Beauty and the Beast (16 page)

Time slows to a creeping halt as I watch the dagger grow ever nearer. I can see both edges spinning in the air, sharp enough to cut stone. I may be thicker skinned now, but I am not made of stone. It finally dawns on me to question why anyone would show up for a date when it is barely time for breakfast.

Some beastlike instinct I did not know I possessed takes over. I spring to the side, then leap upon the girl, holding down her flailing arms. Valerian finally springs into action as well. He places his boot on her chest and blows the whistle around his neck. While he waits for another guard to arrive, he yells down at her, “I do not like the beast, either, but that does not mean you can kill him!”

She raises her head and spits at his boot. “I have been hired to avenge the deaths of the royal family. You should let me finish the job.”

Valerian shakes his head, keeping his boot right where it is. “My cousin told me the royal family is not dead yet. Had you killed the beast, you may have been responsible for their deaths.”

I bend my head closer to the girl. “Who hired you?”

She struggles, but it is of no use. I am incredibly strong.

“A group of loyal villagers, if you must know.”

I can hear the pounding of hooves around the side of the castle. The guards will be here any second. The girl continues in vain to free herself.

“But why did you tell our guard you were here for a date?”

“That is what they told me to say. Apparently, some old man has been going through town asking for dates for the beast.” She looks me up and down. “You may want to set your sights lower.”

“First you try to kill me, then you insult me?”

“Enough chitchat,” Mother hisses from my side. “Get back in the castle before the other guards see you and kill you themselves!”

The girl whirls her head to the side. “Who is there? I demand you unhand me!”

After being sure Valerian has her under control, I hurry back through the castle door. My parents soon arrive at my side and each place a hand on my back. “How bad is it?” Mother asks, the worry evident in every word.

Only then do I realize the dagger scratched my arm after all. “How bad is what? The wound or the date?”

Father chuckles.

“The wound hurts but a little. The fur protected me, I think. But I would have to say that was the worst date in the history of mankind.”

“I would have to agree, son,” Father says, sitting down beside me. “She is the sheriff's problem now.”

“Let us hope he was not one of the ‘loyal villagers'!” I reply.

“When Parker returns,” Mother says, “he will have to remind the villagers that the royal family's safety depends on the beast.” She dresses my wound (which truly would have been much worse had I been the old Prince Riley) but does not mention how I defended myself. I think my parents are a bit unsure how to handle that. I am, too. Had I not been wearing my gloves, I could have sliced her into pieces. I shudder. Not a nice thought.

“If you don't mind,” I tell them, “I'd like to be alone.” They do not argue, and I pull my sleeve down over the bandage and head up to the library. I run my gloved fingers along the spines of the books, trying to recall where I left it.

“Looking for this?” a small but steady voice asks.

I whirl around to find Freddy, the young page, standing before me, grinning. He holds out the book I had been searching for. I step backwards and an entire row of books tumble to the ground. Neither of us makes a move to pick them up.

“Why are you still here, in the castle?”

He shrugs. “I had nowhere else to go.”

I remember his sad story. He really
didn't
have any place to go. “Why are you not scared of a beast such as myself?” I ask. “Rumor has it I eat people.”

“Oh, you would not eat me,” he says. “For I bring the book you seek. That, and the fact that we are friends, Prince Riley. It would be most unkind to eat a friend.”

I smile, not even minding that the point of my nose digs into my lip. “How did you know it was me?”

He nods. “I was not completely sure until just now, when you came to find the book. I have been listening to you and your family, but the walls muffle your words. I believe I have put the story together now — you're a beast and your family is invisible and you need to find a girl to love you. Am I correct?”

“Indeed, that is the sorry state of my life these days. Remember when my biggest concern was looking foolish at the Harvest Ball?”

He laughs and I join in. I am so pleased he has shown up. I am in desperate need of a friend. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

He points to the tapestry beside the one window. “There is a passage underneath that leads to a series of tunnels. I have been living in the tunnel behind the kitchen. It is quite cozy, actually.”

Well, at least that explains how he always sneaks up on me. I wonder what else I don't know about my own home! “How come I have not heard of these tunnels?”

