Cursed Beauty (A Fairy Retelling #1) (2 page)

“I suppose he had better things to do than to eat dinner with his family,” her stepmother replied, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

“He’s never been so late before,” Adelaide said, but then realized she was speaking only to herself. Celeste had already left.

Adelaide decided to read in her room until Father arrived, but it wasn’t long before the steady murmur of rain pounding against the roof drew her into sleep. When she awoke, a few hours later, her cheek was squashed against pages of her book.
A heavy pounding sounded against the front doors of the manor.

Adelaide yanked on her shawl as she left her room. She wasn’t the only one awake. Both Celeste, and Adelaide’s step sister, Thalia, were poking their heads out of their bedroom doors as Adelaide made her way down the stairs to the front hallway. Cook was already there, in her nightclothes and robe, her hair pulled back into a nightcap. Henry, her father’s manservant, was also there, his eyes red and bleary, just woken from sleep.

The pounding against the door continued. Henry took the lead and opened the door just far enough to stick his head out. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Is this the royal physician’s house?” a voice demanded from the darkness.

Cook and Adelaide exchanged glances. The voice was a man’s.

“Yes, it is,” Henry answered. “But the good doctor is not in this evening. If you are ill, you’ll have to wait until morning or go to the next village.”

“Is there a family member present that I may speak to?”

“I’m sorry sir, there is no one here who can help you if you’re sick. You’ll need to move on,” Henry added as he tried to push the door closed.

Adelaide inched closer to the door, and Cook grabbed her hand. “Stay here miss. It isn’t safe,” she whispered. Adelaide glanced behind her to give Cook a meaningful glare and saw her stepmother and stepsister standing at the top of the stairs.

“I’m not here to see the doctor, man!” the voice said. “I’m here to see his family. I’m the Prince.”

The door pushed open and a young man walked into the foyer. Adelaide recognized him at once. Anyone who lived in the kingdom would know his face, but Adelaide knew him personally.

Though she’d only been in his presence once when they were children, the scars of that day had not fully healed and looking at him caused her heart to give a sudden lurch at the memory. Just a year older than she, he still looked very much the same as he had when she’d met him. His short, bronze hair was still spiky and unruly, while his blue eyes remained bright and piercing. If Adelaide didn’t hate him so much, she might even think he was handsome.

“My Lord,” Henry apologized, “please come in.”

“Thank you, but I must speak to a family member immediately. It concerns the wellbeing of the royal physician.”

“I am his family,” Adelaide spoke up, dropping Cook’s hand and stepping boldly into the foyer. “What news do you have of my father, Your Highness?”

The prince stepped forward and looked squarely into Adelaide’s face. She lifted her chin haughtily. He studied it a moment, and recognition bloomed in his eyes. “I know you, don’t I?”

“We have met before, Your Majesty. But I believe you did not come to strike up old acquaintance. What news do you have of my father?” Adelaide knew she was being petulant, but the prince seemed not to notice.

“Yes, of course.” Realizing he was staring at the girl, he moved his gaze to the floor. “It is my deep regret that I must bring you terrible news regarding your father. He was caught in the rain on his return trip home from the castle this evening. We begged him to stay, and wait for the torrent to stop, but he was eager to be home with his family.” The prince paused a moment and looked down, choosing which words to say.

“He was crossing a bridge on the outskirts of town, just as it washed out.”

Adelaide felt as if she’d just been punched in her gut. She had to will every muscle in her body to form the words burning in her chest.

“Is he alright?” she asked, all traces of hostility vanishing.

The prince lowered his eyes back to the ground, and seemed not to know what to do with his hands.

“I’m very sorry, my lady, but he is not. Your father is dead.”

Adelaide could see the prince’s mouth continue to move, and though she knew more words were coming from it, she heard none of them. She turned to look up the stairs at her stepmother and stepsister, and watched as her Celeste yanked her robe tightly around her shoulders, and walked back to her room. Thalia lingered a moment more, then followed her mother’s lead and walked back to her own chambers as well.

They’re going back to bed. Father’s dead, and they’re going back to bed.
Adelaide turned to face the prince again. His mouth had stopped moving. He looked as if he had asked her a question and was waiting for a reply. Adelaide wasn’t sure what the question was.

“Thank you, my Lord, for coming,” Adelaide said politely before she blacked out and collapsed onto the stone floor.

* * * * *

For the next few weeks, Adelaide lived in a kind of daze. Nothing made sense anymore. Though her father was no longer there, Adelaide still spent most of her days in his laboratory, tucked just behind the manor. It was there that Celeste found her.

“There you are, you lazy girl,” Celeste said. “I thought I would find you in here wasting the day away. Come to the house. Now. Changes are being made.” Without another glance, Celeste turned and left the small laboratory to return to the house.

Changes?
Adelaide’s curiosity piqued and she followed behind her stepmother. She walked into the foyer to see a waterfall of clothing falling from the second floor of the house, down over the banister railing, onto the first floor. All sorts of clothes. Her clothes. “What is going on?” Adelaide asked. “Why are my things being thrown out of my room?”

“My room!” a voice answered from her bedroom. “Because they are in my room, and I want them out.” Thalia’s voice.

Adelaide looked to her stepmother for explanation. “Thalia’s room is simply too small for her. It’s practically a closet, so she’ll use it as one from now on. Your room is larger and will meet her needs more readily, and so I’m allowing her to move.” Adelaide’s clothes and personal belongings continued to stream out of her bedroom door, and onto the floor.

“But if Thalia’s room is to become a closet, then where am I to sleep?” Adelaide asked as some of her favorite books were thrown haphazardly out the bedroom door, and smacked against the floor.

“Thalia! That’s enough!” her mother yelled. “Adelaide is fully capable of vacating her own room in a timely manner. There’s no need to make more of a mess than you already have. The servants are busy enough, without you adding to their work.”

