Chapter 67 Isabeau
sixty-seven
Isabeau
The magic coursed through me like liquid starlight, different now that the curse had broken.
Purer, wilder, more responsive to my thoughts than ever before.
I reached for it instinctively, feeling the forest’s power answer my call not as a servant but as a partner.
After watching Apollo vanish in that blinding flash of divine light, I knew we needed to reach the castle quickly.
Something inside me whispered that more miracles awaited us there, and I couldn’t bear waiting the day it would take to walk or ride.
“We need to go to the castle,” I said, clutching the crystalline antler tip Apollo had left behind. The claiming mark on my shoulder pulsed in harmony with its blue glow. “Now.”
Marcel stepped forward, his human face carrying the same quiet authority as his bestial one had. It was strange seeing those familiar amber eyes framed by a man’s features instead of fur, but the essence of him remained unchanged.
“It’s a full-day’s journey at least,” he said, glancing at his parents. The King and Queen of the Enchanted Realm looked exhausted despite their regal bearing. “And many of our people are in no condition to walk far.”
I nodded, then closed my eyes, feeling the forest’s renewed vitality surrounding us. The claiming mark throbbed with a pleasant heat, connecting me to all four of my mates. Through it, I could almost hear the earth singing beneath our feet, celebrating its freedom from darkness.
“I can get us there,” I said with a certainty I’d never felt before. “All of us.”
Bastien snorted, the sound so reminiscent of his beast form that I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re going to teleport an entire kingdom’s worth of people? Just like that?”
I met his skeptical gaze. “Yes.”
“She can do it,” Alain said, stepping to my side. His hand found mine, fingers intertwining as naturally as breathing. “I’ve seen what her magic can accomplish.”
Laurent watched me with those calculating eyes that missed nothing. “The forest will help her,” he concluded. “It recognizes its new guardian.”
The words sent a thrill through me. Guardian. Not a burden to be endured or a prize to be possessed, but a protector with purpose and power. The antler tip in my hand pulsed once, as if confirming Laurent’s assessment.
“Everyone join hands,” I instructed, raising my voice so it carried across the gathering. “Form circles, make sure everyone is touching someone else. The magic needs a path to follow.”
To their credit, no one questioned me. Perhaps they had seen too many impossibilities today to doubt another. The people of the Enchanted Realm clasped hands with the soldiers of Durand. Royal joined with common. Human with creatures of myth.
My four mates formed a tight circle around me, creating a barrier of protection even as they served as conduits for what I was about to attempt. I felt their strength flow into me through the claiming bond, their confidence bolstering my own.
I closed my eyes again and reached deep into the earth with my magic. Not demanding, not commanding, but requesting. The response was immediate and joyous. Roots and soil and stone all eager to help, to repay the one who had freed them from corruption.
“Take us home,” I whispered, and the world dissolved around us.
It felt like being unmade and remade in the space between heartbeats.
Like falling through clouds made of pure sensation.
The ground disappeared beneath our feet, only to reform an instant later.
When I opened my eyes, we stood on the grounds of what had once been Beast’s castle, but it was transformed beyond recognition.
Gone were the twisted iron gates, the withered gardens, the crumbling stones that had seemed to weep with despair.
In their place stood a castle bathed in sunlight so bright it hurt to look at directly.
The stones gleamed like new-polished silver, the windows sparkled with stained glass that caught the light and threw rainbows across the courtyard.
The gates stood proudly open, intricate metalwork forming patterns of leaves and roses with stars that seemed almost alive in their complexity.
The gardens…oh, the gardens. Where before had been thorns and decay, now grew flowers in such abundance it seemed impossible they could have sprouted in the short time since the curse broke. Roses in every color imaginable, climbed trellises and walls, their scent heavy and sweet in the air.
Gasps of wonder rose from those around me as they took in the transformation. The royals of the Enchanted Realm stared at their restored home with tears streaming unashamedly down their faces.
“It’s as I remember it,” the Queen whispered, clutching her husband’s arm. “Henri, it’s exactly as it was before...”
King Henri nodded wordlessly, too overcome for speech.
“It’s beautiful,” Alain said beside me, his eyes wide with wonder. “I had no idea...”
“None of you did,” I replied softly. “The curse erased even the memory of this place from your minds.”
