The Last Petal Falls

by E. J. Powell

  I frown, “I don’t want to dine with you, if you’re going to be rude! I’d rather starve.” I pull the hem of my shirt over my head with ease and toss it on the bed beside me.

  “Don’t make me break down this door, m’lady. I shall do it and carry you down the way I carried you in!” he threatens.

  I scoff at the closed doors and stick out my tongue. “I’m not a lady, and we both know it! Do yourself a favor and dine alone. I’m sure the stiff company would come in handy for any jokes you might pull in between courses!”

  “WHAT?” His voice deepens, and he lets out a snarl.

  I flinch at the sound, and then nearly shriek my head off when the doors burst open. My hands come up to cover my exposed chest, and the dark figure is no longer wearing a cloak. My eyes widened in surprise and fear. He’s not a man, but a beast, a monster; large claws covered in bristled black fur. Sharp teeth poke out from the snout of a lion, the dark tendrils of fur curl out into a mane around his face. He has pointy ears that flick back and forth, and two spiraling curved brown horns peeking out from the top of his head. Blue eyes flash with anger when he stares at me.

  I cower away from the monster as he sends a menacing glare towards me. He stalks towards the bed, skirting around the basin filled with little water. His heavy panting and the clicking of his claws against the carpet are all I can hear when he’s staring at me like one of the hungry wolves. He’s down on all fours, watching me.

  “You will dine with me,” he says, growling.

  I shake my head, swallowing hard. “N-no.”

  “No?” His head tilts, and he looks confused. Then his eyes stray to where my hands are, and I swear my cheeks flushed crimson. “Ah. You will not join me because you have not yet been bathed properly.” He turns before I can tell him otherwise and yells for Marymagglyn.

  The female gargoyle scampers into the room, sliding into the back of the beast. He growls, and she apologizes before moving towards the bed. “She needs a bath,” he mumbled darkly, before his eyes take in my body inch by inch. I shiver under his intense gaze, then his eyes rest solely on my injured foot. “And she needs to be bandaged.”

  “Of course, My Lord!” Marymagglyn replies in a chirpy tone, as if finding her master in the bedroom of a maiden half-undressed is something she saw everyday in the estate. I frown, as he turns and moves out of the room, giving me a clear dismissal. The heavy doors close behind him.

  “I’m surprised he didn't break the doors,” I mumble in disbelief.

  Marymagglyn snickers under her breath as she turns and reaches out, gripping the edge of the basin and giving it one swift tug over to the edge of the bed. “Master is many things, but a gentleman he will always be.”

  “His mood swings are giving me whiplash. I’m not sure what to think of him,” I say, as she gestures for me to lean forward, and cups some water into her hands before dumping the contents over my head.

  I shut my eyes as Marymagglyn says, “Don’t worry, dear. He’s all heart, no beast. He’s learned over time that the consequences of being cold-hearted can last for decades.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, tilting back my head once she begins to scrub my head gently with her claws.

  “Hm? Oh, nothing, dear. Just me blabbering on again. Forget about what this old hunk of stone is saying. Let’s just get you ready for dinner this eve,” Marymagglyn says in her usual chirpy voice.

  “I meant what I said. I’m not going to dinner.”

  Her claws stop scrubbing my head for a split second. “Oh dear, the master isn’t going to like that.”

  “I’m not here to entertain him. I just want to get well, so I can be out of his hair, literally,” I mumble.

  The gargoyle snickers under her breath again, “I don’t think he’ll let you go, not now that he’s found you.”

  I don’t know what Marymagglyn means, but I’m not sure I want to find out.

  4

  Marymagglyn tries to persuade me to come down for supper, but again, I decline. My foot is so tender that I doubt I’ll be able to take even one step down the spiraling staircase to the grand hall. The female gargoyle offers to bring something up for me, but I shake my head, merely exhausted from the day’s events. Her hands are gentle even with the sharp claws that could probably tear my flesh as she wraps my injured ankle and tells me to get some rest.

