Of Thorns and Curses: a Beauty and the Beast Retelling by Jesikah Sundin

Author:Jesikah Sundin [Sundin, Jesikah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Forest Tales Publishing, LLC
Published: 2022-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

BY THE TIME HE REACHED the kitchen in the lower gardens, he could barely stand on his feet. The world blurred in and out of focus. In his injured state, using magic gravely depleted his energy stores. The roiling fury didn’t help either. If not wounded, he would raze the forest to the ground.

How many elves in Gabaston now practiced magic?

How many elves had Addien convinced to impersonate him?

He needed to warn the Brotherhood, not only of the rune shifters, but that he wasn’t the Beast. Hopefully, Lucas visited in two days because he wasn’t sure if he’d be awake to travel tomorrow. Using his good shoulder, Fentienne pushed open the door and staggered inside.

Rhoslyn looked up from kneading bread and gasped. Her green eyes traveled over his face downward to the spots of blood staining his coat. After how he had treated her, he expected Rhoslyn to celebrate his injured state. Delight in his misery. But his mate couldn’t resist the wounded, even if they were cruel and arrogant toward her apparently. She dropped the dough in her hands and rushed over. Gently she took the shoebox and cane from his good arm, saying, “Let me help you,” while guiding him to a bench against the wall.

Before he could thank her, she placed the objects onto a worktable and ran toward the larder. A few seconds later, she returned with a bucket of water, ladle, and wooden cup. She poured him a drink and brought it to his lips.

He rolled his eyes, refusing to be babied, and took the cup of water with his good hand. “Spirits,” he said between quick breaths. “Spirits to disinfect. Wine to dull pain.”

Rhoslyn nodded and dashed toward the larder once more.

A little bark sounded from his pocket. He had almost forgotten about the cub. Fentienne downed the water then set the cup on the bench seat beside him. Awkwardly, he unbuttoned the duster. His clawed nails usually required both hands for this feat. But, somehow, he managed in the woods and again in the kitchen. Gently, he slid his hand into the large inside pocket and pulled the cub out by the nape of her neck.

“A puppy!” a boy’s voiced called out. Matthieu, he realized through the haze of his acute exhaustion.

Fentienne put the cub onto the floor. “Go to the boy by the fire.” She barked at him, wagging her tail while biting onto his boot. “Do as I say, she cub,” he said with more force. “The little boy. Go.” She whined but turned away a second later.

He watched her toddle on young legs toward Matthieu, to ensure she obeyed his commands. But the pure joy on that little boy’s face held all Fentienne’s attention. Matthieu was practically glowing. Was that how he had looked when seeing Loring the first time? Dark skies, he missed his stallion.

He caught Rhoslyn’s gaze over Matthieu’s head. A small smile flitted across her lips and gratitude brightened her green eyes. It was only a fraction of a second.

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