Rose stepped out into the bright spring day, her shoulders automatically relinquishing some of their tension as she escaped the familiar confines of her family’s house. Even though her sisters no longer lived there, the place still felt cramped to Rose. She was accustomed to the spacious rooms at the Beast’s lodge—rooms whose features changed on a daily basis, and whose appearance could be as grandiose as a King’s hall or as awe-inspiring as a crystal cave. Compared to that, living in her family’s home again felt almost . . . boring.
Of course, the treasure trove she had brought with her meant that her family could afford to buy a castle if they so chose—but her father and Aunt Tess had no desire to leave the land they had worked for the last twenty years, and her sisters were too busy settling into their new lives to consider any other change. Rose had thought that after all the deprivation her family had suffered, they would be eager to enjoy the benefits of wealth, but that turned out not been the case.
“Of course we want to be rich,” Aunt Tess had remarked when Rose had brought up the subject, “but there is a huge difference between wanting and being. Can you imagine the problems it would cause if our neighbors knew all that you had brought? We must go about this carefully—sell only a few goods at a time, and then only in cities far enough away and rich enough in trade to exchange such items without question. Coin, after all, is much easier to use than gold goblets or jewels, and it draws far less hostile attention. Your father will go when the planting is done.”
Rose had refrained from remarking that if her father went now, he would never need to plant another seed again. Part of her suspected that Mercer was putting off the trip for as long as he could—after all, his last journey in pursuit of renewed wealth had ended quite poorly indeed. But this time, things would be different—she was certain of it. This time, the journey could only end well. Besides, her father’s absence would give her the time she needed to make a trip of her own. She resolved to speak with him about it again.
Rose found Mercer in the fields thinning sprouts and sowing new seed where the first had grown in patchy. She sank onto her knees and began to help him uproot the scrawnier seedlings, making sure that only the strongest and healthiest shoots remained, each with enough space around them to let them grow tall and full.
“Father, I was thinking . . . the planting is almost done and soon you will be free to travel to the city. When you do—”
“—you want to come along?” he smiled, pleased. “We will have to rent another horse, but that is no problem now. Oh, but I forgot. You dislike horses.”
“Not anymore,” Rose corrected her father, her stomach sinking at having to deny his assumption that she would accompany him. “And I would love to go with you, but I have something else in mind.”
“Really? What is that?”
“Well, I kind of promised—that is to say, I told the Beast I would visit him again, and it has been several weeks since I left. I thought I could go see him while you were gone.”
Silence met her words. Rose glanced at her father’s face and quickly added, “It will just be for a day or two—then I will come right back.”
“But why?” her father blurted. “Why would you want to visit that . . . that monster?”
“He is not a monster, Father!” Rose defended fervently. “He is kind and good and very . . . very special to me.”
Mercer gave an unnecessarily harsh tug on the sprouts he was thinning, pulling up a whole cluster of them by mistake. “Special,” he growled. “Well, I suppose you were alone with him for five years. It makes sense you developed a sort of . . . attachment . . . to the Beast, if only to survive. But you are away from him now! Why would you want to return to the creature that kept you a prisoner over something as trivial as a flower?”
“I doubt the flower was the real reason, Father,” Rose tried to explain. “I think it was loneliness.”
“That is no excuse for his behavior!”
“You want to talk about the Beast’s behavior?” Rose demanded, beginning to grow angry. “Very well, you are right—I have lived with him for five years, and in all that time he has only ever treated me with gentleness and consideration. There are men in this village whose hearts are more beast-like than his. In many ways, Ari is more human than any man I have ever met!”
“Rose!” Mercer exclaimed in alarm. “What exactly are you saying?”
“Nothing, Father. Just that I intend to visit him soon, and I would like your blessing when I do.”
“My blessing?” Her father blanched at her wording. “Does this have anything to do with the ring you are wearing?”
Rose drew back, startled. “What?”
