Beauty and the Beast: An Adult Fairytale Romance Read online

  “You don’t understand how much the thought of losing you terrifies me, Anastasia. You are my one and only daughter. The world out there isn’t meant for you. You must stay here where you’re safe, protected, and kept from harm,” the king explained.

  Of all the rooms in the palace, Ana loved the library the most. Her parents had accumulated a varied collection over the years, and her earliest memories involved playing on the rug in front of the hearth while her mother read fables and fairy tales to her.

  She and her father each occupied their usual seats, his chair a massive construction of wood and leather, hers a pink and cream velvet chaise. Her mother’s chair remained empty, and had for some time. Lorelei hadn’t stepped foot in the library for a year at least. She hadn’t read a book in over three.

  “Whatever will you do once I’ve left to attend the Collegium, Father? Who will worry you then?”

  “Then I will direct my concerns to the rest of your unmarried siblings.”

  Ana scoffed and refrained from voicing a retort. The rest of her brothers were all younger, with distinguished matches negotiated between their allies in neighboring kingdoms.

  Often, when she was alone with her thoughts, she blamed her magic for his overprotectiveness. Did he worry she would end up like her mother, broken and raving?

  Ana’s desire to learn conquered any fear of the unknown future. She craved knowledge, and most of all, she loved the sparks of magic around her fingertips, an ever-present reminder of the gift she’d inherited from her fairy grandmother.

  A royal guardsman cleared his throat from the entrance of the audience chamber. “Your Grace, there is a man here to see you. One of the mercenaries you employed.”

  “Good, send him in. Anastasia, my dear, please—”

  “Can I stay, Father? Please. If they’ve come with good tidings, I want to hear as well.”

  “You only wish to see the flower,” the king retorted.

  Shortly after the onset of her mother’s dementia, the king had developed an unnatural, unhealthy obsession with the sky forests of the Benthwaite Mountains to the east, claiming the verdant peaks of the adjacent land hid an immeasurable wealth in medicinal cures. He never missed an opportunity to share the stories his father once told him about the travelers who journeyed to the ancient caves for raw gemstones. According to his tales, a rare rose grew only in the shadow of the mountain’s highest steppe, in the garden of an abandoned castle.

  He sent explorers at first, and when none returned, he sent his best combat scouts. His devoted men posted notices around the kingdom’s tap houses until a group of experienced men and women boisterously promised they’d claim the mountains in his name.

  A pale man entered the library, a shadow of the arrogant warrior who promised to stake the king’s banner on the mountain peak. He shook and trembled, smelling like hell itself. Ana fought the urge to wrinkle her nose.

  “Well?” her father demanded without preamble. “Where is the flower?”

  “Sire, it cannot be done. A dragon inhabits the mountain.”

  A dragon! The thought made her head spin and produced romantic images of dragons soaring through the skies. The majestic beasts hadn’t been seen in Creag Morden for decades despite warring with their southern neighbors in Dalborough.

  “Did I not pay you to slay the beast if such a creature was encountered?”

  “You did, Your Highness, but he cannot be slain by any conventional means. He is powerful beyond anything we have ever seen. We lost two of our band before our archer released his first arrow!”

  “Such casualties are expected.”

  Her father’s cool, callous words drew her startled gaze. The mercenary bowed his head, his hand clenching at his sides.

  “Indeed, they are, but we had no choice but to retreat lest we all lose our lives.”

  King Morgan exploded from his seat and slammed both hands against the table. Tea sloshed over the rim of her cup, and she flinched as his voice boomed across the library. “You retreated?”

  Anastasia watched the trembling man. Ash darkened his perspiring face, and his body odor filled the room with the smell of soot and blood.

  “Of course we did, Your Highness. We value our skins more than gold.”

  “And where’s the rest of your party?”

  “Traveling south. And I shall now join them. The beast gave us but one day’s head start to leave these lands and to give you this message.”

  King Morgan’s brows raised. “He sent you with a message?”

