"Oh, I'm going to turn in early. I'm not feeling very well," Isabelle lied as she walked up to the group of girls, clutching her stomach for emphasis when in reality, she should have been clutching her heart where the real pain festered.

Truthfully, she just wanted to be alone. Socializing had become stressful and she was tired. Guilt and sorrow had stolen her sleep away and she'd spent the night wishing it had all been a terrible nightmare and that, perhaps, she was still asleep and would soon wake up from this horrible dream.

Oh, if only wishes like that came true.

"Fine," Jacqueline pursed her lips in frustration, rolling her eyes as though Isabelle's words had just ruined the evening's plans. Isabelle was not at all sorry for it.

"What a bore." Jacqueline whirled on her heels, blonde hair whipping sharply across Isabelle's cheeks. As the blonde walked off with the other girls towards a nearby stall to survey the limited selection of clothes and trinkets, Isabelle could hear the girl's snarky comment. "Bet she's just embarrassed at having uncrossed her legs so early."

Indignation coursed through Isabelle at the implied idea that she had done anything of that sort with the king. The other girls let out giggles in response, reminding a disgusted Isabelle of exactly why she didn't like them.

Good riddance. She was glad to be free from Jacqueline's piercing stare and her little cluster of followers.

Liberation lifted the weight of fear and loneliness from her chest and she reveled in her moment of false freedom. If only for tonight, she could pretend that her life was her own, as though her choices were her own, at least until the grey dawn rose and she was pulled back to the palace once again.

Isabelle took her time as she headed back to the palace, meandering through the web of people in the night market. It was the liveliest affair she had witnessed in quite some time.

Lamps hung from every stall corner, illuminating the stalls and all their goods, while the lampposts erected in the square shed a warm glow, seemingly to drive away the darkness and all that lurked within it. Isabelle spotted a few horned heads, and caught a glimpse of a tail or two, but it appeared that most of the crowd were human. The smell of fried bread and sweet cakes mingled in the night air, mixing in with the scent of damp earth.

She had been too immersed in her thoughts to realize she had been standing in the middle of the street. A man carrying heavy bags of flour roughly shoved her out of the way, plowing through the crowd.

"Watch it!" he growled.

Isabelle opened her mouth to call out an apology but another person bumped into her, causing her to lose her footing. She teetered to the side, slipping on the damp ground. Before she could actually fall, a pair of strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders, steading her until she regained her balance.

"Oh, thank—" She had turned to thank her savior but the words died on her lips when she saw the familiar glow of red eyes and the curled horns peeking from beneath his cowl. His clawed hands moved to release her as quickly as they had to catch her. He also took a big step back.

And then another, bowing his head to conceal his wide-eyed expression. Isabelle took a tiny step forward, ducking her head to see his face.

"Adam?"

The sound of his name on her lips seemed to send a jolt of electricity through him. He jerked, raising his hands up.

"I—I'm sorry."

The quiet, deep sincerity in his strained voice made it painstakingly obvious that he was not referring to what had just transpired. Isabelle blinked as fear suddenly shot through her body, her mind bringing forth the horrors of that night.

As though he could smell her fear, he backed further away.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to—" He winced, fumbling over his words. "I—Goodbye."

Abruptly, he turned away, clearly intending to disappear into the crowd once more.

Goodbye?

How many days had it been since she'd last seen him? How many times had she spilt her precious blood and marched to wait in an empty room for him? She understood that it had been her fault and that she had been the one to trigger his primal urges to feed, but she was doing her best to move past the horror of that night so why couldn't he show her the same courtesy instead of avoiding it entirely?

Isabelle was surprised at how quickly her fear turned to frustration. She took several steps forward, towards his retreating figure.

"Adam! I'll be waiting!" She hollered to him. "I'll be there!"

She saw him pause, back stiffening up momentarily before he continued on, and she knew that he had heard her. The surrounding crowd gave her curious glances before continuing on their merry way.

With her heart a little lighter, she looked around the bustling square, trying to find the marker that would point the way home.

Ah, the fountain.