“I know you, Rose, and a ring like that is not your style—yet you wear it constantly. He must have given it to you—but why? What exactly does it—does he—mean to you?”
“Nothing! We are just friends,” she protested, even as her stomach lurched and her cheeks began to burn at the implication behind his question. She fought to keep her composure as she replied, “Really, Father, what else can we be? Yes, I respect and admire the Beast; he has a good heart and were he not an animal, you might be right to question me. As it is, he is my friend and as dear to me as any of you, and I cannot and will not abandon him.”
Mercer frowned. “I do not like it. I do not like it at all.”
Rose stood up abruptly and brushed her dirt-stained hands on her skirt. “I am sorry you feel that way, but I will be going to visit him, and soon. Perhaps as you ride off to reclaim our family’s fortunes, you will remember it was the Beast’s generosity that made it possible, and will find it in your heart to be generous toward him in return.”
She walked away then, unable to hold back her tears a moment longer. She hated the way father judged the Beast without even knowing him—hated more that she understood why he judged him so and could not refute his reasons.
If only you could see the Beast as I do, she thought at her father, angrily wiping the tears from her eyes. In the ways that truly matter, he is just as human as you and me—and just as deserving of our forgiveness and love.
* * * * *
Pesk opened one bleary eye, roused from his slumber by the instinctive awareness that something was not right. He pricked one ear and listened; the lodge was silent. The dog huffed, uncertain why the quiet—typical of the lodge ever since Rose had left—was making him feel so uneasy. He turned his head toward the pile of blankets near the fireplace where the Beast had taken to sleeping. The Beast was not there, and the faded scent clinging to the material was two nights old.
Pesk rose stiffly to his feet, his senses on high alert; Rose’s abrupt departure had made him cautious. The dog padded into the entrance corridor, his nose—still sharp after all these years—informing him that the Beast had not passed that way all day. The faded odor was freshest near the front door, and Pesk pawed at the wood, whining to go outside. But the Beast was not there to heed him, and the strange objects that moved about on their own knew not to let him out without permission.
The morning lengthened into noon, but the Beast still did not appear, not even when the time came that he usually fed Pesk. Stomach rumbling, Pesk went so far as to poke his nose into the kitchen in the vain hope that he would find something to eat. All was motionless and pristine, without a shred of meat or a crust of bread to be seen; the kitchen had ceased to prepare food the day Rose had left.
Pesk whined in his throat. He desperately needed to go outside. Pushing himself onto his hind legs, he pawed at the door connecting the kitchen to the outdoors. It rattled under his weight. Unlike the front door, the kitchen’s entrance was old and in dire need of repair. Twice more, Pesk lunged against the brittle wood, and on the third lunge, the door’s simple latch snapped, and he toppled out onto the grass.
Once his business was taken care of, Pesk easily located the Beast’s scent along the trail to the garden. There, he found the Beast lying amongst the roses, seemingly asleep. The dog padded over and prodde
d him with his nose, whimpering softly. The Beast stirred, saw Pesk, and tried to rise, but collapsed back after a moment, too worn to even stand.
“Good dog, clever dog,” the Beast mumbled. “You are free now. Rose is free. Soon I will be free, too . . . just in a different way . . . .”
The Beast fell silent, and Pesk settled down by his side, patiently waiting for him to arise. The sun began to set and the night grew chill; Pesk’s stomach grumbled with hunger and the rabbits peeping out of their burrows taunted all his senses—never mind that he was too old to catch them now, anyway—but he still did not move from beside the Beast.
Morning came, but the Beast did not rise, and Pesk knew then he could no longer stay. Shaking the dew from his fur, the dog drank deeply from the pond in the vain hope the water would quell his aching stomach. With a final look and a last, importunate bark at the Beast, Pesk turned his back and trotted away into the trees.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rose screamed in anguish as the creature ripped its sharp claws down her cheeks, its expression twisted in a hideous mask of rage and contempt. A harsh wing battered against her head, making her ears ring, and then she was falling—falling through the air so fast that her eyes streamed with tears and the wind snatched away her scream.
