By the time the Beast returned to his manor, the sun was peeking over the horizon painting the sky golden. He had run all night, and he was exhausted. Courtier met him at the door.

  “Where have you been, sir? I was beginning to worry.” His whisper sounded hoarse, and the Beast knew if he could’ve been yelling, he would’ve been.

  Beast just grunted and pushed past his butler.

  “There’s a special event tonight. It should be the first day of summer.”

  Courtier’s words stopped him. Summer. He had purposely not thought of it in the last few years. Ever since he’d been trapped here where it was always winter. The only good thing about being a beast was the thick fur coat. He’d always hated the cold. He growled and turned back to Courtier. “On whose command?”

  “The girl’s, sir.”

  Of course. That cursed girl. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. One minute he was so angry at her and the next he couldn’t wait to see her again. She was the only person who’d shown kindness to him in years.

  She’d helped him find the book his mother had read to him as a child, even after he’d been so rude to her. She made the cake from the recipe in the back of the book after he said he’d always wondered what spiced cake tasted like. He didn’t know how she’d even managed to find all the ingredients needed. It wasn’t like the kitchen was well stocked with supplies.

  Even before the curse, he hadn’t had any real friends, but he’d probably ruined things with the girl now. When would he ever learn to control his temper?

  “She wants me...to come?”

  “Of course, sir. She planned it just for you.” Courtier replied before gliding out of the room.

  For him? Something tiny and warm flickered inside him. He didn’t want to name it, too afraid it might not be real.

  Everything was ready right on time. Belle paced the ballroom floor. What if Beast didn’t come? Visions of her father sprawled on the floor of his house floated through her mind. She squeezed her hands tight enough to leave crescent shaped marks on her palms.

  She couldn’t think about that. He had to be fine. He would remember to take his medication. He wouldn’t worry about her.

  The double doors swung open, and the Beast walked in. He was dressed the best she had ever seen him in, a fine green coat with gold trimming. His fur had been combed and he smelled of fresh pine and mint. He stopped in the doorway, his gaze meeting hers, his bright blue eyes looking like they could see straight inside her. Her breath caught.

  He walked up to her, bowed, and held out a paw. “My lady, may I have this dance?”

  For a moment she could see things as they must have been before the curse. A handsome, charming prince. The ballroom full of dancing guests. An orchestra playing the waltz.

  And again, she wondered how he had come to be cursed to live in an abandoned castle, with nothing but shadows to keep him company.

  Music scratched out of the player, pulling her from her thoughts. She smiled and accepted his paw. “Of course,” she replied.

  He spun her around in perfect step with the music. “You look...” he drew in a breath, “beautiful.”

  “Thank-you.” Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she swallowed hard. What was the matter with her? Perhaps it was the luxury of this place affecting her. She’d never had such things growing up.

  “I’m sorry for getting so angry with you. It’s just...” he took a deep breath and continued, “that flower is very delicate and important. I lost myself for a moment.”

  Was he apologizing to her? He had never done so before, and he’d gotten angry plenty of other times.

  “Uh, that’s okay.” Belle’s thoughts swirled about. First, he’d been terrifying, angry and growling, but he’d calmed, and they had had fun together, cultivating a friendship. And now he was apologizing and looking at her with those eyes.

  Those eyes that were so human, so alive with emotion. She could drown in those eyes if she wasn’t careful.

  She looked beautiful in that golden dress. The delicate red roses stitched onto the full bustling skirt suited Belle perfectly. Her dark locks were curled, half of them twisted up, the rest falling over her bare shoulders. A strand of pearls circled her neck.

  The Beast cleared his throat. “I have something for you.”

  “For me?” Her eyes widened. “But I don’t have anything for you. Is that part of the tradition? To exchange gifts?”

  “No, I just have something I want to give you. And planning all this is more than enough for me.” The Beast laughed, and her eyes widened even more.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.”

  “I’m sure I must have laughed before.”

  Belle shook her head. “You should do it more often. I like the sound of it.” She gave him a little smile and squeezed his paw.

  The Beast struggled to hold back his surprise. She wanted him to laugh, and she hadn’t acted repulsed by his paw. She’d squeezed it just as if it were a hand. Joy spiraled through him and the tiny delicate thing inside of him grew bigger.

  “This is the closest we can get to being outside in summer.” The Beast led Belle to a small door in the corner of the ballroom. He pushed it open, and they stepped inside.

  Warm air enveloped Belle like a blanket. Greenery filled the room, the scent of roses and jasmine hung in the air. The ceiling and the three outward walls were all made of glass, starlight sparkling through them.

  Belle laughed. “This is amazing! How come I haven’t seen this before? This is for me? A whole other room?”

  The Beast smiled. “Well, you can come here whenever you want, but this isn’t your gift. Here, let’s sit.”

  He led her over to an iron bench and reached into his jacket. He pulled out an object wrapped in a silky blue cloth. “This is your gift.”

  Belle accepted it, the fabric so smooth she nearly dropped it. She laid it on her lap, carefully unwrapped it, and gasped.

