Now that I knew they were humans, I could see a pattern in their design against the grass, too. There were none in the parts of the ground that were frequently trampled on from Shao’s trips outside.
The golden roses layered the edges far away from the gate and the mansion that one would have to deliberately approach. They filled up my view like speckles on a cow.
Although there were occasional small clusters of roses, none were particularly close to each other. There was enough distance between every one of them for a person to emerge from, should their transformation curse ever fade, without them knocking into each other or struggling for room to breathe.
I had no doubt Shao had planned it this way, replanting the roses when he deemed them in danger.
This vision felt like a punch to the gut, and only in part because of the pity that pooled in my heart for all the people whose lives had been cut short.
Noticing my hesitation—or perhaps needing some support himself—Shao brushed his fingers against my free hand, and I greedily swallowed up his hand with mine.
“Is… your mother here?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. My eyes traveled through the fields once more as I tried to determine where she could be. Was she the lone rose near the back of the mansion? Or was she surrounded by a group of other, trusted roses, so that she wouldn’t be lonely—if flowers could get lonely at all?
Shao shook his head, and his fingers trembled between mine.
“Father wouldn’t let me bring her,” he said. “She’s in a large tub of soil in his bedchamber that’s zealously taken care of by Father himself. He lost her because of me—he couldn’t lose her soul to me, too.”
Once more, the words were knocked out my lungs, for any stock phrases of reassurance would feel meaningless and even cruel.
So instead, I gave his hand another squeeze. Small acts of physical touch like this were the only way I could show my support, and I was grateful I at least had that.
“Is everyone here a thief, then?” I asked, taking a more thorough look at the flowers. The roses looked near identical to my untrained eye, but there were subtle differences in their hues and petal-shapes. I wondered if it was random or if it had something to do with the personalities of the captive souls.
Shao did not respond, and I glanced up at him. He averted his gaze.
“Shao—”
“Some of them are the nurses and nannies brought with me,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed this mansion was meant for far more than just one boy.”
I reached up to tip his head towards me so we could see each other’s eyes. From his, I wished to learn more about him. His emotions, his fears. And from my own eyes, I prayed Shao could read my worry for him.
I hoped he could see how much I cared.
“Again, it wasn’t your fault,” I said, assuming he’d accidentally turned them into roses as he’d done to his mother. “You were a child—”
He cut me off with a laugh that was deluged by grief and regrets.
“No,” he said curtly. “It was my fault, and not for the reason you think.”
“What—”
“I may have been a child, but I’d transformed my own mother. Lost her forever. Almost died to save her.” He shuddered at the memory. “Do you really think I’d have made the same mistake again?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, then furrowed my brows as I strove to understand why Shao’s servants would have become roses, then. Was there more to the curse I didn’t know about?
“A boy can’t be sent to a mansion alone,” said Shao. That much was obvious. I rubbed my elbow. I had to hear more. “The nurses and nannies and butlers chosen were closest to me. They were family to me.”
He stopped to take a deep breath before he could bring himself to continue.
“They’d been like second parents or grandparents to me, all of them… but it was their job to take care of me, and that was all I was to them. A job. They had true families back home, which I can’t fault them for.”
“Did they try to escape?” I asked, frowning. I was still devoid of guesses as to why they’d been transformed.
Shao’s chuckle was biting. “And be imprisoned or fined by my parents? No, of course not. They lasted three years. Three years of idleness without their families, any form of entertainment, or their friends. The isolation broke them. They couldn’t endure this life anymore. All but one of them—a nanny I’d had since I was born—snuck up on me when I was asleep and lifted my mask so they could be turned into roses. They didn’t even hint at it or explain their thoughts. One day, I woke up, and they were gone.”
I hugged myself tight. Rage and deep sorrow fought for dominion over my senses. Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes, and I struggled not to sob, because it was his place to sob and be consoled, not mine. “How could they? You were only, what, thirteen? How could they have left you alone?”
The poor, poor man, and the boy he’d once been.
“Old enough that I didn’t need them,” he said. He shrugged and his voice was level, but I could tell the thorns of betrayal still pierced him. “I could prepare dried food for myself, and I could wash myself. What else did I need?”
“Shao…”
He shook his head and began walking again, this time headed deeper into the forest. “It’s fine, now. Let’s grab you some fruit.”
“Shao!” I cried, seizing his elbow with the hand without a basket in it, and I turned him around to me with all the force I had. “I…”
Wait.
He’d said his closest nanny had decided to stay.
So where was she now? Why wasn’t she with him?
I wanted to ask, but I saw the brokenness in his eyes, and the words died in my throat.
Shao must have seen the question burning in my expression. He had claimed I was as transparent as he was.
“She’s not a rose.” He answered the question I didn’t ask, his voice as fragile as glass. I exhaled a sigh of half-hearted relief. If she’d wished to risk death herself for the chance at escaping this mansion, I’d have shattered to a thousand pieces for the man before me. “I turned fifteen, and she began pleading me with tears to help her return home. So, I did.”
