Beauty and the Beast (9 page)

I stare at the back of my eyelids, trying to force myself to slumber. Or continue slumbering, whatever the case may be. Dreaming is the only explanation for what has just happened to us. As Freddy said this morning (which feels a lifetime ago), fairies and witches simply do not exist.

A moment later, I hear the unmistakable voices of the guards calling our names. My heart sinks. “There are the horses!” Parker shouts. I reluctantly open my eyes and hear rustling in the grass beside me. The others must be sitting up, too. Someone, I cannot tell who, grips my arm.

“You must hide,” Mother whispers, the panic plain in her voice.

I turn my head in all directions but see nowhere I could go. I am wider than any of the trees, and taller than any of the bushes that line the riverbank. Besides, it is too late. Parker and the two guards at his side have spotted me. Shouts fill the air. “Who are you?
What
are you? Where is the royal family? What have you done with them?”

I shrink down, not daring to show them my full height. Do I truly look so unrecognizable? Parker has been guarding my family since I was born.

“Do not tell them who you are,” Father whispers.

“Tell them not to fear,” Alexander adds. “We do not want you to be attacked.”

I clear my throat, but the mere sound makes the guards jump back. “Do not be frightened,” I tell them, holding up my arms. They gasp. I quickly lower them. “I mean you no harm. I have not seen the royal family of which you speak.” This is both a fib, and not a fib. Invisibility is tricky that way.

“We have searched for hours,” Parker says. “King Rubin's men have searched, too. There has been no sign of them, and you have their horses! You
must
have seen them.”

His words surprise me greatly.
Hours
have passed since we went ahead of the caravan? “I have not seen them,” I repeat. And then I add, “The horses came alone.”

“The beast is lying!” one of the younger guards points at me. “He has Prince Alexander's ring on his finger!”

I look down at my hand. I had slipped the ring over the first knuckle on my pinky, the only place it would fit. That was foolish of me.

“Seize him!” Parker orders. “We shall bring him to the castle dungeon until we learn the truth. King Rubin's men will continue to scour the area.”

“Do as they say,” Mother whispers as the guards approach from all sides. “This is our chance to get home.”

So I stand up. This has the effect of stopping the guards in their tracks, which gives my family time to step away before the guards approach. Even though I could easily knock them aside with my ox-like strength, I allow them to grab my wrists and tie them behind my back.

They lead me to the road where the other members of the caravan are gathered, waiting to go. Upon seeing me, shouts and gasps again fill the air. Clea screams and faints dead away. One of the coachmen tries to catch her, but he cannot take his eyes from me and she hits the ground. The bump on her head shall hurt for a few days, I am sure.

Parker tells everyone not to panic and to ready themselves to leave upon his command. The guards herd me toward our coach, although there is no chance of me fitting through the door. They argue amongst themselves before deciding I shall have to be strapped to the top of the carriage. Then they argue about how they are going to get me up there, until finally I offer to climb. Although being tied to the top of a carriage was not how I intended to return home, it is better than being bumped around inside it.

The coachman must add a horse from one of the other coaches in order to pull my extra weight. While they are doing this, I take a moment to look around for any signs of my family. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the door of one of the coaches opening. Then the carriage lowers a few inches and the door closes. They have made it inside! I think it is the one carrying the passed-out Clea. I hope for her sake she does not awaken before we reach the castle. She will no doubt believe she is traveling with three ghosts and faint dead away again.

The best part of the ride is getting to see the stars as they dot the sky. The worst part is not being able to push the tangled hair out of my face. Why could not Mother have joked about me having hair like a tiger rather than a lion? Then it would be nice and short, and the wind would not blow it into my mouth.

It is fully nightfall by the time we return to the castle. The guards are already leading me up to the main gate when the sound of our arrival reaches the occupants inside. A steady stream gathers to greet the caravan. Upon seeing what is before them, the maids, footmen, cooks, falconer, squires, pages, knights, jester, groomsmen, and others who the darkness hides from view work themselves into such a frenzy that I fear for their safety. It only takes a moment for word to spread that the royal family is missing, that the beast (
me!
) was found with the elder prince's gold ring, and that I likely ate the entire family.

Honestly! The tales people come up with! “I did
not
eat them!” I shout in my new, deeper voice. My words echo off the stones, making them sound even louder than I had intended. The crowd shrinks back, their faces masks of horror. I realize I have stepped into view of the torches that line the castle entrance. At once, the crowd streams past me, running away from the castle at top speed. I would have expected more from our loyal subjects. Certainly I look odd. A bit larger than the average man, and perhaps I have more hair, and my clothes and boots are in tatters, but this extreme reaction seems quite uncalled for.

“Wait!” Parker calls out. “We have the beast restrained! You are not in danger!”

But they do not wait. Nor do they look back. The coachmen, having unhinged the horses, now hop upon their backs and take off as well.

“Sorry,” the three other guards tell Parker, before they, too, hurry down the path to the road.

Parker scowls. “Cowards!” His hold tightens on my arm. “I shall deal with you myself!”

I am so very weary. “Parker, it is I, Prince Riley.”

Parker whirls around to see what kind of trick this is. Finding nothing, his face darkens. “How
dare
you jest with me! You shall rot in the dungeons for what you have done to the young prince and his family. If it were up to me, you would meet the hangman tomorrow!”

