Beauty and the Beast (15 page)

I have once again taken to bed, unsure if I will ever surface again. It has been two days since my dates, but their faces keep floating before my eyes, no matter how hard I squeeze them shut.

The first girl screamed and began pounding at the door the very second Godfrey escorted her into the drawing room. I tried to remain calm, and held off tugging at the waistcoat Mother made me wear even though it dug into my ribs relentlessly. Still, the girl would not even stay for tea and cookies, which I offered up in my most charming manner, having been coached by Mother for hours prior.

The second girl could hardly be called a girl at all. Truly, she was closer to Mother's age than my own. One eye was crossed, and the other floated around like a billiard ball. It took me a moment to find my voice, and by the time I did, she had emptied the tray of cookies into the large satchel across her shoulder and darted from the room.

And my third date? Well, I will never know because she never showed up. Now Godfrey and Alexander have set off to find girls outside of our kingdom. I do not expect them back for many days. In an attempt to cheer me up before leaving, Alexander promised to restock my laboratory along his journey. Although my heart was not in it, I gave him a list of supplies.

My door opens wide. “Get out of bed,” Mother orders. My bagpipes appear out of nowhere and land on the end of my bed. I feel the mattress sag as she sits down beside them. “It is time to rejoin the living.”

I shake my head. “It is hopeless. They will never find a girl to love me, and you heard the doctor, the only man who could have helped me is dead.”

“If only he had written down what he knew,” she says. “Alas, we must move forward and —”

Her words reach me slowly, but when they do, I jump out of bed, sending the bagpipes crashing to the ground. “That is it!” I cry. “He
did
write them down. I have seen his book!”

I hurriedly explain about finding
Fairies, Goblins, and Witches of the Western Kingdoms
while hiding in the castle library.

“And you believe this is the same man?” she asks.

“I do not recall for sure, but even if he was not the author, it is still a book about witches, the only one I have ever seen, and I have seen many books.” I begin to pace excitedly.

“Riley, calm down before you stomp right through the floor.”

But my thoughts are spinning fast. Once I am armed with the book and Alexander returns with my supplies, I should have all the material necessary to undo the spell. But they will be gone a fortnight! I stop pacing. “Mother! We must send a messenger to Godfrey and Alexander. We must tell them to alter their course and come home. You saw what happened yesterday with my dates. They will not find anyone. This is our only chance!”

“Be sensible, Riley. There is no way to reach them without sending out a search party in all directions. We are hardly prepared to do that now. Should be no more than a fortnight.”

“But I cannot wait two
weeks
!” I tighten my lips. Princes do not cry. Unable to keep the quiver out of my voice, I whisper, “I do not want to go to the witch.”

A moment later her arms wrap around my waist. I have not yet put on my gloves, so I dare not try to embrace her in return. Between my sharp talons and her invisibility, who knows what harm could be done.

“We do not want you to go, either,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “Who would tell me when to expect an eclipse? I might think the world was ending when the sun disappeared.”

Once again, I am surprised at her words. “I did not know you listened when I blathered on about the stars.”

“It is not blather,” she says. “I admire your dedication to your hobbies. I do not claim to understand what you do up in your laboratory, but I respect your curiosity. You are like your father in that way. Your brother and I are the practical ones. That is not always the better way to be.”

I do not correct her and tell her that what I do up there is not a hobby, for I am too warmed by her words. Who would have thought it would take a witch's curse to bring them forth?

When we pull apart, I ask, “Can we at least send Parker to see if they are still in our area? I would instruct him to ride only two days' distance at most.”

After a short pause, she says, “All right, anything to get you out of that bed. Your room could use a good airing.”

 

Parker leaves early the next morning. I think he is relieved to be away from me, even if only for the day or two the journey will take him.

Mother, Father, and I watch from behind the curtains in the Great Hall as he saddles up his horse and sets out. His nephew Valerian is now standing guard at the front entrance, nervously shifting his weight from leg to leg. Valerian shares neither his uncle's bravery nor his fierce loyalty to our family. Still, he is large and imposing, and I have no doubt Parker has instructed him well.

I am about to turn away from the door when, to my great surprise, a young woman appears on the walk. In lieu of a dress, she wears a long tunic, tied at the waist, stockings, and thick boots. A large brown sack across her shoulder bounces as she approaches the gate.

