Beauty’s Beast(67)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“Yes?” Edith called. “What is it?”

“A message,” Nan replied. “From Lady Charmion.”

A low growl rumbled in Erik’s throat at the mention of the witch’s name.

“What is the message?” Caddaric asked.

“She wishes to see the child.”

“Where is she?”

“She is without the gates, awaiting your reply.”

Caddaric blew out a sigh of relief. If she was outside the castle, then the wards he had put in place were holding. “Did she say anything else?”

“No, my lord.”

“She wasted no time in getting here,” Caddaric muttered.

“What will we do now?” Edith asked.

Caddaric shook his head. “Kristine, are you sure you want to do this?”

Tears spilled down Kristine’s cheeks as she brushed a kiss across her daughter’s brow. Of course she didn’t want to do this, she thought, but what other choice did she have? She looked at Erik. Hackles raised, teeth bared, he paced the length of the room, back and forth, back and forth.

“Kristine?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure. Tell her . . . tell her we will meet her tomorrow night, in the chapel.”

The wolf shook his head, a growl rising from deep within his throat. Padding toward the door, he barked, then scratched the wood, obviously wanting to be let out.

“Perhaps you had better send him back to the dungeon,” Kristine said.

Caddaric nodded. “I think that would be for the best,” he said. A wave of his hand, and the wolf vanished from sight. “And I think tomorrow morning might be better for our purposes. Evil is not so strong in the light of a new day.”

“Very well,” Kristine said. “Nan, tell Lady Charmion we will meet her in the chapel at ten tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“After you have delivered the message to Lady Charmion,” Edith said, “please send Leyla and Lilia up with clean bedding and a cup of hot tea laced with chamomile.”

“Yes, my lady,” Nan replied.

“The chapel at Hawksbridge Cross,” Edith remarked after the maid left the room. “It was one of Dominique’s favorite places. She often went there to meditate.” Edith glanced out the window. “I can feel the witch’s presence,” she said, shivering. “It hangs over the castle like thick black smoke.”

Caddaric nodded. “Aye. It is her evil magic you feel. She is testing the wards, searching for a weakness. Pray she finds none.”

Erik paced the floor of the dungeon. Occasionally, he threw his weight against the iron door. The civilized part of his mind told him it was futile, a waste of time and energy. But another part—the savage part that yearned to run wild and free through the woods, the part that compelled wolves to gnaw off a foot rather than remain in a trap—that part compelled him to try.

A low whine rose in his throat as he hurled his body against the door. He wanted to be with Kristine. He wanted to be able to hold his daughter. He wanted to sink his teeth into Charmion’s throat.

The man he had been warred with the beast he had become.

He howled and howled again, the feral cry filled with rage and frustration, his anger and his helplessness rising, growing stronger.

The mournful cry rang off the walls and echoed through the stone passageway.

Kristine . . .

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kristine held her daughter all through the night, memorizing the softness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, wondering if her eyes would stay blue, or turn green, like her own.

“You will never know how much I love you,” Kristine murmured. “Never know how wonderful your father is. Charmion will tell you lies, but I hope you won’t believe them. I hope you will know that I would never have sent you away if I’d had any other choice, but I must do it, my darling child. It is the only way to save your father from Charmion’s curse.” Tears burned Kristine’s eyes. “And I love him so much. Too much to leave him as he is. I hope that someday, when you are older, you will understand and forgive me.”

As I must forgive my own mother.

Slowly, the hours of night turned to day.

Leyla and Lilia brought her a tray, but she had no appetite.

Edith came in to see if there was aught she could do.

Kristine refused help with Erika. She bathed her daughter, dressed her in a clean gown. Conscious of the minutes quickly ticking away, she kissed each tiny finger and toe, caressed her daughter’s cheeks, stroked the fine silk of her hair.

Too soon, the clock chimed the quarter hour and it was time to go meet the witch.

Kristine wrapped her daughter in a blanket and then, with Caddaric and Edith following her, she made her way to the dungeon.

Erik howled when he saw her. The feral cry tore at her heart. As clearly as if he had spoken, she heard his words in her mind: No, Kristine. You must not do this. But it was the only way to save him.

Caddaric unlocked the cell and they all stepped inside, closing the door so Erik could not get out. Caddaric slipped a collar over Erik’s head and attached a thick rope, and then they formed a circle around Erik. Caddaric glanced at each of them, then lifted his arms and began to chant.

Darkness surrounded Kristine. She clutched Erika close to her breast, her senses reeling.

When she came to herself again, she was standing in front of the altar in the chapel. Edith and Caddaric stood beside her.

Kristine glanced around, then looked at Caddaric. “Where is Erik?”

“In the cellar.”

A moment later, the priest entered the chapel.

Kristine hugged her daughter and then, blinking back her tears, she handed the child to the priest. No sooner had she done so than she felt a dark sense of foreboding.

Between one thought and the next, Charmion stood before them. Her dark gaze swept over the child in the priest’s arms. “Give her to me.”

“Not until Erik stands here before me as a man,” Kristine said.

“The child first.”

“No,” Kristine said. “Caddaric, take us home. We waste our time here.”

Charmion glared at Kristine, her gaze malevolent. “Where is the beast?”

“Erik is in the cellar.”

“Summon him.”

Caddaric waved his hand and Erik stood before them, teeth bared, hackles raised. He crouched, a growl rising in his throat. Caddaric quickly grabbed the rope affixed to the wolf’s collar to keep him from lunging at the witch.

“Change him,” Kristine demanded.