The Cursed Prince by Teresa Roman (reading e books txt) 📕

Beaver Falls instead of traveling back home with their parents because they wanted a bit of freedom and fun. I didn’t buy that explanation. If those brothers were in search of fun, Beaver Falls wasn’t the place for it. But just like all the other bits of gossip about the brothers, it was hard to say what was true and what wasn’t. Supposedly there were three of them, although some people argued that there was actually a fourth brother. Some were convinced they were the sons of the king and queen from some small country in eastern Europe, others insisted that none of them had actually admitted to being royalty. I didn’t really care either way. I was curious about the castle itself, not the people who lived in it.

As the car approached the gate, it swung open. My dad drove slowly up the winding road that led to the castle. Eventually it came into view. It looked so much larger than I had imagined it would, with several turrets and bridges connecting portions of the castle to each other. Ivy snaked up several of the outside walls, the brilliant green contrasting with drab gray stone.

“I think you’re supposed to park over there.” I pointed to my dad’s left. Several cars were parked just off the road he was driving on.

“You’re right.” He pulled into an empty spot.

We got out of the car. Up ahead was a small stone bridge. We crossed it and kept walking until we found ourselves a few feet from the entrance to the castle.

“Are you nervous?” my father asked.

“A little,” I admitted.

“Come on.”

He took my hand as we walked up the stone steps that led to the castle’s doors. They were at least double my height and made with thick planks of wood. One was open, the other closed. A man dressed in a fancy tuxedo stood just inside the opened door.

He held his hand out as my father and I walked up to him. “Your invitation.” He had a heavy accent that I couldn’t place.

I rifled through my purse and handed it to him.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Duncan. May I ask the name of your escort?”

“This is my father, James Duncan.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Duncan.” He gave a slight bow. “May I take your jackets?”

My father and I handed them to the fancy tuxedo man.

“Just follow the sound of the music,” he said. “It will lead you to the drawing room up ahead. That’s where you will find your hosts and their other guests.”

As my father and I proceeded down the hallway, I looked to my left and my right, drinking in every detail. Sconces filled with lit candles provided the only light, but there were plenty of them, so I could clearly see the giant portraits that hung on the walls. Below each one was a name engraved on a brass plate. They were all Korzhas. Every one of them shared the same dark hair and eyes.

The hallway opened into a foyer. In front of me, two sets of stairs led to the second floor. A giant chandelier hung above me, illuminating the space. The sound of stringed instruments wafted into the foyer from my left. To my right was a dining room. Its double doors were both open, giving me enough of a view into the room that I could see that the table was elegantly set with fine china.

“I think we go that way.” My father pointed left.

I followed him, my high heels clicking on the shiny marble floors.

The first thing I noticed as we entered the drawing room was the roaring fireplace directly opposite the entrance. There were a handful of people gathered in front of it. Since Beaver Falls was such a small town, I recognized most of them. The three I didn’t had to be the Korzha brothers.

One of them walked up to us. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His hair was so dark it was almost black. The color of his eyes was only a shade lighter. In profile, his strong chin and aquiline nose gave him a regal air. “Welcome,” he said. His eyes traveled from my head to my feet, studying my appearance, before he continued. “It’s a pleasure to have you as guests in my home. I am Frederic Korzha.”

He did not extend his hand.

“I’m Willow Duncan, and this is my father, James.”

Frederic gave us a slight bow. “Come.” He gestured toward a man standing in the corner of the room, ushering him toward us. “Our servants will bring you some wine and hors d’oeuvres. Dinner will be ready”—he glanced down at the watch on his wrist—“in another fifteen minutes.”

Servant? That wasn’t a word you heard used very often these days.

I glanced down, admiring the oriental rug that covered almost the entire floor. The walls were covered with wood paneling, some of which was carved with various scenes depicting the outdoors. Giant evergreens, wolves, a stream, the moon.

I was so deep in thought that I hadn’t noticed that the man who’d been standing in the corner of the room a moment ago was now at my side.

“Excuse me, madam,” he said in the same thick accent as the man who’d taken our jackets earlier. I turned to look at him. “Would you like some wine?” He held a tray with several glasses of both white and red.

“No, thank you,” I replied.

“None for me either,” my father said.

“Come join us,” Frederic called out.

My father and I crossed the room.

“This is my brother Alexander.” Frederic pointed to his left. “And this is Maxim.” He gestured to the man who stood in front of him. They both stared at me for a moment before bowing like Frederic had earlier. Suddenly, I wished I’d worn a longer dress.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, smiling graciously to hide my discomfort.

“Do you know our other guests?” Maxim asked. “Or shall I make the proper introductions?”

“No. We all know each other,” the woman beside me said. Her name was