Chapter Text
Rosabella had discovered a third truth about castles. Bad news always arrived folded. Sometimes it came tied with a ribbon. Sometimes sealed with wax. But it always arrived folded. This morning, three letters had appeared before breakfast. By noon, every member of the royal council wore the same expression. Concern.
Rosabella sat quietly beside her mother at the long oak council table, trying very hard to look as though she belonged there. Queen Belle had insisted that both her children attend important meetings whenever possible. "One day," she often reminded them, "the kingdom will belong to your generation. Better you learn now than be surprised later."
Rosabella suspected the real lesson was learning to sit through very long discussions without fidgeting. She was still working on that part. The council chamber itself was magnificent. Sunlight spilled through tall windows, catching the dust that drifted lazily through the air. Maps of Beaumont and the neighboring kingdoms covered one wall, while shelves filled with ledgers, treaties, and histories lined another. At the far end of the room hung the banners of Beaumont—a crimson rose embroidered in gold upon deep blue velvet.
Normally, Lord Cogsworth would have been lecturing someone about punctuality. Lumière would have been trying to charm the visiting nobles. Mrs. Potts would have quietly reminded everyone to have tea before making difficult decisions. Today, no one was smiling.
A royal messenger stood near the entrance, travel-worn and dust-covered, holding an opened letter whose seal bore the silver apple of Edelwald Kingdom.
Rosabella noticed Benjamin straighten in his chair. "What news from King Florian?" Queen Belle asked gently. The messenger bowed.
"Your Majesties... the situation along Edelwald's eastern forests has worsened." Silence settled over the chamber. "The disappearances have continued." Rosabella's fingers tightened around the notebook resting in her lap. Disappearing travelers. Changing forests. A frightened girl who had arrived from the woods. Lucien's maps.
One coincidence could be ignored. Two demanded attention. Four… Four felt like the beginning of a pattern.