CHAPTER 3

PRINCE Adam walked with purposeful strides down the corridor of the West Wing that led to his and Belle's private chamber, unable to keep the smile spreading across his face. He was able to conclude his business in Paris early and hoped to surprise his wife. He clutched the book in his hands behind his back. The book was a rare find, having been discovered in a bookshop in Paris.

It was a surprise and one that would make a fine addition to her bookshelf in their room, unable to contain the swell of hope that welled within his chest at the thought of seeing the shock revel in her chocolate-brown eyes when Belle would look up from her favorite armchair by the fireplace in their room, her reading spot, and see him in the doorway, watching his new wife lovingly.

Adam quickened his pace, eager to see his wife after almost two weeks away, two weeks entirely too long and the trip to Paris had been nearly insufferable. He itched desperately to take Belle in his arms and press his lips to hers, to feel her lips move in sync in a gentle kiss. He finally reached the end of the West Wing and found their door closed, which was not entirely strange.

Belle valued her privacy and especially when reading she tended to keep the door shut to avoid distractions, particularly during 'a good part.'

Adam raised his knuckles to knock, practically bouncing back and forth on his heels due to the excitement at seeing her, and when he was greeted with nothing but silence on the other side of the panel, he furrowed his strong brow into a frown and gingerly twisted the doorknob.

He had not spotted Belle all throughout the castle and when he had passed by Monsieur Cogsworth and Lumiere in the hall as the two were arguing over what to serve the two of them for dinner this evening, both men had reported not seeing Belle since earlier this morning. It was not especially odd given his new wife's tendency to wander and tend to lose track of where she was.

His beloved spent so much time with her nose buried in a book or her head in the clouds as she allowed her sometimes overactive and sensitive imagination to run away with her.

Growing impatient and somewhat worried as he heard no response, he opened the door and stepped inside the darkened chamber to find himself truly alone. No fire was lit in the hearth and Belle's favorite armchair was unoccupied and looked to have not been sat in for some time now.

"Belle?" he called, feeling more foolish than ever before as he looked to the left and right for any signs of his wife and was greeted with nothing but silence. He opened the doors of the balcony that led out to the balcony's terrace and did not find her outside.

His frown deepening, he left the room and began his search for his wife throughout the rest of the West Wing, poking his head in the doorways of the various rooms, and growing increasingly frustrated, to say nothing of worried, when he found no sight of his beloved Belle within.

The alarm of not being able to pinpoint his new wife's whereabouts began to grow within him. Prince Adam tried to force his racing heart to relax, though this was easier said than done as his heart was currently in his throat and the sound of his own blood now pounding in his ears practically drowned out all other background noise as he descended the stairwell.

Surely, there had to be a reasonable explanation as to where his beloved wife could be now.

Perhaps she had taken a walk in the rose gardens with her father to clear her head or had ventured to the library to pick out a book from the shelf from their vast collection and had lost track of the time. It would not have been the first time it had happened to Belle. He practically broke into a jog to the library, no longer caring if he seemed a madman to the various foot soldiers and passing maids in the castle as he nearly sprinted down the corridor towards the library.

By the time he had combed through every inch of the castle's library, the Prince's stomach was reduced to a sick churning knot. Bile rose in the back of his throat.

He thought he would surely be physically ill. It was no secret to the various aristocratic circles what had befallen him during his time spent under the influence of the enchantress's curse.

He had ventured to Paris in hopes of repairing the damage done to his reputation, though the nobles and even France's king were not so quick to pardon his actions, though they were willing to allow him to try.

Despite this, he had made many enemies during his younger days, when he had been crueler before Belle had literally walked into his life and had shown him the error of his ways.

He would not put it past a noble with a grudge to remove her from the grounds as means of revenge. His worry by this point was very nearly overwhelming as the Prince searched the first floor of the castle at a frantic, panicked pace. The Prince's thoughts were muddied and disjointed that the beginnings of a tentative plan to search for Belle would not even form in his mind.

So lost in his worry and thoughts of his wife that he did not even see the various faces of the servants, a small crowd who had gathered behind him and were tailing his movements as he peered into each shadowed walkway and room with a closed door that he passed.

Still, there was no sign of Belle. Never, in all of his life, had fear threatened to incapacitate him quite like it was doing to the Prince now, not even when he had spent the last several years of his life as a Changeling, a Beast, had he felt a fear quite like this.

