by Lelia Eye
I had reached the place where my feet had been taking me and sat with a whine. I was at the fountain that had once comforted me. Only now there was no rose. No, now that rose was in the hair of the very one who was making me upset.
“The castle is warded against unwanted guests,” she explained. “The forest has magic paths that take travelers around it.”
“That’s an awfully big detour.”
She tilted her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Most people avoid the forest. Those who don’t—who think of taking a quicker path than the main road—often find themselves distracted by other things.”
Like witches and wolves? I wondered. Out loud, I asked, “And the Invis?”
“This castle is one of several faelanxes—areas where fairies often gather—spread across the world. The invisible servants are elemental spirits that aid fairies and are attracted to places such as this so strongly that they cannot leave.”
“Then why don’t they aid me in transforming back?” I growled. But I did not wait for a response.
Instead, I left her there and went to the boundary between the castle’s grounds and the forest, where I sat and stared into the trees. Where was I to go when Beauty was feeding into the primal part of me instead of pushing it away? By bringing Labelle into my life, I had upset a delicate balance. Should I have just made the merchant—no, he was a farmer now—put the rose back? Or would it have withered away?
I could hear howling in the distance. Maybe it was wolves or garms or fenrirs. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t have any instinctive connection with them, like I should be part of a pack or something. But I knew I was not purely human anymore.
Perhaps I was the lone wolf type. But this rage and frustration within me made me want to kill something, to taste blood, and the human in me worried.
When I went to Labelle’s room at mealtime, I wanted to knock on her door, but I just stood there, hesitating, for several minutes.
Eventually, the door opened, and Labelle stood there, looking at me in surprise for a few seconds. She had on a new dress—this one purple and presumably provided by the Invis, if the elegant state of the garment was any indicator—and looked radiant. She crossed her arms and ruined the image as she said crossly, “It’s about time you came to get me for dinner. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to leave me to starve.”
My mouth opened and closed a few times. I wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, I ventured, “Your new dress suits you.”
“It certainly doesn’t suit a beast,” she scoffed. “How long are you going to keep me here, really?”
I lifted my chin. She wasn’t here because of magic, but because of a promise. If she was an honorable person, she would stay. That was all there was to it. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I told her, “As long as it takes.”
“As long as it takes for what?” she cried.
As long as it took for me to feel content? As long as it took for the spell to wear off? I wasn’t sure, so I answered truthfully: “I don’t know.”
She seemed unsatisfied with that answer, and I didn’t have another one. “You—”
“Let’s go eat,” I said, interrupting her.
“Fine,” she said, managing to inject a lot of venom into that simple word.
Labelle followed me to the dining room, but she did so in such a slow fashion that I had to make major modifications to my long stride. One foot, I told myself. Next foot. This was ridiculous. It would take half the night to get where she could sit down.
Well, we finally made it, and to my surprise, it didn’t take half the night. I told her to sit where she wanted, and after staring at the long table for an instant, she sat at the head of the table. I sat on the floor nearby, looking up at her. The Invis had decorated the table beautifully, with a long white tablecloth, candlesticks, and vases of flowers (not roses, as they realized my policy on roses was “do not pick them”). Every place setting was arranged perfectly, and there was no one in the kingdom who would have been able to criticize any aspect of the way the table looked. I wondered idly who had taken the time to give spirits etiquette lessons.
“Aren’t you going to sit at the table?” Labelle asked.
“I already ate,” I lied.
“Uh huh.”
“Just tell the Invis what you want, and they’ll serve you.”
On cue, a small cart laden with food wheeled up to Labelle. She pointed at a few items, and then another cart moved forward to offer a different selection. When she had loaded up a plate—not as high as her father had done, but still higher than I would have expected from a girl her size—she looked at me suspiciously. “You aren’t going to ask to share it with me, are you?”
“No.” I had no further interest in eating off a petulant girl’s plate. Fiefdom’s fire, you ask to eat off a girl’s plate one time, and you’re branded a monster for life.
She took a few bites and said, “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”
“Didn’t your father ever teach you to be polite to your host?” I returned.
“I’m mistress of the castle,” she reminded me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. Of course that stupid statement would come back to bite me in the butt.
Save for the clinking of her fine cutlery against her plate, it was quiet for the rest of the meal. Only when she had put down her napkin did I ask: “Do you wear the red rose to taunt me?”
She must have heard the seriousness in my voice, as she stopped eating and looked at me with solemnity of her own. “A great sacrifice was made for it, so I want to keep it close. You are more than welcome to take it back and dissolve the bargain.”
I turned away from her in anger. Unsure I could contain myself, I stalked off. Forget welcoming her to the castle. Surely sitting with her for a few minutes at dinner was good enough to absolve me of any further host duties for the night.
It was not long before there was someone trotting by my side, like that pesky conscience you can’t get rid of.
“Have you bit off more than even a wolf can chew?”
