by MJ Haag
“Thank you,” I said and stood. “I will see you again soon, I’m sure.” I was embarking into unexplored territory, after all, and would undoubtedly have more questions.
“A moment,” Aryana whispered, stopping me. “Benella, have you ever flirted?”
I couldn’t see her eyes clearly, but I saw the amusement in her smile.
“No,” I admitted. “But I’ve watched others. I’m sure I can manage a few unintelligent, insipid remarks.”
Ila burst out in a deep laugh while Aryana snorted. I smiled sheepishly.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t polite.” Turning around, I marched back to the cushion and flopped back down.
“I didn’t mean it exactly the way it sounded. I do not think all those who flirt are unintelligent. Typically, when flirting, it seems a requirement that neither party behaves normally. The girl usually giggles and acts in a way I would consider below her typical intelligence, and the boy acts brasher than usual.”
Aryana’s teeth flashed at me, white and slightly crooked.
“You have it right, but you’re speaking of youths. You’re of an age now that you need to consider men. Brashness leaves, and intense cleverness remains. Be yourself. Do not hide your innocence, yet let this man know you are no simple maid to be manipulated.”
I nodded slowly.
“The truth is easier than deception,” I said in agreement.
“Deception is sometimes needed when truth fails,” Aryana said sadly before clearing her expression. “Will you see your father?”
Recalling the baker’s message, I gave a reluctant nod.
“Go see Bryn. We will tell him you’re here for a visit and send him to you.”
Ila accompanied me to the door and wished me luck. I would need luck and patience to deal with the beast while I played this game.
When I reached Father’s home, Bryn surprised me by yanking the door open before I reached it. She wore a dazzling smile. Taking my hand, she pulled me inside and revealed with barely concealed excitement that she would be engaged in just a few short days.
“The baker’s son?” I asked, happy for her.
She nodded and hugged me tight.
“Then I have the perfect gift for you.” I pulled back and dug the blunt silver from my bag.
Her eyes watered as she took the coin with heartfelt thanks.
“His father will host a dinner for us, just a few of the more prominent merchants. I have Father’s newest shirt laundered for the occasion. Blye helped sew me a new dress so I’ll look like I belong, but I worry about Father. Perhaps, I can use some of this for a new coat.”
My smile congealed, not that she noticed.
“It shouldn’t matter how one looks, but how one behaves. Father is an educated, well-spoken man.”
“Of course,” she agreed, tucking the coin into the pocket of her skirt. “It would be wiser to tuck this away in case there is a future need.”
“I thought you wanted it for food,” I said, trying to keep the exasperation from my voice.
“A week ago, I did. But I’ll be married soon and will have plenty of food,” she reminded me with a satisfied smile.
Biting my tongue, I said nothing about Father’s need for food as I listened to her plans for the future and her dreams of socializing with the other merchant’s wives. Father’s arrival saved me from the complete history of each family invited to the dinner.
“Benella, I was beginning to worry,” he said, hugging me. “Are you well?”
“Yes. But I do have some disturbing news. I saw the baker earlier, and he said he had business to discuss with you and to expect him for dinner in two days.” We sat at the table together and Bryn moved to her room, not interested in our conversation. “His manner led me to believe he wanted to discuss me again, but I didn’t mention I would not be here.”
“I’ll tell him you’re employed elsewhere if I must, but I hope he won’t be so direct.” He looked down at his hands. “Does the beast treat you well?”
“Yes.” I wanted to say more, like that I didn’t need to clean or that I could eat until I burst, but knew Father would then wonder what I did there. So I settled for a plea.
“Please don’t worry about me.”
“I would be a poor Father if I did not,” he said.
* * * *
Swiftly whinnied with relief when I fetched him from the livery. He knelt so I could mount, then rose gracefully once I clutched his mane securely. Without needing guidance, he left the livery and picked his way through the market, turning us in the correct direction.
The sun had not yet crested the sky when we neared the estate. Swiftly’s ears flicked with increasing frequency as we approached the final bend in the road, where he just stopped moving. I scanned the trees and hoped it wasn’t Tennen who Swiftly sensed.
From the trees stepped an old woman. She wore a worn, patched gown and shuffled forward with her focus on the path. She leaned heavily on her staff for each small, mincing step and appeared not to notice us as she changed her course to follow the road toward us.
Watching her painfully slow progress, I knew I had to offer assistance. I slid from Swiftly and patted him when his flank quivered. His reaction seemed odd given how old and fragile the woman appeared. As an enchanted horse, I knew he possessed higher reasoning and wondered what about the woman worried him. Perhaps, because of his enchanted state, he didn’t like strangers.
“Hello,” I called.
The woman stopped her forward shuffle to look up at me. She looked vaguely familiar.
“Are you going to Water-On-The-Bridge?” I asked.
Her watery blue eyes stared at me, but she made no reply.
“It’s a long way on foot,” I said slowly, wondering if her hearing might be the problem. “Do you need assistance?”
Her sudden cackling laughter made me jump and Swiftly scream in terror. He bolted down the road, veering toward the trees opposite the estate to avoid her. Tendrils of fear wove through my veins and pooled in my stomach.
