It had been months since Belle woke to the sound of hooves. Without the ogre wars raging on outside her library window, she slept peacefully, but now the forceful thunder of a galloping horse had her bolting upright.
“Papa?” she called before her eyes adjusted and her mind came to enough to recognize her new home.
Shaking her head to clear it—and hoping Rumpelstiltskin had not heard her cry for her father—she rushed to the window and threw it open. This surely indicated an emergency, and if Rumpelstiltskin was in trouble, she wanted to know.
A gust of chilly dawn wind blew the wisps of hair that had come out of her braid as she slept, and she saw nothing, which was only a little unusual since her window didn’t face the front door. She leaned out, wind whipping through her thin chemise and right to her bones.
Even from this vantage point, she saw nothing. A worrying thought took hold—what if horse and rider were invisible? She ducked back in, slamming her window shut with more force than necessary. Invisible could mean one of two things—either someone powerful had come, or the horse was not of this world. Neither bode well.
She hastened to her dressing gown, paying so little attention that she slid it on backwards, and then yelped at the renewed galloping.
Looking wildly around, she was convinced her invisibility theory held water, and she yelled, “Rumpelstiltskin!”
He appeared behind her in a pop of smoke, lips pursed. “Did you call me in because you’ve forgotten how to dress yourself?”
She whirled around. “Shut up, this is important.”
His eyebrows raised, but she didn’t have time to consider whether the Dark One was used to being told to shut up or not. She flung her hand toward the window.
“I heard horses.”
At that, he did frown. “Horses?”
“Yes, outside! But I couldn’t see any.”
He raced to the window and Belle followed, standing back when he threw it open again. After leaning out farther than she had, he shook his head.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Maybe they’re invisible?”
The look he gave her almost silenced her, but he undercut it when he waved a hand out the window and sent a carpet of smoke out. Belle scooted up next to him and they both watched the smoke settle over the grounds, sticking to nothing and no one in the air.
“Were you asleep when you heard horses, dearie?” He sneered, leaning away from her when he discovered how close they stood.
Belle licked her lips. “Well, it’s possible, I suppose—”
A tinny scream ripped through the room, and Belle all but jumped into Rumpelstiltskin’s flailing arms. The galloping was back, but this time, they both zeroed in on a small flurry of limbs tearing across the floor.
“What—” Was it a toy?
“Rumpelstiltskin!” the thing screamed, then drove a spear into the Dark One’s boot. It was so small, it couldn’t pierce the leather, and it snapped. Rumpelstiltskin watched, lip quirked in amusement.
“You’ll have to try a little harder than that to kill me, dearie.”
Belle knelt down to get a better look at horse and rider and then gasped. The man with russet curls flowing down his muscled back, an inscrutable tattoo on his forearm, and a broken spear in hand was not riding the horse. He was the horse.
She leaned closer and he jabbed the jagged spear end toward her face, startling her backward. “I’m so sorry, I mean you no harm!”
“The Dark One is my enemy, and if you share his bed, then you are my enemy!” He charged her and might have gotten her eye had Rumpelstiltskin not yanked her to her feet, leading the centaur to crash harmlessly against the thick wool of her backwards dressing gown.
“Share a bed?” Rumpelstiltskin said. “What, you think the Dark One sleeps in a library?”
Belle’s face heated, but she said nothing as she watched the miniature man set himself to rights. If Rumpelstiltskin’s sole objection to the insinuation was the location of the bed, who was she to contradict?
“I challenge you!” the centaur roared, waving his broken weapon. “Fight me man to man!”
“Who are you?” Belle asked.
For the first time, the centaur paused, looking up at her with what she thought might have been incredulity. “I am Sir Rowan of the Autumn Kingdom, and you—”
“Ah, yes, I remember you now.” Rumpelstiltskin twirled a finger. “You sacrificed yourself to break the curse on your—people.” He narrowed his eyes. “How are you still here?”
“What do you mean?” Belle asked. “Who cursed him?”
“You, Dark One—you said you would take away my physical prowess!”
“Which is exactly what I did.”
“Excuse me, Sir Rowan?” Belle said. When Sir Rowan merely screamed in displeasure, she continued. “If you’ll allow me, I can lift you so that we may all speak together.”
For the first time, Sir Rowan quieted. Belle pressed her lips together, wishing now that she had righted her dressing gown when she had the chance.
“I will allow it.”
She knelt again and held her hand out, waiting for Sir Rowan to climb onto her palm before standing again. Once he was eye level, Rumpelstiltskin plucked the spear out of his hand.
“If you stab her in the eye, you’ll have much worse to deal with than some lost prowess,” Rumpelstiltskin said over Sir Rowan’s roars.
“Why did you make him so small?” Belle asked. “What happened?”
