by Amy Sumida
Except now, a book had come to life, and its characters were threatening to make me feel something real again.
Chapter Four
I bathed in the most luxurious bathroom I'd ever been in. I'd say it was the most luxurious room period, but my bedroom surpassed it. The tub was gold, set upon a stone dais, and buckets of steaming water floated in through the open window to fill it. I had soaked for awhile and washed my hair, another bucket of clean water coming in just when I needed to rinse. This invisible servant thing was pretty amazing.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, I found the armoire open and a canary-yellow dress hung over one door. I scowled at the thing.
“Yellow?” I asked the empty room. “Not with my skin tone.”
The armoire shivered in affront, and a mass of silk came shooting out at me. I caught it and held it out for an inspection. It was pale pink, so pale that it was nearly white–just a blush of color. I smiled and put it on. It swooped a little low in front for my taste, but it was beautiful, with full skirts and a pearl-encrusted bodice.
“Much better,” I said. “Thank you.”
The armoire seemed satisfied.
As I combed my hair, I went to the bedroom window. It was a bay window with a padded seat filling its outward curve. I knelt on the cushion and peered out of the glass. One of the brother beasts was in the garden, taking a stroll as he read a book. I lifted my brows at that. Where there was one book, there were usually more.
Before I could turn away to search the castle for this book stash, a rabbit scampered across the path before the beast. He noticed the Prince's presence too late and made a mad dash back into the bushes. But the rabbit had run blindly and got himself tangled in the underbrush. The Prince put his book down and crouched before the bushes. I could see him speaking to the terrified bunny, but I was too far away to hear his words. He freed the rabbit and then gently let it go. The bunny ran off without a backward glance.
The Beast Prince sighed and stood, looking after the rabbit forlornly. I saw then that it was Blaise, the beast with the palest fur. He walked off, forgetting his book in the grass.
“You left your book!” I called down to him.
He just kept walking.
“Your loss,” I huffed and hopped off the bench.
I had a new mission, to get to that book. A book in the hand was worth two rabbits in the bush, or something like that. Either way, I wanted to save that book from the elements. It had nothing to do with any curiosity I may have had over what Blaise had been reading.
I slipped out of the bedroom and hurried downstairs. No one was in sight as I opened the main doors of the castle and ran down the steps to the garden. I looked around for Blaise, but I didn't see him, so I headed down the winding garden path toward where I had seen him leave the book.
It didn't take me long to find it. I lifted the leather-bound book triumphantly and then sighed over the expensive binding. I flipped to the title and blinked in surprise. It was a collection of poetry. Poetry; the beast liked poems. I thumbed through the pages in fascination, stopping now and then to read the beautiful words.
“I believe that is mine,” Blaise purred.
“Is it?” I asked as I looked up from the book. “I found it discarded on the path. I believe that makes it mine.”
“Finding something doesn't make it yours.” He stepped closer, his eyes catching the sunlight.
They were a pale, sky-blue, and I realized that each of the beasts had eyes of a different shade of blue. Lancelot's were dark blue and Audric's had a touch of gray.
“Then what does?” I asked him. “How do you make something yours?”
“Several ways.” Blaise eased even closer. “You can claim it, as one would a piece of land. You can steal it and be labeled a thief. Or you can be honorable, and pay for it.”
“And what would this book cost me?”
Blaise leaned in toward me, his eyes holding mine hostage as his warmth became my own. I felt my lips part, my skin going sensitive to the feel of his fur–just grazing my hand as he reached for me. I began to lean closer, my gaze dropping to his mouth, his perfectly human lips. Then he snatched the book from my hand and jerked back.
I stared at him in shock.
“How about a stroll through the gardens?” Blaise held his arm out to me.
“A stroll?”
“In exchange for the book,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “But it's only a loan. This is one of my favorites, and I don't think I could bear to part with it.”
“Alright,” I agreed. “I think that's a price I'm willing to pay.”
But deep inside, I knew better. There was a lot more that I would have given Blaise, and even more that I wanted in return.
Chapter Five
I walked with Blaise through the expansive gardens, stopping to watch clippers trim bushes all on their own, and spades dig in the dirt without anyone wielding them. A flower was picked and floated over to me to be tucked behind my ear. I bobbed a curtsy in thanks.
“How long did it take for you to get used to this?” I waved a hand at the self-gardening garden.
“Awhile,” he admitted with a smile. “The first time my clothing floated out of my closet to me, I screeched.”
“You did not.”
“I did”–he laughed–“and I wasn't the only one. My brothers both shouted in alarm and we all went rushing into the hallway naked.”
“Oh, my.” I tried to hold back a giggle and failed.
“Yes, well.” He gave his body a pointed look. “It's not like we were really naked.”
“An entirely different shock,” I said.
“A shock and a pain.”
“Does it hurt?” I asked in surprise.
“No, I meant that it's annoying to be covered in fur.” He smoothed the thin pelt on his face. “Can you imagine having to brush your face? And then there are the tangles. Ugh, the indecency of standing there while a horde of hairbrushes attack the snags in your fur is nearly unbearable.”