“We don’t have much time,” the old woman said.
I recognized her voice when she spoke but couldn’t place it.
“Have we met?”
“Twice, but never officially,” she said and started forward. This time her steps were not mincing; she strode toward me with an easy gait that did not match her apparent age.
“I’m Rose. Let us talk.” She had a wild look in her eyes as she reached for me.
When her hand gripped my shoulder, the road disappeared; and we stood in the familiar room of her cottage. Having been in it once before, even befuddled, I would not forget it. My gaze wanted to wander the peculiar objects hanging from her walls, but I forced it to remain on her as she moved to sit in one of the room’s matching chairs. She motioned for me to sit as well. The thick furs that draped the wooden frames provided a comfortable amount of cushion.
“You think to free him?” she asked bluntly.
I knew she meant the beast.
“I only seek to help him.”
“If you want to help him, leave him as he is. He is better for it.”
“Better?” I found that hard to believe. He was volatile as the beast, chafing at the loss of his true self.
“Without a doubt. Did he tell you everything?”
I eyed her for a moment and decided to speak as bluntly as she had.
“Hardly. He told me that you cast a spell on him, one he could win free of if he gives you one night of pleasure. I’ve determined a few other pieces on my own.”
“Oh?” she said with a contemptuously raised brow.
“He was once human and, I believe, the Liege Lord. And he wasn’t the only one affected by the spell you cast. I believe some of the other creatures here were once human as well.”
“So wise,” she said. “Have you determined why I cast my spell?”
I shook my head and remained silent, sensing her building anger.
“He was a man focused only on his bas
er needs. He drank when thirsty, slept when tired, and fucked when aroused, which was often. He ignored his responsibilities as Liege Lord completely. This area was overrun with thieves of all sorts and impoverished by his assumed entitlements. He turned a blind eye to the problems of the people who looked to him for protection and guidance. He even went so far as to appoint a Head that organized the thieves instead of ousting them. Had I not stepped in and cut the head from the snake, it would have consumed the north. For the safety of the people, he cannot return to power.”
Her explanation was certainly compelling, but her requirement of him to win back his freedom bothered me.
“If you opposed his fornication, why require it for him to win back his freedom?” I asked.
“Why not? It should be easy for him, a man who would put his stick in anything. And, what a fine stick he has. Why not use it on me? He tried valiantly in the beginning, plowing into me until I was raw with it. I lay there willingly, yet, I wonder how many he took who were not so willing.”
I felt ill, but Rose just laughed again, a low menacing sound.
Outside the cottage, the beast’s roar filled the air. She snickered.
“He has learned a few tricks over the years and may eventually prove not entirely useless,” she said. “Listen closely. I’ve trained him. When I first cast him to his true form, a beast, he would barge in here whenever his cock stood straight, thinking he would finally be free of me. Now...” she trailed off and glanced at the door with a small smile.
After a moment of silence, a fist banged on the door hard enough to rattle the hinges. I glanced at Rose. Her smile widened, and she winked at me.
“Enter.”
The door eased open when I would have expected a crash.
“Rose,” the beast growled, ducking through the door. “Why have you taken her?”
“I thought she and I should have a proper chat,” she said, standing. “She had a few misconceptions of you, and I wanted to set them straight. Have you checked on Egrit, today? She can almost walk normally again.”
My eyes widened as I realized she spoke of the wood nymph. Had he approached her again in my absence?
“Come,” he said, holding out a hand to me.
My gaze lingered on his clawed paw then drifted to his face. He wasn’t asking. He was commanding.
“Remember what I told you,” Rose said as I touched my hand to his.
Chapter 6
The beast led me from the cottage, keeping a firm hold on my hand until we reached the manor. My mind spun with so many observations and questions that I didn’t notice the distance or time that passed. I’d already guessed the beast was once the Liege Lord, and the candle maker had told a brief bit of his history. A history I hadn’t fully believed. Could I be certain I knew it now? Stories often differed depending on the view of the speaker. I wouldn’t call the beast kind, exactly, but I did think he had the capacity for fair judgment. After all, he’d remained consistent with his punishment for trespassing...until me. He never truly harmed children. A bruise on the butt, at most, when they landed after being tossed. I’d witnessed worse in parental discipline. And as for women, I wanted to say he was kind to them too, but the wood nymph hadn’t received kind treatment.
Rose’s statement about the beast forcing his attention twisted my stomach, though; and I tried to distance myself from the problem so I could see it clearly. Facts. Observations. I needed to focus on those.
The beast had been a poor, perhaps horrible, liege lord. Therefore, the enchantress had improved the lives of the villagers dependent on the estate by casting her spell upon him. The candle maker confirmed both points, though he hadn’t mentioned Rose.
I frowned, having noticed we walked the hallway to the library. Inside, the beast had another game ready for us.
“I need to think,” I said, too confused to sit with him. Then I fled.
