I was something precious rather than just a spare prince, I couldn’t bring myself to fear them. So I did what I offered. I gave her my body as a blanket, and I held on to cherish the memory.
Sleep claimed me somewhere between one breath and the next, dragging me down into darkness that felt too thick, too sentient to be natural slumber. My last conscious thought was of Isabeau curled against my chest, her warmth seeping into my bones. Then the darkness shifted, thinned, and reshaped itself into a misty gray expanse that stretched endlessly in all directions. I wasn’t alone. Isabeau stood before me, but her attention wasn’t on me at all. She faced a shimmering wall of light that bisected the grayness, and on the other side, gods help me, waited the beasts.
I tried to call out, to warn her, but my voice made no sound in this place. My body felt insubstantial, weightless, as if I existed here only as thought and observation. Was this a dream? Or something else? The forest’s magic had wormed its way into my blood, into my mind, showing me things I shouldn’t be able to see.
And gods, what things they were.
Three creatures stood on the other side of the translucent barrier. Monsters from childhood nightmares, giant beasts that would send hardened soldiers scrambling for weapons and prayers. The largest resembled a bear, but wrong. Too large, its honey-colored fur rippling with muscle beneath, its face a disturbing blend of lion and bull features, sprinkled with a human intelligence. Beside it prowled another just a size smaller, silver-brown fur matted with what looked like blood, its movements too deliberate, too calculated for a mere animal.
But it was the third that chilled my blood. A lion face unlike any I’d seen in royal menageries, its dark mane fuller and wilder than nature intended, its body bearing scars that spoke of violence survived and violence delivered. Its tail lashed behind it with barely contained rage, amber eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through the barrier.
These were her beasts. The princes she’d spoken of, cursed into these forms, trapped in what she’d called a hell dimension. I’d believed her story, or thought I had, but seeing them brought a different kind of understanding. No wonder the villagers had fled in terror. No wonder my father wanted her burned as a witch. These creatures defied natural law by their very existence.
Yet Isabeau approached the barrier without fear, her hands reaching out to press against the shimmering surface. On the other side, the beasts mirrored her movements. The largest placed a massive paw against the wall where her palm rested. The silvery one whined, a sound of such longing it squeezed my heart. The feral one prowled closer, its huge head lowering to nuzzle the barrier where it separated them.
“I’m close,” Isabeau whispered, her voice somehow audible despite the division between worlds. She pressed her forehead against the wall, closing her eyes. “I’m so close to finding her. To ending this. Hold on a little longer.”
