Rose frowned and took a step into the corridor. Her foot struck something and it skittered away, striking the rails of the banister and shattering with a loud crash
“What in the—bowls? Why are there bowls in front of my door?” she queried, bending down and picking one up off the floor.
Ari dropped his gaze, his nostrils flaring with guilt.
“Did you put these here?” Rose demanded, her bewilderment clear.
Ari was glad that his back was to the corridor window and his face was in shadow, or else she would surely have been able to see his cheeks burning underneath all his fur.
“Beast, why?”
He did not answer.
“You must have wanted to hear if I left my room,” she reasoned slowly. “But why? Were you afraid that I would try to leave in the night, now that Pesk is here and can show me the way home?”
Ari’s silence was her confirmation.
“I gave you my word that I would stay,” she bit out angrily. “Why would you trust my father’s promise, yet doubt mine?”
Shame made Ari stutter, “I did not mean to, I was just—I thought you might—”
“You thought I might foreswear myself. You thought I had no honor!”
“No, I—”
Rose did not wait for him to defend himself. With a scathing look, she spun away into her room and slammed the door.
* * * * *
The next morning, the Beast tried to apologize to Rose, but she just listened in stony silence while her soul continued to seethe. How dare he doubt me? When have I ever given him any reason for pause? She was not sure why the Beast’s opinion of her mattered so much, she only knew that it had stung to realize he did not trust her.
Rose refused to go out of her way to avoid his company, but she did not acknowledge the Beast or speak to him the rest of the day. Perhaps it was petty of her, but it pleased her to see him cringe out of the corner of her eye whenever she let her gaze slide past where he stood.
Go back to the rafters, she thought. Leave me alone. When he did disappear, Rose exulted.
“Come on, Pesk,” she said, but instead of venturing upstairs to explore, Rose led the way outside. A stable with empty stalls and immaculate equipment stood a few paces to one side of the lodge. After a cursory look inside, Rose made a beeline for the pond.
She stepped into the shelter made by the willow’s boughs, resting one hand against its trunk. Slowly, Rose sank down onto the silty ground and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the bole. In her mind, she could hear the music of a comb harmonica and Darren’s soft laughter, and could almost imagine the feel of his arms around her again.
A loud splash broke the illusion, and she opened her eyes to see Pesk frolicking in the pond. Ripples of golden pollen swirled around him and clung to his fur, making Rose groan. It would be a nightmare to get off.
She closed her eyes again, and did not open them even as the sun faded in the sky and drifted behind the trees. Only when she began to shiver did she finally rise to her feet.
Pesk had fallen asleep in the grass, but he woke when he heard her stir. Together, they walked back to the lodge; once inside, she led him straight to the kitchen.
“Clean him,” Rose commanded the objects, stepping back into the corridor and closing the door firmly behind her before Pesk could realize her intention and escape.
Smiling to herself, Rose strode away to clean up for supper, pleased for the first time to have given an order.
* * * * *
Pesk’s low growl startled Rose awake. She blinked hard and sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus on her dog. Pesk’s head was lifted and his eyes were fixed on the door. She knew what that meant. Anger burned away any lingering sleepiness as she climbed out of bed and threw open the door with a glare.
“What?” she demanded crossly. The Beast stood before her on his hind legs, his posture one of abashed indecision. She swallowed hard at his unexpected height, but would not let herself be cowed. “You have taken to stalking my doorframe yourself now? Bowls are not good enough anymore?”
“I—”
“You were right, you are hideous, but it is your behavior more than your looks that I cannot stand! You are unbearable. I hate you! Why can you not let me be?”
A small sound, almost a whimper, emerged from the Beast’s throat. He thrust out his paws toward her, and Rose took a defensive step back. Then she realized he was holding something out to her, and a thin cheep confirmed it.
“I found it,” the Beast said, his voice low. “It is a fledgling that broke its wing. My paws are too big and clumsy to help—I would just hurt it some more. Your hands are small and fine. I promise never to bother you again, but will you please help the bird?”
Rose swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat. She looked at the Beast, her expression contrite, but he was staring at the ground. Wordlessly, she took the fledgling from his grasp. As soon as she did, he turned and strode away.
“Beast, wait!” she called, but for the first time, he did not heed her words. Instead, he leapt over the banister and when she rushed forward to look after him, he had already disappeared from view.
* * * * *
Rose had no idea how to set an animal’s wing. She stared at the bird, which did not bother staring back and instead pecked painfully at her hand.
“Stop that!” she winced. Hastening back to her room, Rose snatched up a washcloth and wrapped it securely around the fledgling so it could not move. Pesk padded over and sniffed at curiously at the bird, then curled back up on the bed.
“You have the instincts of a brick,” she muttered, nevertheless glad that he had no interest in turning the fledgling into a late night snack. Then again, Pesk did not seem to find even the Beast worth his fuss—except when he sensed him lurking outside her door—so Rose supposed a little bird was hardly going to be worth the dog’s notice.