In my room, I paced. Rose’s chief complaint had been his rule, but too much of our discussion had been on his lust. She claimed to be here to protect the people, but what of the baker and his manipulations? What of Tennen and Splane’s unfair treatment of me?
If I’d been an enchantress angry at a liege lord for the poor care of his people, I would have made him suffer the same fates they’d been forced to endure. Fear of violence, rape, hunger...I imagined that over fifty years ago the villagers had experienced all of that with thieves populating these woods. Yet, she had put the beast in the estate, had given him power to protect and heal himself, an endless supply of food, and a tempting wood nymph upon which he could force himself. The only actual punishments, from my viewpoint, were the change in his form and having to fornicate with Rose.
None of it made sense, and it seemed to me that Rose played her own game. She not only punished him with a change in form but many others along with him. I felt certain the crow, wood nymphs, tree, and Swiftly had all been humans. What were their crimes?
I stopped my pacing and stared vacantly out the window.
The tree had asked me to teach the beast. When I’d reflected on what the beast might need to learn, I’d thought kindness, patience, and civility. Perhaps there was more. I cringed at that, though. Three virtues were hard enough to teach. Yet, in one thing, Rose was right: the man who had come before the beast could return to Liege Lord.
Perhaps the tree wanted me to teach him to be a better person. I sighed, unsure how I could help with that when Rose still promoted all of the qualities that made him a poor lord. She complained that he had assumed entitlements. How did giving him such vast magical control over the estate teach him humility?
Frustrated with the beast, Rose, and the tree, I wanted to reach up and yank at my own hair. Why couldn’t people just say what they meant? The whole thing felt like a deception.
Aryana’s words sprang to mind. Deception is sometimes needed when truth fails. What truth failed fifty years ago?
“Benella?” the beast spoke quietly from behind me, bringing me back to the present. Light no longer shone through the window. The night sky sparkled with stars.
“I know exactly where I am, but have never felt so lost,” I said, turning to look at him.
“What did she tell you?” he asked.
He stood just within my door, still dressed in trousers and standing on two legs. The mist pooled around his feet, ready to cover him if he needed it, but I saw his worried expression clearly.
How could a beast, a true beast, show such concern? Such uncertainty? It settled my mind. I would play a game of my own, a dangerous one that might earn the retribution of an angry enchantress, the wrath of a volatile beast, and the scorn of my family. No matter the ending, I would be the one to suffer. But my suffering could free a beast, who might not deserve it, and his servants, who most likely did deserve it.
“She told me what she thought would stop me from helping you,” I said honestly. “But it doesn’t matter. I will still try to help you.”
He exhaled slowly, showing his relief. His reaction helped reassure me that I was making the right choice.
“We will keep going as we have, and eventually, if you hold to your word not to expend your energies on anyone other than Rose, you will be able to do what you must.”
Now, I just needed to keep his hope of freedom alive while preventing him from breaking the curse until he learned how to be a better person in order to rule properly. The impossibility of the task was not lost on me.
* * * *
The beast waited outside my door the next morning.
“Let’s work in the kitchen again today,” I said and led the way without waiting for his answer.
He followed me quietly while I considered my plan.
I’d already shown him the pride that came from working with one’s own hands, thanks to the bet about making breakfast. I planned to continue on that theme. Yet, I knew he would tire of cooking unless there was some type of reward to inspire him. Rewards always seemed to help promote the desired behavior. After all, Fath
er kept his class quiet with the promise of earlier dismissal, and Bryn had taught the goat to hold still for milking by giving her carrots. I felt certain I could do something similar with the beast. Yet, I needed to have care about what I offered as a reward. I considered my options carefully and decided, sometimes, praise was enough of a reward. I would start with that.
In the kitchen, we used the chef’s books to make an elaborate breakfast, which we didn’t eat until closer to lunch. Covered in flour, a splattering of eggs, and some other unknown smears, I sat at the table with a sigh. The beast had willingly assisted the entire time and didn’t look any cleaner.
“I will never again take for granted Bryn’s skill in the kitchen,” I said, eyeing the table.
The food before us looked questionable. The book had listed several different versions of an egg tartlet. According to the chef’s writing, the egg would cause the mixture to raise high above the crust. Ours clung to the bottom of a very dark, stiff crust.
“I thought all women learned to cook,” he said, poking at the egg.
“Perhaps most do. I wanted to learn my letters and numbers instead,” I said. “I found there were many more interesting puzzles I could solve that way. Finding solutions is like winning a game, and it gives me an immense satisfaction. If I can’t read, then I’d rather be outside, not in the kitchen, or worse, sewing.”
Bravely, I tried to cut into the tartlet. I sawed back and forth to force the blade through the egg. Having won a slice free, I offered it politely to the beast.
“What were your favorite pastimes?” I asked, keeping the question to the past so I could watch his eyes as he thought about his past self. Did he like that man? Could he see any of his own faults?
“It’s been so long, I don’t recall,” he replied just before he tried a bite. He grimaced as he chewed, but I didn’t pay much attention to that.
I had noted the lie in his eyes. He did recall his pastimes but did not want to admit them to me. Did he find shame in them? I hoped so.