However, Adam had never been a frightened husband before, searching for his missing wife.

The Prince's terror took hold of his heart and squeezed the feeble quivering muscle within his chest until he was rendered almost lightheaded, and he thought he would pass out. He clung to the bricked stone walls in the corridor that led towards the kitchens for support, breathing slowly through his nose, willing himself to be calm. But the Prince's terror still threatened to consume him. Outside in the corridor of the servants' wing of the castle where the servants slept and took their meals, the Prince was grateful to find Mrs. Potts, Monsieur Cogsworth and Lumiere in conversation with one of the castle's newest hearth keeps, Belle's personal maid.

A young woman close to her age, perhaps a year or two younger. Nineteen at best.

Isabelle, he thought the maiden's name was if his memory served him correctly. She had come to the castle begging for work to support her family. Her grandfather was frail and close to death, and Adam had not hesitated to take her in following his curse lifting. He had hoped Belle and Isabelle would grow close during her servitude here in the castle. It was his wish that Belle kept a female companion on rare occasions like the past two weeks when he'd had to leave her.

He looked upon the young woman with fondness sparking to life behind his eyes, his eyes making a quick scan of Isabelle's figure. She was pretty enough, though he found Belle a far-sight fairer, though he supposed he was heavily biased in that regard. The young maid had a lovely head of long thick copper-colored hair that was currently pulled back into a low plaited ponytail and sparkling catlike green eyes, her petite figure accentuated in her simple skirt, blouse, and apron.

"Excuse me, Cogsworth, Lumiere, Mrs. Potts, I—I need your help," the Prince gasped as he blurted out his words which sounded clumsy and blunt as he clutched at a stitch in his side, heaving to catch his breath having practically run his way through the entirety of the first floor of the castle.

His voice quivered with fear. He was not aware of Isabelle's gaze turning towards him, though he felt the burn of those catlike green eyes penetrating through the back of his skull.

Isabelle was immediately concerned for the young master. She had not been working for the Prince long, though upon her arrival, the Prince and his new wife, the lady Belle, had done everything within their power to make her feel warm and respected the first few weeks she had adjusted to being away from her grandfather, away from her village, for such an extended amount of time.

She had grown to consider the Prince and Princess as friends, and her worry was nearly overwhelming as she took in the state of the handsome blond-haired Prince's cheeks, which were flushed high with color and turning pink.

His blue eyes were skittish, darting to the left and right, as though searching for something or someone, and he could not seem to be able to look either of his Heads of House in the eyes.

"Your Highness, is everything alright, milord? You've gone pale, sire, are you sick?" Isabelle spoke up, rushing to the Prince's side and stretched out a hand as though to rest it upon Prince Adam's shoulder, but hesitated, unsure if the Prince would allow such intimate contact in his current agitated state. She hesitated and bit down on her lip. "What on earth is the matter?" Isabelle questioned urgently. Never before had she seen the master of the castle in such a panicked state, though she had only been working here for about a month, going on two in another two days and she was still relatively new. Even still, she knew the Prince well enough by this point to know when something was horribly wrong with the man, and right now, it most certainly was.

She tore her gaze away from the Prince and found Monsieur Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts were equally as confused as she. All three of the man's Heads of House were on the alert as well.

"I can't…" Adam stammered, his tongue suddenly feeling like heavy clay in his mouth.

It was a chore just to force out the words that he dreaded to speak aloud.

His words were forming ahead of his racing thoughts as his frantic eyes made sweeping scans of the spaces that were closest to them as they hovered outside of the kitchen, still searching, praying, hoping to spot any sign of Belle.

"I cannot find Belle!" he blurted out, fear seeping its way to the surface of his normally calm and mild-mannered voice. "She's missing, Cogsworth! Have you seen her at all?" he explained.

"What? What on earth, Your Highness, what do you mean, you cannot find her? She was outside in the Courtyard earlier, young master, I saw her there, she was taking a walk through your rose gardens, sire," Monsieur Cogsworth bristled indignantly as his chest puffed out as he stepped forward and adjusted his spectacles, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose in agitation.

