Page 13 of Of Curses and Beauty

“Yes,” she said. “I suppose that is why you continue to receive burnt toast.”

She looked around, expecting a small stack of books to appear on a table or shelf. When nothing occurred for several moments, Alaine shrugged, assuming the task to be too difficult for an inanimate structure. She ducked her head, embarrassed by the hope that had kindled at the thought of new reading material when a shift in the air caused the hair on her arms to stand. A tingling sensation at the back of her neck had her turning in her seat to find the space between their bed chamber doors expanding. She gasped as the wall stretched and pulled, a third door growing between the two.

Instinctively, she looked toward Daric. His expression was openly curious, not wary as she was after seeing such an incredible display of magic.

“After you, my lady.” Daric sketched a bow and gestured grandly toward the new door.

Alaine held her breath as she crossed the room. There was nothing particularly ominous about the door itself, but she had only just adjusted to instant breakfast, she wasn’t prepared for the cottage to sprout new rooms.

The doorknob warmed under her touch, like a reassurance from the house itself. She expelled a long breath, turned the knob, and pushed.

If she’d had any more air in her lungs, the room beyond would have knocked it out of her. She staggered back a step, reaching for the door jam. Daric was there in an instant, offering a supportive hand beneath her elbow and removing it as she found her footing. She smiled up at him, then turned back to the wonder before her.

It was not a large room, but ample sunlight filtered in through four tall, mullioned windows, making it feel grand and inviting. Two tufted armchairs beckoned from the center of the room, a small round table between them, and a plush rug beneath it all. She stepped reverently into the room and twirled in a slow circle, taking in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined every available wall. There must have been hundreds—no, thousands—of books, by her estimate.

She’d seen private libraries at various nobles’ estates, but she’d always been an outsider, an observer. This was forher.

She trailed her fingers over the spines as she perused the titles. The familiar scent of leather and paper eased her last remaining worries. She took comfort in books in a way that she never could with other people. These were her friends, her confidants. They were entertainment, yes, but also an adventure, an escape—much like her current predicament. She didn’t let her mind linger on the odd similarities.

“Thank you,” she whispered, unsure if she was thanking the cottage, the witch, or Daric.

Selecting a book at random, she seated herself in one of the cozy armchairs and lost herself to another world.

Chapter 10

Daric

Daricfoundhimselfsmilingmore today than he had in hundreds of years. He smiled now as he thought of Alaine. When he’d left her, she’d been curled up in their newly acquired library, nose already buried in some book. Somehow, with her there, the cottage felt less like a prison. She had tilted his world on its axis and he couldn’t tell if he’d been thrown off balance, or righted. Though he had spent centuries alone, her presence didn’t feel invasive. She didn’t demand attention, or really anything, for that matter. He admired her independence and stoicism. Skies knew he had not possessed the same poise and calm when he had first been cursed.

He doubted he was lucky enough for her to be the one to break his curse, especially with the witch’s involvement in bringing her here, but suddenly being cursed didn’t seem so bad.

The sun was still high in the sky when he strode outside. He plucked his axe from where it lay discarded from the day before.Had it only been a day?How quickly this woman had gotten under his skin. A day was a mere drop in the well of his life, but the ripples of this one shocked his still waters in a way he’d never felt before.

He hefted the axe and let it fall, splitting a log with a familiar crack. As with everything at the cottage, the woodpile could replenish itself without his aid, but Daric was grateful for the physical activity that kept his hands busy and his mind blank. His body quickly fell into the old routine, his thoughts free to wander. Only this time, they kept returning to Alaine.

After conversing with her for hours, it was clear that she was a woman that he could hold in high regard. She was so damn charming with her subtle humor and open honesty. He couldn’t understand how someone so pure of heart could fail to see her worth beyond her supposed beauty. He’d bet anything that the villagers from her town had filled her head with this nonsense. He’d like to slaughter every one of them, though Alaine would likely protest such violence, even against those who wronged her.

He’d have to do better than that, be better than that—for her—for it was clear she deserved no part of this curse, no matter what the witch thought. He’d see her freed, even if it meant his return to solitude.

The ring on his finger glinted in the sunlight; his one reminder of the life he’d had—the life he’d lost. That life was gone to him, but he would make sure that Alaine never suffered the same pain.

By the time Daric split his last log, he’d devised a plan. He turned to go back inside and thought he caught a glimpse of fiery red hair darting behind a tree. The witch always seemed to be near—watching, waiting. Perhaps this was all a game to her, a source of entertainment. He knew not.

“It was a mistake bringing her here,” he said into the wind.

The answering rustle of leaves sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Chapter 11

Alaine

Alaineemergedfromthelibrary several hours later, eyes aching and stomach rumbling. She had finished an entire book before realizing it was the silver light of the moon shining through the windows and not the sun.

It had been only a day since she’d left her life behind, and yet it hung on the fringes of her mind like a distant memory. She had expected a mourning period of some sort. She thought she’d be crippled by regret or anger, but she felt only relief and—in the absence of the grief—guilt.

For the first time ever, Alaine lived as she wanted. Her actions were decided without a thought for other people. She missed her father, but in the way that one misses snow in summer, wistfully and fleetingly, her repressed anger overshadowing any happy memories from her life before.

She and Daric supped in companionable silence, each lost to their own thoughts. When the last of their plates had vanished in the magic of the cottage, they moved to what was quickly becoming their special place before the fire.

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