“Yes, mother!” Thalia’s voice rang out like a bell.

Celeste turned to Adelaide. She seemed very annoyed with having to answer her question.

“You can sleep in Cook’s room, if you’d like. It’s vacant. Or since you seem so fond of your father’s laboratory, perhaps you’d prefer to sleep there.”

“Cook’s room? By the kitchen? But won’t Cook be needing it?” Adelaide asked.

“She’s been dismissed,” Celeste responded. “Insubordinate woman.”

Adelaide agreed that Cook could be a bit uppity, but she would never classify her manners as insubordination, more of an air of know-it-all-ness. “How will we eat? Who will be cooking for us?” Adelaide asked.

“I believe you will fill that role quite nicely, Adelaide. It’s about time you did something to help out around here.”

“Me? I can barely boil water without burning it.”

Celeste’s lips pursed together even tighter. “I suspected that might be the case. I’ve hired a village girl who knows her way around a kitchen to come teach you how to cook. Once you’ve learned what you need to know, you’ll be working as the cook, full-time.”

“You’re making me into one of the servants?”

Celeste’s hand shot out and grabbed Adelaide’s chin, pulling her face up to meet her own.

“Adelaide, your father’s savings will get us only so far. Everyone must pitch in, and we will be cutting out anything that is not necessary for us to live. If we’re lucky, I’ll be able to find a new husband for myself. Or perhaps I’ll be able to find one to marry your stepsister. You, however, are another challenge altogether. Honestly, Adelaide, with a face like yours, you’re bound to be someone’s servant, eventually. You might as well get used to it.”

The sting of Celeste’s words reddened her face just as if it had been slapped. Her stepmother had never before remarked so candidly about the birthmark splayed across half of Adelaide’s face, neck and shoulder. The blotch that usually remained a dull reddish-brown flared, belying her embarrassment. Adelaide twisted out of her stepmother’s grasp. The pin prick of tears stung at her eyes, but she willed herself not to cry. She would not cry in front of Celeste.

“Clean this mess up,” her stepmother said as she left the room.

Adelaide stared for a long time at the pile of clothes, books and parchment strewn down the stairs and over the floor. It wasn’t in her nature to talk back to adults. She’d been raised to act like a proper lady, even if there was no hope that she would ever become one.

Adelaide had grown used to people shying away from her and her marked face. Eventually the people of the village who knew her father had grown used to it, but she still heard them murmuring about the mark from time to time. Cursed, they called it.

Her mother had possessed the ability to make her feel beautiful, even up to the day of her death. Her father had never ceased to make her feel smart and important. “Leidy,” he’d say, using his favorite nickname for her, “anyone can be born beautiful and dumb, but it takes someone special to glow with an inner beauty that comes from kindness and intelligence. Don’t waste your time wishing to trade your brains for beauty. That’s a lousy trade.” If she looked skeptical, he’d always add, “Trust me. I’m the smartest person you know...after your mother, of course.”

Adelaide felt neither smart, nor beautiful at the moment. She felt like a fool. As she gathered her belongings from the floor, she tried to think of signs of her stepmother’s cruelty that she had missed. She knew that her stepmother had never been overly warm towards her, but she hadn’t been overtly hostile either. Adelaide had never understood why her father married Celeste after her mother died.

She was beautiful enough, but Adelaide had always thought Celeste’s smiles were cold and empty of feeling, though Celeste never spoke a single harsh word towards Adelaide or her father. At least, not until today. Adelaide had heard Celeste’s biting words directed towards the servants on occasion though, and was not completely surprised to have them finally directed towards herself. With a determined resignation, Adelaide made her way to her new quarters, and her new role as a servant in her own house.

CHAPTER 2

Prince Julian could not stop thinking about the marked girl he had met a few weeks ago. He hadn’t recognized her immediately in the darkened foyer of the physician’s home. It wasn’t until he saw her birthmark that he realized who she was. He still remembered quite vividly the night he had first met her. He was only eight years old then - the night his mother died.

She had come bursting into the castle, all fierce-faced and full of anger. Her ringlets of curly hair were as bright as the red mark on her face. She had been so full of fire when she made her way through the castle to where her father was attending his mother, the queen. The shock of seeing her pulled him momentarily out of his fear for his mother’s life.

Julian and his older brother, Leon, stood dumbfounded as she stormed her way toward them. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Where’s my father?”

The girl’s brazenness was startling. Julian pointed a finger to the door of his mother’s chambers where the doctor was attending to his mother. He assumed that she was the doctor’s daughter. They had the same bright red hair.

The girl moved to knock on the door. “No!” the princes shouted in unison.

She paused with her fist in the air, a deep scowl on her face. “Our mother,” Leon explained, “is very sick. She has the pox.”

Julian looked at his brother. He knew the words that Leon was thinking but hadn’t yet said.
She’s dying.
The girl looked from Leon to Julian, and back again. Her soft brown eyes were also just like the doctor’s, a light, warm brown, the color of honey. She lowered her hand as well as her scowl. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a hoarse whisper, and Julian watched amazed as her temper dampened, and tears slipped down her marked face.

They said nothing after that. Julian and Leon sat outside the door, the girl silently joining them. Eventually, both of their fathers exited the queen’s chambers. The king looked exhausted. The physician wore the same scowl the girl had worn earlier. Julian, Leon, and the girl stood. She clutched Julian’s hand, and he squeezed hers tightly back.

His father stared at the floor, unable to look his sons in the eyes. “Be strong, boys. Be strong for our nation. The queen is gone.” He briefly laid his hands on their shoulders and left. The doctor gave his own daughter a steadied gaze as he searched her tear-streaked face, and then reentered the queen’s chambers.