Chapter 67 Isabeau #2
Arnaud’s mouth fell open. “Knighted? Me? But I’m just an inventor from Thorndale.”
“You’re the man who raised the daughter of Artemis,” King Henri corrected gently. “The father of the woman who broke an ancient curse and restored two kingdoms, showing her magic will never harm my people. There is nothing ‘just’ about you, Arnaud Dubois.”
“Besides,” King Geraint added with a smile that reminded me of Alain, “it solves a rather complex problem of protocol. Your daughter has found herself with four royal suitors. At least this way, she’ll have the title to match.”
My father looked at me with new wonder, as if seeing me properly for the first time. “I know you discovered you’re the daughter of Artemis. But royal suitors? Isabeau, what have you been doing since I’ve been gone?”
The question was so absurd, so perfectly my father, that I burst into laughter. “Saving the world, apparently,” I managed through my giggles. “Or at least two kingdoms worth of it.”
Marcel stepped forward then, offering a formal bow to my father.
“Sir, I am Prince Marcel of the Enchanted Realm. Your daughter saved me and my brothers from a fate worse than death. She is the bravest, most remarkable woman I have ever known. Also, forgive me for dragging you to the roses. The sacrifice has always been our least favorite day.”
Laurent and Bastien followed, introducing themselves with varying degrees of formality. Bastien barely bowed, but the respect in his eyes was unmistakable.
“And I,” Alain said, coming to stand at my side, “am Prince Alain of Durand. Your daughter has taught me more about true courage and sacrifice than all my years at court ever did.”
My father looked between the four men, then at me, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Well,” he said at last, “it seems I have a great deal of catching up to do.” He paused, then added with a twinkle in his eye, “Perhaps you could start by explaining why these four princes keep looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.”
I blushed furiously. “That’s... complicated.”
“I had a dream,” my father said suddenly, changing the subject with merciful timing. “While I was... wherever I was. I dreamed I was in water, pushing someone. A dark-haired man.” His eyes found Alain. “You. I was pushing you toward my daughter.”
Alain’s eyes widened. “The river,” he breathed. “When I was wounded and drowning. Something pushed me toward Isabeau. I thought it was the current, but...”
“It was you, Papa. I knew it,” I whispered, fresh tears welling. “Somehow, part of your consciousness was still active in the forest. You saved him. You saved us both.”
My father nodded slowly, as if confirming something to himself. “I felt... protective. Like I knew you needed him.” He looked between Alain and my other mates with clear assessment in his eyes. “All of them, perhaps.”
King Henri cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside. There’s much to discuss, and your father needs rest and proper care, Isabeau.”
I nodded, helping my father to his feet. He was unsteady but insisted on walking on his own, his inventor’s mind already taking in the restored castle with fascination. I stayed close, ready to catch him if he stumbled, my heart so full it felt like it might burst from my chest.
The grand entrance of the castle stood open, welcoming us home. Where once had been decay and darkness, now gleamed polished marble and crystal. The gargoyles that had perched menacingly on the ramparts had transformed into proud horses, their stone manes flowing as if caught in eternal wind.
Inside, the transformation was even more dramatic.
The cobwebs and dust had vanished. Broken furniture had been restored.
The shattered mirrors now reflected our procession without a single crack.
Carpets that had been moldering on the floor now displayed vibrant patterns of forest scenes and celestial bodies, so lifelike they seemed to move under our feet.
“This was the west wing,” Marcel murmured beside me, his hand warm at the small of my back. “I hardly recognize it.”
“Everything is as it was before the curse,” Laurent observed, his eyes tracking every detail with quiet amazement. “Every painting, every tapestry restored.”
“Thank fuck,” Bastien added eloquently. “Those cobwebs were a bitch to walk through.”
I giggled at his crassness, then quickly composed myself when both kings turned to look at us. My father’s eyes crinkled with amusement. He’d always appreciated straightforward speech over courtly manners.
We passed through hallways I recognized from my time in the castle, but they were transformed from gloomy passages into bright galleries. Light poured through newly whole windows, casting rainbow patterns across walls adorned with paintings depicting scenes of the Enchanted Realm’s history.
“This was your room,” Marcel said as we passed a familiar door. “My room, actually, before... before everything. You were sleeping in my bed all that time.”
I blushed, remembering how I’d slept in that massive bed, unaware of its owner’s identity. “A place I felt safe,” I admitted softly.
His eyes darkened with emotion. “I’m glad,” he said simply.
“But there was a woman’s armoire?”
“My sister’s dresses overflowed in her room, so she took it upon herself to use mine for herself.” A sadness took over his face, so I reached for his hand. He nodded, telling me he was okay, but he missed her like I did my parents.
As we continued toward what I assumed was some sort of great hall or throne room, I saw my princes glancing around with increasing urgency.