Isabelle made her way to the center of the square, heading back on the northern road that would lead her out of the city and back towards the castle. As she walked, she surveyed the people's smiling faces and the simple food and wares lining the streets.

A few stalls held some rusted trinkets, jewelry, and moth-bitten clothes that Isabelle suspected were probably scavenged from the abandoned homes in the lower city. It wasn't much, but clearly this small reprieve of happiness was enough to lift the spirits of the humans living here, and she couldn't help but wear a slight smile, warmed by the little sprinkles of happiness.

She paused by a stall along the street, one that had a small array of jewelry laid out. Her eyes flickered over the shiny bits and bobs available from the stall's limited selection. As a former noble, she could tell that these little trinkets were not very valuable and wore out easily.

She started to turn away when a glint of silver caught her eyes. It was a beautiful silver chain, delicately made, with a single rose dangling as a miniscule pendant.

Rosie.

Without thinking, she reached out to brush her fingers against the delicate rose, her heart constricted with the thought of her friend still trapped in the clutches of the beastly King. She only hoped his interest towards the small mouse had not waned.

"Would the pretty miss like a necklace?" An old woman sitting to the left of the stall asked, flashing a gap-toothed smile at her. "Two Francs a piece."

Two Francs? The carefully crafted necklace was worth a little more than just two Francs. It wasn't a thing made of true craftsmanship to capture the interest of nobles, but Isabelle could tell that it must have been made earnestly out of love.

Isabelle returned the smile of the old woman, grateful to glance upon another human face.

"Oh, no thank you," she responded politely. "I'm just looking."

"I see," the old woman hummed, looking slightly disappointed. Isabelle would have liked to help the woman out, but with a single franc as an allowance she simply could not afford it. Already, that was barely enough for a hot meal.

It was no wonder the other girls had saved up for so long for this festival—at a single franc a month it was no better than a beggar's pot.

Isabelle gave the stall owner an apologetic smile and started to turn away when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

"Isabelle?"

She turned around at the warm tone. "John?"

"Wow." His appreciative gaze ran slowly across her body, lingering slightly on the dress before traveling up to her face with a soft smile. "Well, don't you clean up nice?"

She blushed under his heated gaze. "Thank you, it's-um-Jacqueline's."

"Ah--" there was a pause as he fumbled over his words. "W-Would you like to look around the festival with...me?"

"Oh, I was actually going to head back early. I'm a bit tired." Isabelle regretted the words as soon as they left her tongue, watching John's hopeful expression fall. "I'm so--"

"Necklace for the pretty miss?" The old woman interrupted with a wide smile, holding up the silver rose necklace Isabelle had been eyeing earlier. A twinkle of mischief glittered in her green eyes.

Isabelle shook her head, "No I--"

"Did you want that?" John butted in, his bright smile reappearing, "I'll get it for you."

"Oh, but--"

"Two francs," the woman held out her hand, grinning from ear-to-ear. John fished the coins from his pocket and the exchange was soon done. It happened too quickly for Isabelle to protest the inappropriate implications of his gift. In any case, it seemed her thoughts on the matter did not mean much.

John took the necklace and held it up.

"May I?"

She hesitated briefly before slowly turning around, sweeping her long chestnut curls over her shoulder to allow him to drape the small piece of silver around her neck. He fiddled with the clasp for a few moments, his large hands struggling to complete the loop but with a satisfied 'aha!', it was done.

Isabelle turned around, a smile of polite gratitude already on her lips. "Thank you, this is--you're too kind."

"It's nothing," John replied almost bashfully, reaching up to scratch his head. There was an awkward pause.

Isabelle's eyes flickered back to the castle path, but she felt it rude to just leave him there so she simply waited for him to speak. The man was still looking at the ground.

The stall lady let out a cough, and that seemed to bring John back to life.

"Uh, may I walk you back? I think I have a slice or two of some pie left in the pantry... if you're interested," he offered, giving her an impish smile.

Pie. Her stomach growled morbidly loud at the thought, and John barked out a laugh, hurriedly stifling it. The old woman didn't even try to hide her laughter.

