Of Curses and Moonlight: A Swan Lake Fairy Tale Retelling (The Villain's Kiss) by J. Ann Curtis

Author:J. Ann Curtis [Curtis, J. Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Rothbart

Rothbart banged on the large doors to Lady Gertrude’s large mansion home. The place was enormous, made of the finest stone. The balconies and verandas on the second and third levels reminded him of certain parts of the royal palace. And the stables and grounds dwarfed even Rothbart’s family estate. A huge labyrinthian maze of exotic plants and hedges made up the gardens.

He was a little surprised he’d made it through the front gates so easily. There were no spells he had to counter, nothing protecting this grand home from a magical attack.

No answer came at the door and he pounded again on the hand-carved mahogany, growing impatient. He didn’t care what her station was. If Lady Gertrude had sent the men who had attacked his home, she would face his wrath.

After the refusal to open up. Rothbart raised a hand and cast a spell. The doors flew wide and he swept into the front entryway, ready for a magical attack, or guards racing forward with weapons, for servants to come rushing up, protesting. Something.

The large chandelier hanging high overhead made of thousands of tiny diamonds suspended in delicate silence was the only thing that greeted him.

Perhaps Lady Gertrude wasn’t home? But even if she wasn’t there, servants, grounds keepers, someone should be. He turned in a slow circle, catching the glimpse of a low flickering light coming from a side room. Stepping up to the ajar door, he pushed it open and entered.

Lady Gertrude sat in a high backed chair next to the flames of a fire. A maid stoked the meager flames and glanced up with annoyance at Rothbart’s appearance but said nothing.

“Yes, come barging in,” Lady Gertrude said. She waved a hand at him. “Not that I can stop you.”

Her pink floral dress spilled out over the arms of the chair and she sat with a wine glass gripped in her fist. Its deep amber liquid reflected the firelight.

She looked at him through bleary eyes. “Oh, it's you, Rothbart. Come to level more accusations at me because of my family relations, have you?” Her words slurred out of her and her head tipped back precariously.

Rothbart’s gaze traveled around the room, noting the hard floor that clearly hadn’t been polished lately, the walls that lacked any adornment and lack of furniture besides the one chair that Lady Gertrude currently lounged in. The room felt too wide, too open. He had been here once before and this wasn’t anything like Rothbart remembered. Where were the silk carpets and the lavish furniture? The portraits from artists around the world that should adorn the walls?

He would worry about that later. “Someone attacked my estate this evening.”

“So naturally”—she spun her free hand as she squinted at him—“you believed it to be me? Why not go barging in on my dear cousin? She is the sorceress, and the jilted one, as you say. Oh right, it's because if you step on her grounds, she strips you of your magic in a second.”

If it was Alecta, he would need a better plan than storming her home like he’d done to Lady Getrude.

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