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The Cursed Forest: The Sleeping Kingdom, #3
The Cursed Forest: The Sleeping Kingdom, #3
The Cursed Forest: The Sleeping Kingdom, #3
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The Cursed Forest: The Sleeping Kingdom, #3

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BOOK THREE in The Sleeping Kingdom series, a fairy tale retelling fantasy epic where the road to happiness is not always on the easy path...

The Cursed Forest is a dark and twisted place. Overgrown from the once prized forest of a kingdom long lost, its trees tower ten-times higher than any other in the Seven Kingdoms. With abrupt changes to its path, any traveler brave—or mad—enough to journey through the trees is at the whim of the forest to arrive at their destination alive. And it is here that most of our characters now find themselves...

When a messenger confirms her father never made it to Meerreich, Amabelle takes advantage of the situation to escape her impending marriage to Stéphane. Intuition leads her to believe her father cut through the Cursed Forest, and she soon finds herself lost amongst the looming trees. When a brush with death results in her waking in an enchanted and forgotten castle, Amabelle learns some fairy tales are not mere stories of imagination.

In D'or, Sajan is at odds with his father over Sajni's disappearance. He does not believe she is dead, and is infuriated the king will not spare any men to search the forest for the missing princess. Despite amateur survival skills and no plan, Sajan decides to journey alone, and the toils of the Cursed Forest hit him hard. Soon, he comes across a mystical white bear, and meets Eilidh, Princess of the Southern Isles, who has her own mysterious reasons for traveling the forest alone.

In Nordreich, Princess Gerda asks Kaj to venture into the woods to protect Queen Eija, the mythical true ruler of their kingdom. But when he finally meets the elusive "Ice Queen," things take a strange turn as he learns she has been kidnapping men from the forest.

And as Rapunzel and Theo make their way to the Unseen Fortress, they stumble upon a small cottage in the woods where a peculiar set of dwarfs seem to be hiding something...

THE CURSED FOREST continues the retellings introduced in WHITE AS SNOW and STROKE OF MIDNIGHT, while introducing the "Ice Queen." For fans of ONCE UPON A TIME and GAME OF THRONES, this is a series not to be missed!

**TRIGGER WARNING: There are scenes in this book that some readers may find upsetting. Reader discretion is advised.**

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 29, 2022
ISBN9781778286216
The Cursed Forest: The Sleeping Kingdom, #3

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    The Cursed Forest - Veronica Bonn

    The Cursed Forest

    The Sleeping Kingdom Book 3

    Veronica Bonn

    image-placeholder

    Kissmann Books

    Copyright © 2022 by Veronica Bonn

    All rights reserved.

    No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted.

    The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

    Book Cover by www.hannah-sternjakob-design.com

    Published by Kissmann Books

    ISBN-13 (print): 978-1-17782862-0-9

    ISBN-13 (eBook): 978-1-7782862-1-6

    **WARNING: This book contains references to sexual abuse, a scene of ambiguous consent, and pregnancy loss. Reader discretion advised**

    Contents

    Dedication

    Map of the Brokenland

    Map of Neverland

    Character Recap

    Act IV: The Whispering of Trees

    1.Amabelle

    2.Kaj

    3.Rapunzel

    4.Sajan

    5.Sajni

    6.Aurick

    7.Theodoric

    8.Sajni

    9.Amabelle

    10.Theodoric

    11.Wendy

    12.Amabelle

    13.Aerwyna

    14.Elodie

    15.Sajan

    16.Rapunzel

    17.Amabelle

    18.Sajni

    19.Aerwyna

    20.Amabelle

    Act V: The Curses of Men

    21.Amabelle

    22.Pan

    23.Rapunzel

    24.Kaj

    25.Amabelle

    26.Hooke

    27.Rapunzel

    28.Elodie

    29.Amabelle

    30.Aerwyna

    31.Sajni

    32.Elodie

    33.Wendy

    34.Aerwyna

    35.Sajan

    36.Rapunzel

    37.Kaj

    38.Aerwyna

    39.Hooke

    40.Elspeth

    41.Amabelle

    42.Sajan

    43.Aerwyna

    44.Elspeth

    45.Kaj

    46.Wendy

    Act VI: A Reincarnate's Curse

    47.Aerwyna

    48.Amabelle

    49.Sajni

    50.Hooke

    51.Sajan

    52.Aerwyna

    53.Aurick

    54.Rapunzel

    55.Elodie

    56.Aurick

    Character Pronunciation Guide

    Also By

    About Author

    The Black Crystal

    Black Crystal Preview

    Rainer

    For those who feel lost in the woods

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    Character Recap

    Need help remembering what happened previously? Here is where our characters currently find themselves…

    AERWYNA: The youngest siren princess confides in her closest friend, Captain Hooke, that she has fallen in love with a human prince. And she grows anxious each day as she approaches her debut as a full-fledged, dangerous siren.

    AMABELLE: Belle’s father receives news that one of his long-lost ships survived the tempest and is waiting at a dock in Meerreich. While he ventures off to go inspect it, and her sisters attend Prince Keandre’s ball, Belle has a harrowing near-death experience in the stables and is saved by Stéphane. This results in her finally accepting his proposal, despite how much she does not want to marry him.

    AURICK: Since the dwarfs ran the witch off their property and discovered that Schneewittchen is one of the nine Reincarnates, they have been quiet in their cottage.

