Enchanting the King (The Beauty's Beast Fantasy Series) Read online

  Enchanting the King

  The Beauty’s Beast Fantasy Series

  by E.D. Walker

  Published by EDW Books.

  Original Copyright 2016. Elizabeth Walker

  Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  Cover art by Simone Sadie www.dreamarian.com

  Edited by Deb Nemeth www.deborahnemeth.com

  Copy edits by E-Book Formatting Fairies www.e-bookformattingfairies.blogspot.com

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio http://polgarusstudio.com/

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  Contact the author: [email protected]

  www.edwalkerauthor.com

  DEDICATION

  To Casey, because she told me she really wanted to read this book when I most needed to hear that.

  And to all the other loyal fans who were hoping I might return to the world of The Beauty’s Beast again: Thanks for waiting for me.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sample: The Beauty’s Beast

  Also by E.D. Walker

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  The gentle rocking of her wagon might have been soothing once upon a time. Unfortunately, after so many weeks and miles spent trapped inside it, Aliénor thought she might go mad if she had to travel another foot in the damn thing.

  “Do you have the headache again, Princess?” one of her ladies-in-waiting asked.

  “I’m all right.” Aliénor flung a hand out to steady herself as they rolled over a bump in the road, jostling her and the two other ladies in the back of their traveling coach. Aliénor gritted her teeth together. “I did not join this quest to be rolled across the world in a wooden box.”

  Aliénor twisted away and snatched up one of the plush silk pillows littering the benches of her coach. She hugged it to her gut, resisting the urge to tear the stuffing out. This wagon had been a gift from her husband Prince Philippe, a pointed reminder of just how he thought she should conduct herself on this journey. Filmy curtains at either end of the compartment helped separate her ladies from the dust of the road and the stares of other men.

  “Would you like to stop and walk outside a bit, Princess?”

  Aliénor shook her head. Some grand adventure. Riding along in a wagon she could probably outpace without breaking into an unladylike sweat. Oh, Papa, your war stories were never like this. When Aliénor had set out on this road, she’d meant to walk in the footsteps of her glorious father. See the lonely mountains of the east, smell the fresh sea air, taste the wind of the deserts. Expand her mind, stretch her horizons. Instead, her husband had kept her closed up tight in her plush little box with not one but two lady chaperones. Instead of stretching her horizons, she’d shrunk her world to a stuffy wooden trap.

  No more. Not today. Aliénor flung a hand out to knock hard on the wooden roof. “Driver, stop.”

  Her two ladies-in-waiting blinked in surprise. Aliénor flung the curtains away on the back to step out. Servants had already come around the sides to help her. Aliénor shook their reaching hands away and leapt down herself.

  “My lady, are you all right?”

  “What do you require, Princess?”

  “Saddle my horse, please. I will walk for a bit while you do.”

  The servants exchanged a look, but finally one went off to do as she’d asked. Satisfied, happy for the first time all day, she tipped her face toward the sun as she walked. She took a deep breath too but choked on road dust. Aliénor laughed at herself, and covered her mouth with a kerchief once she’d finished coughing. Servants still hovered at her elbow, but she dodged around them and began walking down the road, passing the stopped wagon as she gazed all about her. A flurry of activity and raised voices sounded behind as ladies and servants scurried around, some to catch up to her and some to saddle her horse like she’d asked.

  In the confines of the coach, her husband’s army had not been so loud, but the sound rolled over her now. Thousands of feet tramping, thousands of men chatting and laughing and yelling good-naturedly at each other. Horses too, hundreds of them prancing down the road with their masters. It was a dizzying sight, impossible to take in all at once. The supply wagons were still somewhere far behind, carrying the tents and mattresses and other accoutrements of camp. Her husband’s army did not travel light. Behind her down the road, the baggage train seemed at least half as long as the column of soldiers. She frowned, considering that tail of carts and animals lagging behind on the long river road.

  The jingle of harness drew her attention, and she wheeled around just as her husband rode up. Her heart quailed a little to see he had brought his royal witch with him, Mistress Helen. The witch was a decade or so older than Aliénor, and the woman’s cool, composed manner never failed to make Aliénor feel like a grubby, disorderly child. And Mistress Helen’s magic never failed to make Aliénor ill at ease.

  Philippe dismounted with easy grace and hurried toward Aliénor, dust kicking up in his wake. His dark hair had a fine red coating of the stuff, turning his hair a lighter shade of brown than usual. He crossed straight to Aliénor and caught her by the arms. “Why has your wagon stopped? Are you ill?”

  Aliénor fought to keep her gaze focused on him and not the witch behind him. “I needed some air. That’s all.”

  “Again, Aliénor? I thought we’d settled this. It is not proper for you to walk about in the open air. You are a Princess of Jerdun. You are not meant to be a spectacle for the common rabble.”