  “Aye, he did.” The mercenary hesitated. “He says he’s been kind, sire, but press your luck again, and he’ll rain fire upon your kingdom then gnaw your bones.”

  Upon delivering his message, the man fled the room. From a window overlooking the courtyard, Anastasia saw him mount his sweaty horse and gallop away without looking back.

  “I hired cowards,” her father seethed. “Useless, yellow-bellied cowards.”

  “Papa, everyone across the kingdom knows how much you love Mother and that you’ve done all of this for her, but have you considered that maybe the healers are right? Maybe it’s irreversible, and the queen we’ve both known is gone forever.”

  “I refuse to believe as much.”

  “Father, how many more will you send to their doom? What if this flower can do nothing for her and you’ve undertaken an impossible mission?”

  King Morgan shook his head. “That is where you are wrong, my darling. Nothing is impossible, and with faith, we can accomplish anything.”

  The king excused himself from their tea time and met with his chief steward to increase the bounty on the dragon.

  The first dragon slayer visited the palace on a bright summer morning, a fortnight after the famous explorers fled Creag Morden. His steps thundered over the marble, his plate armor an enormous addition to a body already swollen with muscle.

  Anastasia stared at him during the introduction. A trio of identical scars slashed across his scalp and over the man’s brow, the third bisecting it neatly. Puckered, shiny pink flesh arose from the collar of his plate armor.

  She shuddered.

  “It is an honor to stand before you, King Morgan. I am Henry Galway of Kirkwall.” The knight bowed to her father then pivoted to give her the same prompt consideration. “Princess.”

  “Ah, yes. Word has reached me of your skill and vast knowledge for dispatching these creatures.”

  “I have killed many,” the knight agreed. “What may I claim as a prize when I slay this one?”

  “Ten thousand crowns,” her father named without blinking.

  “Not only will I skin it prior to immolation, but I’ll bring its claws for your trophy room, Your Highness.”

  The knight bowed to them both then strode from the throne room, his heavy armor clanking noisily.

  Anastasia watched him leave with a feeling of dread. Something deep in her gut told her killing their dragon would be easier said than done. And if this knight failed, they would all pay for it in blood.

  Victoria rapidly fanned the air in front of her face, as if it could further cool the dais from where she and Anastasia spectated the annual games over tea. Under normal circumstances, the King himself would preside over the races, but he’d withdrawn from society and sent his daughter in his stead.

  Too busy plotting and scheming over how to take on Benthwaite, she thought. It wasn’t that she didn’t wish her father well, but that she believed the healers who swore no amount of herbal remedies would cure her mother’s ailment.

  Despite their past tension, there wasn’t anything Anastasia wouldn’t give to have her mother restored if it was in her power. But it wasn’t. And as far as she was concerned, her father was going to get a lot of good people killed.

  Benthwaite was once known for an abundance of dragons, and where there was one, there had to be more. She imagined a horde of hatchlings in a dank, overgrown cave, warmed beneath their mother’s scaly body until the next group of hapless humans cam
e stumbling in for treasure.

  “Ana, my dear? Are you quite all right, love?” Lady Victoria asked.

  Anastasia snapped out of her thoughts and turned her attention to her company. “My apologies. My mind is filled with heavy thoughts.”

  “Say nothing more of it. Has your father received news from his dragonslayer?”

  The princess shook her head. “Nothing since he was sighted crossing the border.”

  “Pity. Maybe if the dragons of Benthwaite were exterminated, prosperity could be brought to this desolate little kingdom again.” She sighed and fanned her face.

  “I don’t know,” Ana said. “The dragons don’t trouble anyone until they’re bothered, or so the old tales say. When was the last time anyone’s actually witnessed an attack from them?”

  “Years ago, and nowhere near Creag Morden,” Victoria admitted. “But for all we know, they’re waiting and biding their time. They’re cunning beasts, are they not? Hoarding such precious treasures all to themselves when they have no better use for them.”