  I would not argue with her about needing the rest, even as I recline back against the soft pillows and the satin sheets, I can’t help but wonder how my life has taken a sudden turning point. Losing family and friends, to meeting a witch, to being taken in by a lord of his castle. If I ever claimed before that my life had been boring, I deeply regretted muttering it now.

  I awake to darkness, my skin trickling with sweat that was causing the blankets to stick to my feverish body. I push back the heavy covers and sat up, rubbing a hand over my eyes, and willing my heart to calm down and cease racing. The nightmares I experience are nothing compared to what I have to face. The flicker of yellow eyes and gnashing teeth. Flames and smoke, and the sound of a sinister laughter echo all around me in the dark.

  I shudder and pull one blanket over myself and tuck it under my chin. My stomach gives a small protest, having had nothing since the previous morning before I’d left the witch’s hut in search for the monster who’d taken her precious gift. Goosebumps cover my arms as I rub them to keep warm, desperate for a fire in the hearth across from the bed, but I don’t wish to see the flames and remember.

  Swallowing hard, I leaned back against the goose-down pillows and try to take a few steady breaths, and shut my eyes.

  Fire. Smoke. Yellow eyes. Gnashing teeth. Dark laughter.

  I gasp and sit upright, sleep eludes me as I push off the blanket and move to the edge of the bed, needing to get out of this stuffy room. My feet touch the red-wine carpet, and I wince as I leaned forward to put some pressure against my injured ankle. Gritting my teeth, I hoisted myself up, and almost cried out at the sharp pain that radiates up my calf and causes my eyes to sting with unshed tears.

  Clenching my jaw, I release my hold on the covers and scoot myself slowly to the end of the bed and pull the blue silk robe around the white chemise that I have on, before using the pole connecting to the bed to lean against it for support. My ankle won’t heal if I don’t learn to walk on it, and it won’t get any better if I can’t move through the pain.

  I have to find the rose. But I cannot find it when my ankle causes me pain!

  Growling under my breath, I straighten away from the pole, and practically dragged my right foot behind me as I move towards the door. I pant from the agonizing walk I’d just taken before I push against the heavy doors, and they creak open. I poke my head out and glance both ways down the darkened hallway.

  To my right, is a dead end, but to the left is where the lord of the estate and his gargoyles had come from. My toes curl at the cold as my feet feel the cold stone beneath them, and I let out a small curse that would make my mother unhappy. My chest aches with the knowledge that I’ll never see her again. If I get the rose to the witch, then I will see my family again.

  Moving forward, I drag my injured self down the hallway and stop when I near the top of the stairs that seems to go on forever. The stone gargoyles that are perched on each pedestal that look like they’re supposed to be statues all seem to hold their breath when I reach out to grasp the railing.

  I nearly jump out of my skin and tumble down the stairs when I see a shape move out of the corner of my eye. I clutch the railing, and my knuckles turn white, my lips parting on a scream when the sound of stone grates my ears.

  “What are you doing up at this hour milady? You ought to be in bed with that injured foot,” a familiar female gargoyle voice says.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and relax my grip. I turn to glance over my shoulder at her, and a small gargoyle that looks more like a small statue of a child is hiding behind Marymagglyn. “Marymagglyn, you startled me!”

  “My apologi
es dear. I didn’t fathom you’d be up at this hour.” Marymagglyn reaches behind her and nudges the little male gargoyle further. “This is my son, Chester. I was just teaching him how to perch on the pedestal, when you happened by.”

  I smile down at the small gargoyle who is still hiding behind his mother, but his silver eyes flash with curiosity. “Pleased to meet you, Chester.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, milady.” Chester squeaks, before scurrying backwards out of sight, and down the hallway to the left, his claws making clicking noises against the floor as he goes.

  My gaze goes back to Marymagglyn. “I apologize for interrupting your lessons. I was just trying to find a kitchen.” I reach out and rub my empty stomach, and it lets out a loose growl. My cheeks flushed crimson.

  The female gargoyle chuckles and motions with an extended claw. “I thought you would be hungry at some point. I will lead you to the kitchen. Would you care to climb aboard my shoulders?”