Something struck her in the side—hard—and Rose, thinking the creature had somehow caught up with her again, frantically tried to shove it away. Too late, she realized it was the Beast plummeting along with her, his limbs contorted as though in terrible agony, his teeth bared as he let out a snarl of fear and pain.
“Beast!” she cried in desperation, striving to reach him with her hand . . . but her shove had pushed him beyond her grasp, and the air’s fierce current kept her from reaching his side. Vainly, she tried to battle back the howling wind, but the Beast stayed just beyond her, and she could not save him—could not even slow his fall—could not simply hold him close as they plunged together toward a fate that could have only one end.
* * * * *
Rose sat up with a gasp, her heart thundering in her chest and her night clothes drenched in sweat.
It was a dream, only a dream, she chanted to herself.
No, not just a dream—the Dream. The Dream that had haunted her nights as a child and those of her adult years as well . . . until she had gone to live with the Beast. She still remembered walking into the lodge’s one evil chamber shortly after her arrival—unaware, unprotected—and having her nightmare transformed into a living reality. Rose had thought she was going to die then for real, but the Beast had saved her from the chamber’s clutches, and the Dream had not occurred again. She had begun to believe it never would.
Suddenly, Rose sat up straighter. The Beast had been in her Dream! No one had ever been in her Dream before—no one except the terrible creature whose face she could not recall once she woke up—a creature very different from her compassionate Beast. Rose remembered the anguished bellow he had let out, his writhing torment as he fell beside her in her Dream. For an instant, she had forgotten that she was plummeting toward death herself—had only known that the Beast was suffering and that try as she might, she could not reach him. Her heart still hammered from the shock of it.
It was only a dream, Rose repeated, trying to reassure herself, but her pounding pulse did not ease. Knowing she would not be able to get back to sleep, Rose climbed out of bed. Splashing water on her face and changing into a fresh dress helped a little, and by the time her aunt and father were also awake, she was breathing easily once again.
Still, Rose could not shake the feeling of trepidation that clung to her as she went about her day. As if to fit her dark mood, the sky gloomed with clouds and by midday, it had begun to rain.
“Good thing too, our farm could use the water,” her father said approvingly as he shook off his wet coat and joined them at the table for dinner.
They had just finished eating when they heard a sharp bark, followed by the sound of a paw scratching urgently at the door.
“Impossible,” Rose breathed, standing up so fast that she tripped over her chair, sending it toppling to the ground. She scarcely noticed, throwing open the door and flinging her arms around the soaked, smelly dog it revealed.
“Is that Pesk?” Aunt Tess asked, clearly astonished. “I thought you said he had to stay behind at the lodge—that he was too old to make such a trip.”
Rose nodded, confused. “He should have been. Have you been traveling all this time, you silly old dog? You must be famished,” she declared, scratching him fiercely behind the ears.
While Rose dried Pesk off with an old rag, Aunt Tess filled a bowl with water and Mercer placed some scraps from their meal onto the floor. Pesk gulped down the food so fast he seemed to inhale it, making Rose wonder when the dog had eaten last.
“What happened, Pesk?” she murmured into his ear, a strange apprehension stealing over her. “The Beast promised to take care of you for me. Did you run away again?”
Of course, the dog did not answer, and Rose chided herself for worrying. Pesk had simply escaped from the Beast just like he had done from her aunt. Rather than questioning it, Rose knew she ought to be grateful that the stubborn old dog had made it home at all.
Indeed, Pesk’s head was drooping with exhaustion, and Rose fully expected him to curl up in front of the hearth fire and fall asleep. Yet to her surprise, the instant he had finished eating, he headed back toward the door, barking impatiently for her to open it.
“You think he could have done his business before coming inside,” Aunt Tess complained as Rose exposed the room once more to the blustery rain.