  Were humans any better? Anastasia had her doubts about it, but she erred on the side of caution and pointed, changing the subject by saying, “Oh, look! What a darling pony.”

  Two knights charged one another on horseback, each holding a shield and a lance leveled toward his opponent. Thundering hooves sent up a fine cloud of dust around strong equine legs.

  “Dear, the worth of that war charger exceeds the cost of the dress on your body. Both of our bodies. Hardly a po—”

  The bell tolled from the eastern watchtowers at the outskirts of the city.

  “That’s the emergency bell, isn’t it?” Victoria asked.

  “It is, though I wonder why.”

  A scream pierced the raucous din of commoners in the cramped stands, and all eyes turned toward the shrieking woman pointing east. The celebratory music trumpeting through the air came to an abrupt halt.

  Anastasia leaned from her seat and twisted for a better look. With the sun in her eyes, she could hardly see. “Is that—” Her eyes grew wide. In the distance, a winged behemoth grew increasingly large.

  “It couldn’t be,” Victoria whispered.

  The announcer dashed to his pedestal. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must leave here and find safety at once. There isn’t a moment to lose!”

  A sweaty, red-faced guard rushed up the steps to the covered dais. “Your Highness! A dragon approaches!”

  Victoria clutched a hand to her breast. “What do we do? Where do we go?”

  “The castle, my lady. Please, a carriage awaits the both of you.”

  With no alternative but to obey, the two women hurried to the carriage and clung to one another as the doors slammed shut. Seconds later, the vehicle lurched forward.

  “Can’t these beasts gallop any faster?” the guard hissed.

  Although she couldn’t see through the wooden walls behind her, Ana had the distinct feeling the dragon was closing in on them, a theory confirmed once the carriage sped onto the courtyard and the doors opened.

  Men stood at the ballistas, preparing them for war. Victoria sobbed beside her as she rushed for the opening castle doors, and in the distance, the dragon’s immense shape grew larger and larger with each heartbeat slamming in Ana’s chest. The blood rushed in her ears, the sound of her own pulse deafening over the screams of the men moving into their positions. They were ready to die to defend the castle.

  And it was unnecessary. All of their preparation was in vain.

  The dragon soared by on magnificent ruby wings but waged no assault on the palace. As he passed the courtyard, the monster dropped a charred lump of metal. Sir Henry, welded within his armor and long dead, resembled a piece of coal melded with blackened steel. After a defiant roar, the beast flew away and was soon out of sight.

  King Morgan strode past both girls without a word. Anastasia watched him approach the unmoving corpse. He stared at it, trembling with rage.

  The message was quite clear.

  “Send word to the other kingdoms. This beast will die. No request is too great, no price too high. I will grant anything to the man who puts an end to this dragon.”

  Chapter

  KING MORGAN’S AUDIENCE chamber became quiet over the weeks following Henry’s demise. While he didn’t grieve for the brave knight, he certainly appeared to mourn the loss of a chance to raid Benthwaite. Like a greedy buzzard, he waited to descend upon the carcass of the mountain once its protector had been slain.

  One by one, men died in the pursuit of treasure beyond their wildest dreams and a promise of more gold crowns than they could reasonably spend in their lifetime.

  The next adventurer, a quiet, thoughtful man from Liang, listened as the king described his troubles and said he would only accept payment upon completion of the job.

  “This dragon, it must be a young dragon,” the stranger said, stroking his black mustache with his thumb.

  “I care not of its age. I care that it is killed soon,” her father said.

  “I will need time to prepare for this, but I can dispatch your creature. I will require much time.”

  Weeks passed, but he never returned.

  The fifth respondent arrived on an overcast Sunday afternoon. Ana knew he had to be a prestigious member of some royal family when the servants began to fret and hastily flutter about the palace like chickens with lost heads, clucking over his handsome qualities, the wealth of his kingdom, and his bachelor status.

  “Your father requests your company, milady.”

  “Oh? What for?”