Oh.
Oh.
“I mailed my parents to allow her home, since I was old enough and she’d been of good service.” He continued as if it didn’t char him to a crisp to confess. “She cried when she left. Maybe she was lying out of courtesy or gratitude, but she told me she wished she could take me with her. That deceit was the best gift I’ve received in my life.”
I twisted himself closer to me—or I just twisted into his arms myself—and embraced him in a tight hug, our baskets clattering to the ground.
I sobbed into his taut chest. Felt his rapid heartbeats against my cheeks. My grief for his past coalesced with my guilt and fear of leaving him, becoming a sharpened knife that screwed itself into my gut.
I wanted to say something—anything—to console him, but what right did I have? I felt shameless even for crying so much when I’d soon be in his nanny’s shoes.
Soon, I’d leave him for my family. And our farewell would be final, just as his parting with his nanny had been.
“Come with me,” I pleaded him, clawing at his shirt with enough force I was almost surprised they didn’t tear.
I pitied him, and his existence crushed any complaints I’d once had about my own family and the suffocation I’d felt in their grasp.
They weren’t perfect, but they loved me—and I may have been isolated by circumstances, but they wanted me home. They missed me, and they’d have been desperate for my return even if we were multimillionaires without father’s illness or our growing debts to worry about.
If Father hadn’t been sick, he’d have barged into the forest himself, wandering weeks upon weeks and surviving on leaves and bark and worms if he had to until he could find me. Save me. Protect me.
Yes, I pitied Shao, the pariah who’d been rejected for circumstances out of
his control… but I admired him, too. I admired the power and grace with which he’d matured despite his circumstances. The strength he’d needed to endure—to remain human and sane.
“Come with me,” I repeated, my voice shrill and anxious. “You can wear your mask. No one knows what the beast looks like. You can pass for any strange man—”
“Your neighbors must know you’ve been hiding away in the beast’s den,” said Shao, brushing the tears from my eyes once more. “They’ll know who I am. What I am.”
“All we know is that there’s a monstrous beast in the forest, and half the people think you’re a cannibal that grows furs all over your body. You’re not. You’re a man, and you’re a good man, Shao—”
“Who will protect the roses if I leave?” Shao said, and I clutched him tighter, knowing that was the real issue here—and it was one without a solution.
“I’ll be back for you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from sobbing so much. “I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but… In the future, when the news about the golden roses dies down and your identity returns to myth once more… I’ll be back.”
He smiled softly as he caressed my cheeks with his thumbs, and I was quick to copy his motions, realizing tears had been pattering down his cheeks, too.
What a battered man.
What a beautiful man.
In the few months we’d spent with each other, he’d crawled into my heart, burrowing a den for himself, and I wanted nothing more than to protect him…
But I was currently the biggest threat to his emotional health, and that fact palpable as it chomped at me from the inside-out.
Chapter 14
I’d assumed we’d return home and brew tea or something after our moment of unrestrained tears, but Shao had other plans.
Without a single word, he trudged out the gates of the mansion and tilted his head as if to wait for me, and I stifled a giggle, deciding we might as well get some sugar in our system to cheer us up.
Equally silent, I followed him, then stood as he locked the entrance to the gate. He shook the door back and forth to confirm it was locked, and the repeated clang was harsh against the quietude of the nature sounds around us.
We continued saying nothing for most of our travel to the forest. Shao led the way. I followed.
When he spoke up again, I leapt up in surprise.
“You’ve talked a lot about science and healing,” Shao said. I bit my lip, having a nagging idea I knew where this was going. “Did you ever consider attending a collegiate academy to pursue it?”
I shrugged, but it wasn’t like Shao was looking at me, as he was standing ahead of me and looking straight forward. I wished I could see his expression.
“Did I forget to mention it? Constance and I used to attend Hereditas—”
Shao gave a low whistle. “Hereditas?”
“Huh? Yeah, we took classes there for several years, until…” My voice trailed off.
Until my father fell ill.
Understanding dawned on Shao, and he turned to step closer to me and give my hands a squeeze. “I never knew they accepted people from the middle class.”
“Father pulled some strings,” I said with a sheepish smile. He may not have been wealthy, but he’d had ties to the elite thanks to his talents. “We also placed the top scores on the entrance exams, so it was hard for them to pretend we didn’t exist.”
Okay, it was possible that I arched my back and craned up my chin as I said that. Could anyone blame me?
(At least I stopped myself just in time from melodramatically covering up my mouth with the back of my hand as I cackled.)
Although I was never brilliant at memorization and mathematics like my sister Constance, I’d always been hard-working—and intuitive.
Shao chuckled. “I see. I’m sorry that…”
“It’s alright. Life happens.”
“After… all of this, would you like to return to your studies?” He asked, his tone gentle.
My throat felt dry. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“Beatrice—”
“I said it doesn’t matter,” I snapped, my voice curter than I intended. Then, I clenched my fists, remembering the moment of vulnerability from earlier. Shao had shared himself—some of the worst of his memories—with me, and this was how I repaid him?