Something caught my eye then. Movement near the central rose garden, where the largest and most vibrant blooms created a natural bower. A man lay there, partially obscured by nodding flower heads, with thorny vines slowly retreating from his body.
My heart stopped, then raced so fast I felt dizzy.
“Papa?” The word escaped me as a whisper, then a shout. “PAPA!”
I broke away from my mates, sprinting across the perfect lawn toward the rose bower.
Behind me, I heard confused exclamations, footsteps hurrying to follow, but I couldn’t slow down.
Not when I recognized that round form, that white hair and mustache.
Not when I saw his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of breath.
The roses parted for me as I approached, their thorns retracting as if they recognized my presence. I fell to my knees beside the still form of my father, Arnaud Dubois, tears blurring my vision so badly I had to wipe them away to see him clearly.
He looked exactly as he had the day the village had sent him as the sacrifice to the Forbidden Forest. His clothes were torn where thorns had pierced his flesh, but as I watched, the wounds closed themselves, leaving unblemished skin behind.
The roses were healing him, giving back the life force they had taken to sustain themselves.
“Papa,” I sobbed, gathering his limp hand in mine. It was warm. Alive. “Papa, please wake up.”
His eyelids fluttered, then opened. Those dark brown eyes were so different from my amber ones, but they focused slowly on my face, confusion giving way to recognition.
“Isabeau?” His voice was rough from disuse, but it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. “My girl? Is it really you?”
I couldn’t speak through my tears, could only nod frantically as I pressed his hand to my cheek.
“You’re crying,” he observed, his free hand shakily rising to brush at my tears. “Don’t cry, my little bell.”
“They’re tears of happiness,” I murmured with a watery grin.
“I had the strangest dream...”
“It wasn’t a dream,” I managed, laughing and crying at once. “Oh Papa, so much has happened. The forest. The curse. The beasts...”
He struggled to sit up, so I helped him, supporting his back as he looked around in bewilderment at the restored castle grounds, at the crowd of people watching our reunion with varying degrees of emotion.
“The last thing I remember clearly,” he said slowly, “was the thorns. They came alive, wrapped around me. There was pain, then... nothing. Just dreams. Strange dreams of being part of the forest, feeling its suffering, its corruption.” His eyes found mine again, filled with questions. “How long has it been?”
“Months,” I answered, swallowing hard. “I came looking for you. I found... more than I expected.”
My mates had approached, standing a respectful distance away to give us this moment. Arnaud’s eyes widened as he took them in. Four men watching me with such naked devotion that it required no explanation. And some only wore cloaks as wraps to hide their true nakedness.
“You found love,” he said simply, a smile creasing his weathered face. No anger or judgment, just joy for me. “More than one, it seems.”
I laughed, the sound wet with tears. “It’s a long story, Papa. Involving curses and gods and magic.”
“The best stories always do, especially when they begin with your mother,” he replied.
“You knew?” I gasped lightly.
His sorrow reached his gaze before he let a hand pet my hand. “She couldn’t let you use yours, little bell. So she had to hide who she was to protect you. She taught you what she could without it, but we knew one day, you’d unlock your powers. It seems I had to miss it, miss telling you.”
So much made sense. I wanted to ask more, but then his gaze moved past me to where the two kings approached. His eyes widened further.
“Is that—”
“King Geraint of Durand,” I confirmed. “And King Henri of the Enchanted Realm.”
My father tried to stand, fumbling to show proper respect, but I held him in place. “You’re still recovering, Papa. They can come to you this once.”
And come they did. The two monarchs approached my father with expressions of profound respect, not condescension. King Henri knelt on one knee beside him, while King Geraint remained standing but bowed deeply.
“Arnaud Dubois,” King Henri said formally. “My kingdom owes you a debt we can never fully repay. Your sacrifice sustained the heart of our realm when all else had fallen to darkness.”
My father blinked rapidly, clearly overwhelmed. “Your Majesty, I simply did what any father would do. I went to protect my daughter.”
“And in doing so,” King Geraint added, “thou demonstrated the kind of courage and selflessness that deserves recognition.” He exchanged a glance with King Henri, who nodded.
“We have discussed it and are in agreement. Upon thou’s full recovery, thou will be knighted in a joint ceremony by both our kingdoms.”