He shrugs. “The staff uses them to get around without bothering the royal family or their guests. I mean,
your
guests.” He bows his head slightly. “You are still the prince, of course, although you do not look much like him.”

I reach out to shake his hand. “I am very, very glad to see you, Freddy. Thank you for not running away from me like everyone else. You are much braver than you think.”

His cheeks flush at the compliment. “I am glad to have a friend like you. I care not what shape you take.” He steps back to size me up. “Although I must say you are quite the sight! I cannot wait to hear the story of how you became this way. But first let me give you this.” He hands me the book. It feels much smaller in my huge hands. I open the front page and see Pilsner's name right there in big letters. I was right! He
did
write this! “Thank you! This will hopefully help me break the spell the witch cast upon me. You will have to start believing in them now.”

He sighs. “I suppose I must. But I hope you will not pin all your hopes on that book.”

“Why not?”

“Take a look.”

I lay the book down on a table and turn past the author's name to the first page. Instead of words, strange symbols swim before my eyes. Numbers and triangles and many-sided figures, in no recognizable pattern. I flip the book closed.

“Rats.”

By our fourth day of travel, I feel like I have been cooped up in this stuffy carriage for half my life. With nothing but dirt and trees and one another to look at, it has been quite tedious. At midday, the coachman pulls into a village square around the size of our own. I see an apothecary shop outside my window and feel my first longing for home.

The coachman instructs us to find lunch and return promptly. Veronica catches me glancing at the apothecary shop and offers to get the food with Handsome so I can go look inside. For one so young, she has a gift for knowing what people need.

As I approach the shop, a blind man with a cane pushes the door open. I reach out to hold it open for him. I could swear I hear a male voice say thank you, but the old man's mouth did not move. I wait for someone else to come out behind him, but he is alone. Perhaps too many days with the same people simply has me wishing for the sound of new voices.

This apothecary shop is much smaller than Master Werlin's but even busier. I have to wait for the apothecary, a much younger man, to finish pulling a rotted tooth from a woman's mouth. I notice he does not bother to numb the area first by having her chew tarragon leaves. But unlike Handsome at the baker's, I am able to hold my tongue. Until the poor woman yelps in pain and I blurt it out.

Then, just like Handsome, I am promptly escorted outside.

Two more days on the road and we finally reach the port town shown on the map. It feels good to stretch my legs and breathe the salty, fishy sea air. I have never seen such a large body of water and am both enthralled and overwhelmed by it. Papa has been to port towns before, and has told us tales of the blue waves bobbing up and down and crashing on the shore, and I have seen it in paintings, of course, but no one described the smell.

We easily scamper down the large rocks along the side of the cliff and walk along the sandy beach. The buildings from the map loom in the distance atop a cliff, too high and too far away to see in any detail. We watch the boats come and go, tilting our faces to the sun and feeling the warmth on our cheeks.

Veronica is the first to break away. She sits down on a large rock on the shoreline, unties her boots, and dangles her feet in the water like it is the most natural thing to do. I take a step back. Handsome hangs back, too, then unties his boots, rolls up his pant legs, and runs in!

“You must try this!” he cries, splashing like a child on a hot summer day. “It is lovely!”

I shake my head. I have spent many hours playing in the narrow river outside our village, but this is quite different. It is too deep, too vast.

Veronica takes out the map. “Do you think we should cross the sea, or go around the peninsula? The woods look very dense to me, perhaps impassable.”

“The sea,” Handsome shouts, scooping up water with his hands now.

“The woods?” I suggest, knowing already that I am outnumbered.

“The sea it is!” Veronica says. She folds up the map and heads down the shoreline to talk to the fishermen.

Handsome splashes around while I dig through my pack for any leftover mint or ginger to chew. We used up most of it during the endlessly bumpy carriage ride. Had I thought ahead to the boat portion of our travels, I would have doled it out more sparingly.

When next I look up, it is to find Veronica dragging a rowboat along the shallow sea. She stumbles and splashes every few steps but has that determined look on her face that I have grown to know well.

“No one will take us,” Veronica announces when she reaches us. “Too many strange happenings, so they say. Sailors not returning. Noises and lights at odd hours.”

