That was beautiful,” she breathed aloud. Of course she had sung duets with the greatest mer singers, male and female, ones who were hundreds of years older than she with voices trained for as long. Somehow what she had just done with Eric was far more powerful and beautiful. All with no audience except for the sea grass, the water, and the wind.

The heat of the day had long since retreated into the desert, and the city, which had drowsed through the hot afternoon, was finally coming alive. The streets filled with people drinking tea and gossiping, laughing, and visiting friends. Old men played chatrang on boards set up outside cafes; children stayed up long past their bedtimes playing their own games on the sidewalks. Men and women bought rose-flavored ices and trinkets from nighttime vendors.

Beyond it were a dozen skeletons still shackled to the wall, left there even after they’d decomposed like a forgotten detail in a fairy tale.

When was the last time those two kids had a full meal or a good, long, clean drink of water? This was the way he had been as a child. Nothing had changed. The sultan still sat in his beautiful golden-domed palace, playing with his toys while people starved on the streets. Nothing would ever change until the sultan- or someone-woke up and saw how his people were suffering.

What if, since her mother was the one who cast the spell, Belle was the only one who could break it.

When you’re young, you think the world will make room for who you are and what you want... And then you find the world of adults is even more limiting than the world of children. With no room for adventure, much less yer own thoughts.

You can’t have adventures without risk. You can’t have great things if you constantly fear loss.

Magic comes back to you, just as the actions of people do.

Belle, go. If I was your age, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment. You will always come back here, and I will always be here. And we will have those talks we need. Everyone should have a journey – and everyone should also have a home, too. Go out into the world for adventure, come home for love.

Trying to steel her nerves, she walked forward more forcefully, as if this were her choice. As if she were just going to seek out a mystery she forgot. Not a scared, lonely girl in her nightgown with a candle, like some daft heroine from one of the lighter romance books she read. This thought, too, gave her courage; she was Belle, not an idiot.