  I hesitate, and she beckons me closer. “Do not worry. I will not drop you.” She grins, flashing a row of jagged sharp teeth. I shudder even as she helps me settle atop her shoulders. Her wings are spread out, and she urges me to wrap my arms around her stiff neck.

  “I do not know about this . . . AH!” I scream and tighten my hold against Marymagglyn’s stone body as she jumps from the top of the stairs and stretches out the velvet black wings of hers and glides in the air, before landing on all fours at the bottom of the stairs. I gasp a few times, preferring my feet on the ground, but she moves forward before I can even begin to try and climb off of her back.

  Marymagglyn carries me past the grand foyer where I’d been brought in by the lord of the estate, she takes a sharp right, and pushes a dark heavy oak door, enough for us to pass through, before scuttling down the small stairs. There’s a light at each end of the tunnel as she comes to a halt, and my arms ache with holding on so tightly. She sits on her haunches and the gargoyle allows me to slide down from her cold back.

  Once my feet are on the ground again, she turns and gestures for the few gargoyles in the kitchen where there are two stone hearths on either side of the room–which is long and wide, bigger than the two huts in the village that belonged to Grant, my dead fiance’s family home combined. The gargoyles cluster together in front of a cast-iron stove and a long table stretches out to the right of the stone creatures that already has the morning meal prepped and ready to go.

  “My friends, this is Bella. She is our honored guest. She’s in need of some food.” Marymagglyn says and gestures to me.

  “Pleased to meet you.” I mumble shyly and wrap my arms around my waist, hugging myself from the bitter chill. My eyes darted to the hearth on one side of the room, and I swallow back the urge to vomit when my gaze is drawn to the flames. Averting my eyes away from the fire, I take a seat when a gargoyle offers me a wooden chair.

  “The master won’t be happy about this,” one gargoyle that has a red sash tucked around his waist says, as he moves his spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a clawed hand. He turns to Marymagglyn, “he was very specific that our guest could only dine with him.”

  The female gargoyle waves a clawed hand in the air of dismissal. “Oh, hush! You’d be wise to allow the girl some food. It’s not as if she’s going to run away.”

  The thought did cross my mind about running away.

  Marymagglyn continues, “Besides, Cogin, she’s our guest. Regardless of what the Lord of the Castle has to admit, he would not wish for her to go hungry.”

  Cogin frowns, as the other male gargoyle comes up beside him, wearing a yellow vest that looks too tight in the chest. “Cogin,” he begins and claps Cogin on the back. I flinch at the sound, but nothing seems to crack. “Don’t bother Ms. Mary or our honored guest. You’ll get a feather up your nose while they dust you on the mantle if you break the Lord’s wishes.”

  Cogin’s stone face turned ashen white, and I stifle the urge to giggle when I realize that the other gargoyle is mainly just teasing his friend. “Do not talk so brandish about such things, London. I don’t wish for the master to have my head.”

  Marymagglyn chuckles as she turns to me, tilting her head towards me. Ears point and flicker as she waits for me to tell her what I want. “Just a slice of bread and some cheese,” I say, before adding a ‘please’. She moves off to fetch my food, while the two male gargoyles banter back and forth.

  I lean back against the chair and shut my eyes; unaware of the looming dark presence hovering behind me that makes the others quiet, until I open my eyes and see the shadow.

  5

  My heart beats hard against my breast-bone, and I swallow loudly, when the shadow hovering behind me rumbles loudly. The gargoyles in front of me remain still as stone, but they do not seem afraid. I don’t know if the beast behind me knows that I’m afraid of him, even as he stalks around the chair and moves towards the gargoyles, barely sparing me a glance. I sag against the chair in relief that his anger won’t be taken out on me.

  “What is going on here?” the beast spits, and I flinch at his condescending tone. I would much prefer him have the soft-spoken voice that I know is probably somewhere deep down inside him. What am I thinking? My hand comes to my cheek in shock. I’d never think that about him, he’s a monster!