“So you stole a boat?” Handsome asks, helping her drag it onto the sand.

“I am simply borrowing it,” she says. “And I shall leave them some coin. But let us get in quickly before they return from lunch.”

I toss the remaining ginger into my mouth, cringing at the sharp taste. Still, it is better than losing my last meal to the waves. Handsome piles our bags at one end, and we climb aboard. No doubt the journey was lovely, with fish splashing happily beneath us, the glint of sun on the water creating a kaleidoscope of colors. But since I do not open my eyes until the boat scrapes the bottom of the opposite shore, I cannot say with certainty.

As we crossed the sea, Veronica and Handsome had been talking about the wondrous artwork gracing the walls of the home we would soon enter. They tried to outdo each other with stories of fairies and mermaids swimming together in fountains of gold. Yet when we land, a hush falls upon them. I follow their gaze to the buildings, now only a stone's throw away. They are in ruins.

We climb out in silence, and in silence we explore the piles of stone and wood, the remnants of frescoes, the dried-up fountains with their cracked marble tiles. Veronica sits down hard on the ground, her feet hanging over the edge of what was once a brook, and is now only dust and twigs. She lays her head down on her arms and begins to weep.

Handsome and I remain behind her, each placing a hand on her shoulder. We stand like that for long moments, feeling the rise and fall of her sobs.

“My mother is not here,” she finally says, voice cracking. “There is no sign she ever made it. I shall never know what she was searching for.”

Handsome and I exchange a look. He motions with his eyes for me to say something. “But
you
made it here,” I say, hoping they are the right words. “You did not give up, nor let anything or anyone stand in your way. Your mother would have been so proud.”

She sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “But I hoped …
ouch
!”

“Are you all right?” I ask, crouching down beside her. “What happened?”

She leans over to examine her ankle. “That grasshopper just bit me!”

I look around in time to see a small green grasshopper hop away into the dried-out ravine.

“Grasshoppers do not bite,” Handsome says. I am sure he would have teased her further had our current situation been different.

Veronica gets to her feet, wiping her eyes almost angrily. “Well, this one did!”

I watch the grasshopper hop down from rock to clump of brown grass to crumbly leaf, where it stops, no doubt unaware of the drama he is causing. Veronica storms off, ranting about evil grasshoppers and ruined buildings and the unfairness of it all. Handsome goes in pursuit.

Perhaps it is due to years of training in spotting small objects in my path, or perhaps because I am sitting alone with nothing to look at, or perhaps it is simple luck. But I am the one who spots the strawberry-size stone glowing in stark contrast to the brown leaf beside it.

I scramble down the side of the dried-up brook, afraid to take my eyes off the shining object. The grasshopper hops away as I push the leaf aside and reach for the stone. It is just as Veronica described it. A pure pink, dusty from its burial, but still vibrant and beautiful. A small, dirt-filled hole at the tip must have held a chain at one time. I hold the stone up to the sun, and a thousand streams of light shoot out from it. It is so pretty I have to force myself to lower it. For all its sharp edges, the stone feels warm and comfortable in my hand.

I find the others sitting on the remnants of a marble staircase, picking at pieces of tall grass growing between the stairs. Veronica seems to have calmed down. Handsome has a way of doing that. He must be an excellent older brother.

I hold out the stone. Veronica gasps and grabs it from my palm.

“My mother's crystal! Where did you find it?”

I point to the spot. “Under some leaves at the bottom of the brook. I was watching the grasshopper, and then I saw the stone.”

She holds it close to her chest, her eyes shining, only not with tears this time. “So my mother
did
make it here!” Just as quickly, her eyes dim again. “But I do not understand. She never would have simply left it behind.”

“Perhaps she lost it,” Handsome suggests.

I think of how deep it was in the ravine. “Or perhaps she hid it. If the buildings still stood when she was here, that ravine would have been filled with water. Perhaps she threw it there to protect it?”

She considers my words. “Perhaps she did hide it,” she says. “But these ruins look like they have been here for a century, not merely a few years.”

“That is true,” I admit.

“Either way,” Veronica says, staring down at the stone. “Finding this means she is truly gone. It means we can go home.”

