TFT 01 Beauty and the Beast (25 page)

She looked up into his eyes and read the shock there. He had never guessed she was a Ranger.

“Elle, how did you get here?” he finally asked. “The road is blocked off.”

“I brought my party in through the hunting trail you pointed out on our ride,” Elle said, anxiously circling Severin to look for injuries. “But Severin, did they get you at all? Did they even knick you?”

Severin stared at Elle. “Who are you?”

“You know me. I’m Elle, your Intruder,” Elle said, forcing her lips into the mold of a smile.

Severin shook his head. “No, who are you really?”

Elle reached out and grabbed his hand. “I am Elle. Nothing’s changed Severin. I’m still the demanding busy body who was bit by a squirrel.”

In the woods behind them Prince Lucien’s personal horn sounded. The Prince wouldn’t be far off, and after he arrived all of Elle’s lies would come to light.

Elle briefly shut her eyes. “This isn’t how I planned it. I was going to wait until our next ride when I came back, but I’ve run out of time.”

“What?”

Elle grabbed Severin by the shoulders, pulling on him until he looked down at her. “Severin, listen very carefully. No matter what you learn about me I want you to know that everything I said about you is true. You are incredible, Severin, please don’t forget everything I’ve said in your anger.”

“What are you talking about?” Severin said, his voice turning into a growl.

The horn sounded again. It was much closer this time.

“I genuinely enjoyed my time here. I wouldn’t trade these last few months for the world. But I’m doing this for your sake, you deserve to be happy.”

“Elle?”

Elle could hear the muffled thunder of horses galloping through snow. She threw her arms around Severin’s neck and whispered, “Severin, I love you.”

Light flared, tearing Severin away and throwing Elle to the ground.

Elle pushed herself to her knees, wincing as Severin howled in pain. “Severin!” she screamed, her hair whipping in the sudden wind.

Severin’s bones snapped and crackled as they rearranged and reformed in his body. His teeth shrank and sank back into his gums as his protruding cat muzzle flattened. His fur retreated to his hairline or fell out entirely—Elle couldn’t tell which in the bright light.

Severin’s claws disappeared, his hands softened, and within moments the beast was gone, leaving behind a man. The man groaned and collapsed in the snow.

Elle lurched to her feet. “Severin, are you ok?” she asked, crouching next to him.

Elle held her hand an inch above Severin’s shoulder, wondering if it would hurt him if she touched him.

Her worry died when Severin pushed his hair out of his face and sat up, looking to her.

Elle recognized him from the portrait Emele had shown her in the library. He was older now, taller with broad shoulders. His charcoal black hair spilled over his shoulders, and his eyes were still amber although they had normal, circular pupils. He had wrinkles on his forehead and at the top bridge of his nose—probably from squinting and working late into the night with poor lighting. He had a full lower lip, and a stubborn chin.

He was muscled and athletic from his years as a soldier, and while he did not have the same dazzling good looks as Prince Lucien, he was undeniably aristocratic and handsome, far beyond the likes of Elle.

Severin blinked once, cracking his jaw. He traced his face with his hands before looking at his bare feet. “I’m human?”

Elle almost cried. His voice was the same, rumbling like distant peals of thunder, although she suspected he would no longer sound so guttural when angry. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m…
cold
,” Severin blinked.

Elle swallowed, forcing a smile on her lips. As happy as she was for the transformed Severin, Elle couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She had fallen in love with a droll, antisocial male. The addled prince before her looked nothing at all like her love, perhaps he would act nothing like him as well.

Elle viciously silenced her thoughts. Just because Severin was now human—an unfortunately handsome human—didn’t mean Severin wasn’t himself. “That happens when you aren’t covered in fur,” Elle said, grinding her voice into a dry tease as she stood.

Severin stood as well, wobbling as he adjusted to his body. “I’m human,” he repeated, frowning as he looked at his hands. “How?”

“Severin, you were the one who explained the curse to me,” Elle said.

