Beauty Beheld: A Retelling of Hansel and Gretel (The Becoming Beauty Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One - Sickly Sweet

  Chapter Two - Welcome Interruptions

  Chapter Three - Sorthileige

  Chapter Four - In Which Much is Said

  Chapter Five - His Father's Eyes

  Chapter Six - Too Close

  Chapter Seven - Henri and Genevieve

  Chapter Eight - Torn Worlds

  Chapter Nine - Objections

  Chapter Ten - What You Are

  Chapter Eleven - Behind Closed Doors

  Chapter Twelve - Fire of the Fortiers

  Chapter Thirteen - A Good Man

  Chapter Fourteen - Panic

  Chapter Fifteen - A Boy's Touch

  Chapter Sixteen - Story About a Boy

  Chapter Seventeen - Ties of Blood

  Chapter Eighteen - Something Familiar

  Chapter Nineteen - Reminders

  Chapter Twenty - A What Cost

  Chapter Twenty-One - Short Words and Dire Plans

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Taking Care

  Chapter Twenty-Three - The Weight of Sin

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Decisions

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Sealing Words

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Sacrifice

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Go

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Son

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Diversion

  Chapter Thirty - The Hard Questions

  Chapter Thirty-One - Hold Them Tight

  Chapter Thirty-Two - A Lucky Thing

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Half-Truths and Quandaries

  Chapter Thirty-Four - The Right Thing

  Chapter Thirty-Five - Mother

  Chapter Thirty-Six - Not Hers

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - The Other One

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - Release

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Reasons

  Chapter Forty - A Score to Settle

  Chapter Forty-One - The Condemned

  Chapter Forty-Two - What Little Strength

  Chapter Forty-Three - Into the Flames

  Chapter Forty-Four - Epilogue

  Girl in the Red Hood - A Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Beauty Beheld

  The Becoming Beauty Trilogy, Book Three

  The Classical Kingdoms Collection, Book #3

  Brittany Fichter

  Skye Scribbles Press

  Beauty Beheld: A Retelling of the Hansel and Gretel

  Copyright © 2016 Brittany Fichter.

  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 in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the web address below:

  www.BrittanyFichterFiction.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Beauty Beheld / Brittany Fichter. -- 1st ed.

  Edited by Katherine Stephen

  Cover Art and Design by Armin Numanovic

  ASIN: B01KG74JP8

  To my littlest brother, the baby we called General. It makes me proud that even with your ridiculous number of accomplishments, you still look up whenever you hear, “Squirt!” yelled into a crowd. It’s like I preconditioned you or something, which is particularly impressive considering the number of times you outsmarted me and took advantage of my sweet and loving nature. Though I wouldn’t at all be surprised to one day see the actual title of general attached to your name, you will never cease to be my baby brother. And that’s not a bad thing. Even generals need older sisters who still scold, hug, and occasionally buy them gummy worms and Twizzlers.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sickly Sweet

  “Genny, would you stop crying?”

  But Henri’s sister only grew louder, her sobs turning to wails. Over her noise, Henri could hear thunder beginning to rumble in the distance, and his heart beat a bit faster. The way the bare branches swayed against the ash gray sky made him nervous, and he knew without a doubt that a storm was brewing.

  “Genny!” He took her by the shoulders. “I can’t focus when you’re so noisy! Just stop crying and I’ll find a way home!”

  “But Father said he would come get us!” she protested, wiping her little nose on her arm. “If we can’t go home, then why can’t we go get the sweets?”

  Ah, there she went about the sweets again. And Henri had been doing so well to ignore it.

  For the last few weeks, the woods had smelled much like the baker’s shop in town. Genny, as most children of four years would, had begged incessantly to follow the scent. And to be honest, Henri had nearly given in more than once. Unlike Genny, however, he’d lived long enough in the southern woods to have learned the hard way that imaginings, such as sweets in the woods, were always far too good to be true. As this one was sure to be, despite the draw of its delectable smell.

  “Henri, we need to find it!” Genny grabbed his hand and began to pull him in the direction of the smell. One glimpse of the green mists in her eyes sent him into a full panic. If he didn’t get her back to the cottage soon, she just might escape him and scamper off into the woods alone, something that wouldn’t fare well for either of them. That only left him with one choice.

  With the snap of his fingers, the stones which Henri had been dropping ever since they left the cottage began to flicker in the dark, little tongues of flame lapping at the quickly deepening night. His stepmother would be sure to box his ears for such a deed if she saw, but if he was ever to get Genny home, it was a punishment he would gladly endure.

  He heaved a sigh of relief when the little blue flames caught Genny’s attention, and she quit tugging his arm in the direction of the rapidly falling dark. Instead, she allowed him to lead her back along the path of scattered stones, giggling when he put out each flame they passed.