I burst into laughter.
“Yes, go on and giggle.” He stood back and allowed me to chortle it up. “I haven't even got to how awful it is to wear fur in the summertime.”
“Oh, no,” I stopped laughing to whisper.
“Oh, yes.” He groaned. “I tried to shave once. That didn't go so well.”
“Blaise, no.” I held a hand to my mouth.
“I sure did.” Blaise nodded. “You should have seen the flurry of brooms.”
I burst out laughing again. When I settled, I found him staring at me sweetly, his pale blue eyes as bright as a robin's egg. I smiled at him softly and took his hand instead of his arm. His eyes widened in surprise, but then his fingers closed over mine carefully, his claws forming a cage around my hand. We began to stroll again, our clasped hands swinging between us.
I knew then that I was right where I belonged. My family had a lot of strange beliefs, one of them being that we each had one person we were meant to be with for our entire lives, but another belief we had was that we each had a destiny. Maybe my destiny was not to find one person to be with, but three.
Chapter Six
After we had roamed the gardens, Blaise took me to the library. It was evident that we shared a love of literature, and he was eager to show off his family's hoard. And it was quite a treasure.
The library soared three stories up to a domed glass ceiling which shed the perfect amount of light into the room without managing to touch any of the precious books. Above the main floor, there were two balconies circling the walls. They were both lined with bookshelves, as was the bottom floor. The bookshelves were tall enough to necessitate the use of the attached, rolling ladders, and they were full of books.
“How many books are there?” I whispered in wonder.
“Thousands,” Blaise said gleefully, “maybe hundreds of thousands.”
“I don't know where to start.”
“It can get overwhelming,” he agreed as he l
ed me past heavy wooden furniture polished to glassy finishes. “We have a ledger there.” He pointed to a massive book, sitting on a pedestal to our right. “In it you can find an alphabetical accounting of every book we own, and its location in the library.”
“You have a book to tell you where your books are.” I laughed. “That's wonderful. I wish I had that many books.”
There were no windows on the lowest level, only shelves, glass cases, and one massive fireplace. Several seating areas spotted the enormous Persian carpets, just waiting for someone to curl up and read while they lounged. But Blaise led me to the back of the room, where a slim staircase spiraled up to the two balconies. We climbed all the way to the top floor and then walked out onto the spacious loft. I trailed a finger over the spines of the books as we passed.
Blaise took me to a spot between the shelves, where a bay window, similar to the one in my room, curved outward. Set into the curve were two armchairs, padded in blue velvet. He motioned to one chair as he took the other.
“This is my favorite place,” he said.
“I can see why.” I looked out of the window at a fantastic view of the countryside.
I could see the entire forest, past the village, and all the way to the sea. Viewed from above, it was shocking that no one had stumbled across the castle. It wasn't all that far from the village, and was even closer to my home. But then Theo had said it was enchanted to remain hidden. That witch had made it doubly hard on the brothers; charging them to find a woman to love and then preventing them from being found. Though, my father had found the castle, and then Bertrand had led me here. Perhaps the spell was meant to block only those who couldn't help the beasts.
“You may read any of the books you wish,” Blaise offered. “And you may even share my favorite spot.”
“Thank you, Blaise.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “It's nice to have someone to share things with.”
We stayed in the library until dinner. Blaise showed me some of his favorite books and made me laugh several more times. I love a man who can make me laugh. In my opinion, laughter is a step away from love. So, I was probably beaming when Blaise led me into the dining room later that evening.
“Don't you two look cozy,” Lancelot noted.
“We went for a stroll through the gardens,” Blaise said brightly, ignoring his brother's irritation. “Then I showed Sylvaine our library.”
Blaise led me to a seat at the end of the table and pulled out the chair for me. It was right next to Lancelot's chair at the table's head. It also put me directly across from Audric, who either smiled or grimaced at me; it's hard to tell with the mix of prominent canines and human mouth. But his eyes seemed to be serene, so I went with my smile theory.
“That was rather tricky of you, brother,” Audric noted.
“I did not ask her to attend me,” Blaise protested. “Sylvaine found me on her own.”
“Honestly,” I interrupted, “I saw Blaise from my window. He forgot his book on the ground, and I went to fetch it.”
“He forgot his book?” Lancelot lifted a skeptical brow. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I did,” Blaise protested. “There was this rabbit–”
“You've never left a book behind in your life; you love them more than anything,” Lancelot scoffed.
“Just because you have issues with literature–” Blaise began but stopped suddenly at Lancelot's scathing gaze.
“Can I call you 'Lance'?” I asked suddenly.
“What?” Lancelot's anger shifted into bafflement.
“Lance,” I said. “Every time I say 'Lancelot' it makes me want to giggle.”
“Then I propose that you continue to call him Lancelot,” Audric said. “I happen to love your giggle.”