Severin pushed an eyebrow up, fixing Elle with a look of unimpressed disbelief. He opened his mouth but froze. “No,” he declared after a moment.

Elle blinked, that wasn’t exactly the reaction she was expecting. “Pardon?”

“Brother!” Lucien rode up on a prancing white charger, all smiles and good cheer, with a squad of honor guards. “You’re human again! You wooed her after all didn’t you, you sly fox!”

“Lucien.” Severin said.

Lucien swung off his horse, carelessly leaving it loose for a servant to scramble after. He hugged Severin, smacking his half brother on the back. “Well done, not bad for a day’s work! You can’t believe how glad I am to see you again—the real you! Blast, how I have missed you in the palace. Finally life will be bearable again, but we can celebrate later. Your still may be in danger. The assassins have been taken care of? Don’t just stand there, report in,” Lucien said, turning around to face Elle.

Elle lowered her head in deference. “The assassins had three parties around the chateau perimeter. One attacked soldiers patrolling the pathway nearest to Severin, another set up a diversion in the courtyard, the third group attacked Severin. One assassin was killed and another was injured. Vie and Aubery are chasing the injured assassin and his companion. I split up the rest of my team to take care of the other assassins.”

“Well done, well done indeed,” Lucien beamed, not at Elle but Severin.

“Lucien, what’s going on?” Severin said, shifting from foot to foot in the snow.

“You haven’t figured it out? The change back must have addled your mind, Severin. In any case, brother, allow me to introduce you to Ranger Seventy Eight, your intruding houseguest.”

Severin stared at Elle, and Elle forced herself to meet his gaze. She had purposely kept him and his household in the dark. She owed it to him to face the consequences with dignity.

Even so, Elle felt her heart break as she watched Severin—before her very eyes—grow as stony and cold.

“Ranger Seventy Eight?” he said, proving Elle wrong as his voice did retain a little of the growl.

“Yes, it’s why she was indisposed for so long. She was stranded in your house, recovering and—thankfully—falling in love,” Lucien said, rocking forward and backward on the balls of his feet.

“You assigned
Rangers
to me?” Severin said.

“Yes. There were two stationed at the chateau most of the time. I wasn’t going to leave you unguarded
in this godforsaken manor, Severin. Usually I used combat trained Rangers, but Ranger Seventy Eight was available at the time and none of my combat Rangers were,” Lucien shrugged. “So, how does it feel to be human again?” he brightly asked.

Severin would not be distracted. “You had her stationed at the chateau. Was this a set up, falling through the roof and staying with me?” Severin demanded, running a hand through his hair.

“No, the rooftop incident was Ranger Seventy Eight’s clumsiness,” Lucien said. “I was most displeased about that. I was planning to send her to Arcainia for an infiltration assignment after she finished her two week stint of guarding you. But she wasn’t a total failure. She
did
fall for you.”

Elle wished she could sink into the ground, or sock Prince Lucien in the face. His blasé manner was going to make everything worse. Elle shifted, accidentally drawing attention to herself.

“Oh. I forgot about you. You can go. Check in with the rest of your team or something,” Lucien said.

Elle looked at Severin, but he wouldn’t even glance at her.

“What are you waiting for? Go,” Lucien said, his voice growing frosty.

Elle bobbed forward in a bow before she retreated. She blew her silver whistle—which hung from a leather cord around her neck—three times before untying Fidele from the tree she had secured him to. She may as well take him back to the stables while she waited for her team to reorganize.

Elle led Fidele through the snow, winding her way around the gardens. She teared up when the big gelding affectionately nudged her.

The courtyard buzzed with soldiers. Elle saw a flash of a Ranger uniform, one of her fellows was leading a tied and gagged assassin off, a squad of soldiers trailing behind them.

“Elle?”

Elle turned to the chateau front door. Oliver stood on the top steps, his mask gone and his face bright with joy.

“It is you! Elle!” Oliver whooped, throwing himself down the first stair.