"I--um, yes. Let's go," Isabelle hastily said, not waiting for the further humiliation her stomach might impart. She gave the old woman a parting smile. "Thank you, and goodbye!"

As she and John walked back up towards the castle, a comfortable silence fell upon them. They looked up at the sky when a rumble was heard, catching sight of dark swollen clouds that threatened to let loose heavy tears onto the earth.

"We better hurry. Storm's coming in, and it won't be pretty." John slipped his hand in hers, picking up the pace as he led the way. They were almost at the entrance, Isabelle could make out the two stone lion heads guarding the gate, when the first drops of rain fell onto her cheeks.

With every hurried step towards shelter, the rain pattered harder until finally, the heavens unleashed a torrential downpour, soaking through their clothes and sending the cold right down to their bones. John's fist landed furiously against the kitchen's back door.

"Hold on, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Anna's grumbling could be heard from inside. There was the sound of scraping metal and the creaking of the hinges as the heavy door swung open. John bulldozed his way in, almost running over the poor old woman as he dragged Isabelle behind him.

"What on earth--"

"Oh, hello--" Isabelle's greeting was cut off as John pulled her down onto a stool.

"Here," he said, sitting her down in front of the large hearth fire. "Blanket. I'll go get a blanket."

He hurried into the pantry and after a few seconds, walked back out, nearly slipping on the puddle he created from his wet clothes.

"Er, Anna, where are the blankets?"

"Sit down, boy, before you hurt yourself!" Anna scolded, shooing him towards the fire. "You look like wet rats! You poor things must be soaked to the bone. Warm up and let this old hag fetch ya some warm clothes and a cup of tea."

Isabelle felt as though the cold was biting into her, freezing up her bones. She sat quietly, shivering and trying her best to soak up as much warmth from the hearth as she could. She glanced up when she felt John's eyes on her, a twitch of concern creasing the corners of his mouth into a frown.

"I-I'm alri-right," she bit out through chattering teeth. And really, she had been through much worse.

Her reassurance seemed to have the opposite effect.

John turned, eyes wide in a panic. "Anna!"

"Hold your horses, boy! These legs ain't what they used to be." The old woman emerged through the doorway, holding two blankets and balancing a bottle, filled with amber liquid, on top.

John jumped up like a man on fire and scooped the contents from the old woman's arms. He placed the bottle on the floor by the fire and threw a blanket over Isabelle, running his large hands over her arms and shoulders to get the blood flowing.

"Oh, um, thank you." Isabelle was warmed by their kindness.

They sat for a while in silence, breathing in the warm air and soaking in the heat from the fireplace. Listening to the crackle of the fire, Isabelle felt almost hypnotized by the small cinders that fluttered through the air, turning to black as they landed on her blanket.

Beside her, John let out a sigh.

"Well, I think it's just about time for a treat!" He clapped his hands together, throwing off the blanket and disappearing into the pantry. The man came out juggling a loaf of bread, a cloth of cheese and half a pie in his hands.

Isabelle's stomach gave an eager rumble, her mouth already watering at the smells as he placed the dish on her lap with a fork neatly placed on the side.

"Dig in!" He beamed.

"I see how it is. Give the pretty young lass the pastry and leave this old lady the crusts!" Anna groused dramatically, making Isabelle laugh. It was the first real laugh in a long time and it felt good.

"I didn't mean--" John looked flustered, glancing between the two.

"I'll share," Isabelle giggled, offering up the dish to the old woman whose eyes crinkled with mirth.

"Oh no, dear, I was just teasing the poor lad. You enjoy that, we'll get on just fine with this." She took a piece of the bread and cheese from John, and they happily gouged down on the food, simply enjoying one another's company. John regaled how he had found Isabelle in the market and then proudly showed off the rose necklace on her neck--which earned another blush from Isabelle who was not used to any sort of male attention.

"Pass me that bottle," Anna waved a hand toward the honey coloured liquid at Isabelle's feet and she passed it over, watching as the woman took a swig.

Anna licked her lips with a satisfactory smack. "Ah, nothing like a good spirit from the moth country. Would you like a sip?" She held out the bottle with a smile after she noticed Isabelle's curious gaze.

