Wait, perhaps not! Mercer’s gaze fastened on a rosebush near the bank of the pond, and he eagerly dismounted his horse. Squatting low, he gingerly parted the stems of tight-closed buds to reveal a lone white rose nearly hidden by the leaves.
“Your beauty will make one of my daughters happy, at least,” he said softly, and deftly broke the rose’s stem.
Instantly a loud roar rent the air, making Mercer’s muscles melt with fear and his horse scream in terror as it thundered toward the safety of the stable. Shaking so badly he nearly fell over, Mercer turned around just in time to see a great creature leap off the lodge’s roof and race in his direction. He could not move; he was rooted to the spot. Within seconds, the terrible apparition had reached his side.
* * * * *
“How dare you!” Ari snarled, trembling with such rage and anguish that he could scarcely speak. The man had collapsed to his knees in abject terror, but Ari did not care. “I have given you everything in my power—food!—lodging!—clean clothes! Yet you repay me by stealing the only thing here I truly treasure!”
The stranger’s mouth spasmed as he made an effort to speak, and he had to gulp several times before he could manage any sound. “I–I am so sorry, my lord—my sir—honored Beast,” he quaked. “I d–did not know—you have been so generous—I did not th–think you would m–mind my taking such a—such a small thing.”
“I mind!” Ari roared.
“Forgive me, please,” the man begged.
Ari glowered, some small part of his mind uncomfortably aware that he was overreacting. It was just one rose after all—others would grow in its place. But logic drowned beneath the torrent of righteous anger coursing through his veins.
Must everything I care about be stripped away? Ari demanded silently.
First his humanity—then his family—then Liliath . . . . Now, in spite of his best efforts, his guest was going to leave him—leave him alone again to his maddening isolation. Yet it was the stranger’s callous theft that had abruptly catalyzed Ari’s misery into rage. How dare he steal one of his precious roses! For years, he had struggled to find and nature them and make them grow. His roses were all he had left to care for anymore! Must he let this injustice stand? No—no, it was too much!
“Earlier, you said you owed me a debt,” Ari snapped. “Your crime here confirms it. You took the life of my rose, so now your life shall be mine in its place. You shall never leave my lodge again.”
“B–But it is just a rose!” the man protested, aghast. “A flower such as might be found anywhere.”
“Then you should have taken it from somewhere else! Debtors and thieves belong in prison, and you are guilty on both counts.”
The man prostrated himself in panic. “Please, My Lord, have mercy! I did not take it for me—my daughter—her name is Rose—she has never seen one before. I told her I would bring one back for her. Please do not punish me for indulging her small whim.”
“Your daughter’s name is . . . Rose?” Ari asked, incredulous. For a moment, his anger was forgotten as a small stirring of hope threaded through his soul.
It had been nearly a decade since Liliath’s father had scried for a way to end Ari’s curse—yet Ari recalled the event as clearly as if it were yesterday. A rose held by a girl who must love him unconditionally—only she could break his spell. What was the chance that after years of isolation, the one man he encountered would have a daughter by that name? It was too much of a coincidence.
The man nodded, too terrified to meet his gaze, so he did not see Ari bare his teeth in an excited grin.
“A Rose for a rose then—that is fair. I will spare your life in exchange for your daughter’s.”
The man’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You would deflower my child?”
Ari glowered. “You may think me a beast, but I am not such a beast as that! She would be treated here as I have treated you—like a royal guest, not the loathsome prisoner you shall be should you decline my offer.”
The man shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks into his beard, but no words emerged, only half-choked sobs. As Ari listened to his wracked cries, shame began to heat his cheeks, its glow invisible beneath his dark fur. He growled softly, trying to dispel it.
This might be the only chance I have to break my curse . . . or at the very least, to never be alone again, he reasoned. Yet it was hard to hold firm to that conviction as he watched the stranger shake even harder, still unable to speak.
“I will make a bargain with you, thief,” Ari said at last, unable to bear the man’s grief any longer. “Return to your home. See your family. But in one month’s time, either you or your daughter must come back to me willingly. Swear it, and I will let you go!”
“I–I promise,” the man choked.
“Then fetch your horse and begone from my land. Upon your return, a guide will be waiting at the crossroad to lead you the rest of the way.”
The stranger nodded and scrambled to his feet. With one last look at Ari, he dashed off toward the stable.
For a moment, Ari watched him flee, then abruptly pivoted around toward the rosebush so he would not have to watch his guest leave. With his thick paw, he stroked the severed stem, feeling as broken as the branch he was caressing. The hope that had so briefly illuminated his future seemed to flicker and die within him. He had made his choice—he had let the man go. In spite of his promise, Ari knew he would never return.
A whimper escaped his throat, but Ari bit back the sound as the pounding of hoof beats thundered past. At the very last second, he turned to look and caught a glimpse of the man and his mount racing for the trees, the cloak Ari had lent him—his father’s cloak, carelessly left at the lodge by King Tirell many years before—whipping through the air behind him as Ari was abandoned once more.
With no one to see or hear him, he allowed his tears to fall.