    ELODIE: Prince Keandre announces he is throwing a ball, and every eligible maiden in François is invited to attend. Madame Masson forbids Ella to go, but with the help of a fairy named Wilhelmina, Ella attends all three nights of the ball. There, she falls in love with Prince Keandre, but just as he is about to propose to her on the final night, she runs off, too terrified of what her stepmother will say if she finds out. Initially, Ella’s childhood friend Pierre covers for her, but soon betrays her and tells Madame Masson she attended the ball. Ella is raped by Pierre, and when Madame Masson discovers the glass slipper in Ella’s attic, she mutilates Diamanta and Afrodille’s feet so they fit the slipper. Prince Keandre is not fooled when he arrives at the chateau, and Pierre knocks Ella out before the prince discovers she is there. Later, Prince Keandre returns and frees Ella from her wicked stepfamily, arresting her stepmother and stepsisters, but Pierre gets away.

    ELSPETH: When her appearance from an old hag does not turn back to how it once was, Elspeth ventures out to find another Reincarnate. Her mission is interrupted, and she needs to head back to the tower to feed Rapunzel. There, she discovers Rapunzel has met one of the re-born princes, and cuts off her long hair as a way to trick him. She throws the prince out of the tower and holds Rapunzel captive. After returning from another food haul, Elspeth discovers Rapunzel has escaped, and she has no way of tracking her while she is in the Cursed Forest. Elspeth then decides to head back to D’or, where she sends the Drowning Shadow after Sajni, the presumed Beauty Reincarnate.

    HOOKE: With Aerwyna’s help, the Jolly Roger is hidden and anchored in Foggy Rocks. Knowing now that Wendy is a Reincarnate, Hooke tries to send her messages through the natives, who smuggle food to the pirates. But his messages are not returned. Hooke learns that Aerwyna is in love with the Meerreichen prince, much to his heartache. He agrees to teach Aerwyna Françoisian, his native language.

    PAN: Pan begins to neglect Wendy in favour of an affair with Austral. When he discovers there is a friendship between Aerwyna and Hooke, he tries to throw a wrench between the two, and warns the siren not to trust the pirates. And while out collecting Lost Boys in the streets of London, Pan is ambushed by John and Michael Darling, who are hellbent on getting their sister back. Unfortunately for them, Pan stabs John to death.

    RAPUNZEL: After Rapunzel grants her mother refuge in the tower, she is relieved when her mother leaves for an extended amount of time, as she is difficult to live with. While her mother is away, a prince named Theo stumbles upon Rapunzel’s tower. She is instantly smitten, and shocked when Theo reveals that her mother is actually a witch, sworn to kill the nine Reincarnates—which Rapunzel is one of. When the witch returns and learns of Theo, she cuts off Rapunzel’s long hair and uses it to throw the prince out of the tower. Rapunzel later escapes, and finds Theo alive in a nearby village.

    SAJAN: Sajan is the crown prince of D’or, and Sajni’s twin. He is suspicious that his father, King Rajan, may know something about the disappearance of Braam, King of the Northern Isles, who is betrothed to his eldest sister, Marjana.

    SAJNI: Sajni drops her favourite trinket—a gold ball—into the well in the garden. A talking frog, who claims to be her sister’s missing betrothed, offers to fetch it for her if she’ll take him to her father. Sajni agrees, but ultimately betrays the frog and throws him back into the well. Later, when she goes to find the frog to make amends, she is pulled into the well by a corpse.

    SCHNEEWITTCHEN: Schnee is unconscious under the spell of the poison apple at the cottage with the dwarfs.

    THEODORIC: Theo is sent out into the Cursed Forest by Wilhelmina to find his brother, Rainer. Instead, he stumbles upon Rapunzel’s tower. There, he tells her the truth of the markings on her arm, and expose her mother as the witch. Later, the witch throws him out of the tower and he loses sight in one eye. Now, he and Rapunzel are reunited and making their way back to the Unseen Fortress.

    WENDY: Wendy begins to regret staying in Neverland. After letting it slip that Captain Hooke saw the markings on her arm, Peter has kept her locked in the Twisty Tree hideout. After convincing Peter to let her visit the village, she gives Tiger Lily a message to pass on to Hooke in hopes of being rescued.

    Act IV: The Whispering of Trees

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    Amabelle

    Autumn

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    The faded blue fabric was soft between Belle’s fingers as she stared at the dress in her hands. Knees folded beneath her, she felt numb as she gripped the last of her clothing waiting to be packed into the trunk. It sat open before her, neatly packed dresses, a night shift, and her other prized belongings—most of which were books—tucked inside. These were her worldly possessions, packaged carefully inside her small trunk, ready to move with her into their new home; to move in with Stéphane.

    Belle shivered at the thought as a knot formed in her stomach. Tomorrow she would become Madame Veneur. The last few days of summer moved too fast as time slipped through her fingers. The wedding arrangements charged ahead, and there was little she could do to stop them.

    Stéphane intended for the wedding to be a celebration unlike anything the small village had seen before. Everyone was invited to the nuptials and seemed to be involved in the preparations. Stéphane sweet-talked, or bullied, all the vendors into providing a service for little money or free.

    Every day, as Belle walked by the baker’s, his wife would pull her inside and show her the status of the elaborate tiered cake she was constructing. Mireille, between her bouts of pregnancy sickness, updated her on the number of kegs her husband put aside for the occasion. Each day, the number grew higher and there was little doubt the town would have a collective hangover the day after. And Colette, the worst of it all, kept giving Belle advice for her wedding night.