"No, no. She's too young for that sort of thing," John interjected, speaking on her behalf.

Well, what was she, a child?

"I'll have some," Isabelle held out her hand to take it. She sniffed the contents; it was strong with a slightly sweet undertone that prickled at her nose. Interesting.

"It'll put hair on your chest," the witch warned, bursting into laughter when Isabelle's face blanched.

"No it won't, stop teasing her," John chided. To Isabelle, he smiled. "It's just an expression, don't worry."

Isabelle brought the bottle to her lips and took a big gulp. She coughed and sputtered but managed to keep it down. It burned her throat. A sharp taste lingered on her tongue long after it had gone down.

"Haha! There you go! That will warm you up right quick." Anna took the bottle back and downed another swig before passing the bottle back. Isabelle took one more sip before John confiscated it, adamantly saying that would be enough.

The atmosphere was nice and they chatted well into the night. Sometime later, Isabelle felt very warm; her body was relaxed and her tongue loosened. It was either the alcohol or the atmosphere that made her brave enough to ask the questions that weighed on her mind.

"Anna, you're a powerful witch. You even gave Rosie a voice. How come you couldn't break the curse?"

Silence fell as the old woman's face hardened.

She leaned forward slightly. "Do you know how the curse came to be, child?"

"Wasn't it a sorceress that cursed the king for hurting her sister? But you're powerful too, right? Can't you--"

The witch shook her head, cutting her off. "I doubt even the witch that cast it knows how to break it. A curse made in anger is volatile. It grows and festers, taking on a life of its own. Only when the seed is destroyed can it be dispelled."

Isabelle's interest perked, eager to hear more, and so the woman indulged her with the tale of the curse.

"There were once two sisters, beautiful and brave. They traveled far from their homeland, seeking out knowledge of the ancients. They happened across a kingdom and asked his majesty to allow them to rest for the evening."

"He refused, right, and angered them?"

"No." Anna's smile was harsh. "His hospitality came willingly. Diana, the younger sister, was mesmerized by his handsome appearance and asked her sister to stay a while longer. Their stay extended for a month. When the sisters were set to leave on their way again, the king proposed to Diana, stating that he could not live without her. The older sister saw nothing but hunger in the king's eye and begged her sister to leave. But her eyes had already been clouded by the haze of love. Reluctant, she left her to the king and stated that she would return after her journey's goal was complete."

Isabelle hadn't realized she was leaning on the edge of her seat and had to steady herself upright to avoid a nose dive to the floor. After regaining her balance, she blinked up at Anna.

"Then what happened?"

Anna's smile dropped and her gaze turned cold as she stared down at the tabletop. "The older sister returned after attaining her knowledge and was eager to reunite with her bright and energetic sister, but was instead greeted by lifeless blue eyes and a tear-stained face." A wry smile twitched on Anna's lips as she met Isabelle's eyes. "You see, when the king had grown bored of her pretty face, he filled his bed and attention with wine and other women. Knowing no-one else in the palace, the younger sister's heart shriveled up in loneliness and agony while she was locked away like a pretty, pretty trophy, unable to leave, yet could not bear to stay. When the older sister saw how the king had treated her precious family, she shed her own blood to unleash a dark curse on the king; that he would look as hideous as his heart did."

Isabelle sucked in a breath. "And did she take the younger sister away with her?"

The old woman shook her head. "All magic has its price, little one. When the socceress came to her senses, her sister had vanished and her curse had spread throughout the kingdom. It was a terrible curse, one that exposed the darkness hiding in all humans to appear on the outside. The witch then left to find her sister, leaving behind the mess she had made."

"How awful!" Isabelle mourned, dropping her head in her hands. "The king was terribly wrong, but innocent people shouldn't have to--" Her stomach flipped.

She paused at the new sensation, blinking rapidly in surprise. It lurched again and she felt something rising in her throat.

"Are you alright?" John's eyes searched her face with concern. "Isabelle?"