  She stared back at herself, the glass clearer than any mirror she’d seen before. Silver roses circled the mirror leading down to an intricately twisted handle. It was finer than anything Belle had ever owned.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, carefully picking it up. “Thank-you!”

  “You’re welcome.” The Beast cleared his throat. “But this isn’t an ordinary mirror. It will show you whatever you want to see.”

  “What?” Belle looked up at him, unbelieving.

  “Try it.” Beast motioned to the mirror.

  Belle took a deep breath and held the mirror up. “Please...” she hesitated and glanced at the Beast. He nodded at her, and she continued, “let me see my father.”

  The glass turned cloudy, like the fog that rolled across the fields where Belle had grown up. Then it cleared. Her father lay slumped against the sofa in the living room.

  “Papa,” Belle yelled. She clutched the mirror closer. “Papa, are you all right?”

  Her father lay still. Tears stung her eyes. “Papa,” she whispered, reaching out to trace the figure of her father.

  “He can’t hear you. The mirror only works one way,” the Beast said quietly.

  Belle looked at the Beast. “I have to go to him, please! He’s ill, and I’m all he has.”

  The Beast’s heart broke as he looked at the girl’s tear-filled eyes. The tiny thing inside him shrinking more with each passing second. Had something happened to her father? If so, she would never forgive him. He had to let her go.

  It no longer mattered what happened to him. All he cared about was making Belle happy. When and how had that happened? It seemed he’d learned the lesson the old hag had wanted him to, for all the good it would do him.

  If he let her go, he’d never see her again, and he'd be trapped here forever. He sighed.

  “Yes, of course. You must go to him.”

  “I... can go?” Belle asked, unbelieving.

  The Beast just nodded, unable to speak.

  “Oh, thank-you. Thank-you! I will return as soon as I’ve seen to my father.” She extended the mirror to him.

  “No. It’s a gift for you, remember?” The Beast reached out and covered her tiny hand with his massive paw.

  She looked up into his eyes, an unreadable expression there as she stared at him for several seconds. “Of course, thank-you,” she finally whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

  He watched as she ran from the room. He could hear her stomping up the stairs and rustling about her room before rushing back down them. The door slammed shut, and he ran up to his quarters and onto his balcony. She was a tiny figure, racing her horse back towards her home.

  “Sir, what happened?” Courtier’s whisper came from behind him. He didn’t even turn as he replied, “I sent her home.”

  “But sir, what about... the spell?”

  The Beast shrugged his shoulders. “There was nothing else to do. Her father is sick, and he needs her.”

  “We need her too, sir,” Courtier whispered fiercely.

  “I’m sorry, Courtier.” The Beast turned. Tears trickled into his fur, but he barely noticed. “I am truly sorry. It is my fault this happened, and now it may be my fault it will stay this way forever. Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

  He whirled, bounding off his balcony and into the snow.

  Belle rushed into her house leaving her horse standing at the stoop. “I’ll be back soon, Cleo. I just have to check on Papa.”

  She found her father slumped over the sofa. His eyes were closed, and he was so still. She reached out, touching his arm. “Papa.” She shook his shoulder gently. “Papa, can you hear me?”

  He moaned but didn’t open his eyes. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a cloth, dipping it in some cool water before grabbing her father’s vial of medicine. It was so full, she was sure he hadn’t been taking it regularly.

  Back in the living room, she rested the cool cloth against her father’s forehead. His eyelids fluttered. “Belle, my sweet Belle, is that you?” He groaned and closed his eyes.

  “Papa.” She squeezed his arm. When he didn’t respond, she squeezed tighter. “Papa, please open your eyes. You need to take your medicine.”

  “I must be dreaming. Or I’m in heaven,” her father murmured without opening his eyes.

  “Here, Papa, can you drink?” She lifted the vial to his mouth, and when his lips parted, she poured a small amount in. She breathed a sigh of relief when he swallowed. It would take a few minutes for the medicine to work, but once it did, he’d start feeling better.

  Over the next few days, Belle’s father made steady improvement. Belle was happy, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the Beast. When her father asked for his favorite book, Belle remembered how happy the Beast had been the day he’d shown her the library. When her father asked if the grapes were ready to harvest, Belle remembered the picnic on the ballroom floor. The Beast had presented her with some fresh red and white wine, and asked her opinion on which was better. Belle laughed.

  “What makes you think I’d be a good judge of such a thing?” she asked him.

  “Because, I know you grow grapes on your father’s land. They're so famous that even here in my isolation, I’ve heard of them,” the Beast had replied with a gentle smile.

  When her father told her about the village girls clamoring for the woodsman’s attention, all of them finagling for an invitation to the ball of the season, Belle thought of her last night with the Beast and how he’d looked at her when he’d given her the mirror.

  What would happen to him if she didn’t return? She hadn’t dared voice the thought to her father, who did nothing but rage about the horrendous monster who had stolen her away from him. But truthfully, that wasn’t how it had happened.

  Belle had found her father trapped in the Beast’s mansion and offered herself in exchange for her father’s freedom. She didn’t tell her father about how that had happened either. There was no reason to make him feel worse than he already did.