Beast. She felt like a beast now. He had apologized to her, but she had not accepted it. Then when he had come to her for help, she had said all those hurtful, horrible things to him. How could she? He was not hideous, not really. Actually, for an animal, she supposed he was rather fine. His hair was sleek and dark, and his features were muscled and well-proportioned. As for his eyes—green in the daytime, golden once night fell—they were so expressive and beautiful that she could hardly believe they belonged to a Beast at all. In them, she had seen just how deeply her words had wounded him. Now, Rose would give anything to take those words back.
“What should I do?” she asked aloud, but there was no one to give her an answer—only the fledgling cheeping pitifully in her hands. Rose looked down at it. The least she could do was try to help the bird, but Rose had no idea how to set a bone, let alone one that was covered in feathers. All she could think of was to bind the broken wing to the bird’s body so it would have a chance to heal on its own.
For that, she needed strips of cloth, but she did not want to tear the washcloth to pieces—not after it had acted so alive her first day at the lodge. Instead, she reached down and ripped off a section from the bottom of her dress, grimacing at having ruined something so fine.
“You can show your appreciation by not savaging my fingers,” Rose muttered to the bird as she removed the washcloth from around its body. She held the fledgling facing away from her so that its beak could not reach her hands, and part of her was struck by how calmly she was handling the creature. Even now as she wrapped its wing tight to its body, there was none of the anxiety she used to feel when the birds would swoop down to hear her sing. Rose supposed that after the Beast, no other creature could seem quite so daunting.
Having finished wrapping the bird, Rose poured a little water from her pitcher into the lid of her hairpin box so the bird would have something to drink. Then Rose carefully placed both lid and invalid in the empty washbowl, nestled the washcloth around the bird to help keep it comfortable, and settled the bowl near the fire so the fledgling would stay warm.
> “There,” she said, pleased with the result. “That should keep you for tonight. Tomorrow, I will ask the kitchen to find you some seed or worms or whatever it is you eat.”
Yawning, Rose crawled back into bed, shoving Pesk roughly aside from where he had been lying in her spot.
And tomorrow, she mused as she drifted back to sleep, I will apologize to the Beast.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
That proved easier said than done. The Beast did not appear all morning, and Rose could hardly blame him for wanting to dodge her crippling tongue. She considered calling for him to come down as she had done before, but quickly rejected the idea—after all, he was only leaving her alone as she had asked. No, she would seek him out herself.
First, though, Rose had to feed the fledgling, which was professing its hunger in loud, plaintive cries. Carrying the bird into the kitchen, she asked the objects there to find her whatever the fledging needed to eat; a bowl, two cloths, and a large spoon soared out a rickety door that opened to reveal the outside. Pesk eyed the objects with interest, but did not bark—he, too, had grown accustomed to the magic that governed the lodge.
A short time later, the objects returned. The spoon was now bent and covered in dirt, the cloths were stained with juice, and the bowl was brimming over with berries and worms.
Rose looked at its contents and felt her gorge rise as the thought of having to touch the squiggling worms. She wanted very much to delegate the task, but the Beast had asked her to help the bird. After all her unwarranted insults, feeding the feeble creature was the least she could do.
“I hope you appreciate this,” she muttered, groaning a little as she picked up a worm that was trying to escape from the bowl. It wriggled within her hand, making her shudder.
The fledgling threw back its head and accepted the offering with greedy enthusiasm. A second later, it thanked her with a poop, opened its beak again, and cheeped for more.
Rose eyed the unwelcome gift in dismay. “Lovely.”
Gritting her teeth, she picked up the fecal sac delicately between two fingers, relieved to find that it did not break. Less messy than a chamber pot, she decided as she tossed the sac out the door.
Only after the fledgling had consumed half the bowl of food did it finally close its beak in satisfaction.
“About time,” Rose remarked, placing a trencher over the dish to keep the remaining worms from escaping until it was time to feed the bird again. She hoped the fledgling would stay sated for a while as she settled it in a large pot near the hearth where it could stay warm and safe. That taken care of, Rose’s thoughts turned once more to the Beast.
I do not want to shout up at him again, but how else can I apologize? she mused as she poured a pitcher of water into the sink and washed her hands. I guess the only way is to go up there myself. But how?
A final glance told her the fledgling was well content for the moment, so Rose let Pesk outside to do his morning business, summoned her courage, and went to search out the Beast.
He comes down through the hall where we eat, she recalled. If he can control that room, perhaps I can, too.
Feeling a tad foolish, she instructed the hall, “Let me into the rafters as you do the Beast.”
Noiselessly, the ceiling began to ripple and change before her eyes from stone into wood. Stairs descended from the far corner and came to rest upon the floor with a dull thud.
Plucking a rushlight from its nip on the wall, Rose took a deep breath and began to climb the steps. The top opened up into a triangular space slightly shorter than she was with support beams crisscrossing as far as she could see. Rose ducked her head to avoid hitting it on the roof and wondered why the Beast chose to lurk in such a place when even on all fours, he would be forced to crouch.
The rushlight illuminated only a few feet in front of her at a time, and Rose tried not to wonder if there were bats or other such creatures residing there. Dust clung to the air, tickling her nose until she thought she might sneeze. Stifling the urge, she saw that the Beast’s repeated passage had swept a span of boards clean, and these she followed as she tiptoed across the room.