  “My lord, we were just about to serve the lady some breakfast,” Marymagglyn says with sourdough bread and a small brick of cheese in her claws. She stares up at him, but does not flinch. “Would you care to break your fast, and join her?”

  A flicker of hope expands my chest, at the thought that perhaps the beast would care to join me in breaking our fast before the morning dawn. “No.” The word is sharp on his tongue, and my chest seems to deflate as if I’ve sunk down into the dark depths of a river, as he turns on his heels and doesn’t bother to acknowledge my presence, before strutting out of the room on all fours.

  I try not to scowl, even as Marymagglyn hands me my food. I rip a small piece of bread free and stuff it in my mouth. “I cannot stand him. He is rude and arrogant,” I say as I chew.

  The female gargoyle’s wings twitch as she folds them against her shoulder-blades. “Don’t take it personally, my dear. He’s always been like that.”

  “Why is he this way? What caused him to become . . .?” I stop and swallow, feeling the bread wanting to get caught in my throat. I swallow harder and it goes down, but I don’t bother continuing to finish my sentence.

  Cogin huffs as he steps forward, wrinkling his sharp nose. “Do not bother to tell the lady Ms. M, she does not need to know the master’s secrets.”

  My back straightens, and my eyes widen in surprise. Curious now, I leave the food untouched in my lap as I tilt my head, “Secrets? What secrets?”

  “Oh, now you’ve done it! Cogin, the master will surely have your head served on a silver platter.” London grumbles under his breath as he moves over to smooth out his wrinkled yellow vest.

  I frown, “I didn’t mean to cause any offense. I am merely curious about the lord of the estate.”

  Marymagglyn nods, her eyes turning sad. “It was a very long time ago, I doubt I remember too well. The master will tell you when he is ready.”

  I slump against the chair and find myself not as hungry as I once was. “Might I explore the estate a bit? I need to stretch my leg.” I motion to the bandaged ankle, and Marymagglyn agrees, but not before sending Cogin and London along with me, giving me the grand tour that I, unfortunately, wanted by myself.

  The grand tour is agonizingly slow and brutal on my poor injured foot. I do not once complain as I think the gargoyles would surely escort me back to my chambers, and I don’t want that. I want to find out where the stupid rose is hiding, but in all the rooms they show me, I limp around, trying to figure out if I had stolen a piece of property, where would I hide it?

  Then, perhaps, it dawns on me when I ask about the west wing again, and the two male gargoyles look nervous and refuse to speak up about it. I feign tiredness and begin to
climb the stairs one at a time. They watch as I round the corner to head to my chambers, and then I stop, waiting for them to disappear back to the servants quarters.

  When their voices are long out of earshot, I poke my head around the corner and smile seeing they are gone. I move and glance around, finding the west wing will not be easy. But I have no choice, the witch and my family are counting on me, and I don’t want them to think that I am a failure and a disgrace.

  6

  I fear I am lost. I know I’m lost, I have to be. The main hall looks exactly the same as the grand hall. I internally groan as I twirl slowly on my good heel, mumbling softly under my breath. The estate is too dark, and the flickering candles aren’t helping me find what I need. The west wing could be anywhere in this overbearing castle.

  I leaned against the railing that has a small set of stairs leading upward. What am I to do? Everyone is counting on me to find the rose. I’m supposed to save my family and friends, marry Grant–even if I don’t want to marry the brute captain of the guard who saw more of his reflection than he saw me. I didn’t want to marry Grant to begin with–a brute who always wanted the best just because his job was to be a leader in the small village; he sought my hand, despite my not wishing him to, all because he saw me as a trophy wife. Just like the antlers of his kills hanging on the walls of his townhouse, I would just be a trophy collecting dust right along with the poor animals.

  A breeze stirs at the base of my neck, and I repress the urge to shiver. I reach up to rub my arms, hoping the goosebumps will go away. “Strange,” I whisper, as I angle my head to look up at the small staircase leading up to a section of the estate that I could have sworn I’ve walked around at one point during the tour. The section of the stairway is dark, no candles flickering. I straighten up, turn, and grip the railing, pulling myself up the stairs one at a time.