* * * * *
“Father is home!” Chase shouted, dashing from the house.
“What!?”
Adara and Rose both hastened to the window in time to see Mercer dismount from his horse at the gate. Instantly, they set aside their duties and ran out to greet him.
“My girls,” he murmured in a husky voice, wrapping his arms around them and holding them close. “My precious, precious girls.”
“It is good to have you home,” Adara greeted, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
“Look at your fine clothes—fit for a king!” Chase exclaimed once he had released them. She fingered an embroidered sleeve. “You must have had great success.”
The corner of Mercer’s mouth twitched, and he did not answer her. Instead, he turned to Rose. “Here, this is for you,” he said, digging into his saddlebag and pulling out a slightly crushed flower. “A rose for my beautiful girl. Cherish it, sweet one, for it has cost me dearly.”
“Father, what is the matter?” Adara asked, her gaze intent and assessing. “It is clear there is something wrong.”
“I will tell you inside,” he said. “First, let me stable my horse.”
Mercer delayed until supper, when at last he explained the unfortunate events that had befallen him, starting with the truth about his ship and ending with his narrow escape from the beast.
“I am sorry I ever asked for the flower!” Rose blurted out when he had finished. “You were right, Chase, it was a foolish thing to fancy.”
“It is a little late for regret, Rose,” Tess chided, her arms crossed. “The question is what to do now.”
“There is no question,” Mercer sighed. “I gave my word, and a promise is a promise—I merely wanted to see you all one last time. When the month’s reprieve has passed, I will go back.”
“Nonsense!” Rose declared, rising to her feet. “It was my request that caused this terrible situation. It is I who must return.”
“Never!” her father exclaimed, horrified. “I will not sacrifice you in my place.”
“If Rose is willing to go, you must let her,” Tess
said coldly, startling them all. “These girls have already lost their mother—they cannot lose their father too.”
Mercer glared at his sister, his expression furious. “Then I will move us all away to where the beast can never touch us.”
“You just said a promise is a promise,” Rose argued. “Whether to a beast or not, you cannot go back on your word.”
“Perhaps, we should discuss this later, when we have had a chance to more fully absorb the situation. We have a month after all,” Adara suggested softly, her clenched hands the only sign of her distress. “We need not settle the matter at this very moment. Let us instead rejoice that you are home safe and sound. Everything else can wait.”
“Very wise,” Tess nodded with approval.
The family rose and slowly began to clear the table. Mercer’s motions were rigid and his jaw was locked with conviction, in spite of Adara’s words. As Rose watched him from the corner of her eye, she felt her own expression hardening in response. No matter what he might think, her father was not going to pay for her foolish request—she would see to that!
CHAPTER SEVEN
The family sat in silence near the dying hearth fire. It was long past the time they usually turned in for the night, but no one seemed to want to be the first to depart. This was Mercer’s last evening at home. Tomorrow, he would return to the beast.
“Darren assures me he will help with the harvest,” Mercer spoke up, his voice thick. “He is a good man. He will—he will take care of you.”
Adara choked back a sob, and Chase sank onto the floor next to her father’s chair, laying her head on his lap. Rose watched as Mercer stroked her sister’s copper curls, his face contorted with grief.
“You should get some sleep, Mercer,” Tess said at last. “You cannot fulfill your promise if you fall off your horse halfway there.”
“You are right—I just . . . you are right.”
Chase sat back to allow Mercer to get to his feet. He surveyed his small family, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“Oh, Father!” Chase cried, flinging her arms around him in sudden abandon.
“You be strong,” he commanded, his voice tight as he hugged her back. When she let go, he moved to embrace the others, leaving Rose for last.
Rose looked up at her father and saw her own sorrow mirrored in his gaze.
“Hey, now,” he murmured, holding her close. “I know what you wish, but it is a parent’s right to sacrifice themselves for their child—not the other way around. Your future is here, with Darren,” he said.
Rose sniffled and buried her face in his chest. “I love you, Father,” she whispered.
Once Mercer had gone to bed, there seemed little point in remaining downstairs. One by one, the others trickled up to their rooms, until at last only Rose and Aunt Tess were left.
“You know I have to do this,” Rose said in a low voice, when it became clear that her aunt did not intend to leave her alone.
“Yes,” Tess agreed. Her expression softened. “That does not mean I have to like it.”
Together, they waited for the silence of slumber to fully descend on the house. At last, Rose stood and so did Aunt Tess. The movement woke Pesk, who had been sleeping by the hearth. He lifted his head and eyed Rose for a moment, then got to his feet with a yawn.
“Hush!” she hissed, glaring at the dog. “You need to stay here.”
Pesk just wagged his tail as Rose retrieved the small sack she had hidden beneath her mending, and then followed the two of them to the door. Rose hesitated. She dared not shut him in—experience said he would just scratch at the wood and bark until someone let him out. “You had better be quiet,” she instructed sternly, causing Aunt Tess to give a sad smile.
The night air was cold, and Rose shivered in spite of her thick shawl. A gibbous moon lit the fields with a spectral light, and the goat stirred as they neared its paddock, bleating in concern. Rose hurried past him into the stable.