The eldest Head of House felt his concern take hold of his heart and squeeze his heart at the thought of the young woman's possible danger. After all that Belle had done for them, giving the master and themselves their lives back by daring to fall for the master and break the wretched witch's curse, he feared the thought of any harm befalling the lady. Cogsworth staggered backward and a hand shot up to clutch at a fistful of his doublet. He was supported by Lumiere and Mrs. Potts, both of whom shot one another concerned looks as they feared the elderly man whose hair was turning whiter by the day was likely now suffering from a complaint of the heart.

"She—she's gone," the Prince informed the group, trembling at the thought that perhaps someone had taken her. "I have searched everywhere, Cogsworth, I did not see her outside, I do not know where my wife could possibly be," he reported in a breathless voice. Warm water began to brim at the edges of his eyes that he furiously forced himself to blink back and nearly growled with the effort to restrain the whimper that threatened to escape the back of his throat. He thought he'd die first before ever hearing himself whimper and show such vulnerability in front of his servants.

He exhaled a shaking breath and slowly turned his gaze towards Isabelle, almost instinctively, his blue eyes finding her green ones and searching the redhead's face as though he thought their new hearth keep could perhaps be the only one in the entire castle who could help him locate his wife.

Isabelle and Belle had become fast friends upon meeting one another, and Belle had been slowly but steadily teaching Isabelle her letters and how to read when she had shamefacedly confessed one morning she could not read while sweeping the hearth in the library after Belle had made a passing comment.

Belle, the kind-hearted soul that she was, had taken it upon herself following Isabelle's confession to see to it she was taught an hour or two a day, and from what the Prince had understood, Isabelle was making considerable progress. He could see the worry on her features now.

Isabelle's eyes widened as she came to understand that the Prince was not even considering their differences in status as he looked upon her, searching her eyes as though looking for reassurance and trust—with fear. She felt a tremor go down her spine.

She had never seen him this way before, and it unnerved her to see the master so...so...unhinged.

The man was trusting her now, and it would be up to her to ensure the Prince stayed calm.

It was this notion that gave her the courage to step forward and take the distraught Prince by his arms and she held onto them firmly.

"We'll all search for her, Your Highness. She cannot possibly have gotten too far, sire. I am sure the lady Belle is all right, she has to be," she tried to give the man hope through her own despair.

"I will check the stables, Your Grace, perhaps she merely took her horse Phillippe out for a mid-afternoon ride?" Lumiere offered, trying his best to be calm for their master. "I will order a search party to begin combing the grounds for her and to start searching the woods, just in case, sire."

Lumiere's lips pursed thinly into a grim line as he gave his master a dutiful nod and turned on the heels of his boots, setting off immediately and already barking orders at a nearby guard to rally any man he could find to start searching the forest. Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth ventured off to search the opposite side of the castle and to inform Belle's father, Maurice, of his daughter missing and left Isabelle and the Prince alone in the desolate corridor. Isabelle turned to the Prince.

"Shall we search the woods too, Your Grace?" Isabelle questioned in a calm and collected voice, though the Prince thought he detected the faint warbling note of fear in the young woman's voice as she looped her arm around his in a moment of boldness that surprised even him.

Isabelle was quite timid and shy, though her shyness usually did not last long around most once she warmed up to them and got to know them a bit better. He nodded numbly, too stricken to speak. He allowed himself to be led out of the servants' hallway and in the direction of the Courtyard, both of them concerned for Belle. As they rushed through the Courtyard, the overwhelming scent of the roses in the gardens making both of them feel dizzy, Isabelle chanced a glance at the master of the castle out of her peripherals. Her heart broke for the Prince.

She could not help but see the fraying thread of hope upon to which Prince Adam was clinging. Belle was his entire world. Her own was not that far off from imploding, herself.

Isabelle considered the Princess a dear friend to her, perhaps her best, as Belle had made a quick impression on her since her arrival here at the castle in such a short amount of time. She did not think she could stomach the thought of any harm befalling her if she could at all help it. Nor did she want to imagine the chasm and dark abyss into which Prince Adam would sink if something did happen. Worry wormed its way through the pit of her churning stomach and up to her heart.

There was no sign of the man's wife as they reached the end of the Courtyard. Isabelle's heart sank to her toes as she watched the faint flicker of hope fade from the Prince's eyes.

If she could, she would magic the lady Belle into his arms right here and now if it meant it would spare the man one more moment of anguish. But as it happened, for the moment, all Isabelle could do now was continue to help the master of the castle cling to that small shred of faith and hope that was now failing the distraught man with every step they both took.