But Rose scarcely heard her; she was watching Pesk. His head tucked low against the driving wind, he padded down the path toward their gate. Halfway there, he stopped and looked back at Rose as though expecting her to follow.
“Pesk, hurry up and come back in!” she called nervously. “You are getting soaked again, and the rain is coming inside the house.”
Pesk barked at her, loud and insistent. Rose jumped.
“What is the matter with the dog?” Mercer asked, coming up behind Rose.
“I think he wants me to follow him,” she muttered as Pesk took a few more steps toward the road, then turned to look at her again. As their eyes met, Rose felt a sudden chill of understanding. Pesk had not journeyed all this way just to be with her; he had journeyed back in order to fetch her. And the only reason he would have done so frightened her to consider.
“I have to go,” she said, spinning away from her father and dashing up the stairs. A moment later, she returned, nearly tripping again as she fumbled to tie on a heavy cloak.
“Rose, wait, where are you going? Rose, wait!”
Rose could not wait—dared not wait. She had waited too long already. What could have happened to the Beast that Pesk—doddering and old as he was—would travel through a storm just bring her back? All the dread and foreboding that had haunted her throughout the day lent speed to her actions now as she hastened to saddle her father’s horse.
A calloused hand clasped over her own, halting her progress.
“No, Rose! You cannot go—not like this,” her father decreed.
She whirled around to face him, her eyes wild. “I have to. I left the Beast all alone, and now something has happened to him. It is all my fault—I need to go back.”
“I said no! I will not lose you to that creature again.”
“It is not your choice,” Rose snapped, throwing off his hand. Hurt flashed in her father’s eyes, but she ignored it—she had to. “When I thought you were in danger, the Beast let me go to you. Now, you need to let me do the same. You owe him that. I owe him that—and so much more.”
She turned and tried again to tighten the saddle straps, but her father’s hand moved once more to prevent her. Anger flared hot within her until she heard Mercer say, “Stop, Rose, you are doing it wrong. Let me.”
Rose stepped back and allowed her father to finish tightening the saddle and placi
ng the bridle on the horse. He offered her a hand and she mounted up, taking the reins from him without a second thought. He stared at her in amazement, and she knew he was remembering how terrified she had once been of animals, both great and small.
“The others were right—you have changed, and me a fool not to see it. You will come back?”
“Of course, I will. As soon as I know—” but here her voice failed her, and instead of trying to speak, Rose simply gripped her father’s hand hard before turning the horse toward the road. Pesk gave a glad bark when he saw her and followed after her as she kicked the horse into a walk; as she urged it into a trot and then a gallop, however, he quickly fell behind. Rose looked back and saw him still padding in her wake, trying valiantly to catch up, and she felt a pang of guilt for leaving her loyal dog behind yet again. She fervently hoped he would have the good sense to return to the house where it was warm and dry.
Rose herself had no chance of such comfort. The harsh rain pelted her face and rapidly soaked through her cloak as she rode. She shivered but did not even consider turning aside or going back. Just like in her Dream that morning, she was plunging toward a fate she could not see, unable to turn away or slow her fall. All she could was pray for the Beast’s safety as she rode.
* * * * *
The lantern was waiting for her at the crossroad, its light doused and its frame hidden within the shrubbery until her anxious command drew it out. Rose hastily dismounted from her horse and let go of the reins—her hands were blistered from clenching them so hard. With a slap on the horse’s rump, she set if off back down the path toward her village. She could not take it with her through the brush, and it would have been cruel to leave the horse tied a tree for as long as it would take her to reach the lodge.
The Beast will just have to take me home himself. Serve him right for worrying me, she thought, shivering violently as she followed the lantern off the road and into the thickly-grown trees. She refused to consider the possibility that he might not be able to.
Riven: A Merged Fairy Tale of Beauty and the Beast & Sleeping Beauty (The Enchanted Rose Trilogy: Book 3) Page 9