The mare was standing in its stall, its head hanging low with sleep. It jerked awake as they entered and eyed Rose balefully, stomping one hoof in displeasure at the interruption.
Rose froze, unable to force herself to continue in its direction. She tried to reason with herself—if she was afraid to approach her father’s placid nag, how would she ever be able to face the beast? Still, her feet refused to move.
“Let me,” her aunt offered, moving to saddle the horse. Rose sighed with relief and turned instead to remove a length of rope from the wall. She wrapped it twice around Pesk’s neck before tying its end to a rail.
“You have to stay here, Pesk,” she said, ruffling the dog’s neck and scratching behind its ears. Knowing she would never see her irksome companion again was surprisingly difficult, but it was better than taking him along to potentially be eaten by the beast.
“Keep him here until tomorrow, all right?” she told her aunt. “I do not want him to try to follow me.”
Tess nodded and led the horse from its stall, holding the reins with one hand as she stretched out the other to embrace Rose.
“You have always done the right thing, even when it was hard,” she said. “Your bravery is beyond measure. I am proud of you.”
Rose swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat, willing herself to stay strong. Words of praise from her aunt were rare indeed.
“The beast has promised to be good to me,” she whispered. “I will be fine.”
Aunt Tess nodded and stepped back, dashing a tear away with her hand. “I pray you are right.”
She held the horse steady while Rose tied her sack to the saddle horn with shaking hands. Heart thudding painfully in her chest, Rose tried to gather the courage to mount. Somehow, she succeeded in pulling herself onto the horse’s back, though the mare shifted uncomfortably beneath her legs, sensing her fear. Aunt Tess handed over the reins.
In spite of herself, Rose could not help glancing toward the distant forest. Despite her confident words to her aunt, she was far from certain what fate the beast had in store for her. Most likely, she would never see her home again.
“Take care of my family,” she choked out, echoing her father’s earlier charge.
“You have my word.”
With difficulty, Rose kicked the horse into a walk, then a trot as she reached the moonlit road. Tugging hard at the reins, she managed to turn the horse toward the forest. The thought of entering those dark woods was almost enough to make her turn back, but she steeled herself against her fear. She would take her father’s place. A promise was a promise.
Alone in the stable, Pesk whined after his mistress and gave two sharp barks. When she did not return, he turned and began to chew on the rope.
* * * * *
Everyone turned to look at Mercer as he shuffled into the village meeting hall. His shoulders were stooped as though by great age, and his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard. Behind him followed the rest of his family, their eyes swollen from weeping. Darren Woodsmith was with them as well, his features looking just as gaunt.
The steward frowned. He had summoned this meeting as a precaution, hoping to dispel the rumors that were plaguing the town, but judging by the family’s appearance, there might be some truth to them after all.
“Where is Rose?” he demanded abruptly, leaning forward in his chair from where he sat on the dais at the head of the assembly. Mercer just stared at him.
“Tell us the truth!” a voice shouted from the back. “Was it really a beast that took her?”
“Who told you such a thing?” Tess challenged, folding her arms and glaring at the speaker.
The steward silenced them both with a wave of his hand. “Matthew Cooper, tell us what you heard,” he instructed.
A young man near the front turned to face the other villagers, drawing himself up to his full height and gazing out at the assembly with arrogant pride. “Right gladly, honorable steward. I was passing by Mercer’s cottage when I saw him dash outside, shouting like a madman. He yelled, ‘Wo
uld that I had never seen my daughters again, rather than to pay such a price. The beast cannot have my Rose!’ Then he took off running down the road toward the forest. That was yesterday morning.”
The steward looked at Mercer skeptically. “This afternoon, George Farmer saw you emerge from the forest tattered and weary—on a horse you did not have upon entering—but otherwise quite alone. Rumors have been flying ever since, and I mean to lay them to rest. I ask again, where is Rose?”
“In the hands of a terrible creature,” Mercer whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “A monster of the forest.”
“I knew it!” a woman exclaimed. “You see? I told you such creatures still existed! One of them surely killed my husband—maybe even the same one! All I know is, he went into the woods one day and never returned.”
“Yes, he did,” a snide voice snickered. “He just never returned to you.”
“If this creature went after Rose, what is to stop it from attacking our village?” another voice cried.
“What if there are more of them? My grandfather saw a griffin once—he just barely managed to escape! Who knows how many foul creatures are still lurking in that forest from when the fairies brought them over long ago?”
“We must hunt down this beast and take Rose back!” Darren declared, his face distorted with anguish.
“No!” Mercer rasped, rounding on the younger man. “I told you, you must not! You do not understand—you were not there—” The assembly fell silent, captivated by the grief-stricken father. Mercer tried again. “This creature—he is a thing out of legend. Magic surrounds him and his abode. If we pursue him, more lives will surely be lost. The beast already has my daughter. I cannot bear to have anyone else’s blood on my hands as well.”
Bound: A Merged Fairy Tale of Beauty and the Beast & Sleeping Beauty (The Enchanted Rose Trilogy: Book 2) Page 5
