Page 34 of Beauty

His hand covers mine. Soft and clammy, Micha has the handsof a man who never worked a day in his life. “Well, dear, this gives me greathope. I worried for a while that you had no interest in court. Shall I fill youin on all the latest gossip?” He leans toward me, a conspiratorial gleam in hiseyes. “I have a spy in the palace. All of the mayors tend to. I talk to herthrough a looking glass once a week.” He puts a finger to his lips. “Don’t tellanyone, dear. Magic is getting a bad reputation these days, but this is aharmless thing.”

Yes, it’s harmless because it gains the mayor something, butnot three days before Siobhan Hannigan was jailed for placing a blessing spellon a newborn child who was struggling to breathe. The babe survived, but bothof her parents sit waiting trial, too, for hiring a witch. They probably won’thold their babe again. Yet a spot of gossip is all right.

Still, I pretend to care because it keeps his hands off me.“Tell me.”

He looks around, leaning in and pulling away from hisguards. “The rumor is that the princess might have survived the king’s coup. Mysource said the king is initiating a countrywide search for Bronwyn Finn.”

I feel my stomach lurch, heart threaten to stop.

Micha rolls his eyes. “I think it’s ridiculous. They buriedthe Finn bitch. She was a stupid child. She couldn’t have survived. The kingwas very thorough when he liberated us. And if she did survive, she’s more thanlikely with those brothers of hers, eking out an existence on some third-rateplane.”

The world seems to tilt, throwing me off-balance. Michacontinues to speak, but his words seem to come from someplace far away. Whathappened? Thirteen years passed and not a word of my survival was heard. Therewasn’t a whisper about me in all the towns and villages and provinces Gillianand I sought refuge in. Thirteen years and now Torin believes?

Panic threatens to suffuse me. I feel that odd tingle thatstarts in my hands whenever I’m truly frightened. That tingle that always comesbefore the fire.

Not now. Tears prick my eyes. I have to get it undercontrol. I can’t lose it now in front of everyone.

Over the years, I was truly afraid a few times, and eachtime a fire began. The first was an overzealous suitor who plunged his handsdown my bodice. The chair beneath him caught fire mysteriously.

Then there was the vendor buying vegetables who thought Iwas a part of the bargain. His warehouse went up in flames.

Each time I felt my hands warm and tingle before whatever Iwas pointing at caught fire. It frightens me. I know not what it means exceptmy death if I’m caught.

“Dear Isolde.” The mayor clucks and hauls me close, his armgoing around my waist. The guards chuckle behind me, making rude statements. Ican smell the perfume Micha uses to mask his odor. “I can see this news hasfrightened you. Please, my love, do not worry your pretty head. There will beno revolt. You are absolutely safe with me. Bronwyn Finn is as worthless as herbrothers. She’s dead or as good as. She’s no threat to anyone.”

No threat. Useless. Yes, I feel that.

There’s a loud shout, and the crowds begin to move, openingup for the guard charging toward the mayor. The dancing stops as a high wail isheard. Everyone—peasant, farmer, noble—turns to the edge of the crowd.

The guard strides forward, the small body in his hands noimpediment to his movement.

I gasp, shock and fear threatening to overtake me. Ove. Shelooks so tiny in the brutish guard’s hold, her delicate feet dangling. Thebastard has the wee brownie by her throat. Ove’s eyes are bulging already asshe struggles to breathe.

“Let her go!” I shout, tearing away from the mayor. I thinkabout nothing but the fact that Ove can’t last long. The guard’s hand fitseasily around her throat, and he could break her neck without even thinkingabout it. “You’re killing her. She’s a child. She didn’t mean any harm. Sheonly wanted to see the dancing.”

She’s barely two. A child in brownie years, not quite on thecusp of her womanhood. She’s a baby who wants to come to the party, hold aribbon in her hands while she prances around the maypole with the otherchildren. I know what happened. She snuck from safety, hoping to catch aglimpse of the party she should have attended. Ove doesn’t understand theprinciples of purity. Ove wants to play with her friends. And now she’s dying.

“Seize her!” the mayor orders.

It isn’t until the guards grab my arms that I realize he’stalking about me. I’m brought back to the mayor. At the edge of the crowd,Gillian stands, shaking her head, her eyes begging me to stay calm, to play mypart. We’re surrounded by guards, at least one for every five villagers, andfood is scarce. The villagers are weak. They would be no match for the hugeguards.

“You will have to excuse my fiancée. She is a gentle soulwho needs a firm hand to guide her.” Micha’s eyes narrow on me, his mouth aflat line that promises retribution. He turns and looks at the guard who holdsthe brownie. “What is that thing doing here ruining my party?”

The guard drops Ove to the ground, her body hitting the dirtwith a thud. The brownie drags air into her lungs, her long fingers touchingher throat. “I found the thing in the bushes watching the dancing.”

The mayor sneers down at the sweet girl. “Take it away.Throw it on the fire. I don’t care, but I want no further disruptions.”

I can’t allow it. I can’t stand here and play my part andwatch Ove burn in the flames. But flames…oh, I feel them. The tingling in myhands is stronger than ever, and I can’t deny it. Without thinking, going onlyon instinct, I call out to that power inside me and point at the guard whoholds a sword to Ove’s throat. Fire sparks on the guard’s tunic, a flash thaterupts in all-out flames, engulfing him.

A hideous scream fills the waning day, and all eyes are onme.

The fire came from my hands. I hold them up, and like asorceress calling her power, I direct it to my enemy.

The mayor gapes my way, fear in his eyes.

“Witch,” he whispers.

And then a horrible pain hits the back of my head anddarkness takes me.