    Stéphane likes a particularly wet mouth, Colette explained the morning before, the last day of summer. She pouted her lips as she spoke and started to gesture with her hands. Don’t be shy about taking the entire length of him in your mouth and use your tongue in a swirling motion. He can be quite passionate and rough, which may be jarring at first. And do not be alarmed when he rams his finger up your— Belle cut off the unsolicited advice there.

    She slammed her trunk closed at the memory. The sound was reminiscent of a final nail in a coffin. It echoed in her mind and through her soul, and Belle briefly felt tears well in her eyes. There had to be a way to get out of this arrangement. There was still time for a miracle to occur.

    As she stood from the floor and brushed the dust from her sage skirt, her mother’s lavender dress caught the corner of her eye. It hung on the wall next to her rusted-framed mirror. It was the dress her mother passed down for Belle’s wedding day. It was a beautiful soft colour, with no stains, and ivory lace at the end of the three-quarter length sleeves. Matching lace lined the neckline, and pleats ran down the front into the skirt. On the floor next to it lay a pair of her mother’s old silken shoes. The buckles on them dull now, but overall, they were in good condition.

    Belle walked over to the dress and felt the fabric between her fingers. She then placed her palm against the bodice, and her heart felt heavy. What would her mother say about the situation? What advice would she have for Belle if she were here?

    Her mother had been a clever woman. If she were alive when the tempest took her husband’s ships and merchandise, she would have arrived at a better solution to the problem than this. She would have prevented or altered the state in which Belle and her sisters now lived. Mireille would be happily married to a wealthy man, or at least one more respectable than Jacques. There would be no question whether the child she carried was of her husband. And Colette certainly would not be working in a brothel. She, too, would be paired off with a sensible man and not reduced to a life of skin and lust. And Belle…

    She glanced at her reflection in the smudged mirror. What would her life have been like? Travel perhaps, or, at the very least, a better betrothal than the one charging toward her. Her fantasized-match would be a man of wit and intellect, who could hold a conversation over literature or smart her in a game of chess. He would be well-rounded in his education, speak multiple languages, and perhaps be able to play an instrument or two. His position would not matter to Belle, so long as they shared something in common and could live happily for the rest of their days.

    This she could not guarantee with Stéphane. The worsening knot in her stomach proved that. While he may provide a roof over her, one filled with the stuffed heads of his trophy hunts and the constant smell of sweat, there was no happiness waiting for her there. Stéphane was the chain that would shackle her to this poor town forever.

    Since arriving, Belle felt she was stuck here—when, in truth, she was not. She lacked the courage to leave, with a shortage of self-confidence and an abundance of worry over her father’s health. How hard would it have been to travel through D’or and into Meerreich? Or even find passage to the Northern or Southern Isles? Perhaps she could have even traveled through the forest to the Elven Empire and explore what lay beyond its borders on the northern continent.

    But it was too late now for all of that. Or was it?

    A sudden sharp rap on her front door broke her from her daydream, and she tore her gaze away from the mirror. Belle hurried down the stairs and cautiously opened the front door. Stéphane pushed the door wide open, and Belle shuffled out of the way as he came striding into the house, a large boar over one shoulder.

    Before she could say a word, he marched over to the table and, with one strong motion, flipped the beast off his shoulder and onto her table. It landed with a loud thud, deafening the room. Another nail in her coffin. The beady eyes of the dead animal stared at her. In its expression, she saw her own reflection, a sad, desperate plea for help. She was the last of his trophies to collect.

    For our wedding feast! Stéphane said proudly as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He grinned over at her, waiting for her praise and admiration. When it did not come fast enough, his arms crossed his chest, and he rose a dark eyebrow at her. The muscles beneath his red tunic bulged, and his dark eyes studied her curiously as she struggled on what to say.

    Shouldn’t you take it to the tavern? Belle asked. The tavern was where their reception would take place.

    I thought you would like to inspect it first, Stéphane said as he glanced back over at the dead animal. It was an enormous boar; Belle would give him that. To take it down all on his own was quite manly. It would be enough, in addition to the deer, three ducks, and two pheasants he had caught—also all on his own—to feed the entire town for their nuptials.

    Again, when Belle did not answer fast enough, her brain muddled as it tried to find an escape from tomorrow as it loomed closer, Stéphane shot her a look she did not understand. It was quick, but dark and angry, that dark side he had shown in brief spurts before. It reminded her of a look of insecurity, but she would never peg Stéphane as someone insecure.

    It’s, uh, perfect, she said ineloquently. Not even his wife yet, and Belle felt her intellect slipping.

    Stéphane looked back at his kill, nodding in approval to himself, and then turned to Belle with a different look. It was the opposite of the one he’d flashed before, but easily another one she wanted to avoid: the look of arousal.

    Belle took a step back as Stéphane put down the blunderbuss he held in his other hand. He was the only one in town to own such a weapon, another sign of his wealth in this poor village. Belle had seen them plenty of times in the capital’s nobility. She did not care for guns, much preferring the art and skill of archery—which Stéphane was proficient in as well.

    You know, Amabelle, Stéphane said, his voice suddenly husky and low, I’ve been saving myself for you since our agreement in the square.

    Belle winced at the memory of eight days ago, on the eighty-fifth day of summer, when Stéphane cornered her in the square. The forced pick of a date for their wedding had been the first nail in the coffin. She knew it was too soon for the port master in Meerreich to have received the inquiry about her father, but she wished she could convince Stéphane to wait a little longer. But by the look of his trousers, it was proving difficult.

    Stéphane suddenly advanced on her, his desire too powerful to ignore. Belle took another step back toward the open front door, her mind scrambling on a way to dissuade him. But he swooped one brawny arm around her waist as his other shut the door behind her, and before she could protest, his handsome face came down on her and their lips collided.