“Scarlet, if you’re going to do nothing but try to anger and manipulate me with your never-ending questions, I’d rather not see you around at all.” I didn’t know if wolves’ tails lashed when they were angry, but I was afraid to twist my head to find out.
“You could be more understanding,” she told me. Her voice was coated with that eternally patient tone that is so annoying you want to smack the person using it. “She may never see her family again. You know what that feeling is like.”
“Are you going to hang around more now that she’s here?”
“Someone has to make sure you don’t eat the girl.”
“Frankly, I’d rather take a bite out of you,” I growled under my breath.
She snorted. “I’m sure you would.”
Chapter 7: Animal Instincts
I decided to give Labelle some space the next day, as it seemed like the understanding thing to do. When she came out of her room in the morning, I didn’t talk to her. I simply intended to follow her from afar to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble as she explored the grounds. She had no idea how things worked around Silverthorn, and she would need supervision until she learned.
She circled the fountain first, no doubt thinking of whatever her father had told her, before finally examining her surroundings and then taking off on a determined walk toward the stables.
I could not help thinking of how beautiful her long hair would have looked trailing along in the perfect green grass, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. No need to think of the impossible. Her hair was gone. Even if she had wanted to, I doubted she would ever be able to make it reach that length again.
The horse had been tended to already and looked as content as my hunting dogs always did after chewing on some meaty bones.
But Labelle’s thoughts didn’t parallel mine. She began talking as if the creature were a giant depressed puppy, and then she rub
bed the horse’s nose the way you might stroke a dog’s back. Finally, after she deemed Luna properly petted, she began to lead the way out of the stable.
I crouched behind a rose bush, watching the pair, and once they had gone past me, I followed from a distance, wondering what Labelle would do next. Was she going to flee?
Labelle pointed out different things as she and Luna walked, talking to her horse like it was a long-lost companion. It was “Look at this, Luna!” and “Doesn’t that remind you of when . . . ?” the whole time. The creature just listened calmly—not that it was able to do anything else. Wolves seemed to be the only talking animals around here.
Then Labelle did something that made my blood boil. She stopped by a rose bush and reached out to caress the most beautiful pink bloom . . . and then she plucked it and placed it in her hair beside the red rose.
I could not contain myself. I stalked forward, trying with all my might to make myself calm down. “The rose’s beauty lasts longer on the bush,” I said. I didn’t yell at her. That was admirable.
She jumped at the sound of my voice, and then her surprised expression became peeved. “That may be, but bushes aren’t portable.”
I wanted to tell her there were rose bushes everywhere, but I didn’t. That was also admirable. I was a fire-blasted saint.
I gave up the pretense of allowing her to explore by herself (a horse did not count as a companion) and followed her around quietly. She could have told me to leave her alone, and I would have done it, but all she did was give me the occasional wary look.
We walked through the apple orchard, and she picked one of the red fruits off the tree, rolling it over in her hands with awe, like she had never seen an apple before. “This is so perfect,” she said, handing it out for Luna to take a bite.
I withheld a groan. It was a waste of a perfectly good fruit.
“How are all the plants like this when it’s fall?” she asked. “And why is the weather so perfect?”
“Weather doesn’t touch this place in the usual way,” I told her. “Occasionally, there is a good rain, but otherwise it is always pleasant. The trees have no need to drop their leaves; the flowers don’t ever lose their petals.”
“You seem to know a lot about this place,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “How long have you been here?”
“Three years.” I hoped she refrained from asking where I was before that. I wouldn’t have an answer for her that I could give. Still, I marveled at what I had told her. Just three years? It felt like an eternity.
She studied me for a moment, as if trying to determine what questions she could ask before I tried to chomp her in two. Then she asked, “Why doesn’t Luna fear you?”
Of course she would ask about her beloved mount. “I believe . . . higher thinking . . . domestic animals have a way of looking beyond the external. I just try to avoid visiting the chickens.”
I soon wished I had eaten those words, as Labelle had to ask for directions to the nearest chicken coop. I instructed her on how to find the wretched creatures and then parted ways with her in annoyance. The last time I had visited them, their shrieks had rung in my ears for hours afterward. At least the cows were better behaved, even if they did smell like dung.
I went back to the castle, where I ate a quick meal of stew and did some thinking. While I had never exactly tried to pinpoint the intricate details of the Invis’s operation of Silverthorn, I had come to gather that they did a good job of maintaining the animal population. I also presumed that those animals were the very ones that made up the food that I ate. Considering the issue further, I wondered if maybe magic had its limits. Or maybe it was simply a lot easier on the Invis to have some stuff grounded in the real world. They certainly always gave me venison after I hunted deer.
Thinking about hunting made me yearn to do it. It was the one thing that really linked me with my human self; after all, hunting had been mentioned in the fateful words that had led to my present enchanted state. But guns and teeth were two completely different weapons, and though I had used a knife to skin my kill before, still there was no real comparison between that and the use of a wolf’s fangs. The teeth of my current form were made to pierce and tear. My nose and eyes and instincts all were primed to help me find the jugular vein to end a life. As a human, it had been more about the heart.