  “I often walked and rode at home in Jerdun. How is this different?”

  “Because you are one of only three noblewomen in the camp. Indeed, you are one of only a handful of women in the camp at all. I’m doing this to protect you.”

  If you hadn’t banished all the camp followers, my women and I wouldn’t be such a curiosity. Or a temptation. She bit her tongue on that unwise remark. Discipline had been harder to maintain since that particular order of Philippe’s banning all prostitutes in camp. But a large army in a foreign land was difficult to manage at the best of times.

  Isn’t it? Aliénor looked away, studying that rugged line of mountains in the distance. High red peaks loomed, barren and harsh against the clear blue of the sky. The sight fired something in her blood, a
longing, a determination. I want more than simple comfort and privilege. She wanted to reach those high red peaks and trail her fingers across the sky.

  “Aliénor.” Philippe cupped her cheek, turning her face toward him. His eyes were pinched, his mouth tight. “I have so many responsibilities on this expedition. Please do not make yourself a burden.”

  She flinched. “Do not treat me like a child, Philippe.”

  “Stop behaving like one.”

  “I did not come on this trip to sit in a wagon and rot.”

  His nostrils flared. “You shouldn’t have come on this trip.”

  She broke away from him. Though the blood pounded in her veins, she managed to keep her voice low. “If I hadn’t rallied my nobles in the south, if I hadn’t spent months persuading and cajoling them to come along, you wouldn’t have an army at—” All along her body, Aliénor’s muscles tensed up, and her jaw clamped shut with a click of teeth that hurt. No. Aliénor tried to twist away, as if simple motion could stop what was happening. Her muscles refused to obey her.

  Mistress Helen sauntered forward, and her eyes glowed a little as her magic held Aliénor in a grip so tight it ached. “Now, now, Princess. We discussed this. You swore to do better. To be more obedient.”

  An angry flush darkened the sallow skin of Philippe’s face. “Helen, let her go.”

  “But, my prince—”

  “I don’t need your help to control my wife, witch.”

  Needles of pain pricked all over Aliénor’s arms and legs as she tried to throw the witch’s curse off, to free herself. Useless. Her teeth ground together in mingled alarm and fury.

  With a flick of one hand and a grimace, Mistress Helen lifted her spell. The sudden release of tension made Aliénor gasp. She would have doubled over if Philippe hadn’t tightened his arm around her waist to keep her upright. Every muscle she possessed prickled like a sleeping limb waking to life. “Philippe, you promised you wouldn’t let her do that again.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “If you were better behaved, she wouldn’t have to. What did I do to be cursed with such a termagant for a bride?”

  Aliénor opened her mouth to make a sharp reply. Then, remembering Mistress Helen’s presence, she snapped her teeth shut.

  “My prince, apologies if I overstepped myself,” Mistress Helen murmured in her soothing alto, “but this is not seemly, to be seen quarreling on the road. Perhaps a compromise?”

  Philippe drew himself back and smoothed a hand down the front of his neat surcoat. “You’re right, Mistress Helen. Aliénor, I apologize for the spell, but you must do better.” He let out a deep sigh, and his look was sad somehow, resigned, as he gazed back at her. “If you wear a veil, you may ride. All right?”

  She clenched her hands under her bosom and swallowed her anger, though it almost choked her to do so. “Thank you, Philippe.”

  He just shook his head and walked away from her.

  The witch paused a moment and raked her gaze up and down Aliénor with a cat-like smile. “Soon, Princess. Soon I will have the ruling of you.”

  As the woman walked away, Aliénor glared at Mistress Helen’s back, but inside Aliénor’s heart felt cold. Philippe had put a stop to the spell this time, but he grew more exasperated with Aliénor by the day. How much longer before he decided it would be best to let Mistress Helen control her completely?

  “My lady?”

  Aliénor startled out of her reverie as her lady-in-waiting brushed her arm. “Yes?”

  “Your horse is ready.”

  “Oh, good. Excellent. Thank you.” Almost despite herself, her heart lightened. A small victory then. In these dark days, she would take what she could get. “Bring him round, please. I’ll ride now.”

  ***

  When Aliénor had argued for her choice to ride, she hadn’t quite realized how physically draining it would be. Her rump was already sore, her shoulders stiff. Still, the view was everything she could wish for, the fresh air stimulating despite the massive dust cloud created by the army’s marching.

  The river gurgled and rushed happily to her right, running parallel to their road. The waters flowed a deep blue-green that looked deceptively calm, with scrubby bushes scattered along the far bank. The land on their side of the riverbank was relatively bare, stripped of its trees and bushes to accommodate the traffic of the road.

  Across the flow of water, though, the riverbank was verdant with tall, round-topped trees bending their boughs toward the river. To the southwest the mountains loomed, ragged red stone looking like a potter’s unfinished project. The day was warm, but the breeze off the river was crisp and lovely. Aliénor shut her eyes and let the wind dance over her face like a caress.