    The kiss was passionate and warm. For the briefest of moments, the knot in her stomach fizzled into something else as her body tried to melt into the kiss. But as his arm around her waist pulled her closer, and his other hand slipped from the door and onto her rear, Belle snapped out of the brief trance and tried to disentangle herself.

    Stéphane, she panted as he tried to bring his mouth to hers again. The sight of his chiseled chin sent both panic and—to her chagrin—arousal through her. She took another step away, her back now against the door, his arm still secure around her waist. He grinned at the challenge, only stiffening his desire, and Belle put her hand up to block his next kiss. It would be best to wait until tomorrow, wouldn’t it?

    For one tense moment, she thought her persuasion had worked. She watched as he considered it, the slow wheels in his brain mulling over the idea; but then the hungry spark returned to his eye. Stéphane pulled her close again, their torsos pushing together, and by the bulge she felt against her leg, it was obvious he would burst at any moment.

    Fear washed over her as he wrapped his other arm around her waist. To her horror, her loins beat with longing, and Belle felt betrayed by her own body. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked up into Stéphane’s eyes. What she needed was a miracle.

    And it came in the form of a knock at the door. A low, deep growl came from Stéphane’s throat, angered at the interruption. Belle took advantage of the moment and wrenched herself from his arms. Quickly, she turned and opened the door before he could persuade her to ignore it and keep it shut.

    "Bonjour, the man said, a messenger by the sigil he wore on his uniform. He glanced questioningly at the two of them. I am looking for Monsieur Dubois?"

    That is my father, Belle answered, her heartbeat slowing. The messenger held out a letter for her. It had the Meerreichen sigil on it in a blue-green wax.

    Belle turned away from the door as the messenger bid her adieu and she ripped open the letter quickly. It was much too early for a response to the note she sent eight days ago. Mail by messenger was long, and she could not afford to send it by raven.

    "Dear Monsieur Gustav Dubois, Belle read aloud. I am writing again about your ship awaiting at port. Perhaps my first letter did not find you well. We have received your vessel and are inquiring as to your arrival to retrieve or dispose of the material inside. The ship itself is quite distressed with…"

    Belle let the letter drop from her hands as she skimmed the rest. Her father never arrived in Meerreich.

    Stéphane stepped on the note as one of his arms snaked around her again and turned her around. Now that he is gone…

    M-my father, Belle stuttered, her body no longer betraying her to her betrothed, he never arrived in Meerreich. He is missing, Stéphane! I need to find him—at once.

    Belle whirled around out of his grasp and took a step towards the stairs. Her mind at once started compiling a list of supplies to pack. Traveling in autumn would not be terrible, but if it took her into winter… And her father took most of their money with him for his own lodging along the way. Perhaps she could borrow some from Mireille, who would surely agree once she knew the situation…

    Stéphane’s hand whipped out and gripped her wrist. You can’t leave, we are to be wed tomorrow!

    Belle tried to pull her wrist from him, but he only gripped it tighter. Stéphane, I must go find my father! He may be hurt or lost, or—or even dead. I cannot get married without knowing where he is first!

    The darkness returned to Stéphane’s eyes. He pulled her closer by the wrist, and this time the knot in her stomach was only of trepidation. "I’ve waited long enough, Amabelle. I’ve been a patient man. You are mine and we will be man and wife!"

    I’m not calling it off, Stéphane, Belle pleaded. "It is only another delay. I must know what has happened to my father. S-surely you understand?"

    The possessive look did not leave his eye. It was dangerous and angry, another prey missed by an arrow. The boar on the table looked at her over his shoulder, warning her again of her fate. Her father’s disappearance was her miracle. This was the only chance she had to get out of the wedding.

    I am coming with you, he announced at last. His grip relaxed on her wrist, but the anger did not leave his eyes. We will ride at dawn.

    Thank you, Stéphane, Belle sighed. She placed a hand on his chest, but then hesitated. She did not want it to lead to anything more, especially after their near moment of passion minutes ago. I will meet you at dawn in the town square.

    Stéphane’s eyes studied her again, intensely. He still held onto her wrist, and for a moment, she worried he was going to scoop her up again and have her right there next to the boar.

    Instead, he let go and turned to the table. He hoisted the boar back up onto his shoulder and grabbed his blunderbuss.

    Belle hurried over to open the door. As he passed her, he paused and looked down at her again. His features were handsome but dangerous, that possessive look still in his dark blue eyes. You’re mine. Don’t you forget that. Come to the tavern tonight—we can at least celebrate your birth day.

    Yes, of course, Belle answered, taken back he remembered today was her birth day. I will see you tonight.

    With one more skeptical look, Stéphane turned away and headed for the village. Belle watched as he threw the beast onto his black steed and led it back into town.

    Once he was out of sight, Belle turned her eyes up to the sky to check the time. The sun was still high, just before midday.

    I must act quickly, she thought as she ran back into the house. She would not be meeting Stéphane at the tavern later and would not be riding off with him at dawn. Belle was leaving on her own—tonight.

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    An hour later, her satchels were full of whatever food she could find, an extra cloak, blanket, and full canteen of water. Belle finished adjusting the last strap on her saddle and gave the horse an approving pat.

    Come on, Belle clicked as she grabbed the reins with a firm grip and led her horse from the stable.

    Belle adjusted the hood of her midnight blue cloak over her head as she turned and took one last peek at the road behind her that led into town. Her heart thumped as she watched the village in the distance, glowing under the afternoon sun, and she swallowed her fear. It was a mixture of dread for the retribution Stéphane would enact once he realized she had left, and the unexpected deep sense of betrayal she felt about it.