  “Where do you think Father went?” she asked for the tenth time that night.

  “I don’t know.” Not only did Henri not know where precisely his father had gone to cut wood, but the fact that he had never come looking for them niggled at him, like a bug beneath his skin. Genny continued to prattle on with questions about every rock and tree they passed, seemingly brave and happy now that they were walking, but Henri’s thoughts were too full for him to answer her.

  His father had grown up in these woods, as Henri had. How had he lost them? Surely something must have happened. Perhaps a tree had fallen on him, or he had been attacked by an animal! Henri grasped his sister’s hand more tightly as he hurried them through the trees, which were still bare from the vestiges of winter. It was getting colder by the minute, and if there was a dangerous animal nearby, he needed to get Genny inside.

  They followed the little trail of lighted stones, and as they walked, Henri hoped again that his stepmother wouldn’t notice their little path. Whether they were lost or not, she wouldn’t approve of him using his trick, as Genny called it.

  “Blasted evil,” she would mutter
whenever she caught him creating the flames. “Unnatural, and sure enough to send you to damnation.” Henri honestly didn’t know if what she said was true, or even exactly what damnation was, but on a night such as this, he could think of no other way to get him and his sister home.

  Even with the path of stones to follow, the boy was beginning to get truly worried by the time the little cottage emerged from the trees, and the last flickering stone was put out. The glow of the hearth’s fire lit the gaping cracks in the wood. A shudder of cold dread rippled through him as he pulled the large door open. He wanted to stop and fill his pockets with stones again, as was his habit before he ever went in or out, for one never knew when he might need stones to light, but he didn’t have time. It was already too dark, and Genny’s teeth were chattering.

  “Henri!” Helaine looked up at him from the wooden table that she was setting, her mouth hanging open as though she’d seen a ghost. “What in the blazes are you doing here?”

  “Something must have happened to Father,” Henri said as he closed the door and began to unwind Genny’s thin shawl from her shoulders. “He never came back to get us.” As he spoke, the door opened again, and a gust of cold air rushed in.

  “This should be enough to keep us for—” Henri’s father stopped and stared at Henri with nearly the same expression that Henri’s stepmother wore, his arms still full of chopped wood. They all stood there like that for a very long moment before Henri’s father’s glanced over at Helaine. Henri’s stepmother said nothing but glared as though she were about to strangle someone.

  What exactly had his father had been up to, leaving them out in the forest like that after dark? Frustration simmered within Henri, but the question died on his tongue. Something was definitely off. His father hadn’t come back to get them. In fact, it appeared now as though he had never even meant to try. Why, Henri wanted to know, would he do such a thing? And yet, the way Helaine was slamming the wooden plates upon the table shut Henri’s mouth for good. In his heart he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly why his father hadn’t come back to look for them.

  Supper was meager that night. Helaine had only cooked enough for two, it seemed. And though stores were running low, as winter had been long in departing this year, Henri knew there should have been enough for them all to have their fill. Genny opened her mouth to complain, but before she could, Henri dumped the rest of his food on her plate. Going hungry was better than watching his stepmother take the switch to his little sister for talking back. And if pressed, Genny would have no reservations about doing exactly that.

  “If you make so much as a peep tonight,” Helaine whispered above the children as they huddled together under the single blanket on their straw pallet, “I’ll get the whipping stick for both of you!” Her thin, mousy hair stuck to the sides of her face, and the anger in her eyes made her look rather like a mole rat. But these thoughts Henri kept to himself, hoping very much at the same time that his sister would keep her thoughts to herself as well. Much to his relief, however, she fell asleep almost immediately, seemingly unaware of the strange goings-on that Henri was still trying to understand.

  That his stepmother and father had not expected them back was obvious. But why would they try to lose them? Henri was well aware that his stepmother didn’t care a mite about his well-being or his sister’s. But his father surely wasn’t that cruel.

  But what if he is? Henri wondered. And what if they try again? What will you do then?

  If his parents didn’t want them at the cottage, then he and Genny would need to find somewhere else to go. No one in Samsin would take them, of that he was sure. The township had never liked his family much to begin with. The woodcutter’s family and others who lived outside the village were suspect to all sorts of wrongdoings. Why else would families choose to live outside the protection of the town?

  Perhaps Father Lucien would take them in. Henri was sure the holy man would at least let them sleep in the church for a night or two until Henri could find them a new home. But Father Lucien hardly received enough food now. There would certainly not be enough for three. So where would a boy of nine years find food and shelter for not only himself but his sister of four?

  Henri’s worries raced in circles until they were too worn to continue. Drifting off into an aimless sleep, his last thoughts were a prayer to the Maker. If nothing else, perhaps the Maker would find them a home. It didn’t seem like too large a request. And yet, the task felt far too great for Henri to carry on his shoulders alone.

