Beauty & The Clockwork Beast (The Clockwork Fairytales Book 1)

by A. B. Keuser

  “I am not marrying you,” Isabelle said again.

  “Yes, you are.” The words came in unison from Gaston and her aunt.

  Straightening, Gaston spared her aunt a smile and turned back to her. “I will see you in two days’ time for our wedding, my enchantment.”

  A sickening thought blossomed with his smile.

  He knew.

  She hadn’t, but somehow, Jaquel Gaston knew what her mother was and that was why he wanted her. Her blood froze in her veins and she drew in a shuddering breath, barely able to process what was going on around her.

  When Heather’s shrill cry broke through her disgust, she looked up to find her aunt beating at Heather with a broom. Incensed, Isabelle crossed the gap between them and wrenched the broom from her aunt’s grasp. “Stop it!”

  “You don’t speak to me that way.” She wrenched the broom back, but didn’t raise it to strike either of them. “You will do what you’re told and if you do anything to mess this up for me, I will find some fat old pervert who’ll chain you to a bed and use you every depraved way he knows how.”

  Isabelle took a step backward in spite of herself and asked, “How much is he paying you for me?”

  Her aunt made a huffing noise in the back of her throat and looked toward the front door. “Not that it matters to you, but three times what I could get him to take your sister for.”

  Her sister’s sob was strangled and turned, dropping down so that she was eye level with her sister.

  “You shouldn’t settle for the man who will take you because your sister’s suddenly gone.” She threw her hands in the air and then, grabbing her sister by the shoulders, she pulled her close. “Don’t give any part of yourself to a man who doesn’t love you. You deserve to be loved. You deserve a man who will put up with you when you purposely try to ignore him. You deserve a man who would sacrifice everything for…”

  “Isabelle?” Heather said, her tone questioning Isabelle’s sanity.

  She let go of her sister and sat heavily on the sofa. “You deserve a man who would do anything to keep you safe, who would tempt fate and the wrath of a dark fairy to send you home.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her aunt glared at her and threw a hand toward the back hall. “You go clean up the mess in that back room and don’t even think about coming out here again until you stop talking like a crazy person.”

  Taking hold of Heather’s hand, Isabelle said, “You deserve a man you love so effortlessly, you don’t even know it’s happened. Wait for that. Don’t settle for something just to be rid of our aunt.”

  Bolting upright, Isabelle forced herself to walk to her room at a measured pace.

  She started straightening the room, not because she wanted to make her horrible aunt happy, but because she wouldn’t know what she needed to pack until she had a plan set in place.

  Scooping a pile of dresses off her bed, she heard the click of the key in her door’s lock. When she was sure her aunt had gone back down the hall, she checked—just to be sure.

  The door was bolted, and Isabelle hadn’t thought of bringing her skeleton key with her.

  She looked at the basket –at the dismantled scissors that would quickly and easily turn the door to splinters—but dismissed the idea. The sun was still high in the sky. She could take her time. Besides, the house was only one story, and there was no way to lock the window from the outside.

  Changing the dress that only now began to feel as though she’d worn it for almost a month, she picked up the pieces of her room. She packed her clothes in a carpetbag that had been her mother’s—the one she knew—not the one a book told her existed. From the dresser’s top, she nestled the small bowl in the bottom of her basket, taking care to wrap the broken necklace in a kerchief. She could fix it later. What little she had of her family was in sentimental trinkets and a small journal her mother had given her while dying that she had never had the courage to read.

  Along with those went her book of inventions, the two texts on metanatural physics she’d replaced when Gaston burned her earlier copies and… she tucked away the rest of the gold coins.

  She wouldn’t need them where she was going, but she didn’t see a point in leaving them for her aunt.

  Packing them all away, she listened at her door for the sound of anyone moving about. Her aunt and Heather’s bickering voices were distant. She opened the window, dropped the carpet bag outside, and gently lowered the basket out before following both items.

  She had no intention of sitting around and waiting for her aunt to get paid and for Gaston to do whatever it was he planned to do with a half-fairy bride. She didn’t know what her blood would be worth, but she imagined something in the way of sacrifices and shivered.

  Grabbing hold of her meager belongings, she slipped through her aunt’s side gate and took the long way out of town so that she wouldn’t fall into view of her Aunt’s front windows.

  *

  “I don’t want you to stay.”

  He replayed the lie over and over again in his head. Watching the ripple of pain run through her face had hurt him more than any cog embedded in his flesh. And worse than anything Agathina could do to him… his own betrayal cut to the quick.

  The castle was oddly empty without her. Even the boys were quieter than usual. Maynard had spent an hour pointedly leaving any room he entered. Arthur didn’t blame them.

  She’d only been gone a few hours, and already he felt the weight of her loss. It was more crippling than anything he’d felt under the years of the dark fairy’s torture.

  That one cog in his back pinched harder than he recalled it doing before, and he sat up straighter, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of it.

  Maynard leapt onto the table and sat in front of him, making it impossible to work—to keep his mind off what he’d done.