    And yet, at the same time, she felt a thrill of exhilaration. Here at last she was leaving behind the small town. It could only be for the foreseeable future, a season or two, or perhaps this was it. This was the moment she would look back on, the pivotal moment in time where she finally dared to step foot out of the poor village holding back her potential and when she took a step towards a greater life. Only her fate knew what lay ahead.

    Her horse snuffed, and Belle turned to pat him on the nose. The town out of sight, she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Come, Basile.

    Together, they walked to the back of the small farmhouse. Once out into the field, Belle climbed onto the saddle and settled into the worn leather seat. With steady hands, she gripped the reins and off they went. She could not afford to waste any time. It was imperative they got as much space and time between them and Stéphane as possible before tomorrow’s dawn. She knew he would come for her once he realized what had happened.

    As they galloped through the rolling fields, Belle took in a deep breath of the fresh air. With the stink of the village behind her, she allowed herself to smile momentarily, as the first autumn wind whipped past her. It pushed off her hood and the fear from before vanished as the exhilaration of a new adventure took over. She had no set plan, no set path, only the vague goal of finding her father. Wherever it took her from there was beyond the scope of her intellect and she welcomed it with open arms.

    When she reached the bridge at the river, the edge of D’or just beyond, the sky was bright with oranges as the sun sat halfway down the horizon. They had made good time so far, and with any luck, they would stumble upon an inn across the border of D’or for their first night.

    Basile’s hooves trotted across the bridge as they slowed. The wooden boards beneath them creaked as the river flowed beneath. It was a lazy current on this day, the high flow of rushing waters not due again until later in the season and into winter. Her reflection warped against the ripples as she gazed over the bridge as they crossed.

    Just on the other side of the bridge, the road forked. A decrepit wooden sign stood between the two diverging paths. Belle knew which path to take without needing to read. D’or was off to the right, the kingdom’s name barely legible against the wooden grain. That path continued off into more fields, the hills flattening out, and in the distance she could see the marker waving at the territory boundary. D’or was within her sight. She knew the neighbouring kingdom was close to her village, but not this close. The first of her foreign travels was so near.

    But as she lifted the reins to lead Basile off to the right, something on the left caught her attention. The plaque for this path was worn, the destination long dissolved or scratched out. The marker’s grooves were illegible, and Belle could not recall seeing this option on her father’s map. This path followed the river back the way they came. It then jutted off into the trees of the Cursed Forest and was lost in the darkness.

    It was there that something caught her eye. Something flapped in the wind near the base of the first towering tree. As she eyed the dark towers, branches swaying in the breeze, she felt a calling. Something about the forest beckoned her, and she hesitated at the fork. The flashback of the shadow across the river amongst the trees from summer, on that fateful day when she accepted Stéphane’s proposal, came before her. The shadow had frightened her at the time, but now, as she considered the trees, she felt no fear. Only curiosity.

    The wind almost whispered her name, and the flapping item at the base of the tree won over her curiosity. Basile protested at first in the change of direction, but Belle nudged him softly with her feet and they trotted off to the left. She slowed as they neared the trees, the setting sun giving them an eerie glow.

    Belle climbed down from Basile but held tight onto the reins. Her hand shook as she knelt and reached for the parchment flapping in the wind. She recognized it at once as she saw it up close, and a deep trepidation filled her as she looked from it into the forest. It was one of her father’s maps, one of the many he had taken with him on his journey. There in the corner was his writing, a script he’d written on this copy long ago: The forest is not as it seems.

    Reflexive tears sprang to her eyes as she gripped the map in her hands and gazed into the dark trees of the forest. There was a chance, a small rationale in her whispered, that the map had blown out of his cart as he traveled the right path into D’or. It blew with the breeze down here and became caught at the base of the tree. Her father could be drunk in a D’oran town, or even in Meerreich, his inebriation the cause for delay in reaching his ship.

    But a different voice whispered in her ear, louder. She was not sure where the voice came from, as it was not the voice of her conscience or rationale, but surprisingly her own voice. It was firm and unwavering, a piece of magic she did not comprehend but knew was right.

    Her father, Gustav, had taken the path on the left. He chose to cut through the Cursed Forest on his way to Meerreich. And though Belle did not know the reason why, she was determined to find out.

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    Kaj

    The soothing reverie of the choir rang out through the chapel. The intimate audience inside was quiet, their eyes closed, as the heavenly sound echoed in the arched ceiling of the dome.

    Kaj peeked an eye open. The choir sang in unison from the balcony above, their faces hidden from him at this angle, but their voices soft and clear. The lords and ladies of the court sat in the pews, heads bowed, as the melodious hums filled the air around them. They were a sea of blues and greens, the official colours of Nordreich to reflect the seas and forest surrounding their kingdom.

    At the front of the altar, Princess Gerda knelt on a plush cushion. A delicate lace veil covered the back of her head and followed the long train of her dress down the aisle. Her thick eyelashes were closed and brushed against her pink cheeks. There was a small smile on her lips, and Kaj’s heart skipped as he looked at her longingly. He wished it was he who knelt beside her, his dark hand in hers, as they pledged their unity in love and vowed to spend the rest of their lives together.

    Instead, clutching her hand and kneeling next to her was the Northisler. Prince Hendrik was tall and wide next to the petite princess. Her hand was swallowed in his, and unlike her smile, his lips were pursed together in a thin line. His red hair was sharp and bright against the browns of the Nordreichen nobles, much like Kaj’s skin was stark against their pale pinks.