  Her senior lady-in-waiting, Noémi, rode at her side, placidly and without comment. Her other lady-in-waiting had stayed behind in the wagon to sew. Aliénor and Noémi were near the front of the line with some two dozen men ahead of them, but still close enough that the two ladies could see a little of the road ahead. A sluggish trail of smoke wound through the sky ahead and to the west, coming from the mountain trail.

  “Captain, what is that?” Aliénor asked.

  The captain of her personal complement of guards half turned in his saddle and frowned, squinting at the sky. His mouth twisted, and he called for two men to ride up from further back in the line. More guards for Aliénor.

  She frowned and looked again at the gray plume in the sky. “What’s amiss, Captain?”

  The man let out a grumpy sigh and turned to her with a pasted-on smile. “I am only worried that is the army of Lyond, Your Highness.”

  Noémi let out a small puff of surprise. “Lyond? But their army left months ahead of ours.”

  “Perhaps they have been delayed on this road as disastrously as we have.” The captain shrugged, turning away as if their conversation wearied him. Aliénor should ask Philippe for a replacement for the impudent man. Her own dear captain of the guard from home had drowned a few months back. Several of her best men had died in that accident, when Philippe had ordered the army to ford a river instead of paying a ferryman’s fees. She might have suspected treachery, except so many of their soldiers had been lost in that disaster, from every faction.

  She shook her head, refusing to let the captain brush her off. “Captain, why should the Lyondi army trouble you? We are no longer at war with them. They are here to reclaim their colonies the same as us.” Indeed, Aliénor had passionately argued back home that their Jerdic force should ally with the army of Lyond since their mission was so similar. However, after decades of near constant war and only a few years of uneasy peace with Lyond, the men of her homeland hadn’t listened. Philippe and his brother, the king, had actually laughed at the idea.

  The captain let out a long, slow sigh and turned to her with another one of his false smiles. “Princess, here in this wilderness, an army of those Lyondi barbarians will not care about any peace agreement made back home. Especially not if they catch sight of you and your two pretty ladies.” He made a small half-mocking bow in his saddle to her and Noémi.

  Aliénor’s cheeks heated with an indignant flush.

  Noémi tugged gently on Aliénor’s sleeve, coaxing her attention away from the ill-mannered captain. “Your husband won’t want you bickering with a guard captain in the middle of the road.” She kept her voice low, calm. “He’ll send you back to the wagon if he hears of a fight.”

  Or worse. Aliénor let her breath out through her teeth. “Wise counsel, my friend.”

  Noémi hummed in her throat, a faint note of approval.

  Aliénor flicked her a teasing smile. “I do sometimes listen to you.”

  Noémi grinned. She was a large woman, thick-boned and stout, with a pale, pretty face unfortunately marred by deep pockmarks on her cheeks. But she had clear, snapping green eyes full of animation and intelligence. She was an unmarried lady, a widow twice over and not yet forty. Aliénor and Noémi had met only a few months ago at that bit of grand theater whe
n the High Lord Magician of their homeland Jerdun had accepted all their solemn vows to reclaim the colonies and save the deserts to the south from the Tiochene raiders.

  Aliénor had come to rely on Noémi as the one note of sanity in the swirling madness that their well-intentioned campaign had become. The wealthy widow was the first woman Aliénor had asked to become one of her “Amazons.” Another flashy bit of theater in an already melodramatic display. Aliénor smiled still, months later, at the memory of the stodgy High Magician’s face when she had shown up with her gaggle of noblewomen all dressed in vibrant red armor, all ready to take their solemn vows and fight.

  Unfortunately, only Noémi and a young noblewoman named Violette had come along with her. The other noblewomen who had taken their vows had been forced to bow out of this grand adventure. One became pregnant, one suddenly lost her husband, and another lost her nerve when it came time to take ship. Still, Aliénor was happy to have even a small tribe of Amazons on this trip with her.

  Both her women wore faded gray riding habits now, more practical than their flashy—and heavy—red armor. Yet the promise of that armor, the hope she’d had when she’d first made her impulsive vow, still pulsed in the back of Aliénor’s mind. Like a rotten tooth as needs pulling, Aliénor wryly told herself.

  They would probably have to sell the armor soon enough to pay for food. That should make Philippe happy. He’d always hated her red armor. After only a few days on the road she’d realized that Philippe had only let her buy armor because he’d planned to make her stay home. He’d underestimated her stubbornness or her bravery—maybe both. He’d wanted Aliénor to help rally the men and organize the expedition, but if Philippe had had his way she never would have been allowed out of Jerdun. Maybe he was right. Aliénor’s grand adventure had been nothing like her plan thus far.