  “She’s better off. Agathina would have killed her. You would never have forgiven yourself for that… You might have done something drastic that would have killed the boys as well. We’re all better off.”

  Arthur glanced at the cat with a doubtful grimace, and Maynard stood on his hind legs, pressing a paw to Arthur’s shoulder and butting the top of his head against the underside of Arthur’s chin.

  When he sat back on his haunches, Maynard looked away. “Don’t worry, I don’t believe you either.”

  “I’ve lost her. The tugging sensation I felt when we were apart… it snapped somewhere along the way, and now I just feel this hollowness.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s…” The tip of Maynard’s tail twitched and his ears flattened against his head.

  “I don’t know what it means, but I refuse to believe the forest killed her. That’s not what it does. It herds, or it expels. We would have heard the gate by now if the forest caught her and turned her back to us.”

  Slinking down to the bench and then the floor, Maynard padded away, pausing to look over his shoulder. “You’d better hope not. If she’s truly… gone, the boys and I will never forgive you. Worse still, I know you’d never forgive yourself.”

  “She didn’t belong here.”

  “None of us do.” Maynard leapt into a wingback chair and curled himself up on the seat. “But she belonged with you.”

  Ten

  Isabelle hurried down the market road, worried that she had waited too long. Dusk bled across the sky, and the forest on either side of her echoed with ominous noises. She knew what her aunt would say if she knew the truth behind her disappearance—knew that the woman would drag her home by her hair and chain her to her bedpost to keep her bargain with Gaston.

  Rustling sounded behind her and she turned too quickly. The spinning sensation didn’t leave her head, and for half a moment, she thought she saw a shadow move. But there was no wraith behind her. Nothing but an empty and darkening path.

  Paranoia was a luxury for those who weren’t racing the sunset.

  Grasping her bag more tightly, she ran down the path. If darkness fell before she fou
nd the forest entrance, she’d never be able to see it. The enchantment of the forest would lead her to the castle, she knew that without a doubt. Fairy light and magic inhabited the branches to either side of her. The enchantment wanted to burden Arthur… not kill the very thing that could burden him. She hoped.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, the broken wall and forest path beyond were around the next bend. She stopped and took a deep breath, telling her she was taking the best possible path for her life. It might not be safe, but it was the one she’d chosen for herself.

  The tree lined path’s branches intertwined in an archway that was beautiful… if utterly unnatural. There was nothing organic about this path. Swallowing the fear that percolated in her chest, she took a deep breath and stepped off the market road, hoping against hope that this was the right way.

  The dark canopy overhead glittered with glowing silver blooms. They lit her path and faded in darkness behind her, leaving her a glowing halo of light two feet ahead and two feet behind. She glanced back into the dark of the forest, the market road was no longer visible, but she knew the path hadn’t closed behind her. No sounds of the mechanisms that had enclosed her before echoed in the distance.

  She’d come willingly and the forest knew it.

  Around the next bend, a halo of fairy light shone around a metal bush heavy with iridescent roses, and though she wanted to keep going, to get to Arthur and the boys as soon as possible, she couldn’t bring herself to pass it.

  Leaning in, she took hold of one of the blooms and drew it to her nose, inhaling, though she knew…. She stood upright as the familiar fragrance of her mother’s rose bush filled her senses. The rose had come with her. Unlike the previous roses, these turned silver in her hand, making no attempt to disguise themselves as anything but metal

  Curious, she reached for another bloom and it came free as well, glittering silver in the fairy light. Within two minutes, she’d plucked all of the flowers away and held a full bouquet of metal roses, their petals shivering under her gentle touch.

  Placing them in her basket, she hurried on, suddenly more certain of her reunion than she had been before.

  The forest’s invisible creatures cried out around her ,echoing more loudly with each step she took, as though plunging deeper into its midst, she was becoming part of it. The branches stretched like limbs and tiny, mechanical birds landed on the boughs. Their wings articulated as they fluttered and tucked close to bodies made of cages, their clockwork components exposed.

  All around her, the foreboding forest she remembered, showed her a different side of itself.

  And then, a snap sounded behind her and she froze.

  It was irrational, but she looked behind her, expecting to see some beast that had snuck up as she’d fallen under the forest’s spell.

  Nothing was there.

  Darkness and the glittering canopy that caught light from the flowers above her head was all she could see.

  She was being paranoid again.

  A wraith-like butterfly fluttered around her head, as if it meant to draw her attention back to the path ahead.

  She turned three more bends in the meandering path and the familiar gate loomed ahead of her. Its gray wood held together by brass fittings and the stone wall standing straight at either side, disappearing into the forest’s glimmering branches and vines.

  Swallowing the sudden worry that filled her chest, she pulled the cord. What if Arthur didn’t want her back?

  *

  A harsh, clanging bell echoed through the castle, and Arthur stopped, eyes closed as he let out the frustrated breath filling his chest. Every time it rang to alert him to a new charge now, he would think of her.

  The looks of uncertainty he received from the children as he made the aching journey to the gate broke what little of his heart had not gone with her.

