Depravity: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (A Beastly Tale Book 1)

by M. J. Haag

  When she met my eyes, looking for answers, I asked a question of my own.

  “Why are you still abed? You seem fit enough.”

  Her air of excitement immediately left her, and she again coughed into her linen square.

  “I think I’m well and come from the room, but too soon I feel worn and shaky and need to rest. The illness teases me, giving me a moment of normalcy, then robbing me of it all within the same hour.”

  Probably just long enough for her to eat, I thought nastily. I closed my eyes and pushed away my anger, knowing Father listened to us. It would do no good to pursue the subject.

  “Then you should be back abed to rest. I will bring you something to eat soon. The Head went for supplies.”

  She nodded weakly and shuffled back into the room.

  * * * *

  By dinner, I’d made a hearty soup with the supplies delivered by the Head. He’d put the two gold coins to good use, and we had plenty to hold us for four days, including more medicine. I ladled Father and I each a healthy portion. He rose from his bed to join me at the table. I felt his forehead when I noticed an extra shine in his eyes. He felt too warm, and I recalled how I’d burned with a fever. After we ate, I helped him to bed, giving him a drink before directing him to call for me if he needed anything.

  Then I took what remained of the soup, added cold water, and served the tepid watery mix to my sisters in bed. They took their bowls without comment and drained them while I watched.

  The next day Father grew worse. I gave him another dose from my bottle, promising that any pain he felt in his lungs would soon disappear, and left him to sleep. For my sisters, I gave them their dose for breakfast and promised them food, soon. I delivered the food several hours later. More watered down soup.

  An agonizing day passed, listening to Father’s racking cough. I sat by his bed, just watching him breathe, and wondered if the beast had done the same while I suffered through my fever. By the time the sun rose, Father rested easier, and I made him drink more water before bathing his face.

  At no time during the night had either of my sisters crept from their room, so I went to check on them as well. Both slept soundly, each on her own side of the bed, and I felt a twinge of guilt at my assumption that they faked a lingering illness. I waited until I closed the door softly before I let a small cough escape. Had Father not been ill, I would have been in bed last night as well.

  Tiredly, I sat beside him again and soon began to doze.

  As the days passed, so did the supplies. We all managed a full seven days of medicine, but remained in quarantine until Father’s cough subsided nine days after I had returned home. By then, very little of the salted stag meat remained. When the Head declared us fit to open our doors again, we all worked together to clean and air out the cottage. I avoided the chore of boiling the linens and thought of the beast.

  With supplies so low, my sisters whispered to me about going for more. They didn’t ask how I came by the dress or why the Head gave us the food he had. They only knew that I’d been the source of the good fortune that helped us through the sickness. When their incessant pleading became too much, I snuck away at dawn to visit the sisters.

  Father had returned to teaching the day before. Though I hadn’t been to the Whispering Sisters in over a week, the guard nodded when he saw me and let me in. Ila greeted me just inside the door with tea.

  “What brings you here today? I heard about your illness and am glad you’re fit again.”

  I nodded in agreement and followed her down the stairs to the bathing room. After so long away, her nakedness drew my gaze again, but she didn’t seem to notice. Aryana already lounged in one of the heated tubs.

  “My sisters are making my ears bleed with their—” I took a deep breath and then lowered my voice to mimic their husky whispers.

  “Could I bathe today?” I asked, instead of complaining.

  “You are so self-contained,” Aryana commented. “You need to let your thoughts out more often so they don’t sour you from the inside.”

  She rose from the tub, and I held out a hand to help her.

  “If I speak my mind, I will sour my family. I’ve grown used to biting my tongue over the years. It usually doesn’t bother me.”

  Ila made a neutral noise as she led the way to the back room. They shooed Gen out.

  “Is this a new dress?” Aryana asked, touching the fabric.

  I nodded and reached for the buttons running down the bodice.