    As the choir finished their piece and the couple rose, Princess Gerda glanced at Kaj. She smiled at him quickly, before she turned back to the priest and gazed up at her soon-to-be husband adoringly. The smile sent Kaj’s heart racing, and he stood tall in his uniform as he watched the rest of the ceremony. He did not have her hand, but at least her friendship. And he would treasure it for as long as she lived.

    Hours later, Kaj stood guard against the wall as the festivities continued. The princess laughed at the head table, her cheeks rosy with merriment and drink. Prince Hendrik sat next to her, a smile now on his chiseled face. He stroked her cheek with one hand as a goblet of wine was gripped in the other. The princess then stood and excused herself from the table.

    Kaj watched the prince with wary eyes. He did not approve of the Northisler. The proposal had come out of the blue after a quick chance meeting. Too naive to see through his charms, the princess accepted, and now they were set to have an outsider for a consort. Nordreich was a small kingdom. It was steeped in tradition, much like all the kingdoms of the Brokenland, but theirs was peculiar. And an outsider did not fit in the box Nordreich had built for itself.

    It was hypocrisy to think this way, as Kaj frowned at the prince, for he himself was an outsider. A foreigner to Nordreich, and to the Brokenland, Kaj was fortunate to have been welcomed into the kingdom seamlessly.

    What is that frown on your face, Kaj?

    The sweet voice of the princess drew Kaj away from his scowling at the prince as he looked down at her. His heart warmed at the sight of her. Lush brown curls fell in tendrils down her back and framed her heart-shaped face. Curious brown eyes twinkled at him as she smiled coyly. There are no frowns permitted on my happy day.

    My apologies, princess, Kaj responded with a bow. Princess Gerda laughed and placed her hand on his arm. The people of Nordreich were friendly and familiar with one another, so different from other kingdoms and realms he had served. It still caught him off guard at times. Her hand was warm through the fabric of his coat, the weight of her dainty palm a comfort.

    Come; let us walk, she said as she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. He would always oblige her requests, especially if it meant spending time with her alone.

    They stepped out of the grand hall and into the quiet corridor. The walls were lined with great windows overlooking the harbour below. The chilly Aerwynian Sea glittered in pinks and oranges as it reflected the setting sun. They walked in a comfortable silence, servants bowing their heads to Princess Gerda, murmuring congratulations as they passed.

    Kaj sneaked quick glances down at the princess. Her eyes were glassy, as though in a fog of daydream, lost in her own world of newfound happiness. Kaj longed to experience the feeling himself. He thought once, long ago, freedom and happiness were in his grasp, the pinnacle of his own happily ever after, but then it was lost.

    Come, Princess Gerda said as she pulled on his arm toward one of the open balconies.

    He opened the glass plated door and held it for her as she passed by. That same secretive, small smile played at her lips as it had all evening. The charms of the prince must have been more powerful than Kaj realized, for he could not think of a time where anyone smiled as much. Not a time recently, at any rate. Many, many years ago, when he was still in the Sands and he helped a poor young man…

    I have something to tell you, the princess said, breaking him from his thoughts. He was thankful for the interruption. The memories of his previous master and their lost kingdom were painful to relive. One day, he would think about them again. And when the time was right, he would return to the Sands.

    Princess Gerda glanced over her shoulder at the open door back inside the castle. The corridor was bare. They were alone on the rounded plateau, nothing but the view of the sea beneath them as their company. A gull squawked in the distance over the water as though signaling the coast was clear.

    Are you happy, princess? Kaj suddenly asked before she could start. There was something toiling inside him, and he suddenly felt he had to express his dislike for the Northisler. He knew it was too late to stop the wedding, their vows already spoken, but perhaps they could run away together if he professed his love.

    The princess’s smile faltered for a moment at the question. Yes, of course, she said, and there was nothing in her tone or expression to indicate otherwise. Why do you ask? You witnessed me recite my vows to the man I love.

    The statement was a blow to Kaj’s heart, a sudden lump threatening to form in his throat, but he pushed it down. He would deal with the sentiment later, as it was nothing new. Ever since the princess became of age, he had sequestered his feelings for her, telling himself her friendship was enough. And it had gained him some advantage, for he was her confidant. He knew it was the closest he would ever get.

    I just have some reservations about the prince, Kaj admitted at last.

    Princess Gerda scoffed. Reservations? A little late to be airing them now, isn’t it? she asked playfully. It was evident that even without knowing what they were, his reservations meant little. She was in love with Prince Hendrik and he would be their new consort.

    Kaj licked his lips and looked away from her. The sea sparkled beneath them as the last beams of the sun cast their orange rays. The yellow moon was high above them, its crescent reflected on the water’s surface.

    There was little he could do now to persuade her that Prince Hendrik was only using her for her throne. Thirteenth in line in his own kingdom, the Northern Isles, it was natural he would try to seek a throne elsewhere. There were few monarchies where the apparent heir was a princess. Three out of the seven kingdoms. Princess Schneewittchen of Allemand was presumed dead, and the Southisler dynasty did not marry outside of their own kind. Sweet Princess Gerda remained. It was curious that none of his elder brothers did the same, especially after their reigning monarch, King Braam, the eldest of the brothers, went missing in the spring. For a while, Kaj wondered if there was a connection between the king’s disappearance and Prince Hendrik’s sudden proposal, but he could make no sense of it.

    It appears he is changing customs already, Your Highness, Kaj said in a quiet voice.