“Do you know this person, Lillian?” Father asks.

Mother must have shaken her head because Father says, “Nor do I.”

While Father pushes open the window so we can hear, I peer closer, trying to get a good look at her face to see if I recognize her. When we were younger, Alexander and I used to play with the other children of the village, especially those whose parents worked at the castle. But her large, round eyes and wide mouth do not look familiar. Plus, her hair is red, and in our village that is a rarity. She is pretty, I suppose, from a purely scientific standpoint.

She stops when she sees Valerian.

“Who goes there?” he demands, barring her way. “State your purpose.”

“I am here to see the beast,” she says, her voice firm and direct. “He is expecting me.”

“I have been told of no visitors,” Valerian replies. “I cannot let you enter.”

The girl hesitates only slightly before saying, “But we have a date. Rather, we were supposed to have a date yesterday, but I could not make it.”

Mother grabs my arm. “Stop him from sending her away! She could be the one to break the spell!”

I groan. Another date! I might prefer to remain a beast forever. Mother's grip tightens. “All right, all right, but you are yanking on my fur.”

She releases my arm and pats the fur back into place. “Sorry.”

I have to admit, even with the strange garb, the girl does seem a much better candidate than any of the others. I push open the window farther, and stick out my head. “Er, hello?” I say. Then in a deeper voice I say, “I mean, hello there! I am the beast, and I should like the girl to enter.”

Both of them turn toward me and freeze. Valerian clutches his chest. Honestly, that reaction is quite unnecessary. I am not THAT horrifying. The girl quickly recovers and steps right around Valerian, who is as still as a statue.

“Go open the door for her,” Mother says. “And be charming.”

I suppress another groan as I thud toward the castle's main entrance. The huge wooden door used to be a struggle for me to open; now it flings open quite easily. The girl is taller than she looked from inside, and a few years older, too. She tilts her head up and looks me directly in the eyes.

“You are the one who calls himself Beast?” she asks.

I nod. Who else would I be? “It wouldn't have been my first choice for a name,” I reply, trying to be charming. “But it seemed to fit.”

She reaches across her chest and into her pack. “Sorry about this,” she says, pulling out a long, silver dagger. “Nothing personal.”

Then she throws it directly at my heart.

If I had not been so shocked when I realized the heat of the flames had caused lines to appear on the map, I would have laughed. We had tried everything but setting it on fire, and then it turns out that was exactly what we had needed to do. When Handsome sees my expression, he turns to see what has me so enthralled. It takes him a moment to realize what he is looking at. Then he grabs Veronica and the map and runs from the room. I follow close after them, glancing back only to see the boy sneer and turn away.

“It is magic!” Veronica says breathlessly when we shut ourselves back in our room.

I lean close to the paper and sniff it. “I am pretty certain it is lemon juice.”

“Whoever made this map,” Handsome says, ducking under a beam to reach for it, “went to a lot of trouble to protect it.”

We use the last rays of sun to examine it. Now the parchment clearly shows the woods; long, windy roads; a cliff; a seaport; and then a group of buildings—not quite a castle, more like a fancy estate where a high-ranking nobleman would live. At the very bottom of the map lies the mermaid fountain. At least we are in the right starting place.

Veronica is so happy that she does a little jig, kicking up her heels and clapping her hands. I do not relish ruining her mood, but I feel I must point out that nowhere on the map does it tell us what her mother's destination was. The buildings? The fountain? Somewhere in between?

Handsome leans closer to me and whispers, “I do not want to frighten Veronica, but I think that boy saw what happened with the map.”

My eyes widen. “Do you think he would try to take it?”

“I do not know,” Handsome says. “But he seems the sort to get what he wants.”

“That he does,” I have to agree.

“I can hear you,” Veronica says, continuing to dance. “And you do not have to protect me. I am not a child.”

Handsome and I share a small smile. Of course she is a child. He and I are not much past that ourselves.

Just then hushed voices outside our door bring her dance to a swift end. We spring into action. Handsome double-checks that he had pushed the lock closed. Veronica and I run over to the wall and each peek through one of the eye-sized knots in the old wood. The holes are only waist high, so we cannot see too much. Still, it is enough to recognize the boy and his father. No one else around here dresses like that. They are each holding a towel and a ball of soap.

