Kingdom of Mirrors and Roses

by A. W. Cross

Spin really seemed like an overgrown pup who I certainly could learn to love. And if Howl loved him too—well, I always had a soft spot for that kind of thing.

  Howl nodded. “It makes sense that it would take you longer to trust me, but that’s okay. I can wait.” He was still a bit deadpan, but not angry.

  Howl didn’t get angry it seemed. Just closed down his emotions altogether in a silent masculine way that sort of reminded me of my father but also sent a shiver down my spine.

  Then it was gone in a literal blink. He bounced his feet and pointed back to the vanity with a smile. “Do you want to show me what Spin was helping you with? What can I do?”

  I had basically finished with it already. The loose dust had been brushed away at least, leaving some warped wood, but nothing else I could hope to fix on my own.

  But maybe Howl could help me find my next project.

  “Can you open that for me?” I pointed to a trunk at the foot of the bed. I had discovered it under a layer of dust after I was done cleaning the vanity and brushing as much of the floor as I could reach leaning on Spin and the furniture. The trunk didn’t seem to be locked, but the rusted hinges wouldn’t budge. Not for me anyway.

  They opened with a squeal and a snap when Howl tried it.

  “Yes! Thank you.” I pounced on the open trunk, ready to find some new treasures.

  Howl glanced between the vanity and the trunk and finally seemed to notice all the missing dirt and the more organized stack of my possessions. He watched me throw a few extra blankets out of the trunk with a bemused expression. “Are you whelping?”

  “What?”

  “Well, Mother started moving things around before the pups came too.”

  I laughed. “No puppies here.” Though I really wanted to meet them. They must be so cute. “This is just normal housekeeping. I promise any girl you end up with will want it done.”

  “So, you do think I should mate with a human girl.” Like that was a victory.

  “What? Of course you should.” But that didn’t mean it should be with me. “You just need to go about it better. For example, stop calling it ‘mating.’” It was a perfectly fine word for dogs or sheep, but hearing Howl use it all the time was a bit off-putting—even though I knew he didn’t mean any harm. He was just being . . . Howl.

  “Is it inaccurate?”

  “No.” I pulled out an old-fashioned dress and a few melted candle stubs, piling them onto the moth-eaten blankets I had already moved aside. “It’s way too accurate. That’s the problem. Human girls like things a bit more subtle. So, you would say that you want to ‘court’ a girl. It implies you are willing to go through a civilized process that could potentially lead to mating. Talking and getting to know each other like we have been. Then, if you give any gifts, it can be something that the girl would really like. We’re all a little different.”

  “So ‘courting’ is like a mating ritual? Wolves don’t really have them. The Alphas just mate when the female is in heat.”

  So romantic. “Yeah, I don’t go in heat. I just . . . I found one!” I blew dust off the cover of an old prayer book. The paper crinkled, and the ink had faded to make it nearly illegible. Still counted.

  Howl flared his nostrils. “That’s a book? It does not smell like a tree.”

  Well, I didn’t think it really would. I just wasn’t sure what else to say. Even now with a book in my hand, all I could smell was dust. “Sorry.”

  He shrugged and held out his arms. “Can I pick you up? I think I know something you would like.”

  “You didn’t realize you had a whole library?” There were books everywhere! Shelves lining the four walls and an upper gallery that could only be reached by a twisted iron staircase. The long shadows bathed the room in black, making it seem just as dreary and neglected as the other rooms, but I was sure many of the books would be perfectly salvageable.

  “Well, this wasn’t really our den before.” Howl shifted to put me down. “We just kind of . . . took over.” He helped me lean against the desk and my toes sank into the rug.

  “Took over from who?”

  “Him.” He pointed to a painting on the wall of a well-dressed man with a red mustache that actually seemed a little familiar. I was certain I had seen his portrait before.

  “The count?”

  “You know him?”