  “It’s very pretty,” she said. “I imagine Blye was quite jealous of it.”

  “How do you know Blye?” I asked, curious that she knew Blye well enough to know of her nature.

  “Only what we hear from our clients,” Ila whispered, helping me lift the dress over my head.

  “Your clients speak of my sisters?” I didn’t like that at all. Yes, I knew Blye could be a bit vain and jealous and Bryn a bit selfish and harsh, but they were my sisters. I loved them regardless.

  “A few. They or their wives must see your sisters in the market district during the day,” Aryana said on her way to fetch two pails of warm water while I discarded my underclothes.

  Water cascaded over my head, and I raised my hands to wipe the water from my eyes. The touch of a hand on my back and another on my legs jarred me from my thoughts of a gossiping market street and to the reality of bathing with two relative strangers. My eyes widened a moment before Aryana slid her soaped hands to my shoulders. Her firm fingers melted my objection.

  The past week of fetching, cooking, and cleaning had caused knots and strains, which had helped inspire the visit to the sisters to soak in one of their tubs.

  “You’re still considered new in the village, so people will talk about you. They’ve commented on your good trading skills, too. Many wonder where you find out of season produce.”

  In that moment, I was very glad I’d hidden the sugar under my mattress at home. Perhaps I needed to alternate where I traded and ask the beast for more common items. What was I thinking? Was I going back?

  A hand slid over my breast, distracting me. A tingle of awareness prickled my skin. It felt odd, but not painful, just wrong. I’d washed myself plenty of times and never gotten such a reaction before.

  “Here,” Ila handed me the soap, having reached my upper thighs. I was thankful she let me wash myself instead of continuing upward.

  “You have more tension than most men,” Aryana commented as she worked her way down my back. “Perhaps after a soak, you’d like us to soothe your muscles.”

  I recalled how Gen had reacted and politely declined. I caught Ila’s knowing smirk, but ignored it. They rinsed me, and the three of us walked to the tubs, picking three close together. We didn’t talk much. Too soon, Ila was insisting we get out before we made ourselves sick. We went to rinse with cool water, and they worked oil into my hair again after I dried by the fire.

  * * * *

  When I returned home, the lingering smell of eggs and bacon tinted the air inside the cottage. Bryn stood before the wash pan, scrubbing the dishes.

  “How did you get more food?” I asked excitedly, my stomach grumbling and eyes wandering, looking for what my nose smelled.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  “Eggs. Bacon. I can smell it,” the words took on a harsh tone as they tumbled from my mouth.

  “Oh, yes. There wasn’t enough to share. Sorry,” she said airily as she set a pan aside.

  “Did you at least give some to Father?”

  “Please. He sits all day. I’m here cleaning, cooking, running to the market. I needed the food so I wouldn’t collapse,” she replied irritably.

  She refused to turn and look at me. I frowned at her back. We had no food and no coin. Again. Trading away the sugar would be dangerous, but Father wasn’t eating again. I went to the mattress and felt for the sugar, but pulled out an empty hand.

  “Don’t bother,” Bryn said. “I found what you were trying to hoard selfi
shly and traded it for the food.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “A handful of sugar for only enough bacon and eggs to feed one?”

  “Just go and get more,” she said with a shrug as if I had come by the sugar easily.

  I thought of the beast and his last, frightening appearance over a week ago. In all likelihood, I would not be welcomed back.

  “I can’t,” I said desperately. “That was the last of it.”

  “Every time you leave, you come back with something new. Don’t tell me that’s the last of it. Go.” She picked up a bag and threw it at me, her face twisted with anger and her eyes filled with tears.

  I took the bag and left with nowhere to go. The sisters were now accepting customers, and I wouldn’t enter the estate again.

  Walking to the outskirts of town, I found a new patch of grass near a tree and sat there until the sun started to crest the horizon. Stomach cramping, I started the walk home.