"I think I'm going to-" Isabelle jumped from her seat, running out the door and down the hall. There was a latrine down the left wing at the end of the hall if she could just make it–

Isabelle clutched her mouth, realizing too late that the running only made it so much worse and unable to hold it in, she upheaved her evening snack all over the hallway floor. Her head swam as her body heaved until there was nothing left to give. This was the last time she was having that so-called spirit.

Wiping her mouth, she turned back the way she came and took a left at the stairs, heading down to the laundry pits to see if she could find something to wipe her mess with. At least no one witnessed her disgrace. It was late and only a few maids were working around the wash pools. She overheard their chatter as she got closer.

"After the Sabbot, that's when Lora said we are supposed to meet."

"Are you sure this will work? You know we'll all get hanged if it doesn't... or worse, eaten."

"I trust Lora, she said they have someone powerful on the inside. Remember, meet at the East gate after. Make sure they're all inside!"

"Excuse me?" Isabelle interrupted the women's hushed conversation. Their heads whipped up, faces pale and eyes wide.

An older woman with flushed cheeks and a round face stood up, grabbing her by the arms. A younger woman with a tangled straw braid startled from her seated position, still holding a wet sheet. She looked absolutely terrified.

The older woman shook Isabelle roughly. "What did you hear, girl? Speak!"

Isabelle groaned, her stomach rolling again at the sudden jerk. Feebly, she tried to pull herself away from the woman. "I-I was sick. I came to get a rag to clean the mess. I-I'm sorry, I didn't hear anything."

The woman's eyes narrowed, a deep brown boring into her own as though trying to fish out the truth behind her eyes. Finally, she pulled away, reaching for a half-dirty rag and tossing it towards Isabelle. "If I hear your tongue's been wagging, I'll make sure it can't no more."

Isabelle gulped at the woman's words, bowing hastily in thanks before scurrying back up the stairs. She hurriedly mopped up the mess, taking the dirty rag with her and tossing it in the used cloth basket in the kitchen, not wanting to make another trip down those stairs.

"Isabelle! Are you alright?" John was already rushing toward her as she walked in.

"It's a good thing ye came back in one piece," Anna commented; her mouth still around the bottle, nursing it like a newborn calf.

"I'm fine," she waved off John's fretting, not wanting him near the smell of her breath. "My head just feels a bit fuzzy. I think I need to lie down."

Anna nodded. "Aye, the drink will do that to you. Some sleep and you'll be right as rain."

"Don't you have a spell for this, Anna?" John complained as he laid out a blanket for Isabelle to lay down by the fire. "All-powerful witch, surely–"

"Perhaps she should experience it at least once. It'll toughen her up!" Anna snickered, a sly smile playing on her lips as she gathered herself to leave for the evening.

"Are you sure you're okay?" John asked for what felt like the tenth time as he placed a blanket over her, fussing with the sheet. Too tired to answer, Isabelle waved him off with a hand and a grunt. Her lids weighed like stones as they dragged her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

🌙

"Isabelle."

There was a hand shaking her shoulder.

"Isabelle!"

"Hm...?" Miraculously, her eyes peeled open as the world slowly came into focus. The fire still crackled in its hearth but a pale grey filtered dimly through the windows, heralding the day.

Her head pounded as she shifted, and she moaned again, feeling strong arms guide her as she moved to sit up. A glass of water was placed in front of her.

"It will help," John's smiling face came into focus.

Grateful, she took the water, sipping greedily. After a few moments, she looked around. "How long was I asleep?"

"You slept like the dead," John chuckled. "I had tried to wake you for the breakfast bell but you were out cold." He tipped his head in the direction of the kitchen door. "They just finished eating, but I saved you some porridge–"

Isabelle scrambled to her feet in horror, shedding her blanket and making a beeline for the door. She had missed breakfast! She was late.

"Isabelle! At least take some breakfast with you!" John hollered. "Bread, by the door!"

Isabelle flashed him a smile of thanks, and grabbed a loaf of bread on the way out, taking a bite as she flew down the halls.

Madame Gion was going to be furious!

PROCEED TO CHAPTER 13