The Enchantress couldn't remember ever having worked this hard before. Days of research, deep thought and trying to quell her growing panic had failed to produce results. Now and then she would sit at her desk, muscles tensed, with one hand gripping the magic mirror and the other drumming an aggravated tattoo with her fingernails. Things weren't going well at the castle. She didn't know what she'd been expecting; that suddenly, after two years, Belle's own innate goodness would start to seep into her husband by osmosis? If so, she was disappointed. In the absence of answers, Belle – much like the Enchantress herself – had turned to books for them, only she seemed to be trying to understand exactly what her husband's deficiencies were by trying to define exactly what it was to be good.

And perhaps that was the problem. Belle was good. Not a saint, perhaps, but it came naturally to her to try. Her husband, meanwhile, was not in the habit of thinking of others. He did not deliberately overlook their feelings, but they simply did not disturb the surface of his thoughts unless pointed out to him. Belle seemed to think she could train him to think otherwise. Perhaps she was right. The Enchantress certainly couldn't think of a better idea. She didn't hold out much hope, though. After that first morning in the library, which she had observed with an ever-deepening frown, the Beast's frustration had grown more and more apparent, and Belle was now left to continue her studies alone. They hadn't argued yet, but Belle's hurt was apparent even through the mirror, and the Enchantress felt yet again the pang of guilt at the suspicion that she might have negatively interfered with this young woman's life.

One remark, thrown bitterly aside by Belle, stuck with her. "If this Enchantress can just go around casting spells on people when she feels like it then I think we have to consider what might have influenced her."

Would that make a difference? She wasn't sure. She'd never heard anything like that, about spells being personal to their creators. But then... this spell had responded to her meaning, hadn't it? The magic had obeyed the exact wording of the curse when it was first cast: the prince had fallen in love and received love in return and it had been lifted. And yet not completely satisfied. Somehow, despite the clumsiness with which she had cast it, the spell had absorbed her intentions, the intentions that were not fulfilled even when the curse was broken. And that was why it had failed the test. So could it, then, go deeper than that? Was it possible that the spell understood things about her that even she did not consciously know?

She concentrated. What, exactly, had she wanted the prince to learn? It all seemed so long ago now but she must, she had to remember...

Spoiled, selfish and unkind...

And the disguise. The beggar woman. Because it wouldn't have been the same if he'd allowed her in the way she usually looked, all blonde hair, green eyes and porcelain skin. But why an old beggar woman? A repulsive crone, that's what she'd been going for, and she remembered that it had been rather effective. But why?

What had she been trying to teach him?

Some of it was easy, just a case of opposites. Instead of spoiled, he should be humble. Aware of other people as important, deserving, and not just himself. Instead of selfish, selfless. Putting the needs of others first. And instead of unkind, kind. A child could understand this much.

So what would make it unique to her? Did humility, selflessness and kindness have special meanings for her? Perhaps they had, back then. She remembered herself thirteen years ago, the way she might have remembered an old friend with whom she no longer had anything in common but uncomfortable memories. She'd had a lot of opinions, then, a drive to change things. Back before she'd realised that there was just as much wrong with her as everyone else.

She found she was thinking about Kestrel, completely against her will. She had loved Kestrel, the gawky boy she'd met when she was first discovering magic. She'd grown to hate him as they both grew older but back then he'd meant more to her than she liked to admit now. His good opinion had meant everything. He'd changed her, just in little ways, but they'd added up. He had criticised, undermined – but it was constructive criticism, he said, if there was something you could do to change it. And they had had magic. So she'd changed. Her hair a little blonder, her eyes a little greener, her skin a little clearer, until she wasn't sure what she really looked like any more. There had been other changes, too, under the skin, things that magic couldn't change back. Kestrel had changed too, more dramatically. He'd lost everything that she'd loved about him, become a strange, shifting creature. He'd altered every aspect of his appearance until nothing about the boy she'd first met remained, inside or out. When she'd refused to follow suit, he'd laughed in her face.

And now he was passing judgement on her again. She'd had a letter the day after Kestrel had visited, postmarked somewhere that did not, by conventional definitions, even exist. It said that the Council of Magic Practitioners was very concerned about the spell she had cast and that her presence was requested to explain her actions in person. It did not say that she would stand trial, but that was what it amounted to. She imagined Kestrel poring over the records, tearing her work apart to see what she'd done. How much would he find, she wondered, that was because of him?

She tried to shake him from her mind.

Why was it kinder to let in an old crone than a pretty girl? And what had she been thinking?

Cogsworth was sweating like a pig, if the pig in question were confined to a sauna and then told that future supplies of pig swill to itself and its fellow pigs would be dependent on its completing a fiendishly difficult crossword in under a minute.

The Illyrians had arrived.

"Now, Lumière, are you absolutely sure you understand what you have to do?"

Lumière exchanged glances with Belle, who was standing beside him at the top of the staircase, resplendent in a new gown, and pretended to think about it. "Some of the finer details may have escaped me," he muttered, "but, in essence, I need to go down there, tell everyone I am the prince, that I am very pleased to meet them, and that you will show them to their suite."

Cogsworth wiped his brow. If the next few days didn't kill him, he'd know he was going to live forever. "And?"

Lumière rolled his eyes. "And then say absolutely nothing else until given further instruction."

"Good."

"Although I must say—"

"Don't," said Belle, with uncharacteristic sharpness. They looked at her in surprise. Belle made to massage her temples, then remembered how much make-up she was wearing. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm just tired. Let's get this over with."

They both felt guilty then. Belle never bore the brunt of her husband's anger but they knew that it was she who would feel most keenly the sullen brooding he had been exhibiting of late. They could see him from here, leaning over a higher gallery and scowling down at Lumière as he took his place. They didn't know if Belle had seen him, but they suspected she could sense both his presence and his mood.

Cogsworth took a deep breath and stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket. "You're right, of course," he said. "Let's get this over with."

Belle slipped her arm through Lumière's, grateful at least to have a friend beside her even as she wished desperately that it could have been his. They started to descend the grand staircase into the bustling hallway. A sea of sparkling gowns and velvet suits surged below them. Cogsworth gave the signal to a footman downstairs who was acting as herald for the evening.

"Presenting!" he yelled, with evident job satisfaction. "His Royal Highness the Prince, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Belle."

Belle squeezed Lumière's arm and whispered "Good luck" through a fake smile.

Oh my goodness! Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I was checking my emails on my phone (I'm a recent smartphone convert, so this is still exciting to me) periodically throughout yesterday, and every time I checked I got another two reviews! I couldn't believe my eyes!

A massive thank you also to Nikki and Faith, who were lovely enough to workshop some problems I was having about the plot of this story with me. I knew where it was going but had only the sketchiest of ideas about how to get there and they really helped me flesh them out, as well as giving me a couple of brilliant new ones! I'm now so excited about where this story is going and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I know I'll enjoy writing it. And do keep the reviews coming, because they've been absolutely making my day!