  “Not personally. He was just . . . in charge of the village—ours and a few others. Or at least he used to be. Twenty years ago, before the Beast of Gevaudan.” I quickly explained how he neglected the people in the wake of that crisis, leading my father and others to rise up against him even after Jean Chastel shot the man-eating wolfdog.

  “You’re right. He wasn’t a good Alpha. I’m glad your father burned him.” Howl said it in his usual blunt tone, but I started, finally making the connection myself.

  This place was in ruins because my father and other rioters from the village had burned it. That could be the very reason Howl was afraid of fire and the rest of the human hunters. My heart sank at this new possibility. “Were you here when that happened? The whole pack?”

  He nodded. “But the villagers may not have known about us. I don’t really remember.”

  “But you were there. How old were you?”

  “Maybe three or four?”

  I could believe that. He did seem to be in his early twenties now. “So, when you said that you had cages downstairs, they don’t belong to you? They belonged to the count?”

  “Yes. That’s where he kept us.”

  I took in a sharp breath. “Kept . . . us? He kept you locked up? As a child? But . . .”

  Howl was backing away from me. Trembling. By all the saints and angels, it was true. Kenneling dogs was one thing, but how had the count gotten away with something like that? For what purpose? The questions were all bursting under my skin, but I couldn’t voice them.

  Not with how Howl was shaking.

  “Do we have to keep talking about him?” he asked, hiding behind his hair.

  “No,” I decided at once. I was now desperate to uncover all the dark mysteries of this place, but I hated how haunted Howl looked in the wake of my careless prodding. If he really had been that young, he might not remember enough to answer my questions anyway.

  All that would be left was the pain and fear, and I didn’t want to hurt him with it anymore.

  I reached out my hand, coaxing him to return. “But I love the books.”

  “Then they are yours.” He smiled and came back so quickly he brushed up against my side. It seemed everything had been forgotten again. The way he swung like that—I had thought it theatrical before, but it had to be some kind of coping mechanism. “You can stay here all day tomorrow if you want. And tonight . . . did you want to sleep in your room or with the pack?”

  I blinked. “Sleep with the pack? Just sleeping?”

  Howl frowned, and I realized my mistake. I had confused him again because Howl had no subtlety. If he said sleeping, he literally meant sleeping and would have no trouble using another word if he meant that instead. “Yes,” Howl said. “You said you didn’t like being alone in the room. I wouldn’t like it either.” Howl and the wolves probably did sleep piled together somewhere.

  The thought was kind of sweet, in a way, but I shook my head.

  “I appreciate it, but I still prefer my own room. I just want to come out and visit you and the pack when we’re all awake.”

  Howl nodded and didn’t push me again. Maybe there was some advantage to Howl being so blunt. So extreme but so easily sedated. Crass or not, it made everything seem more secure. I could say exactly what I wanted, and that truly seemed to be the end of it. There were so many mysteries in this place to explore, but it might not take long before Howl wasn’t one of them.

  Perhaps there really could even be a point where I felt completely safe with him.

  I cried that night. I didn’t mean to, but something in that old place creaked and woke me up. I had been so good at distracting myself
during the day, but now there didn’t seem to be any escape. I couldn’t fall asleep again, and all the dark thoughts took over. I started thinking of home, my father, and all the sheep that must be so sad and hungry without me to let them out of the barn.

  Someone would notice my absence and come for them. Even if it took a day or two, they had some hay and wouldn’t starve. But I missed them.

  I couldn’t get to them, but I didn’t blame Howl or any of his wolves anymore. They truly seemed to be trying to be as kind and hospitable as they knew how to be.

  I didn’t want to cry, but the tears kept pouring out.

  There was a scrape at the door, and the shadowed outline of a wolf came in, whining.

  It wasn’t Spin. It was much too big. Maybe Ghost or Glimmer?

  I couldn’t quite tell in the dark, but it was too quiet for Rooster.

  “Oh, I’m sorry I woke you.” I wiped my eyes. “I’m okay. Please don’t tell Howl.” A wolf wasn’t so bad, but I didn’t want anyone I might actually have to explain my emotions to.