I blushed and had a moment of delighted shock. Maybe these men weren't the villains they'd been portrayed as. Or maybe the years of their solitude and punishment had changed them. Either way, I was feeling more and more certain in my decision to give the men a chance. Having multiple men loving you could be a good thing if they all got along. I'd been raised to believe that I would find one man to walk through life with, and he would be it for me–if he died, I would never love again. But sometimes the path of life split, and you were faced with choices... and sometimes the choice was not to decide at all. I could take all three paths before me.
“Yes, you may call me, Lance,” Lancelot said crisply. “It's precisely what my brothers call me.”
“Oh, go and ruin my fun,” Audric pouted.
Then food began to float into the room on silver dishes. It all smelled fantastic, and my stomach rumbled eagerly. The men made surprised barks of laughter, and I giggled.
“Sorry, it's been awhile since I ate,” I said.
“No apologies necessary.” Blaise waved his hand. “You should hear us when we get hungry.”
“It's not pretty,” Audric confirmed.
“We're not pretty,” Lance huffed.
“Okay, enough of that,” I declared as a piece of chicken was placed onto my plate by invisible hands. “We're not going to get anywhere if you're constantly wallowing in self-pity.”
“Oh, she has you pegged, Lance.” Blaise chuckled.
“I do not wallow.” Lance daintily picked up a silver fork and stabbed his meal with it. “I am a realist.”
“You are a stick in the mud,” Audric corrected. “Sylvaine's right: you can't woo a woman while you mope around melodramatically. We're not vampires, for god's sake.”
The rest of us made sounds and expressions of agreement.
“Fine, you seem to know our story,” Lance said to me as he waved the pitcher of wine over to him. “What do you propose?”
Wine poured into Lance's glass as I pondered the problem.
“The curse can only be broken if you get a woman to fall in love with all three of you, correct?” I asked.
“And we must also fall in love so deeply with her, that pride is no longer important to us,” Lance added. “We must love you enough to share you with each other. That is the true obstacle.”
“None of us share well,” Audric agreed. “Lance especially is a possessive bastard.”
Lance growled at Audric.
“So, you think you'll have no problem making me love you, then?” I lifted a brow at them.
“That's not what they meant,” Blaise said as the other two stammered. “They just mean that we can be stubborn men, and pride is something that was hammered into us since our birth. We couldn't share a toy when we were children; sharing a woman we love will be torturous.”
“And so that is an important lesson for you to learn,” I concluded. “That love isn't about possession. That the very term 'sharing' does not apply to it because none of you will ever own me–I'm not a toy to be argued over. Love is what we'll share together, if we're lucky, and that emotion has no limits or conditions to it. Not if you feel it purely.”
“And how do you know so much about love?” Lance huffed.
“I've seen it with my parents.” I shrugged. “My father would have done anything for my mother, especially to make her happy. Even though a polyamorous relationship goes against what our society accepts, I believe that he would have had one with her, if it was what she wanted.”
“You can't know that for certain,” Audric said.
“Not for certain,” I agreed. “But when my mother died, my father nearly followed her into the grave. The only thing that stopped him from dying with her was his love for his children. That kind of love doesn't care if it's shared by two, three, or even four people. It simply exists.”
“Here! Here!” Blaise slapped the table. “You've convinced me, Sylvie. Now, you only need to convince my heart.”
“And ours,” Lance said gravely. “The rose is down to four petals.”
“The rose really exists?” I asked in surprise. “I thought that might have been literary enhancement.”
“No, it's true,” Lance confirmed. “We or
iginally thought we'd have mere days when the witch first threw it at our feet. But the rose proved to be as magical as the curse it housed. It has slowly died, and our hopes along with it.”
“But now we have a new hope, brother,” Blaise said merrily. “I believe that Sylvaine is the woman we're meant to love. With her, we're going to break our curse.”
“One afternoon spent strolling through the garden and reading books with her, and you think you can love her?” Lance scowled. “Maybe you have your own magic, Sylvaine.”
“It's not magic, it's plain old compatibility,” I said. “I like Blaise, and he likes me. Simple. Now, we need to see if the two of you can establish the same rapport with me. In short, gentlemen, we need a plan.”
“A plan to fall in love?” Audric laughed.
“Yes, precisely!” Blaise declared. “We need a plan. Sylvie knows about us, so subterfuge won't work with her. It's all out on the table.” Blaise waved his hand at the feast before us. “Why can't love be worked toward?”
“Because it's an unpredictable emotion,” Lance growled.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “But that doesn't mean it can't be fostered. Lovers have been wooing since time began. Love has always been planned, sometimes in the most intricate fashions. Think of how a man composes a speech when he asks to court a woman, or how he carefully researches what she enjoys and then plans outings to please her.”
“I like you already, sweetheart,” Audric purred. “I'm all in. But I'll come up with my own plans for you, if you don't mind.”
“I as well,” Lance said.
“As you should.” I nodded as the procedure began to form in my head. “You will each be free to woo me as you will, but our plan shall still be put into play. And it shall be very simple. One day for each of you, and then we'll start the process again, until we either love each other–”