  Belle knew there was some kind of magic at play, keeping the Beast locked away. It had to have something to do with that rose she had found. So whenever she got the chance, she went to the village bookstore and studied the oldest books there.

  “What exactly is it you’re looking for, Belle?” Pierre, the bookstore owner, asked.

  “Anything about spells or curses.”

  Pierre frowned and shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s not much about that. When King Gorge ruled, he demanded those kinds of books be burned. I hated to see that happen.”

  His eyes lit up then. He leaned close to Belle and lowered his voice. “I only had one book that fit into that category, and I saved it. If I let you see it, you can’t tell anyone I have it. Not even your father.”

  Belle nodded eagerly. Pierre went and retrieved the book. He handed it carefully to Belle. “Take all the time you need with it, but be careful with it. It’s very old.”

  “Okay,” Belle agreed, carrying the book over to the table and opening it. She spent all afternoon studying it. It had spells listed, stories of spells cast, but nothing involving roses or beasts. The one thing that was the same in the stories - the curses most often were broken by a kiss.

  Could it really be that easy? A simple kiss could break a powerful spell? And why was she so concerned about this? She had her father to tend to, at least for the moment. He would never willingly let her go back. Did she really want to go back?

  The Beast watched as another petal fell from the rose, crinkling until it was nothing more than a black speck when it landed on the table. Since Belle’s departure, he rarely left his quarters. The rose had two petals left. Once the final petal fell, he was doomed to be a beast forever.

  “Sire,” Courtier whispered, startling him. He bumped into the table, shaking the rose.

  Courtier gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sire. I didn’t mean to...”

  “No harm, nothing fell.” The Beast gestured to the rose, where the last two petals still clung to the stem. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “It’s just... perhaps you’d like to come down for dinner tonight?”

  The Beast sighed. He didn’t know why Courtier kept bothering him about this. His answer was the same every day. “No,” he growled, but Courtier didn’t move.

  “Was there something else?”

  The top of the shadow shook, a head nod, he was sure.

  “It’s just...” Courtier trailed off.

  The Beast lifted his head and turned to face his servant.

  “It’s not good for you to lock yourself away like this. Perhaps...” Courtier swallowed hard before continuing, “today could be the day she returns. Belle, I mean.”

  The Beast snorted. “I know who you mean. And don’t hold your breath. I doubt she’s coming back.”

  “But sire, she did say she would,” Courtier protested.

  The Beast growled. “Would you come back here to this haunted place, given the choice?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Jumping up, he rushed to his balcony and bounded over the rail.

  Belle checked on her father one more time. He lay on the sofa, his chest rising and falling in the even rhythm of sleep. She crept back to her room and opened her trunk, digging past the dresses and mementos of her mother to where she had hidden the mirror.

  She lifted it out, still covered in the silken cloth the Beast had given it to her in and stared at it for a moment. She hadn’t looked at it once since she’d been home, but she hadn’t stopped thinking about the Beast.

  Despite his gruff exterior, and his temper, he was a gentle, kind soul. He’d been trapped in circumstances she wouldn’t wish on anyone. She knew her father would be angry, but she had to check on him.

  She had to make sure he was okay. Just one peek in the mirror would tell her. Once she’d looked, she’d feel better about staying with her father a little longer.

  She ripped the cloth off and held the mirror up before she could change her mind. “Let me see the Beast!”

  The cloudiness swirled across the glass, hovering there several seconds before clearing. At first all Belle could see was the snow-covered landscape. Then she saw him. He was crumpled on the ground, face down.

  She covered her mouth, trying to keep any sound from escaping. What had happened to him? Why wasn’t he in his castle? Where were the Whispers?

  “Show me the Whispers!” Fog covered the image then cleared. Several of the shadows hovered around the table that held the rose. It didn’t look nearly as beautiful as when Belle had seen it last. All but one of its petals were gone. The last petal looked wrinkled and faded. Like it would fall off any minute.

  Dread curled through her. She’d never been told anything about the rose, but she knew that if that last petal fell, bad things would happen. She wished she could hear the Whispers through the mirror.

  She swallowed hard as she set the mirror down. She was torn. Would her father be okay if she left? He was doing much better now. How many days had it been since she’d come home? She’d lost count.

  She had to go. She couldn’t leave the Beast to die. Just the thought of it made her heart hurt, and her eyes sting with unshed tears. She hadn’t realized how much she cared about him.

  She grabbed the blue cloth, wrapped the mirror back up, and stuffed it in a bag, along with a few dresses and other necessities. In the living room, her father was snoring loudly. She grabbed paper and pencil and scrawled out a note. She stuck it under her father’s teacup on the side table where he would be sure to see it. Then she saddled her horse and rode back to the Beast’s castle.

  Her horse was happy to run, and it wasn’t long before they were at the castle. Belle jumped down and ran inside. “Juliette, Courtier, where are you? Beast?”

  She ran down empty corridor after empty corridor before stopping before the Beast’s chambers. She had been forbidden from here, but she’d looked everywhere else, so she pushed the doors open and went inside.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10