  The wolf whined again. Concerned but confused. It ran in and out of the room and circled the bed like it wasn’t sure what to do.

  I wasn’t sure either.

  “Come here,” I finally decided and patted the covers next to me. “Maybe I do need one of you tonight.”

  The wolf immediately hopped up and cuddled against me.

  Probably not Ghost then. I couldn’t picture Ghost doing that. But the wolf was warm and soft and let me hold it until my tears dried, and I fell fast asleep.

  11

  Beauty

  When I woke up the next morning, the unknown wolf was already gone. But the sun was rising, and I felt strong enough to try to stand alone. I made it to my window, just holding on to the bedside table and then the curtains. I wouldn’t need help with my chamber pot anymore, and just that small step toward independence filled me with pride.

  I looked down on the overgrown gardens around the castle. A rose bush rustled as Howl walked out to the treeline. He whipped back his head and called for his wolves. Pure bliss filled his face as they ran and circled him. They all butted against each other as Howl went through the pack in order. He stopped to rub Spin’s belly before sending the Omega wolf back inside.

  It was like watching a shepherd call in his flock, except wilder, more majestic.

  I loved it. The wolves were beautiful, and they seemed so happy and free together. It chased away all the cobwebs and shadows of this haunted place. And Howl . . . well, I quite liked watching him too, and I didn’t mind admitting it from this distance. He slipped into copying more of their body language, stripping off his shirt and dropping to all fours.

  I looked away, face burning. My goodness, that boy was ripped, but that was no excuse. Did he really hunt in the woods half-naked? Maybe all naked?

  It wasn’t proper at all. Perhaps I needed to add another rule to the growing list.

  Once I knew they were gone, I was determined to find some more work of my own to keep my mind off things. “Spin?” I howled, and the small wolf scooted in, quicker than before. I smiled. “There you are. Good boy. Can you help me get to the library?” I was sure I would be able to make it today.

  One small step at a time, I gimped to the west wing with Spin at my side. The library was just as I remembered. Just as vast. Just as dreary. That whole morning, I dusted and sorted and only managed to startle a nesting rat and get through one small section of shelves. It seemed the count was just as obsessed with wolves as the castle’s current occupants. I found everything from naturalist reports to children’s fairy tales on the subject. I had become more interested in the topic as of late, but I expected to really have to hunt to find something. The count was making it far too easy. Maybe suspiciously so.

  I stared at his portrait again, wondering what dark secrets the man still kept behind his arrogant gaze. My father and the other old hunters who had displaced the count and burned his castle long held the opinion that the count didn’t do enough to stop the Beast of Gevaudan. They said that he wouldn’t even acknowledge the creature’s existence even as the bodies stacked up.

  But that couldn’t be right. The count had to know something—he caged wolves and collected long text about their habits. He just never shared any of that information with the village.

  Howl didn’t want to talk about the count, but maybe if I kept searching, I would find the answer anyway. And maybe, if I knew what the count had been doing or studying, it would also explain the appearance of the man-eating wolfdog who killed my father.

  The idea fueled my resolve and gave real purpose to my task: I would remove all the cobwebs and make this room shine. I wasn’t going to become a savage man’s mate, but I would still make my time here worth the while for both of us. When I left, when my leg healed, Howl’s castle would be a warm and livable home for him and his pack, and I would have the answers I needed to mend my own heartbreak.

  I wouldn’t shame my father’s memory by shooting at random wolves or crying in the night anymore. I would honor him by hunting down the beast who actually deserved my ire and then stand my ground like the Maid of Gevaudan.

  I sat on the rug, sorting through a large pile of books, when Howl came in. He growled at Spin, and the small wolf retreated, clearing the way.

  I frowned. The growling still bothered me a bit. Maybe Howl just didn’t know that there were other ways to train dogs? “You know, Spin’s really smart. He helped me get down here, and I taught him to sit today.” I wasn’t an expert either, but it had only taken a few tries.