He was stopped by Emele, who hauled him back by the collar of his jacket. The ladies maid was truly lovely. Her skin was smooth like porcelain, her features were fine and perfectly proportionate, and her eyes were fastened on Elle.

“Elle?” Emele said. Her voice was just how Elle imagined it, soft and warm. The ladies maid traced Elle’s uniform, and unlike Oliver she understood its implications. “You
lied
?”

“It’s not what you think,” Elle said.

“You’re a Ranger. Were you tasked with infiltrating the chateau?”

“No, breaking my leg was an accident,” Elle said.

“What else did you lie about?” Emele demanded.

“Nothing.”

“I can’t even
begin
to believe that. Is your name even Elle?”

“It is. Emele, you’re jumping to conclusions. I—,”

“Jumping to conclusions? You are a lapdog of the
Crown
,” Emele said, her words as painful to Elle as a hot brand. “Your duty is to lie. I can’t even be sure I know you! Does His Highness know?”

“He does now.”

“Then you have broken his heart, lapdog. Everything you did was a lie!”

“Get your head on straight, Emele,” Elle snapped. “If it was a lie you wouldn’t be able to speak to me right now.”

Emele shook her head and backed up to the Chateau doors. “Do not talk to me. Come, Oliver. Let’s go inside.”

“Elle?” Oliver ventured, straining against Emele when she tried to pull him along.

Elle offered the stable boy a weak smile.

“
Don’t
,” Emele thundered before pushing Oliver away. When the groom was safely stowed inside, Emele turned back to face Elle one more time. “I liked you, Elle. You were my friend. How could you do this to His Highness?”

“I didn’t do anything. I genuinely love him. Emele, you have to believe me.”

Emele shook her head. “No, I don’t. I would never believe someone who could lie to His Highness,” she said before also slipping inside, shutting the doors behind her.

Elle clenched her eyes shut and bit her tongue to keep from crying. “I knew this is what would happen,” Elle said. “I knew it, but it’s worth it. They’re free now. Severin is free, Emele is free. I just want them to be happy.”

Fidele lipped Elle’s hair, jolting her back to the present. “Right, let’s get you stabled,” she said, leading Fidele towards the barn.

She glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see Oliver pressed against a window pane. The small groom waved before he was yanked away from the window by an adult.

Two weeks later Elle was in the palace to hand in her last report detailing the assassination attempt against Severin to Farand —the head Ranger who reported directly to Prince Lucien.

Severin and his household had returned to the palace. Banquets and balls had been thrown every day since Severin’s homecoming. Elle had seen only glances of him, and nothing at all of his servants.

Elle trekked across the courtyard wearing a black cloak over her Ranger uniform. The hood was pulled up, and she almost missed the tentative call.

“Elle?”

Elle turned to see Oliver, holding Fidele’s reins and standing under the stable overhang to escape the falling snow.

Elle smiled, heartened that at least one of Severin’s servants hadn’t rejected her. “Hello, Oliver.”

Oliver beamed. He took a step forward but stopped when Severin said, “Thank you, Oliver, you may return indoors.” The tall prince stepped out of the shadows of the barn to take Fidele’s reins. He was dressed for riding, wearing black boots, leather gloves, and his shiny hair was pulled back in a straight, orderly ponytail.

Oliver sketched a bow to Severin before he scurried back inside the stable, leaving Severin and Elle alone.

Severin stared at Elle with flat, lifeless eyes. The warmth Elle had grown accustomed to was gone. There was nothing there except for distrust and aversion.

Elle hesitated before she curtsied.

“Your pony has been brought to the stables.”

Elle looked up from her curtsy. “Pardon?”

“Your pony has been brought to the stables,” Severin repeated, his voice cold and impersonal.

“Do you mean Rosemerry?” Elle asked.

Severin briefly flattened his lips. “Yes.”

“You’re still giving him to me?”

“I do not go back on my word, even to those who are dishonorable.”