His eyes flashed with uncertainty and sadness, and my heart panged for him, filling me with guilt.
“I’m sorry,” I added, pinching the inside of my elbow. “I just… It’s impossible. I don’t want to think about it.”
“You don’t know that—”
“It’s impossible, Shao,” I repeated. “There’s no point in what-ifs.”
“You’re so determined when it comes to others. Why are you so closed off when it comes to your own wishes?” He paused as if considering his next words. “Why do you talk about your past, but never your future?”
I froze.
He was right.
“Because I have no future.” The words left my lips before I could consider them, and I realized they were true.
I could have retorted that Shao never talked about his future either, but that was cold and uncalled for; at least I had a future with my family, or the remnants of it once my Father… recovered… or didn’t. My passions and desires may have been lost to me, but I’d find small clouds of happiness in them, in my coworkers, and in my friends.
Perhaps even in a husband, if I managed to find one despite all my faults, and in the flock of far-too-many children that I knew I’d have with him.
For whatever reason, Shao’s image flashed in my mind, and I shook him away. I looked back up at him with mild irritation at ruining my daydreams, and I saw the kind gaze in his eyes.
Then, I continued to speak as if possessed. As if I’d been waiting all my life to tell my uninspiring tale, because I probably had, although I’d rebelled against my inner hopes from an ever-enduring fear of rejection.
“Father struggled to pay our tuition for us even when he was healthy, claiming we’d be able to pay him back without any trouble through the superior jobs the academy would allow us.” I shook my head. “Well, now we’re burdened with debt we won’t pay off in our entire lifetime.”
“Beatrice…”
I looked back up at him, my eyes filled with passion I thought I’d lost an eternity ago. “I want to keep studying the sciences. Medicine. Even after I graduate—if I ever can—I want to study it. I want to find new ways to heal people.”
“What made you choose that field?” Shao asked, and I had a feeling he already knew—not why I’d chosen it at first, but why I was so passionate about it now.
“I went in the field because it paid a lot, and because that’s the field Constance said she’d study,” I admitted. “I wanted to stay with her. Surprisingly, I fell in love with it. I loved science. I loved figuring out new methods, new combinations of technology, techniques, and herbs. I loved the elation that came with discovering something for the first time. My feelings are only stronger now, since…”
I hesitated, wondering if I’d spoken too long, if Shao’s eyes had glazed over with disgust or irritation or fatigue.
But instead, he looked warm and attentive and, goodness, even interested. I didn’t know what to make of it.
He brushed his fingers against mine. “Your father,” he suggested, and I nodded as I tried not to cry again.
“I want to help figure out cures to diseases like my Father’s. Diseases with only one known cure, which isn’t even accessible—and those without any remedies in the first place. I want to know why the cure works the way it does, and I want to replicate it without the Wicked Witch’s stolen herbs.”
I stopped to gasp for air. I’d been talking too long without stopping to breathe.
A strange feeling bubbled and popped in every cell of my being. I hadn’t spoken so endlessly and quickly and—yes, ardently—in a long, long time. Father’s illness and the resulting despairs had
squashed my confidence out of me, knowing I no longer had anyone to listen to me at all, much less when I babbled.
But now I had Shao.
“I want to bring smiles to people who thought their lives were over or forever changed,” I said at last, gesturing with my hands to signal I was almost finished. For now. “I don’t want more men to fall ill as my father… and I don’t want more families fractured like mine. And I… I want to save you, Shao, from your curse.”
Shao stood in silence, his gaze distant. He whispered something under his breath, just quiet enough that I couldn’t quite make it out, and I frowned.
“What?” I pried, and he shook his head, turning around to lead the way deeper into the forest once more.
I pouted at him, but once again, he wasn’t looking at me.
“Thanks for telling me,” he said. “I… I love learning more about you.”
I hated how genuine he sounded, because it ruined the determination with which I pestered him for what he’d really said at first.
I sighed as I continued trailing after him.
As we walked on, I was piqued by a certain curiosity—one I’d often wondered before, but believed I’d never get answers to.
But he’d already confessed to me one of his greatest secrets, and I’d shared with him one of mine.
Could it hurt to ask?
Chapter 15
“Can I ask you about your siblings?” I asked, too curious to stop myself.
I narrowed my gaze when Shao veered through a tight clearing between the trees. There were no paths this deep in the forest, and the pathways we made ranged between uncomfortable and rage inducing; this was the latter.
I grunted as I made it through, the coarse, dirty bark scraping at my dress and smearing dirt and moss.
“You can ask anything,” he replied, and I fought between my desire to nag him for this unfortunate lack of a proper path and my desire to ask him about his family.
Of course, the latter wish won.
“Why do you only tell me stories about your adopted younger brother, when you have three siblings?” I asked. “Why don’t you name any of them, when you know I don’t care who you are at this point?”
A Kiss like Roses: Fairy Tale Synergy Book 1 Page 12