I went out into the forest, all my senses afire. There were so many different blood-smells in the forest. Birds and rodents were above and below, and according to my nose, if not my eyes, the ground was littered with wolf, garm, swine, and deer tracks. The slight snapping of a twig was deafening to my ears and would set my blood rushing. It made me feel very inhuman . . . but also very alive.
It took me some time, but I eventually picked up on the fresh scent of a wild boar. They were a dangerous prey—with their thick skin, it was hard to land a killing blow, and they were immensely strong, capable of charging with great force and gutting any predators that failed to dodge them. They made a worthy opponent, and whenever I took one down, I usually returned to Silverthorn dripping blood and exhausted from dragging the pig the whole way. It would have been nice if the Invis could bring my booty back for me, but they were unable to go beyond the castle’s boundaries into the forest, so I had to do the dirty work if I wanted to eat. Once, I had left a dead deer behind because I was tired of dragging it, and the Invis had refused to feed me until I went and fetched it.
My eyes tracing the boar’s large form, I padded forward quietly. It would be a lot easier to bring him down if I maintained the element of surprise.
But when I walked around a large bush, I found him staring at me. He waited only half an instant before he charged. I was barely able to dodge in time.
The thought Will I be killed by a stinking pig? crossed my mind, and then the beast in me took over.
Leap! Bite!
Dodge! Attempt latch.
Blood races. Skin too thick.
Flung aside. Tusks flash. Leap!
Bite slash. Blood. Squeals. Ears twitch.
Attempt latch. Jugular. Blood pulse. Latched!
Shriek shriek death-cry. Jaws clenched. Await end.
Blood smell. Squeals. Final thrash. Silence. Stillness. End.
With some effort, I managed to extract myself from the manic mindset of the predator to examine my prey more closely. Boars often took a long time to die, and they were dangerous even in their death throes. But this one, near as I could tell, was dead.
I was covered in blood, but that sort of thing did not bother me the way it once had. I felt content and proud that I had caught my dinner—until I turned my head and saw Labelle looking at me.
Actually, “staring in horror” was a better way to put it.
She glanced at the dead boar. She looked at the bloody mess that was my muzzle. Then she bolted.
I stood there for a moment like some ugly statue, wondering how in Magnolia she had found me. But then I realized she must have heard the screaming, and my rigid muscles slackened. I had to get to her before I lost her forever.
As a wolf, I should have had a very clear advantage. But the stench of wild boar was in my nose, and I was tired from the fight. Still, I did my best to bound after her. My paws were tougher than they had been when I had first tried to chase her a few years before, yet halfway back to Silverthorn, I managed to get a stick stuck in between my toes that practically lamed me.
It was to my great fortune, however, that Labelle went inside the castle rather than to the stables. I had been almost certain she would go straight to her horse and gallop all the way home.
My nose took me down a corridor quite some distance from my own room and from there to the stairs leading up to one of the towers. I thought it was probably the East Tower, but I had lost my cardinal sense of direction upon becoming a wolf; now, direction was determined by my nose and ears instead of my mind. I stood still at the foot of the stairs and shifted my feet. Towers were more befitting of being used as living quarters for servants, so
Labelle should not have been up there, but I knew she was. My nose didn’t lie.
In spite of briefly imagining climbing up a tower with Labelle’s hair when it was long, I hated heights. Humans—and wolves, for that matter—were meant to remain on the ground. The air was for birds and dragons.
If I left her up there, would things be all right anyway? It was an important question. But I growled out loud, infuriated with myself. I had to talk to her. I could not leave things like this between us.
I made my way up the tower slowly, one carefully placed paw at a time. It was crazy that Labelle would even want to walk up these stairs. Finally, however, I made it to a room at the top with a closed door. I figured it was the room she had chosen to be hers. But for how long? I wondered. Is she packing?
“Labelle, what’s wrong?” I called. All right, so maybe it was a stupid question. Girls tended to be squeamish about things like blood and dead animals. To them, every animal was a potential plaything, and they hated when their playthings got dirty or broken.
“Go away.” Though muffled, her voice managed to be emphatic.
“Labelle, what is it?” She had to at least own up to her ridiculous girlishness before I would leave. Even if I did hate being up in the tip-top of a rat-nesting tower.
“I was starting to think you seemed almost human. Now I realize you really are an animal.”
No blow to the stomach could have hit me as hard as that did. I stood there, growling, until I realized what I was doing and turned tail and left, managing to take the stairs down faster than I had taken them up.
I had made no progress in fighting the beast in me. I was constantly finding myself doing animal things—scratching an ear with a back leg, sniffing the air as I entered a room, or trying to listen to every noise around me. It was like the wolf’s instincts were taking over my body.
I had to fight the beast. But it was so difficult when all I could do as an animal was animal things!
I needed something to connect me back to the human world. Obviously, a new hobby was not an option—even though I had hunted as a human, it wasn’t anything like the experience I had now when hunting as a wolf.
