The Beast (18 page)

Aleksander’s hand abruptly halted in mid-turn. He slowly lowered the book and strangely guarded eyes looked back at her. His face was a straight mask, only his fingers rubbing the old pages between them hinted at his emotions. “You’ve met Audun, have you?”

“Yes.” Belle shifted her weight between her feet, trying to keep herself from looking away in embarrassment. “We met yesterday in the library.”

Jerking slightly, Aleksander’s eyebrows came together in confusion. His fingers stopped their fidgeting. “And?”

“He…um…” Try as she might, Belle couldn’t look at Aleksander directly. The words she had to say were just too much.

There was a thud as Aleksander dropped the book roughly and came around the desk quickly. He stopped a few feet from her, his fingers clenching in and out of fists. “What did he do, Belle?”

Taking a deep breath, she decided just to be done with it. Belle looked at Aleksander and forced the awful words out. “He attacked me. Tried to force himself…”And that’s where her throat betrayed her, cutting off the rest.

Judging by Aleksander, she’d said enough. His body was tense. The muscles in his jaw flexed. He took slow, deep breaths. “Tried?”

“Yes, I used his own dagger against him, but it was Ms. Tops’ interference that really ended it.”

“I’ll give her a raise,” Aleksander said matter-of-factly. “But not until after I’ve dealt with Audun.”

Chagrin bled into Belle’s stomach. The Prince had so much to handle already and she felt terrible for adding to it, even though the logical part of her knew that none of this was her fault. “Perhaps nothing more is needed. Surely being subdued by two women is enough.”

The muscles in Aleksander’s cheeks softened and the shield that had appeared over his eyes vanished. He looked at her in the same open way he always had. Stepping the last few feet toward her, he took her hands in his and cradled them gently. Only then did she realize they were trembling.

“My father was a very proud and fierce man, who instilled every value and lesson he had into me.” Aleksander’s thumb softly ran along her wrist, sending waves of calm through her. “Audun learned his way of thinking from another man, or possibly men. For him to learn the proper way of treating women, he must also learn it from a man. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I believe I do.”

He stared down at her, still holding her hands, as he pursed his lips in thought. “How do you feel about a distraction?”

“I’d love one.” She sighed with relief, so glad that it was over. “What did you have in mind?”

“I think I’d like to tell you about my family.” He blinked slowly.

Just like that, the room changed. Belle gasped. Gone was the study and in its place was an immense hall. The floor was a map—an incredibly detailed map with mountains, waves, and the painted names of each country. Natural light flooded the room from one wall of tall arching windows with frames of gold and heavy draperies. The only furniture was a large desk, covered in various bits of parchment and one feathered quill, on one end of the room. And many knee-high statues. They were various ships, cavalrymen, cannons, and men-at-arms. Looking more closely at them, Belle noticed that they each carried different flags. There was a set for every army in the world.

“This is my war room. I learned battle strategy here as a boy.” He let go of her hands and motioned to the floor. “On this floor map, my ancestor kings planned wars.” He brought his hand up and pointed to the desk. “On that desk, a thousand treaties and laws were signed into being.”

Belle looked from the floor to the desk, trying to imagine all those that had come before. She felt the weight of the history in this room. Then she looked at Aleksander with awe, seeing that he proudly carried that weight. Knowing that he so excitedly shared it with her, made her own chest feel too heavy.

“My family can trace its lineage clear back to the first Viking kings, through the line of Eirik Haraldsson the First.” Aleksander swung his hand up, pointing to the ceiling. There was a masterpiece that, like the library, some talented artisan had no doubt toiled under for years. Here the ceiling was all one piece. Two battles, seemingly of different eras, were being waged. Between them, on a clouded dusk sky, an army of angels watched. Aleksander pointed to one army along the painting’s edge. This was an army of both men and women. They wore heavy Viking armor; carried swords, axes, and bows. “He was nicknamed Eirik Bloodaxe after his war with the frost giants.”

Belle examined the Viking king wielding a two-headed ax against a creature made of ice. The invading army of otherworldly giants had jagged skin, their eyes were an icy blue, and they carried frosted swords. Where the frost giants walked, ice spread from their feet. Eirik showed no fear as he led the front siege.

“The Haraldsson line would eventually be unseated from the thrown and lost in time for many centuries. Destined to rule as we were, our lineage gave us favor with King Fredrick the Third who granted us lordship over Vakre Fjell. A century later when a different ruler of Norway tried to remove us from power because of our faith, we fought back. And became kings once more.” His hands swiveled to the other side of the ceiling. Men fought from mountains. Ships battled at sea. “Two battles, from two distinct times in our history and Valkyries in the center looking for warriors to carry to Valhalla.”

“You know your history well.”

“It’s important to know our history if I am to rule. I must understand my ancestors and make sure my rule continues to honor the kings who came before me.” Aleksander shrugged in an un-princely way.