Handsome touches her arm. “Are you all right?”

She nods. “Better I know the truth.” To my surprise, she turns to me and puts her arms around my waist. “Thank you,” she says.

I, not used to hugging anyone outside my family, pat her on the back in response. “Do not thank me. Thank your biting grasshopper.”

She laughs. “Perhaps I will!”

But when we go to look for it, it is gone. I show Veronica the spot where I had first seen the stone. She climbs down and digs around the area until her hands are scraped up, but finds no other clues.

When we get down to the boat, I dig through my pack and pull out the leather cord that was wrapped around the book from the monastery. I loop the cord through the hole in the crystal and tie the ends together. Veronica solemnly slips the necklace over her head. The stone thumps against her tunic, looking as though it's been there forever. It occurs to me finally that her flowery scent is not perfume. It is simply the way she smells. I have no doubt I do not smell as sweet.

We are quiet as Handsome rows us back to the port. But it's a different kind of quiet than our time in the carriage. It's the kind of quiet that marks the end of something. This time I keep my eyes open, for who knows if I shall ever see the sea again. It is hard to believe the desolate, empty ruins are right atop the cliff. Down here is so vibrant. Boats of all sizes and shapes sail by, carrying people and fish and wooden crates to wherever their final destinations lay. The world is much bigger than I had supposed, with everyone busy leading their lives, working their way toward their futures.

It dawns on me that I have been rude by never asking Handsome about his future bride. I haven't been putting it off for any real reason, only the time never felt quite right and I have little practice in asking personal questions. But as Handsome steers us in between two small boats carrying stacks of fruit, I decide the time has come.

“What is she like?” I ask. “Your wife-to-be?”

He smiles. “Suzy is lovely. I have known her all my life. She is sweet and kind to everyone. She liked that you set that piglet free.”

I am surprised, but pleasantly so. “You told her about that?”

He nods. “I had to go to my village with the baker to get some supplies. I was able to see her briefly.”

He tells us more about Suzy, about how kind she is to animals, and how she loves dancing but only in large groups, and how she wants ten children. By the time we reach the shore, I have a clear image of a lovely young woman who I'm certain will make an excellent wife to my new friend.

This time, when the boat scrapes along the shore, I put my feet right in the water instead of waiting to get out on dry land. It is cold, but refreshing, and the sand is much softer underfoot than I had expected.

A red-faced fisherman paces the edge of the water, clearly the owner of the rowboat. Veronica quickly pacifies him with coin. We hurry past him onto the shore, our packs bouncing on our backs.

True to his word, the carriage driver awaits us in town. We stock up on food and drink, and settle back in for the journey. Handsome talks excitedly about how he will work on perfecting his bread recipe when he gets home and makes us promise to come for the wedding. I shall miss him, but I am happy for him.

The days pass much quicker this time, and when we are only a day away from home, Handsome points out the window and says, “My village is a few miles down that road.”

I glance at Veronica, who nods. “You should go, then,” I tell Handsome, leaning forward to rap on the window. The driver pulls to the side of the road. “Veronica and I will be fine on our own for one more day. It does not make sense for you to come back home with us only to leave again.”

He shakes his head. “I told Veronica's grandfather that I would escort you both on this quest, and my job is finished only when I drop you safely at the door of the monastery.”

Veronica shakes her head and pulls out her purse. “Your job is finished now. You are officially fired.” She drops a pile of coin in his hand. Then she reaches out and places her hand over his. “Be well.”

“Are you certain?” he asks, looking from her to his closed hand and back.

She smiles. “I will be fine,
cousin
. I am in good hands.” Handsome leans over and gives her a long hug.

The driver holds the door open for Handsome. But before he slides out, he turns to me.

“I am truly honored to have shared this adventure with you, Beauty. One day you shall no doubt meet another boy who realizes how special you are. If marriage is what you decide you want, of course. Do not worry, you shall know your future when you find it.”

My eyes sting with tears at his kindness. I want to tell him that by being my friend, he has made me a stronger person. But I do not know how to say these words.

We watch until he disappears down the road. It takes a while until the lump in my throat fades away.