  Bryn looked up expectantly when I entered. I set my empty bag on my bed and went to the well to drink my fill of cool water. It stopped the hunger pains, for now.

  When Father came home and saw no dinner waited, he grabbed a book from his shelf and left again. He returned a long while later with some grain. Bryn divided it and cooked half for our dinner.

  * * * *

  In the morning, Bryn boiled the remaining grain for our breakfast and, looking truly concerned, insisted Father stay to eat his portion.

  As we sat at our table, quietly appreciating the meager breakfast, a sharp rat-a-tat on the door interrupted the silence. Father rose to answer it while we all spun in our chairs to watch. No one stood at the door, but a piece of parchment lay on the porch just outside. Father retrieved it and brought it back to the table after looking up and down the street.

  He scanned the note briefly, then gave us a small smile.

  “There is a traveling merchant who just passed through the Water. He heard I might have some books I no longer need and offered a fair price if I bring them to Konrall today. He must continue through Konrall south before nightfall.”

  He quickly ate his last few bites and pushed away from the table.

  “I will cancel my teaching for today and return shortly. The merchant also expressed an interest in meeting my daughters. You will accompany me.” His tone allowed no argument, though I could see distaste in my sisters’ eyes.

  Thoughts whirled. My heart ached that Father had to give up even a single book to feed us. After being ill for so long and not working, there would be no pay for several days yet. Most scholars would count themselves lucky to still have a position to return to after an extended illness. And a merchant wanting to meet us could only mean he’d heard of Father’s desire to marry one of us off. One less mouth would relieve some of the burden.

  Bryn tossed the dishes in the dry sink and hurried after Blye into their room. I ran my fingers through my hair before tugging it into a semblance of a braid, as usual. After Father returned, my sisters emerged from their room, looking fresh and well-groomed. Despite her illness, Bryn did not look as thin as the rest of us and still managed a healthy glow.

  “Benella, can you carry these in your bag?” Father asked, plucking seven thin volumes from his shelves. Two were regarding the rudimentary teachings of mathematics, which I doubted Father even referenced anymore given his familiarity of the material due to repetitive teaching. Three regarded beginning reading and writing. The other two were rare pieces pertaining to flora and fauna. I didn’t want to see them go.

  “Did you procure a wagon?” Bryn asked, smoothing her dress.

  Father gave her a flat look, and she dropped her gaze. The twit. We were selling his books because we had no coin. How exactly could he afford to pay for a wagon?

  * * * *

  Ahead, I spotted a familiar curve in the road clogged with a thick, unnatural fog. We were close to the place where I’d cut through the woods to go to the estate when I’d still traded with the beast. How long had it been now? Almost two weeks?

  “Father,” I began anxiously. “Doesn’t it seem a bit too warm for patches of fog?”

  “It depends,” he said absently, his breathing slightly labored. Typically a sedentary man, the long walk after just recovering from illness taxed him. “There may be cooler water hidden under the trees causing it.”

  The fog loomed closer, and I blinked at it, trying to determine if we were walking faster or if the fog crept toward us. Still several feet away, I caught a slight movement within the mist. Before I could call out a warning, hundreds of vines shot out, wrapping around us.

  The thick fog consumed us, hiding us from one another. I heard my sisters cry out, and my father call our names. I was unable to answer as a vine wrapped itself firmly, but gently around my mouth, effectively gagging me. I bit down on the vine to chew through it, but the acrid sap that ran into my mouth worried me, so I spat out what I could and remained mute.

  The vines tugged us through the trees, up into the canopy, ever closer to the estate while the mist continued to keep us isolated. I heard the growing concern in Father’s voice when I did not answer his calls.

  Fear bloomed in my chest. Could I still try to claim refuge and would it work to protect all of us? How angry had my last departure made the beast? I felt the vines start to lower me and, soon, the mist retreated enough that we could see each other.

