My mind stuttered, trying to process what my eyes were seeing. This beast was Laurent’s twin. Same size, same brown fur with honey highlights, same amber eyes. He charged toward Gaspard from the opposite side, only to be caught in the same inexorable pull.
Two beasts. Two princes?
Then a third howl split the air, this one from the forest’s edge. A third beast burst from between the twisted trees, larger than the other two, his fur lighter but those same amber eyes burning with fury as he too joined the fight, only to be dragged toward the vortex like his brothers.
Three. There had been three all along.
My hand flew to my shoulder where Laurent’s—no, their—claim mark branded my skin. Three sets of teeth had left that mark. Three princes had claimed me as their mate.
The realization hit me with a grueling force, stealing what little breath remained in my lungs. Queen Charlotte’s journal had mentioned three sons. Marcel, Laurent, and Bastien. All threehad been cursed. All three had been here, taking turns watching over me, hunting for me, claiming me in the darkness. I hadn’t been loving one beast who changed with the hours. I’d been loving three different princes, each with his own personality, his own way of being with me.
I sank to my knees beneath the window, one hand pressed to my mouth to stifle the sound trying to escape. All this time, I’d thought there was just one. One beast to save, one curse to break.
But there were three princes. Three curses. And all of them were about to be dragged into whatever hell Gaspard and the Dark Lord had opened beneath my temporary sanctuary.
twenty-eight
Isabeau
Three princes. Not one beast who changed with the hours of the day, but three separate beings who had each claimed me, loved me, protected me in their own ways. The truth exploded in my mind like glass shattering, each piece reflecting a different memory that suddenly made perfect sense.
The way his temperament shifted so completely between morning and night. The subtle differences in his touches, his growls, his amber eyes that I’d attributed to the curse’s ebb andflow. It hadn’t been the curse changing him. It had been three different princes taking turns at my side, and I’d been too blind to see it until now, when all three fought desperately against the darkness pulling them into hell.
My mind scrambled to reassemble everything I thought I knew. Morning Beast, the one who brought me fresh kills and kept his distance until the primal need to mate overcame him—that was one prince. The evening Beast who listened to my ramblings with his head tilted thoughtfully, who seemed to understand more but still kept himself slightly removed—another prince entirely. And night Beast, the one who’d responded to his name, Laurent, who touched me with such tenderness that it made my heart ache—the third.
They hadn’t been phases of one curse. They’d been three brothers, taking turns, sharing me between them like a secret they couldn’t fully explain.
I couldn’t even process the implications before the air around me changed. It grew heavy, thick with purpose, and then my feet left the ground. I gasped as invisible hands lifted me from the floor, my body suddenly weightless. I clawed desperately at the window frame, my nails breaking against stone as the force pulled me inexorably toward the open window.
“No!” I screamed, but my voice sounded thin and useless against the howling wind that had begun to circle the tower. “Laurent! Marcel! Bastien!”
Their names. Names I’d only just realized belonged to three separate beings, tore from my throat as my fingers lost their grip. The magic yanked me through the window as if I weighed nothing, glass shards slicing my arms as I passed through the broken panes. Pain blossomed along my skin, but it was nothing compared to the terror of suddenly finding myself suspended and rising in open air, three stories above the courtyard.
Below me, Gaspard’s face tilted upward, his smile spreading with a savagery that made my stomach clench. He’d changed since I’d last seen him. Darkness clung to him like a second skin, writhing and pulsing with unnatural life. But his eyes—they were unmistakably his, glittering with the same possessive hunger I’d seen when he’d locked me in his home.
“There she is,” he called up to me, voice carrying unnaturally clear through the howling wind. “My runaway bride, returning at last to her rightful place.”
The force controlling me lowered me slowly, as if savoring my descent into their midst. I couldn’t fight it, couldn’t even twist my body against its grip. All I could do was watch as the three beasts, my beasts, continued their desperate struggle against the vortex that dragged them toward the flaming pit.
“Thou did this,” I hissed as I drew level with Gaspard’s face. “Thou sent that ghost to find me.”
His smile widened, showing too many teeth. “Clever girl. Did you enjoy her midnight visit? She’s quite useful for finding things that don’t wish to be found.”
“Why can’t thee just let me go?” The question burst from me, raw and desperate. “Why drag innocent beings into your obsession?”
“Innocent?” Gaspard spat the word like a curse. “That beast defiled what’s mine. All three of them, apparently.” His eyes raked over me, lingering on my shoulder where their claiming mark lay exposed from my dress’s open neckline. “Did thou enjoy being rutted by monsters, Isabeau? Did their animal cocks satisfy what thou wouldn’t let me give thee?”
His crudeness wasn’t meant to hurt me, but to degrade what I’d shared with the princes. To make it sound filthy when it had been anything but. I refused to let him see how deeply his words cut.
“They’re more man than thou’ll ever be,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear gripping my heart.
The darkness around Gaspard rippled with his anger, tendrils of it reaching toward me before being called back by some unseen restraint. Behind him, the witch’s chanting grew louder, the strange syllables scraping against my ears like knives.
And behind her stood the Dark Lord himself, his impossible beauty making my eyes water when I looked at him directly. He was watching me with flame-filled eyes that held neither malice nor mercy. Just endless, patient hunger.
The invisible force moved me again, this time positioning me directly above the center of the yawning pit. Heat rose from it in waves, carrying the stench of sulfur and something worse. The unmistakable smell of burning flesh. I looked down and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Souls. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, their translucent forms twisting in agony as black flames licked at what remained of their essence. Some screamed, the sound rising to me like the cries of drowning men. Others had been burning so long they’d forgotten how to scream, their mouths frozen in silent, eternal screams.