  For the first time in a long while, Henri, who was too old for tears, cried himself to sleep.

  “Get up.”

  Henri groaned and rubbed his eyes. How had morning come so soon? A light shove from his father’s boot, however, roused him enough to realize that morning had not yet come.

  “Why are we up so early?” Henri yawned, wanting nothing more than to roll over.

  “Long day’s work. Now get your sister. We’re goin’.”

  Henri stopped stretching and squinted up at his father. As he did, all the events from the day before returned. Immediately, he knew that whatever this errand was, it would probably have the outcome his parents had wished for the night before.

  “Genny doesn’t need to come with us,” he said in a small voice. “She’s too little to carry much wood. She’ll drop it when she gets cold.” It was a foolish thing to say, but his foggy mind couldn’t come up with any better reason to keep Genny at home and warm. Perhaps, if Henri disappeared and his trick was gone with him, Helaine and his father would be kinder to his sister.

  “Nah. She’s coming too. Now up, both of you, before your mother wakes up.”

  Henri fumbled in the darkness for his sister. Curled in a tight little ball, she was a mess of yellow curls and blanket in the thin light that came from the orange embers in the hearth. Anxiety bubbled in Henri’s stomach as he gently shook her awake. “Come on, Genny. It’s time to get up.”

  “No. It’s cold.”

  “Genny, I mean it. Father says—” As he spoke, a brilliant flash of light briefly lit the room brighter than day. The distant crash that followed was loud enough to send Genny into his arms with a shriek. Henri took the opportunity to drag her out of bed and tie her shawl around her shoulders, trying to ignore the piteous whimpers she was making about getting out of bed in a lightning storm. Whenever he could, he tried to throw a glance up at his father, begging silently against hope for mercy. But his father wouldn’t look at him. Instead, he leaned down to peer up at the window at the sky. The air was heavy, its warning thick. This storm would be bad. Why was his father so insistent on taking them out now? If he was so determined to lose them, as Henri feared, couldn’t he at least do it when the weather was less violent?

  “Here.” His father shoved a loaf of bread into Henri’s arms. “We’ll be working a long time today.”

  All too soon, they were dragged outside, his father’s axe upon his shoulder and Henri clutching the bread in one hand and his sister’s hand in the other. “Wait!” Henri called, stooping and desperately clawing the ground for pebbles.

  But his father gave him no reprieve. “We don’t have time for your foolish antics, boy!” His father turned and marched back to the children, grabbing Henri so hard by the shoulder that it hurt and yanking him back up from the ground. Another flash of lightning revealed a resolve on his father’s face that Henri had never seen before. The look was more like one Helaine often wore than his usual grave countenance. And it frightened Henri. No, his father would not allow any more antics tonight.

  When his father seemed satisfied and assured of Henri’s obedience, he turned and began to stalk off in a direction that they didn’t usually go. South, where the trees were thin and crooked and Henri wasn’t nearly as familiar with the landscape. In desperation, Henri began doing the only thing he could think of. Breaking off small chunks of the bread, he began to drop them on the ground behind them as they walked. He would have preferred stones to the bread
, but it was the only way he could think to mark their trail.

  For once, Genny was silent, clinging to his arm as they went. Keeping up with their father became more difficult as the forest around them grew soggier from the rain. Genny’s legs were short, and as the mud became deeper, she struggled to keep up.

  “Father!” Henri called out as he paused to pull his sister’s foot out of a mud hole. “Wait!” When he looked up, however, all signs of his father were gone. “Father!” Henri cried again, tears pricking his eyes, mixing with the nearly painful raindrops that were beginning to pelt them.

  He had known this would happen, he tried to tell himself. That was why he’d been dropping the bread crumbs. He had known his father was going to leave them. He could see it in his face. And yet, deep down, Henri had hoped his father might find a shred of pity in his heart, if not for him, then for his little sister. But here they were. The bread had run out a long time ago, and Henri had no idea as to their location. Worse than that, though, he knew now what he had feared for so long.

  They were unwanted.

  “I want my mummy!” Genny sobbed as she began to kick and thrash against him. “I want to go home!”

  “Genny, stop kicking!”

  “No! I want to go home!”

  “I mean it! Stop it right now! No one is coming for us! No one wants us! We don’t have a mummy!”

  Genny stopped struggling and looked up into his eyes, their whites lighting up more as each flash of lightning drew closer. “But you said—”

  “I lied. I lied so you would think we had a mummy. But we don’t, so stop screaming and let me think!”

  Genny did indeed stop fighting him, but the heartbroken sobs that she heaved now hurt his heart even more. He had never been that cruel, and he hated himself for it. But the lightning was growing nearer, and he needed to get them to a safe place before the savage storm was fully upon them.