    The princess nodded her head slowly and she, too, turned toward the sea. The mix of sunset and moonlight shone on her face, illuminating it against the coming dark sky. Her eyes still twinkled with newly wedded bliss, the secret still sparkling there.

    You speak of the wedding date, she said.

    It’s customary for the royal wedding to be in winter, Kaj urged. Already he does not respect the customs of Nordreich, and he is to be our leader? To be a consort next to you?

    Princess Gerda reached out and put her hand on Kaj’s forearm. He turned his dark eyes down to meet hers. Her expression was serious, and her light eyes searched his. It was I who insisted we get married early. Yes, when our betrothal first began, he wanted a spring wedding. When I informed him of our tradition, he accepted the long engagement. It was I who chose the first of autumn as an alternative date…

    But why? Kaj asked in bewilderment. As the reigning ruler of Nordreich, the princess upheld all the customs with reverence. There were times when her unwavering faith was overbearing, if Kaj were honest.

    That small smile spread across her face again, and in the moonlight, he saw her cheeks turn pink. Her eyes suddenly turned away and she looked out over the sea, a dreamy look upon her face. I—I am with child.

    Kaj felt his own cheeks turn red as his heart hammered. A thousand thoughts and feelings flooded through him. The gold bangles around his wrist clinked as he straightened his arms out to lean against the balcony’s ledge. He stared down between his arms for a moment, hiding his face, his hurt, from her as he let out a low, long exhale.

    Oh Kaj, the princess said in a gush. He looked back up at her, her eyes searching his again, wanting him to understand and not disapprove. Please wipe the disapproving look off of your face. It is love, Kaj. Hendrick is ecstatic about it, as am I. The babe is due in summer, and we did not want people to talk—to assume it was the reason we wed.

    She suddenly reached down and took his hands in hers. The look in her eyes was pleading. Please be happy for us—for me, sweet Kaj. You are my dearest friend. And do not worry about the wedding—Queen Eija approves. She knows about the babe and has no qualms about the wedding being in autumn. The future heir excites her, knowing her legacy continues.

    Ah yes, Kaj thought to himself. The fabled Queen Eija.

    In many of the realms Kaj traveled through since leaving the Sands, most had some form of religion. Some races worshipped the magic which others possessed, such as how the elves held the fairies in high reverence as they guarded over them. Those who possessed the magic worshipped the earth, and those at the bottom, the furthest away from magic or longevity—the humans—were the most likely to find themselves steeped in religion. Some worshipped many gods or goddesses, some a single entity.

    Yet the Brokenland was the first realm Kaj traveled where there seemed to be a lack of religion. Perhaps it was because their continent was the byproduct of magic, the effects of a curse, and though the humans bore no magic and witches were seldom, they were touched enough by it that the idea of a deity was unimportant. Mermaids swam in their waters, elves were at their borders, both proof a higher being, for lack of a better word, existed out there.

    But Nordreich was different. They had their own goddess that they worshipped. At least, Kaj assumed she was a goddess. Legend was Queen Eija founded Nordreich when the curse tore the kingdoms apart. She brought the Northeners, most of whom came from what was now referred to as the Dead Kingdom, together, reunited their traditions, and promised them one day everything would be restored. And as she ruled, their people prospered. Their kingdom was small but rich with resources, hardworking people, and prosperity.

    And then the details were fuzzy, for Kaj at least. Some said Queen Eija died, but her spirit lived on in each monarch after her. Others said she hand selected the next prince or princess. All Kaj knew was the Nordreichen people worshipped her and did everything in her name. Princess Gerda was the one who ruled them by day, but Queen Eija was their constant.

    By the way Princess Gerda spoke of the queen, it sounded as though she was a real person. Kaj asked to meet her many times, but the princess would only giggle and say she had no need to visit him. The queen only visited the consort who reigned in her stead. Kaj wondered how Prince Hendrick would feel about that, or if he even knew of the stipulation. Here he came looking for a throne, and one he gained, but he would never be king. Princess Gerda would always stay as princess, for Queen Eija was absolute.

    She spoke to you? Kaj asked at last. Though he was skeptical of the deity’s existence, he would respect their beliefs.

    Princess Gerda smiled and nodded her head. Of course. She comes to me often, Kaj, as there are trying times ahead. Prince Hendrick’s marriage was a sign she was waiting for.

    This piqued Kaj’s interest. His eyebrows rose in surprise. Trying times? Did she elaborate? Is Nordreich in danger?

    The princess shook her head. She squeezed his hands in hers and then let one of them go. She rubbed the flat of her stomach, smiling at it as she did so before looking back up at him. Nordreich is just fine. Its future is secured. All will be well, Kaj, you will see. Come, let us head back. Trust me, you will learn to love Prince Hendrick, just as I do.

    Kaj scoffed, but the princess did not notice as she dreamily walked back towards the door inside. The odds were higher that he would meet Queen Eija than get along with the prince.

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    Rapunzel

    R apunzel, it is time to wake.

    Theo’s soft voice and gentle touch on her shoulder woke her abruptly from her dreamless sleep. The campfire next to them was small, Theo in the process of smothering the flames as they made ready for another day of travel. Freshly picked berries, and leftover meat from the rabbit the night before lay waiting for her, but her eyelids refused to open.

    For a quiet moment, Rapunzel huddled into herself, wrapping the fur-lined cloak around her small body as she took a deep breath of the forest air and readied herself for another perilous day. Her bones ached as she forced her eyes open and sat up slowly. Sleep eluded her the night before. Snapping twigs, chilling howls, and unidentifiable screams had filled the night. The sounds did not bother Theo, who stayed awake half the night to stay watch, but Rapunzel found them unnerving. Even with Theo’s lean arms around her, a comfort she melted into each night, she had little sleep.