“The innkeeper refused to reveal their room number to me,” the boy is saying. “But judging from their ratty clothes, they are in the poor section.”

“We were lucky the best room at the inn was still available,” his father says, reaching down to violently scratch his leg.

Veronica barely stifles a giggle.

“Shh!” Handsome warns, but he is smiling, too. His smile quickly fades with the boy's next words.

“I want that map.”

“What makes you think it is valuable?”

“The way the girl protected it. If it were not a treasure map, she would have let me see it.”

“All right,” the father says, now scratching the other leg. “After we bathe, we shall find the children. Every innkeeper has his price.” And off they go.

We step away from the wall, no one daring to speak until we hear the latrine door close firmly behind them.

“We must leave tonight,” Veronica says. Neither of us argues with her. We rush to repack our bags. Veronica stops my hand as I am about to shove the monk's robe into my pack. “You should wear that. You, too, Handsome. In case the boy and his father are only pretending to bathe, or if their groomsman lies in wait.”

“You are right,” Handsome says, pulling his out.

“But where will we go once we leave the inn?” I ask, slipping the robe over my head and shoulders. “Darkness is soon upon us, and this is the only inn in town.”

“I do not know,” Veronica replies, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “We shall worry about that once we are clear of this place.”

Handsome unlocks the door and peeks out. He steps through and waves us along. “One thing I must do first,” he whispers, motioning for us to stay in the doorway. He tiptoes down to the end of the hall toward the latrine. I hold my breath. He is so close to them!

He slowly pushes the bolt across the door, successfully locking them inside. “Just buying us some time,” he says with a wink.

“Nicely done,” I say, nodding appreciatively.

And so one little girl and two hooded monks sneak down the stairs of The Welcome Inn, trying to look casual and no doubt failing miserably. Flavian takes one look at us, rolls his eyes, and waves for us to follow him. Having no better options, we let him lead us out the back door, where the horses and carriages are stored.

He holds open the door of the most opulent of the carriages. The doors are gilded with gold leaf, and the cushions are plush and firm. “Get in,” he orders. “You can stay here until morn. When they come down to speak with the innkeeper, I will tell them you left long ago. They will never think to look in their own carriage. And the map? Nothing but a guide to the best places to collect berries.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask, hurrying inside after Handsome.

“It is my job to know everything that goes on at the inn.”

Veronica steps onto the carriage stairs and gives Flavian a hug. “You should go home to your daughter,” she whispers into his oversize ear. “She would rather have you over whatever coin you make here.” Then she slips something into his hand and jumps inside the carriage.

 

I wake to Handsome shaking my shoulder. “Time to go,” he whispers. “Daybreak will soon be here, and we do not know when the boy and his father will be leaving.”

I nod and stretch, feeling surprisingly well rested. The carriage was cozy and warm, and the bench as soft and plush as it had appeared. I do not know how much coin Veronica gave Flavian last night, but he not only stood guard outside all night, he brought us crescent rolls and warm butter for breakfast.

Veronica has decided that the group of buildings on the map is the place her mother most likely sought, so that is where we are headed. The first leg of the journey consists of miles and miles of road, which would take us weeks if we were to attempt to walk it. So instead we climb from our plush overnight lodging to a barely-holding-together-at-the-seams carriage-for-hire.

The new carriage comes with a grouchy coachman and a very gassy horse, but we are putting distance between us and The Welcome Inn, and that is a good thing. Veronica must have a seemingly endless supply of coin, because the coachman agreed to drive us as far as we need without asking questions.

We stop only when the coachman or his horse gets tired. One night we even sleep in a barn, with nothing but some scruffy farm animals to keep us warm. If I thought our horse had a bad odor, that was before I spent the night with a cow sleeping not an arm's length from my face.

On the third day, Handsome tries to make the time pass faster by making up stories about the welcome we shall receive when we arrive at the grand estate. Never mind that we do not even know who lives there, or why Veronica's mother wanted to go there, or even if that truly was her destination. “Splendid gardens and babbling brooks await us,” he promises. “Feasts of grilled lamb and peach pies and cold cider. Private bathhouses where the water is topped with fragrant rose petals, and towels as soft as velvet. Servants to dress you in fine linens and —”

“And my mother shall be there to greet us,” Veronica finishes.

Handsome hesitates, then says, “I hope you are right.”