Rose reached the far side, which was walled save for an archway leading to the rafters above the corridor. She peered through but could see nothing beyond except thin slivers of light seeping through the floor boards.
“Beast?” Rose softly called and heard him stir. Feeling a little braver, she stepped through the archway and toward the sound, her rushlight dimly allowing her to make out the Beast curled up in the thin space between two bracing beams. As she neared, Rose saw that the fit was so tight that the boards actually pressed against his flesh. She knew he could not be comfortable.
“Rose?” he questioned, turning to face her with eyes that gleamed gold in the dark. “What are you doing here?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but the dust in the air made her sneeze instead.
“Looking for you,” she sniffed when she had recovered. “I said some horrible things to you, and I am very, very sorry.”
He turned his head away. “You did not say anything that was not true.”
“But it was not true! You are not hideous. You are . . . different, is all. I was mad at you, but that does not justify the things I said. I do not hate you. Truly, I do not.”
“Of course you do. I took you from your home, your loved ones, and even after you sacrificed all of that, I still doubted your word that you would stay. You have every right to loathe me.”
“But I do not!” Rose crouched down next to the Beast and tentatively placed one hand on his massive shoulder. He flinched at her touch, and she drew her hand away, but replaced it after a moment in firm decision. “You are gracious and kind, and you have treated me far, far better than I have treated you. If you can put aside the things I said last night, I will put aside the way I came to be here. We will start anew as friends.”
“You do not have to do that,” the Beast protested roughly.
“I know. I want to.”
He turned his head to look at her again. “I would like to be your friend, Rose.”
The child-like hope in his voice made her smile and loosened the tight feeling in her chest. “Then we are.”
He smiled back, and this time she did not mind the way his large teeth gleamed in the rushlight. The beams creaked as the Beast shifted to see her better, and dust drifted down around them. Rose sneezed again.
The Beast frowned in concern. “You should not be up here. The rafters are no place for you.”
“They are no place for you, either. I will go down only if you come with me,” she declared.
He nodded. “Very well. I am going to get up,” he warned. “Stand back.”
Rose stepped away as the Beast rose stiffly to his feet, his knees bent at sharp angles to avoid hitting his back on the rafters.
“Why do you like to stay up here?” Rose asked as she led the way back to the hall. “You have such beautiful rooms! Surely you would enjoy them better than this dusty space.”
“I did not want to intrude on anywhere you might wish to go,” he admitted.
“You do not intrude,” she affirmed, blinking against the sudden light as she left the rafters. Once the Beast had joined her downstairs, the steps retracted back into the ceiling and its wooden construction promptly reverted back to stone.
“I wish I had known before now that I could change this room,” she remarked wistfully. “My first day here, I found a chamber full of musical instruments that I really liked, but it has not chosen to reappear.”
“You can turn this into your music room if you like—whenever you like. In fact, I hope you do.” The Beast shuffled one paw along the ground, as though embarrassed by what he was about to say. “Your voice when you sang that day was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.”
“Then I must sing for you again,” Rose offered with a smile. “But right now, I need to check on our patient.”
As soon as Rose entered the kitchen, the bi
rd began to chirp at her hungrily.
“Again?” she asked, bemused. “I just fed you!”
“I have watched the wild ones for many years now,” the Beast said from the doorway. “The babies eat all the time, and the fledglings nearly as often.”
“You like birds, then?” Rose asked as she retrieved the bowl of food.
“Well enough.”
Rose dropped a large berry into the bird’s mouth and picked up the resulting sac, setting it aside in an empty dish.
“Why are you standing so far away, then?” she asked. “Come closer and see what you saved.”
“I will scare it,” the Beast deferred.
Rose shook her head. “Baby animals tend not to have much sense. I doubt it knows yet to be afraid of you. Come,” she coaxed.
The Beast hesitated, then slowly drew near. The fledgling hardly seemed to notice his approach, its head cocked back and its insistent cheeps demanding only one thing—food.
“Here,” Rose said, holding a plump blackberry out to the Beast.
“Why are you giving it to me?” he asked, puzzled. Still, he held up one paw, and she dropped the berry into his palm.
“You found it, you feed it,” Rose stated.
Casting her a dubious look, the Beast drew even closer so that his paw hovered above the bird’s head. A slight tilt, and the berry fell into the fledgling’s open mouth.
“I did it!” he declared in a tone that sounded both astonished and proud.
Rose laughed. “Yes, you did! Again.”
This time, she handed him a worm. The Beast turned his paw so that the worm dangled within range of the bird’s beak. The fledgling grabbed the end of the worm and sucked the whole thing into its mouth.
The Beast chuckled in delight, and Rose stared at him, shocked. She had not known the Beast could laugh. It was a deep, rumbling sound, and judging by the look on the Beast’s face, it had surprised him, too.
“There, you see, not so scary after all,” Rose smiled.
Bound: A Merged Fairy Tale of Beauty and the Beast & Sleeping Beauty (The Enchanted Rose Trilogy: Book 2) Page 10