  We all hung a few feet from the ground, tangled in vines. Bryn and Blye’s eyes grew wide, and they began to struggle against their bindings when they saw we dangled inside the gate of the estate. Father calmly scanned the area, probably remembering his last harmless excursion behind the walls. The vines still binding my mouth worried me. I felt we would not leave this time without meeting the beast, and for a reason I couldn’t guess, he didn’t want me to speak.

  The mist stopped retreating several yards away and then started to darken. Both my sisters began to cry. The pathetic mewling sounds had me pitying them and their fear. No one deserved to be tormented as the beast currently did to them. My eyes narrowed on the gloom, and I tried to speak around the vines, but it just sounded garbled.

  “It would seem I have trespassers,” the beast growled.

  I snorted.

  Father’s face visibly paled, and he appeared to have lost his voice in the face of such menace.

  “As the eldest, you shall take the punishment for the trespass, unless...”

  I shook my head and attempted to speak past the gag, trying to tell the beast to stop his madness.

  “Unless, what?” my father said.

  “Unless one of your daughters agrees to stay with me,” the beast said.

  I ceased my struggles, seeing what the beast meant to do, the sneaky son of a—

  “No,” Blye wailed.

  “It’s not yet your turn to answer,” the beast snapped harshly. “The eldest speaks first. It’s only right I offer her the opportunity. And, she should be grateful I consider her at all when she’s carrying a bastard child.”

  Blye’s sniffles stopped, and she turned to stare at Bryn. We all did. Tears trickled down Bryn’s face, her shame evident. The food hoarding, the moods, and the request for a wagon made sense now. Pity welled up for her, and I glared at the beast.

  “Come now. Your turn to answer. I offer you the refuge of the estate in return for your immediate and complete obedience in every command I issue. And your father’s life, of course.”

  Bryn sobbed and shook her head. Had my mouth not been full of vine, it would have popped open. How could she not save Father? My eyes fell to her middle. Of course she couldn’t, and Father would never have wanted her to, knowing she carried his grandchild.

  “Very well,” the beast growled with little menace. “Good sir, you should consider marrying her to the first offer you can manage before the soon-to-be husband discovers her state.”

  Father paled further and would not look at Bryn.

  “Now, the next oldest,” the beast said without
compassion. “Your father stands to pay the price for trespassing for each of you. As you are aware, he will be thrown from the estate. Once for each of you. How do you suppose he will fair after the second toss? Or third? Do you honestly think there will be much left to throw the fourth time?”

  Blye’s mewling cry won her no pity.

  “Please grant us mercy,” she sobbed.

  “I am by offering you this chance to save your father’s life. Agree to stay with me. You will have the finest silks you can imagine in return for your immediate and complete obedience in every command I issue.”

  She wailed and begged for several long minutes before rejecting his offer. Through it all, Father said nothing, his eyes growing more despondent.

  “Now,” the beast said. “For the youngest.”

  The vines slipped from my mouth as he spoke, and I interrupted him before he could go any further.

  “Release me so we may speak face to face. I will not speak my answer to your cursed mist.”

  Immediately the vines flew from me, and I fell to the ground. Straightening, I looked at my sisters and Father. They all had fear in their eyes.

  “Benella,” my father began. “Do not give up your life for—”

  A vine slithered up from his chest to muffle his words.

  Bracing myself for a confrontation, I walked straight into the mist and stopped when I felt a tug on my hair. My stomach gave an odd flip.

  “What is your answer?” he rumbled softly as his fingers worked the braid free.

  The heavy mist surrounding us muffled all sound, no doubt to keep my family from hearing. Though it also hid the beast from my view, I recalled every fang and claw in detail.

  “Your terms are a bit steep for what you are gaining, and I would like to propose three revisions,” I said bravely.

  “How can they be steep?” he asked. “You gain your father’s life.”

  “Do I? How do I know? That is my first provision. I must be allowed one day every week to leave the estate. If I’m not allowed to see Father, it will be just as if he had died.”