Blush red, it sits still and lifeless, a tell-tale sign that no maiden in this room—not even the Swan—will be much help with the curse.

The petals are supposed to glimmer and sparkle if I ever encounter “the most beautiful and wisest girl,” but I’ve only witnessed that once.

It was several months ago, when I left one for Isabelle after loaning money to her father. Although he agreed to my terms, he tossed the bloom outside when I left.

While riding around that night, I caught sight of it near their basement window, sparkling and glowing brightly against the stone.

It rolled toward me when I approached, beckoning me to step closer, but I held my ground and watched in disbelief.

It confirmed that Izzie was the girl I should pursue, but that won’t stop me from finding out who the other woman is in the meantime.

I need to figure out her name…

A Secret They Won’t Share

Belle

Izzie and Father walk through the front door while I’m lighting dinner candles on Sunday. Armed with shopping bags, they laugh in their own little world before noticing me.

“It smells great in here, Belle,” Izzie says finally. “What are you making for dinner?”

“A rabbit roast.” I set their bowls on the table. “I used Mother’s recipe.”

“I can still see a layer of dust on the cauldron.” Father plops down in his chair. “I also saw dirt on the steps outside, so you’ll need to wash those before taking a bite.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod, grateful that I’ve already eaten.

“Izzie was approached by a very wealthy seaman today,” he says proudly. “Her best catch yet.”

“He’s a prince!” Izzie squeals. “I believe he said his name was Prince Eric. He’s promised to come visit me in a few days.”

“She told him to expect a freshly baked apple pie, so I suggest you pluck the best ones before bed.” Father shoos me away. “Go do that now.”

“Will do.” I head toward the door, but he suddenly grabs my arm, squeezing it hard. “Ouch…”

“Why the hell is my rifle out of place?” he asks.

“There was a visitor who came by the other day,” I say. “I thought he was attempting to rob us.”

“Ha!” He laughs, releasing me. “If Izzie isn’t here, there’s nothing of value in this home.”

Izzie, ever the Queen of Complacency, smiles sheepishly.

“I’m assuming it was one of the Yardham brothers?” She frowns. “I’ve already told him no. He’s far too poor for me.”

“Perhaps it was Mr. Ellison.” Father taps his chin. “Maybe he’s come to his senses and tripled his offer.”

“It was neither,” I say. “It was Gabriel Aston.”

“Who?” Izzie and Father utter in unison, their spoons frozen in mid-air.

“Gabriel Aston,” I repeat. “He said there was something important he needed to discuss, but he was too good to leave a real gift like the other suitors.”