The two stood at the entrance to the woods. Adam stiffened as he looked into the dark forest, trying to hold onto the hope that he would see his beloved wife again, very soon, and unharmed.

The Prince knew that he should be the one to take the first step forward and step over the threshold of the edge of the perimeter of the Courtyard and onto the woodland path that existed at their feet that would take them deep into the heart of the woods that the villagers had always believed was sentient. But his feet felt like heavy stones in his boots, and he remained right where he was, rooted to his spot, frozen in fear. His hand was now clutching onto Isabelle's arm so tightly that his knuckles were turning white with effort. The rest of the Prince had gone grey with despair. He looked physically ill. His lungs had begun to burn as he gasped for air which failed to reach his lungs. He ripped his arm out of Isabelle's grasp and buried his head in his hands, strands of his long golden blond hair sticky as they entangled themselves in his fingers.

The poor man was nearly hysterical at this point, and his lungs continued to burn as the bitterly cold autumnal air thrashed in and out of his lungs at a speed Prince Adam simply could not control for the life of him. The pounding thundering of his heart numbed his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he was sure the wretched little droplets would slip from the edges of his lids at any given moment if he could not control himself. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and when he did, it felt as though he were swallowing knives. He tried in vain to fight back the salty liquid and after a moment, he slowly turned towards Isabelle and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Where is she, Isabelle? Where is my wife?" Prince Adam begged the young maid in a cracking, faint voice that sounded on the brink. He looked at Isabelle as if their hearth keep had the answers.

Isabelle remained silent and could only eye the master of the castle sympathetically.

She had no answers to give him. The distraught Prince did not wait for his servant's attempt to calm him but raised his terrified eyes to the darkening skies above and let out a furious blood yell that made the fine hairs on the back of Isabelle's neck stand up on end.

She almost took an instinctive step back out of fear, but somehow, managed to hold herself tall and proud, as she imagined the Princess would do if Belle were here now.

"She's well, Your Highness, she has to be. Belle is strong and resourceful. She's been through worse than merely getting herself lost in the woods, if she is within," Isabelle spoke nervously, trying to give the man some small semblance of encouragement to cling onto. She tried to make herself believe the same words that she spoke to the husband of his lost bride, though even she could hear that her tone lacked the conviction to sell the argument she wanted to make. Nevertheless, she could not allow the man to think that this would be the end of his beloved. "We will find Belle, Your Highness, I promise," she told him, and again, reached for the man's hand.

Isabelle did not even realize that her entire body had started to shake with the solemnity of her pledge. The Prince hesitantly lifted his gaze to hers and searched her green eyes for any signs of a lie, at any hint that he thought she was merely speaking the words she knew he wished to hear that would set his mind at ease but found no reason not to trust the young woman's words.

He had thought he would have wanted to shy away from the young mademoiselle's grip, but he did not. Isabelle's grip was almost a vice, firm, yet comforting. The man's wary gaze never left hers and for a moment, Isabelle allowed herself to get lost in the fathomless blue depths that were the Prince's eyes. They were round and brimming with uncertainty. The hues that flowed in the man's eyes were easily the most beautiful blue that Isabelle had ever seen.

As shocking as the stories she had been told of him by his wife were, and as monstrous as Belle had described his appearance when the Prince had been forced to live as a Beast, she could not help but feel pity for the poor man right now. She hated that something inside of her still harbored a twinge of caution towards the Prince, though she would never dare openly admit it to another living soul. Not even to Belle, whom she considered her closest friend and confidante.

She despised the feeling. She knew it was her wariness talking, stemming from all the terrible stories she was told of the realm's Beast before he'd changed.

With Belle's help and if we don't find her soon, he might revert to his old ways out of despair. We can't let that happen. I can't let that happen. We have to find her.

She tried to tell herself to be brave, as Belle would be, undoubtedly, and it was this thought that gave her the courage to spring into action and began to lead the man forward into the woods without any semblance of fear. They would not find Belle if they did not start searching, and she was stricken with a strange sensation in her gut that Belle was within.

Isabelle could not pretend to understand the feeling, though she chose to trust her instincts, which were almost never wrong. She allowed herself to take the lead as she led them deep into the woods, trying with all her might to ignore the growing unease in her heart at setting foot in woods that she had heard too many stories of being haunted.

The shadows from the now-setting sun followed them as the sun dipped below the horizon.