    She would never understand how the woodland born prince survived so long on his own in the Cursed Forest. The constant landscape of endless towering trees where the sunlight was impenetrable grew tired in Rapunzel’s mind. It was almost as bad as the tower. The forest was a different kind of cage, one that was unfamiliar, that she was unable to navigate. At least she was not alone.

    Theo smiled as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her heart warmed at the gesture as he prepped for the day’s travels. The prince was nothing but kind and patient with her. He would wake her gently in the morning, as she seemed incapable of waking at dawn. Even with little sleep, the handsome prince was alert and ready for anything the forest tried to throw at them. Theo foraged and caught all their food, prepped the fire each night after finding a safe place to rest. He cared for his horse, and he never complained about Rapunzel’s endless playing of her pan flute.

    The instrument was the only other thing maintaining her sanity. As it had in the tower, music kept her spirits up, gave her something to look forward to each day, and helped pass the time.

    Another sleepless night? he asked with a sad smile as Rapunzel sat up fully and stretched her arms above her head. Her shoulders popped and back cracked as she straightened. The relief was immediate after huddling on the hard ground all night again.

    Yes, she replied sleepily as she grabbed some berries. They were tart and sour, but her stomach welcomed them.

    Theo looked up into the sky. We should reach Outcaste in about twelve days or so.

    Rapunzel looked up at the sky too, nothing but grey streaks between dark green branches. How can you tell?

    Theo turned back to her with a smirk. The dark patch across his one eye was familiar now. In a way, it made him more dashing. A part of her mourned at each sight of it, the flashback of him falling from the tower and his scream playing in the back of her mind.

    I just can. It’s hard to explain... I have a feel for the forest, he said. It’s a fickle thing. It takes you where it wants you to go, not the other way. What could be a three-day journey for one person, could be a quarter-season or more for another. The forest decides when to reveal your destination to you, should you ever get there.

    It’s terribly confusing, Rapunzel commented.

    Theo nodded. It is. But for those born in the forest, those who know how to—attempt—to manipulate it, you get a sense of where things are, and where you are in the forest.

    But it took you fifty days to get to my tower, Rapunzel said as she picked at bits of the leftover meat. It was cold and dry in her mouth but went down easier when she mixed it with a handful of berries. She did not care for rabbit meat, but Theo insisted she needed to eat it to keep her energy up.

    Theo shrugged. The Unseen Fortress is far away from the tower and Allemand. It borders near Meerreich, which is on the other side of the continent. When I left, I traveled south to find my brother... which the forest clearly did not want me to do. Instead, it led me to you.

    Rapunzel blushed at the thought, a small smile playing at her lips. Theo walked over and sat next to her, taking one of her hands into his. She gazed into his one good eye, the forest green colour captivating. He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her lips. Rapunzel melted into it, sweet and innocent, as her cheeks blazed further.

    There was nothing more. Just a sweet kiss between two newfound lovebirds, and Rapunzel tucked a strand of her jagged straw hair behind her ear as they pulled apart. Theo was a gentleman. Their first kiss had been disastrous, as Rapunzel was flustered and shocked. And so, they took things slow, Theo never moving in for more than she could handle.

    This is true love, Rapunzel thought as he stood back up to continue packing their things. When they arrived at his home, they could explore their relationship further. Until then, their key role was survival—but kisses wouldn’t hinder that.

    And where is your brother, exactly? Rapunzel asked, unable to recall if she knew the answer from previous conversations.

    "He was attempting to get to the centre of the forest, to the ruins of Castillon Courbet, the main castle of Solroyaume. But the further inward you go, the more the forest fights. It’s the most dangerous there, the trees stacked together too tightly to move through, and savage animals lurking in the shadows. Thick, sharp thorns surround the castle, dragon, and princess... and so, regardless of how close the Unseen Fortress is to the castle, it will take Rainer a miracle to make to the middle, Theo explained. We’re sooner to arrive back to the Unseen than he is to have made it into the ruins."

    Do you know where we are now? she asked.

    Theo looked up again at the signs only he could decipher. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as a gust of wind suddenly fluttered through their camp.

    Still just east of Allemand, he answered. The forest is being slow to take us where we need to go.

    As he packed up the last of their things, Rapunzel chewed down the rest of her food, reflecting on his words. East of Allemand. They had not traveled far from the western-most kingdom of the Brokenland; the kingdom where, she had learned, her mother had been queen.

    She could still hear the ripping of parchment as had she torn down the wanted poster of her mother. Her haughty face with hair piled on high, the artist taking liberty to add a fat gem worn around her neck and a crown on her head. While Rapunzel had frozen and starved in the tower some nights, her mother was warm and comfortable in a luxurious castle.

    Until she killed her stepdaughter and had to run off...

    A shiver ran up Rapunzel’s spine at the thought. Her meal finished, she stood to go relieve herself behind a nearby tree. She thought back to the fateful day, last spring, when her mother scrambled up into the tower, unrecognizable. Under the ruse of being bewitched by someone, Rapunzel now put together her mother had likely done the spell herself. There was solace in the fact that it backfired, and her mother did not resemble the beauty she once did. Rapunzel knew how conceited the woman was and how this was a sore spot for her.

    But the reason behind the spell was likely due to the reason for her treason: a disguise to kill her stepdaughter.

    Despite locking her in a tower,

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