“Do you believe the story of frost giants?” Belle crossed the room to stand before a mural that nearly consumed the entirety of a wall. Here was a picturesque painting of Vakre Fjell, before the castle had been built. The land was majestic, fertile, and entirely untouched by man. A blond haired god, Belle recognized as Thor from her reading, with a red cloak and shining armor stood before the mountains. With a massive hammer, too big for a normal man, Thor was pushing back one of the mountains and creating the deep chasm that now surrounded the front of Castle Vakre Fjell. “Or this?”

“Well, that is most certainly a myth. A story told around the fire.” Aleksander laughed and a delightful smile curved his lips. “But then, not long ago I would have said the same about the tale of Eirik and the frost giants. After what happened here, even that seems possible to me.”

Belle turned her attention back to the frost giants above. She examined their details, trying to imagine if they were real. The very idea of them walking the ground, spreading their cold with each step, sent a chill through her. Aleksander was right though, given everything she’d seen, why could that story not be true?

“Since we’re here, how do you feel about war games?” Aleksander walked purposefully to the room’s center.

“Is it similar to chess?” Belle enjoyed playing chess with Henri and the other Hunters.

“Similar yes, but based in reality.” He stepped around the pieces to stop by a handful of galleons and fire ships, bearing the French flag. “You shall be France, I will be Vakre Fjell, and the goal is a classic scenario—world domination.”

She returned his wicked smile and moved over to her pieces. Her gaze swept to the details below; from the rocky oceans to the icy ends of the Earth. Taking a half step back, she looked at the depiction of God’s Cup. Strangely, a section of Glace was mis-colored, defining it from the rest. Contefées fell within this stretch of land. “Why is this section off-colored?”

“Because five years ago it was meant to be mine.”

“Begin setting up your defenses and I will explain everything.” Aleksander casually indicated the grouping of war vessels around France. “Anything with a French flag is yours to maneuver.” He took hold of a large galleon ship and lightly pushed it across the floor. “Let me ask you a question first. Has the French Emperor married?”

“Yes, he—” Belle looked up from her own game pawns. “Well, he married your sister, Princess Adelis.”

Aleksander nodded, not turning from his strategic planning. “That is good. It was part of the trade.”

“What trade?” She moved a large cavalry statue to France’s border.

“How well do you know
your
history, Belle?”

“Not as well as you.” She smiled playfully.

“Charming.” Aleksander chuckled. “In the 1650s, Norway traded a section of Vakre Fjell to Glace, do you recall that?”

Belle thought and a brief recollection of her history lessons returned. “A portion of Vakre Fjell went to Glace in exchange for the hand of a French princess. Contefées was part of that trade—Oh, is this the same land?”

“It is.” Aleksander nodded enthusiastically. “The current French Emperor made a request for Adelis’ hand and my father proposed that we recreated the trade from the 1650s. My sister marries the French Emperor and he grants our land back to us.”

“If this deal took place five years ago, why hasn’t it happened?” Belle could hardly believe the idea that by now she should be a Vakrein citizen and not of France. It seemed too strange an idea to her.

“Now that is the question to be asked.” Aleksander moved two more of his pieces into motion. It appeared that he intended to take the rest of God’s Cup first. “Once he’d met with my sister and a marriage was inevitable, he was to sign the treaty and then marry her. I now know he married her, but it seems that the curse may have halted his signature. I intend to find out why.”

“And then what will you do?” Belle asked, intrigued by this bit of royal drama.

“I will make sure our agreement is fulfilled.”

This time they walked the courtyard, enjoying an unnaturally warm day. A slight breeze fluttered a curl across Belle’s cheek. She tucked it back with a gloved hand. Closing her eyes, Belle let the soft wind caress her face. It felt so real to her, even then.

“And what did you name this clockwork pixie?” Aleksander asked.

Belle smiled and opened her eyes. He stood just past her, looking out over the clouded mountain range. In some ways, the mountains reminded her of the Prince. They were strong and proud, claiming their piece of the earth. They were also beautiful; a majesty unmatched.

“I named her Pixie,” she answered.

Now he looked at her, returning the smile she gave him. “Pixie. Truly? That’s the best you could do?”

“Yes, I know, it was a bit on the nose, but it fit her.”

Aleksander laughed. “Of course it did. I’m surprised you didn’t name your horse, Horse, instead.”

“Oh my, your Highness, I’m sure you don’t mean to imply that I do not have an imagination,” she teased.

“I’m afraid, dear Belle, that is just what I’m implying.” He turned to her completely, hands clasped behind his back and a grin brightening his face. In these moments, he seemed the freest.

Belle palmed her heart. “Well, I believe I am offended.”

“I am sorry.” He tilted his head. “Truly a shame that no one has brought this to your attention before and perhaps prepared you for this embarrassment.”

Belle’s mouth shot open in surprise. She rebutted, “Well then, you’ve left me with no choice, I must throw down the gauntlet.”

“Indeed? A challenge? On what grounds?” Aleksander asked, as amused as she was.