I open my mouth to argue, but a hard pinch on my bottom makes me yelp instead. “Do not tell him who you are!” Alexander whispers up at me. He shall pay for that pinch.

Parker grabs a torch from the wall and pushes me roughly through the now-unguarded gate, and down the long flights of stairs to the dungeons. I shiver, even though my newly furry skin provides ample protection from the dank and drafty hallways. I usually avoid the dungeons at all cost, even though no one has been imprisoned here since my grandfather was king.

Finally, we wind up at the farthermost cell, where Parker orders me to sit down against the wall. I barely fit on the narrow bench. “I am innocent, I tell you.”

He must be too angry to be fearful, because he puts his face right up to mine. His hot, angry breath fills the space between us. “Then tell me exactly where the royal family is.”

Probably right behind you
, I want to tell him. Instead, I grit my teeth. “I cannot.”

“As I expected,” he says, slamming the door behind him and leaving me in utter darkness. I hear the wooden bars crisscross into place before he storms off down the hall. Even if my family were
not
invisible, I would not be able to see them now.

“I am assuming,” I whisper into the inky blackness, “that you spent the ride devising a most excellent plan, because I do not intend to spend the night in this scary, wet, dark place while my comfortable bed lies empty.”

A warm hand begins to stroke my tangled mane. “We have a plan, dear Riley,” Mother says. “Fear not.”

I cross my arms, careful not to scratch myself, or her, in the process. “Plus,” I add, “I am very, very hungry. My new stomach must be the size of an elephant's.”

“Please do not eat us,” Alexander begs, barely concealing his mirth.

“Hush, Alexander,” Mother scolds. “This is no time to tease your brother.” She abruptly pulls her hand away from my hair and jumps from the bench. “Did someone just
tickle me
?”

Father laughs. “So sorry, my dearest. The dark is so total. I could not resist.”

I sigh. Being invisible is a practical joker's greatest wish. I fear for the tricks he shall come up with now. Leave it to Father to find something positive about this nightmare. “Mother,” I call out into the blackness. “Why would you not allow me to tell Parker of our situation? He has always been most loyal to the kingdom.”

Father sits down beside me. I can tell because he says, “I am sitting down beside you now.” Then he says, “I know it is frustrating, but we do have a plan. Neither Parker, nor anyone else in the kingdom, can know what has befallen us. If everyone in the town thought their leaders invisible and their prince turned into a beast, fear and mistrust would take over. Our castle and lands would be overrun. We must let them believe you are a fearsome creature from lands far away, one who has terrified nations, laid waste to civilizations, plundered villages, ravaged —”

“I get it. I am an evil, horrendous beast! But are you certain this is the answer?”

“This is the best plan we have for now,” he says in the same firm, kingly voice he uses on his subjects when he wants them to believe and trust him. “Once the plan is in place we must figure out a way to change you back, and in doing so, to restore ourselves as well.”

“But how can we do that from the dungeon?”

“You shall be free by dawn,” Mother promises, sitting down on my other side and carefully — ever so carefully — taking my hand (paw?) in hers. “On the trip home, your father wrote a letter to Parker.” She presses a folded sheet of parchment into my palm. I cannot help wishing for light in the room so that I could see the letter appear as if out of nowhere.

“When he returns,” she says, “give him the letter. He knows well your father's handwriting, so he shall not doubt it. It informs him to alert everyone that the royal family is safe, and instructs him to give you free reign of the castle, to question you not, and to guard against any intruders who may do you harm. He is to clear the castle of all inhabitants, and to ensure they have places to stay elsewhere. Judging from how many people already ran away, this should not be a difficult task. He must make certain that large meals are delivered fresh every day, and that the fires are kept burning throughout the castle. He is to send all the knights to their outposts in the surrounding villages to make sure everything runs smoothly in our absence. The letter promises that if he obeys these rules, he shall be handsomely rewarded, and that you shall return the royal family unharmed in three months' time.”

I let her words sink in. “It is a good plan. But how can I promise your safe return? Do any of you truly believe I can get a girl to love me in only three months?”

No one replies. They do not have to. We all know the answer.

Clarissa has taken to following me around with a powder puff. It was bad enough at home, when I awoke to find her putting the finishing touches on what I was horrified to discover later was a full face of makeup. Only now she is doing it at the store.

“But your forehead shines like the sun,” she complains.

“I thought it was the full moon,” I reply, darting out of her way.

“It is even brighter today. One more dab,” she begs. I catch her arm as it reaches across the counter toward my face. She wrestles free and replaces the puff inside the powder container with a huff.

Master Werlin finally suggests I leave for a while so Clarissa can focus. I agree with him. If Clarissa is going to be my replacement, she needs to pay attention to his lessons without stopping to tie back my hair or coat my “lackluster” lips with beetle-encrusted lipstick. I want to warn him not to expect her to focus on the lessons for more than a few minutes at a time, but he will find that out on his own. He gives me a list of items to pick up from various vendors — beakers, a ladle, a spool of thread — and sends me on my way.

I return to the shop no more than an hour later, to find a small brown-haired girl waiting out front. “Did you not hear me calling you? What, did you think I meant someone
else
named Beauty?”

I stop and squint down at her. I have never seen this girl before in my life.