  “He’s received a visit from Prince Edward of Dalborough, and they both would like to speak with you presently! Isn’t this wonderful, your highness? Now is your chance,” the maid said in a dreamy whisper. She held her hand over her heart and sighed. “He’s a catch of enormous quality. Their royal family has grown prosperous over the years, and he is quite attractive.”

  “Is he?” Ana asked, skeptical.

  The maid sighed. “His eyes, they’re stunning, like chips of cobalt or sapphire.”

  Ana shook her head. She’d settle for a prince who was kind to his subjects. Prince Edward and his family had a terrible reputation for lining their pockets with gold while their commoners starved.

  “Help me dress please?” she said lightly, forcing a smile to her face. Once skirted and laced into her bodice, she ran a brush through her hair and stepped into a pair of soft, velvet-lined slippers. The gold color suited her and matched her favorite dress for receiving esteemed visitors.

  “They await you on the veranda.”

  Anastasia’s brows squeezed together. That was unusual. “Thank you, Clara.”

  Under normal circumstances, her father reserved the veranda for close friends and relatives.

  Frowning every step of the way, she took the route to the castle’s upper-level veranda. She found her father and the prince seated side by side like old pals around a small table laden with regional delicacies and wine.

  “Allow me to introduce you to my only daughter, Anastasia Rose. Ana, darling, meet Prince Edward of Dalborough.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Edward greeted her in genial tones, his voice a smooth baritone. He rose from the seat and bowed before taking her offered hand.

  Her heart lurched in her chest when his lips grazed her knuckles. The servants weren’t wrong. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him.

  The prince guided her to his right and took the chair between Ana and her father. She frowned.

  “And also mine, Prince Edward. To what pleasure do we owe such a fine visit?”

  “Word came to my mother and father concerning the recent troubles in Creag Morden. My parents believe we could come to an agreement regarding aid. A union.”

  “Ahh, Edward, much time has passed since we’ve last held words together. Tell me about your mother and father; are they well?” her father asked.

  “Quite well, Your Highness. They send their apologies, but prior obligations have kept
them from accompanying me.”

  “Of course. There will be other opportunities in the future,” King Morgan said.

  With a feeling of unease pervading Ana’s mood, she quieted to sip tea.

  “If I recall, your father slew the wyrm of Cairn Ocland during the Great War of the Beasts.”

  And it begins, Ana thought, disgusted. She prepared a small plate of food for herself and nibbled on a pastry as an excuse to remain silent.

  “He did, although it was the battle to end his career,” Edward replied. “Before him, my great-grandfather killed the wyrm of Liang.”

  “Excellent. Have you inherited their talent for slaying dragons?”

  “The rarity of dragons has presented a bit of a challenge, so I remain untested. When news of your difficulties reached our kingdom, we decided to extend the kind offer to exterminate your beast, King Morgan.”

  “I have hired many men to try and take down this creature. Even a warrior from Liang. I received word that he will be ready to attack within the month.”

  Edward chuckled. “He can certainly try, but would you not rather rely on your neighbors?”

  The king retained his smile, wearing the polite expression as he would don a mask for a masquerade ball. Ana knew her father well enough to recognize when he loathed someone on sight. “Will there be a cost, or shall I assume this is an act of benevolence?”

  “Perhaps the terms of this arrangement may prove beneficial to both of our families. It may be the greatest cost you will ever pay, and also the least.”

  The king’s eyes lit with interest. “Speak, son. What price do you ask?”

  “Your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Prince Edward’s cunning smile reminded Anastasia of a fox who had wormed his way into a hen house.

  With his dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes, most women would be delighted to accept his offer. Edward’s shoulders weren’t as broad as the deceased Sir Henry’s immense frame, but she imagined an attractive athleticism beneath his blue, gold-stitched tunic. And muscles. Muscles she could touch and trace to her heart’s content. She’d only glimpsed illustrations in a library book, her knowledge of the male form minimal at best.