“You’re crying,” he observed, his free hand shakily rising to brush at my tears. “Don’t cry, my little bell.”
“They’re tears of happiness,” I murmured with a watery grin.
“I had the strangest dream...”
“It wasn’t a dream,” I managed, laughing and crying at once. “Oh Papa, so much has happened. The forest. The curse. The beasts...”
He struggled to sit up, so I helped him, supporting his back as he looked around in bewilderment at the restored castle grounds, at the crowd of people watching our reunion with varying degrees of emotion.
“The last thing I remember clearly,” he said slowly, “was the thorns. They came alive, wrapped around me. There was pain, then... nothing. Just dreams. Strange dreams of being part of the forest, feeling its suffering, its corruption.” His eyes found mine again, filled with questions. “How long has it been?”
“Months,” I answered, swallowing hard. “I came looking for you. I found... more than I expected.”
My mates had approached, standing a respectful distance away to give us this moment. Arnaud’s eyes widened as he took them in. Four men watching me with such naked devotion that it required no explanation. And some only wore cloaks as wraps to hide their true nakedness.
“You found love,” he said simply, a smile creasing his weathered face. No anger or judgment, just joy for me. “More than one, it seems.”
I laughed, the sound wet with tears. “It’s a long story, Papa. Involving curses and gods and magic.”
“The best stories always do, especially when they begin with your mother,” he replied.
“You knew?” I gasped lightly.
His sorrow reached his gaze before he let a hand pet my hand. “She couldn’t let you use yours, little bell. So she had to hide who she was to protect you. She taught you what she could without it, but we knew one day, you’d unlock your powers. It seems I had to miss it, miss telling you.”
So much made sense. I wanted to ask more, but then his gaze moved past me to where the two kings approached. His eyes widened further.
“Is that—”
“King Geraint of Durand,” I confirmed. “And King Henri of the Enchanted Realm.”
My father tried to stand, fumbling to show proper respect, but I held him in place. “You’re still recovering, Papa. They can come to you this once.”
And come they did. The two monarchs approached my father with expressions of profound respect, not condescension. King Henri knelt on one knee beside him, while King Geraint remained standing but bowed deeply.
“Arnaud Dubois,” King Henri said formally. “My kingdom owes you a debt we can never fully repay. Your sacrifice sustained the heart of our realm when all else had fallen to darkness.”
My father blinked rapidly, clearly overwhelmed. “Your Majesty, I simply did what any father would do. I went to protect my daughter.”
“And in doing so,” King Geraint added, “thou demonstrated the kind of courage and selflessness that deserves recognition.” He exchanged a glance with King Henri, who nodded. “We have discussed it and are in agreement. Upon thou’s full recovery, thou will be knighted in a joint ceremony by both our kingdoms.”
Arnaud’s mouth fell open. “Knighted? Me? But I’m just an inventor from Thorndale.”
“You’re the man who raised the daughter of Artemis,” King Henri corrected gently. “The father of the woman who broke an ancient curse and restored two kingdoms, showing her magic will never harm my people. There is nothing ‘just’ about you, Arnaud Dubois.”
“Besides,” King Geraint added with a smile that reminded me of Alain, “it solves a rather complex problem of protocol. Your daughter has found herself with four royal suitors. At least this way, she’ll have the title to match.”
My father looked at me with new wonder, as if seeing me properly for the first time. “I know you discovered you’re the daughter of Artemis. But royal suitors? Isabeau, what have you been doing since I’ve been gone?”
The question was so absurd, so perfectly my father, that I burst into laughter. “Saving the world, apparently,” I managed through my giggles. “Or at least two kingdoms worth of it.”
Marcel stepped forward then, offering a formal bow to my father. “Sir, I am Prince Marcel of the Enchanted Realm. Yourdaughter saved me and my brothers from a fate worse than death. She is the bravest, most remarkable woman I have ever known. Also, forgive me for dragging you to the roses. The sacrifice has always been our least favorite day.”
Laurent and Bastien followed, introducing themselves with varying degrees of formality. Bastien barely bowed, but the respect in his eyes was unmistakable.
“And I,” Alain said, coming to stand at my side, “am Prince Alain of Durand. Your daughter has taught me more about true courage and sacrifice than all my years at court ever did.”
My father looked between the four men, then at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well,” he said at last, “it seems I have a great deal of catching up to do.” He paused, then added with a twinkle in his eye, “Perhaps you could start by explaining why these four princes keep looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.”