“We need clothes,” Laurent finally stated, gesturing to the makeshift coverings they’d fashioned from cloaks and whatever had been available after their transformation. “Proper ones.”
King Henri nodded. “Your chambers should be as you left them. We’ll wait while you make yourselves presentable.”
The three brothers exchanged glances, then hurried off down a side corridor with a familiarity that spoke of coming home after a long absence.
I watched them go, still marveling at their human forms. Marcel’s broad shoulders and dignified bearing.
Laurent’s lean grace. Bastien’s coiled energy that made him seem perpetually ready to pounce even as a human.
“They’re quite a sight,” my father murmured beside me, having caught my staring. “In human form, I mean.”
I glanced at him sharply. “You remember them as beasts?”
He nodded slowly. “Parts of it are coming back. The biggest one, Marcel, is it? He carried me to the roses. Gently, like he was sorry for what was happening. The dark one growled the whole time, but never at me. At the situation, I think.”
“That sounds like Bastien,” I agreed with a small smile. “He’s perpetually angry at the universe.”
My father patted my hand. “He looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever had,” he observed. “They all do.”
Before I could respond to that astute observation, the three princes returned, now properly dressed in royal attire that transformed them even further from the beasts I’d first known.
Marcel wore deep blue with silver accents, Laurent in forest green with gold threading, and Bastien wearing burgundy so dark it was nearly black.
Lestat picked black attire, fitting his raven hair and animal half.
He stayed back, finding things for his journey home tomorrow.
My men and their friend looked every inch the royal princes they were, yet their eyes remained the same.
Amber, intense, fixed on me with unwavering devotion.
Alain, who had remained with us, stood straighter in their presence, as if unconsciously responding to the competition. His hand found mine, replacing Marcel’s, fingers intertwining in a silent statement of claim.
“Shall we proceed to the throne room?” King Henri suggested. “There’s much to discuss about the future of our realms.”
We followed him through one final set of double doors into a vast chamber that took my breath away.
Twin thrones sat on a raised dais at the far end, gleaming with inlaid gold and silver.
The ceiling soared overhead, painted with scenes of forest and sky so realistic I had to blink to convince myself they weren’t moving.
Windows of stained-glass cast jewel-toned light across the marble floor, creating patterns that shifted with the sun’s movement.
They also now held a story of us within them.
I stood in the center with the three beast heads around me.
A dark-haired prince beside me in the middle.
My unicorn along the edge and even the raven. Roses were hanging around everything.
“It’s exactly as I remember it,” Queen Charlotte whispered, tears in her eyes as she gazed around the restored throne room. “Every detail, but that window is new.”
“It’s beautiful,” Laurent offered.
King Henri led his wife to the dais, where they both paused before the thrones, as if uncertain of their right to sit there after so long.
“Your Majesties,” I said, stepping forward. “The forest has welcomed thee home. These thrones are yours again.”
They exchanged a look, then slowly seated themselves, backs straight, heads high, reclaiming their birthright with dignified emotion.
I stood before them, my father on one side, my four mates flanking me like the cardinal points of a compass. A circle complete. A family forged through curse and sacrifice and impossible love.
“We have much to discuss,” King Henri began formally. “The reintegration of our realms. The search for our daughter. The future governance of the Enchanted Forest.”
“And other matters,” Queen Charlotte added, her gaze moving meaningfully between me and her sons. “Of a more personal nature.”
“I think the first thing is us turning the kingdom over to our sons,” King Henri stated.
“What?” Marcel asked.
His father smiled with a tiredness that couldn’t be described. “We’ve been protecting our people below for nearly twenty years, my son. I might be untouched by age, but I’ve lived my time as king.”
“But how would it work?” I asked.
King Henri gave me a look of pure adoration.
“This is the Enchanted Realm, Lady Dubois.
We are the keepers of not only the forest, but other magic that hides within our realm to avoid persecution.
As you've learned about your mother's blessing on the fields behind us, hidden within a single acre to the naked eye. Our rules do not follow the standards of the kingdoms you know.”
I caught what he called me, planning to knight my father which gives me his title. It felt odd to be anything other than the inventor’s daughter, but it made me proud too.
The queen cleared her throat. “You will all rule, together. Five is an excellent number to govern when the decision is split, future queen.”
I felt the claiming mark pulse once, as if in anticipation. Alain took my hand and gave it a squeeze, hearing their words with me as the others readied themselves for their call to the throne.
Whatever came next, whatever challenges awaited us as leaders, I knew I wouldn’t face them alone. I had my father back. I had four men who loved me in their different ways. I had magic flowing through my veins and the blessing of a god.
For the first time in my life, I stood exactly where I was meant to be. And this time, I didn’t feel guilt for my beauty.