“The Dark One cursed my people, and then he made me sacrifice myself to undo it!” Sir Rowan screamed.
Belle’s eyes widened, and she turned her wounded look on Rumpelstiltskin. “Is that true?”
Instead of his usual flippance at the mention of his past crimes, Rumpelstiltskin’s face scrunched in annoyance. “Only,” he said, raising a finger, “in the most technical sense.”
Since she couldn’t fold both arms, Belle crossed one over her chest. “What does that mean?”
“He cursed us and then abandoned us!” Sir Rowan pranced around on her hand, and his little hooves stung.
Rumpelstiltskin pressed a scaly hand to his chest. “I did not curse you, dearie. The Dark One cursed you.”
“You are the Dark One,” Belle said, though she was confused. Rumpelstiltskin was always careful with words, but he never cared whether he went by name or title.
“I am now, but I wasn’t always.” He jabbed a finger at Sir Rowan. “The Dark One before me cursed your people, and I removed it. All magic comes with a price, and yours was your essence. How was I to know that the thing you loved most was being—ah—bigger than everyone else?”
Sir Rowan glanced at Belle like she might have something to say about this, and when she finally understood why everyone in the room looked uncomfortable, she blushed.
“Oh please,” she said. “I’m not a child.”
“I want my essence returned,” Sir Rowan said. “Or I will avenge myself.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Rumpelstiltskin twirled his hands. “I already used it to break the curse. Without it, your people wouldn’t be free.”
Rowan scowled, a charming expression on his miniature face, but Belle tried not to show her feelings on that matter.
“Then I want to return to my people.”
At this, Rumpelstiltskin’s head twitched, like he’d just received bad news. “That might be difficult.”
“What do you want?” Belle asked. “What will you send him home for?”
“Send me home, or I’ll kill your woman!” Sir Rowan lunged for Belle’s throat, hands outstretched, so she thrust her palm away and all he did was clutch the air.
“Manners, dearie!” Rumpelstiltskin trilled, waving a hand. Purple smoke enveloped Rowan, and then his hands were cuffed together. “There’s nothing you can give me to send you home.”
“Why not?” Belle asked. “Please, he’s suffered so much.”
“They’re all dead,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “They were wiped out about a hundred years after our deal. I thought you’d died, but here you are.” He tittered without humor. “You must have been frozen by magic.”
Belle watched Sir Rowan’s arms drop, and then he buckled into her palm. “Then I have nothing to live for.”
“You could stay here, with me,” Belle said. Both men snapped to look at her, and she swallowed. “I could always use another friend.”
“It would be improper for me to live in your room alone,” Sir Rowan said.
“Rumpelstiltskin could build you a stable on that side.” Belle turned wide eyes on him. “It would be like a peace offering, since your people are gone.”
Rumpelstiltskin’s lip twitched, but as she knew it would, her innocent lash-fluttering softened him. “Fine. But if you cross me, I’ll make you a gelding too.”
Belle snickered, though Sir Rowan did not, and then she set him down so they could find a place for his new home.
🥰Connecting with my roots makes me feel happy! 🇷🇴 A comfort food breakfast I shared with my mom as a kid: warm cream of wheat made with milk (i used the high protein milk for a happier brain 🧠) with sour cherry jam (you can find this at many eastern european delis) #romanianfood #romaniangirl🇷🇴 #grits #sourcherryjam #breakfastisimportant #happybrainhappybody https://www.instagram.com/p/CLPMrs6jVQA/?igshid=17afgne9mme5o
Have you ever tasted our jams? We only use natural fruits gathered in season and sugar beet. We gather sour cherry from Kütahya, strawberries from Mersin and orange from Antalya just to serve you the best jam. #orangejam #strawberryjam #sourcherryjam #jam #breakfast #catering #wholefood #turkey🇹🇷 (Ankara Saray) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8njnyIldbs/?igshid=wm7sb03v0cw8
Made some Sour Cherry Jam tonight with cherries @jasonmhertel and @ericdweiss let me harvest from the tree in their yard. I’m thinking some linzer cookies and scones are in the future. #nerdybaker #sourcherryjam #sourcherries #gaybaker #homemadejam (at Minneapolis, Minnesota) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzuIvxyFFgl/?igshid=avjgyjyue9vc
I still had about a cup and a half of sour cherries left after making my Father's Day pie last weekend and we were leaving town this morning. So rather than let them go bad while I was gone (blasphemy!), I made some quick jam. I love David Lebovitz's no-nonsense approach to jam making. It's not that hard--who needs a recipe? And he's right. I used his instructions here: http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2005/06/norecipe-yikes/. Once the cherries were pitted, it probably took me 10-15 minutes. #davidlebovitz #sourcherryjam #sourcherries #preserving #foodinjars #homemade