  He’d thought this would be simpler once she was gone.

  And he supposed it had gotten easier. The pain in his chest had lessened as the day went on and somehow, he thought, he would get through her loss. If nothing else, he owed it to the boys.

  The sun hung low over the horizon, a burnt orange dangling from an invisible branch. He stared at the ground as he walked. The silence of the castle was painful. Each of the boys had taken Isabelle’s leaving in different strides. Lord Cat Chaser hadn’t even come to dinner. When he brushed past the hedge lining the outer garden, he forced himself to remember why he was there. And that whoever the boy at their gate was, he would do his best to make sure their recent loss did not affect him.

  Unlocking the gate, he put his hand away again and pulled the gate open, letting it swing wide on its own.

  Exhaling the tension and grief he felt building in his shoulders, he tried to straighten himself. He needed to be a stable point for the orphan who’d just been lost in the woods. They were always frightened. They were always hungry or sick. They always needed him.

  Today, he did not know if he could be what the boy whose prison sentence had just begun would need. Determined to try, he turned to the opening gate and his heart stopped.

  Relief mixed with joy… mixed with grief.

  His plan had failed. The forest had turned her around and sent her back to him. And then he saw it. In her hands, the basket she’d left with… and a bag.

  She’d come back.

  “You came back.” Thoughts raced through his mind, punching holes in preconceived notions like gears in flesh. “You were free, but you came back?”

  He met her eyes, and hoped the shy smile he saw on her lips meant what he’d never dreamed possible.

  Stepping forward, she dropped the bag at his feet, her basket fell beside it. One hand twined with his fingers, the other went to his face, and her thumb traced his lips. “Why would I want to be free and miserable when I can be trapped here with you and make us both happy?”

  She rose up on her toes and gently pressed her lips to his.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure none of the boys had crept out after him. Selfishly, he wanted them to stay away.

  Looking back to her, he cradled her face in his hands. “Tonight, I’m keeping you to myself.”

  He took her bag in one hand and twined his other with hers, leading her through the outer garden. They kept to the hedge so that neither the boys nor the teakettles would see them from the palace windows.

  He slipped through a break in the hedges near the eastern base of the castle and pushed through an entrance he rarely used. He winced as the hinges let out too loud a creak.

  She followed him without question, her fingers entwined in his, never flinching away from the cold metal of the key that rested where one digit ought to have been. She said nothing as he pulled her through the dark corridors toward his tower.

  The sputtering sound of a pipe leak moved him to action.

  Spinning her quickly, he turned her into an alcove, shielding her from the fairy’s minion with his body. She glanced up at him, her nose brushing his, and she smiled mischievously. He kissed her again, felt the warmth flood through him, and wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her here, in spite of the possibility of their discovery.

  He held her close and waited as the sputtering minion of the dark fairy moved along the corridor, and out of sight.

  With her pressed so close, he couldn’t bring himself to move; he pulled her face up and kissed her again. Every fiber of his being wanted to take her right then and there. But he stopped himself.

  This time, he’d be damned if they didn’t make it to a bed. More damned than he already was.

  Checking the halls again, he pulled her from the alcove and walked as quickly as he could.

  Safely inside his rooms, he finally let go of her hand. With one more kiss, he turned back to lock the door and pulled down the heavy wooden plank he’d installed to keep out teakettles and mischievous boys alike.

  He turned to face her. Her bag and basket at the foot of his bed, she’d sat on the high mattress and stared at him
as she pulled the pins from her hair, letting it tumble down around her face. Her lips curved upward. “What now?”

  She placed her discarded hair pins in a pile on the night stand and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Now,” he said, licking his lips and forcing his hands to fists so he would not reach for her. “It’s my turn to see you naked.”

  He used a finger to motion her toward him, and to turn around.

  She pulled her hair out of the way and he undid the lacing of her corset. It was tied loosely.

  “Have you been lacing yourself this whole month?”

  “Something like that.”

  He had no idea how she’d managed.

  With careful hands he undid her corset and helped her from it as the rest of her dress pooled at her feet. Helping her step out, he bent and rolled her stockings down her legs before pulling the last stitch of clothing off her.

  As he looked his fill, he ran his bare hand down her side, tracing her curves.

  With gentle hands, he moved her, positioning her on her back, on his bed. How many nights had he imagined her like this?

  His mouth watered. Hesitating only for a moment, he moved to the other side of the bed and pulled off his boots.

  *

  Isabelle let him look to his heart’s content, but when he reached for her again, she shook her head and slid off the bed. “My turn.”

  Taking hold of his hips, she forced him to stay still with one hand and slowly unbuttoned his pants with the other. There was nothing as fascinating as watching him watch her movements.

  When she’d freed his shirt enough that she could pull it from his pants, she ignored the tan fabric that covered his legs… and everything else. Tugging the shirt up and over his head, she took a moment to admire him.

  He reached forward and skimmed a thumb over her nipple. “If you take too much longer, I’m going to die from restricted blood flow.”