  Howl cocked his head. “Taught him to sit? He already knows how.”

  “Yes, but I taught him to do it when I say it—to learn the word. Like we do with our dogs at home.”

  “He isn’t a dog.” Howl seemed so put off by the notion that I wondered if I had overstepped my bounds. But, with the wolves living inside the castle, something had to be done.

  “I know, but learning some commands would be helpful. Just to communicate better . . .” I stopped. Howl and Spin were looking at each other, sharing something in their eyes that I couldn’t understand.

  Howl crossed his arms. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Spin, go to the window, now the door, grab the book, put it on the desk, jump, lay, roll. Oh, yeah, and sit.” Howl never uncrossed his arms, and his voice stayed dry, not giving any hint as to what he wanted besides the words themselves, but Spin performed every action perfectly on cue. I stared at the drool-covered book on the desk feeling a bit lightheaded again.

  I always spoke to my sheep at home, but they didn’t understand much. I had spoken to the wolves the same way, still refusing to believe that their intelligence could be as fantastic as all that.

  And now, I just didn’t know what to think.

  Howl sank into a low crouch so he was eyelevel with Spin. “Were you playing with Belle today?” His voice stayed firm, but the corners of his mouth started to twitch. “Was it fun?”

  Spin, tail wagging, barked and gave an openmouthed smile.

  Howl laughed and rubbed Spin around the ears. “Little devil. Go get your food.”

  After Spin ran out the door, Howl turned back to me.

  “My pack is . . . different from others. They know how to sit. They don’t understand everything, but if they don’t listen, well—maybe they just don’t want to. They don’t know you or your rules that well yet. But you can talk to them, like you talk to me, and if any of them give you too hard of a time, you can let me know.” His voice ended in a soft rumble.

  I stared for another moment. Parts of my rational mind still wanted to reject it, but I couldn’t. Not anymore. “I just thought . . . There was a rat.”

  Howl immediately stood on edge. His nostrils flared and his lips parted into a snarl. “A rat?”

  “Yes, behind one of the shelves.” I pointed to where it had been. He pulled the shelf from the wall, confirming that the ne
st was now vacant.

  He still sniffed at me and the surrounding area. “Did it hurt you?”

  “No. Spin chased it out, but he knocked some of the books down and he just wouldn’t listen for a moment. That’s why I thought . . .”

  “That he needed to sit?” Howl shook his head. “Belle, you like the books, and I really want you to have them, but they’re not the most important thing. I told Spin to keep you and the pups safe while I’m away. If there was a rat, and he killed it then he was listening. To me.”

  Well, Howl certainly could be more intimidating and assertive than I was. Maybe a bit more practical, too. “So . . . if I want them to listen to me too, I need to start growling?”

  “Why not? It works, and it’s what they do. We talk both ways because we’re friends.”

  That made sense. Maybe I didn’t actually have to fix everything here. Maybe I just needed to understand it better. I had tried howling a bit already.

  But Howl had already moved on. He put back the shelf he had moved, and started looking over my stacks of sorted books and all the dusted furniture. “You did all this? Are you sure you’re not whelping?”

  “I’m just cleaning them up.” I steeled myself with the words, still proud of the small progress I had made. “You’ll love it when I’m done.”

  Howl shrugged. “Mother says it’s a good sign. You would not care what the place looked like if you weren’t thinking of staying.”

  That was so not true! I was just bored, and the place looked so forgotten and sad. Anyone would want to see it get a good scrubbing. And to replace that foul picture of the creepy count with something more fitting. Something like the tapestry of Joan of Arc we had at the church.

  Seeing her always made me feel a little more motivated, and I would need all the help I could get to make this place shine. And maybe some soap.

  As I thought it over, Howl brushed against me. He curled up to lie at my side.

  “Howl!”

  His head came up, looking left and right for the threat. “What?”