The Beast (19 page)

“I claim that you have no more imagination than I.” She plucked off her glove, one finger at a time. Feigning disgust, Belle tossed it to the ground. “Do you accept?”

Prince Aleksander struggled to push away his smile. “This is a most serious charge, so I must. It is my family’s honor at stake.”

A giggle slipped out of Belle as Aleksander bent over to pick up her glove. “Truly, it is.”

“So how do you suggest we settle this?” He held the glove in his hand, moving the fabric between his fingers.

“I couldn’t help noticing that,” Belle began, getting her emotions back in check. “Even though this scenery is all in your head, you haven’t done anything interesting with it. I mean, you create whatever you want, correct?”

“Yes, I can.” A knowing washed over his face. “What is it that you would like me to change for you? I’m sure the creativeness of it will astound you.”

“No doubt.” She inclined her head and then thought for a moment. Quickly the idea came to her and she was too eager to hold it back. “A dragon.”

Aleksander blinked twice at her. “A dragon.”

“If you cannot do it, my prince, I understand, but then I must insist on an apology.” She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled at him innocently. “For I will have won the challenge.”

“You are a dangerous woman, mademoiselle.” He stared at her lips, his whimsy suddenly gone. A flurry of butterflies swept up in her stomach, stealing her own lighthearted merriment away. Aleksander’s eyes met hers and he held them, then with an abrupt turn, his focus shifted back to the mountains. “At any rate, you mustn’t worry. I will give you a dragon.”

Belle swallowed hard, still unbalanced by his actions. Her hand went to her corseted stomach, trying to settle the lightness that had overtaken her. For the first time in her life, Belle understood why some women insisted on sitting a spell because they unexpectedly felt faint. No doubt it was always on the account of a man. Did all men know the effect they could have on women? Did Aleksander? If they did, they should certainly refrain from looking and speaking to a woman in such a way. Belle, for one, did not care for the way she suddenly felt so delicate.

“How should he look?” The Prince kept his back to her. Belle took his cue and turned her attention to the mountain range.

She cleared her throat. “He should be large and his scales should shimmer in the light.”

Aleksander didn’t respond. Belle stepped up beside him and saw that he had closed his eyes, mentally creating the fantasy creature. Her own eyes studied the steadfast arches of his eyebrows and the cheeks that looked soft to the touch.

A roar bellowed from beyond the mountains. It reverberated through the air and smacked against the stone walls behind them. Surprised, Belle looked to the sound. The Prince opened his eyes.

From behind the snow-covered peaks, an actual dragon appeared. Great wings carried him into the sky, higher and higher into the blue. He roared again like it was a call to war.

“My God,” Belle said breathlessly.

She took a step forward, lips parted in awe. Belle could hardly believe it. The dragon turned in the sky, each beat of his wings thudding against the air and keeping him aloft. He came up on them quickly and swooped down, as though he did intend to eat them.

Belle unconsciously tensed. At the last second, he stretched out his wings and soared up to the castle turrets. His claws dropped down onto one spiraled tower, knocking snow and shingles loose. The dragon opened its mouth. Fire erupted forth, rippling out into many scolding swells. It spread into the sky before gradually extinguishing.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Belle said with a breathless laugh.

Then quite suddenly the sky dimmed as if dusk were setting. Belle looked to the Prince in confusion. His eyes were closed, allowing him total focus. Then all at once, the courtyard was illuminated. Every rose brightened like a flame. Every tree and bush shined with a celestial light. The vines that crawled the walls were like glowing, green snakes.

Belle gasped, spinning to take it all in. Then one by one, new plants began to grow. They were large, exaggerated versions of the exotic lovelies that grew in the greenhouse. These too glowed in an array of reds, purples, blues, whites, and more colors than the rainbow. Belle reached out to touch a flower that was as large as she. It was velvety soft.

“Oh my, Aleksander…” She looked up at him.

The Prince plucked a luminescent rose from the surrounding stone wall. He twirled it in fingers and walked toward her. The rose’s light touched his skin with soft shadings of red.

Aleksander watched her. The look in his eyes, of utter intensity. “Do you like it?”

Gulping, Belle choked on nerves to answer. “It’s truly beautiful.”

“No, you’re mistaken,” he said plainly, coming within arm’s reach of her. “My father taught me what true beauty is, and this is not it.”

“Oh?” was her doltish reply.

Closer still, Aleksander came. His arms went around Belle, causing her to stop breathing. She thought he was going to hug her, but then she found him fiddling with the up-pulled ringlets of her hair. Belle raised her face just slightly, bringing her lips only inches from his neck. The desire to touch him was almost unbearable.

When Aleksander withdrew, the glowing rose was gone. Belle instinctively reached back to feel the flower nestled in her hair. He took her hand from the petals, guiding it before him and splayed out her fingers. Slowly, with an impressive delicacy, he slid Belle’s glove over her skin. Aleksander took care, nudging the fabric on one finger at a time. “You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. It is a quality that is lost on most women. Belle, you are a
true
beauty.”

Belle stared at their touching hands, then turned her gaze up to his eyes. His own lovely blues ran over her eyelashes and down her cheekbone, taking in every detail of her face. She struggled to breathe, her heartbeat was little more than a speeding flutter within her chest. Leaning in just slightly, she hoped for a kiss—a physical expression of those lovely words. She found that she didn’t want to just hear his feelings; she wanted to touch them—experience them upon her.

“Belle! Mademoiselle!” Someone shook Belle’s shoulders roughly. “You must wake up.”

A horrible sensation swept through Belle’s body. It was somewhere between disorientation and nausea. Pushing herself up, Belle blinked and grabbed her head. The glowing courtyard was gone…Aleksander was gone. Disappointment shattered within her.

“You’re in the library, my dear,” said Ms. Tops, who leaned over her. “You fell asleep here. Laramie has come to fetch you.”

Body aching, Belle stretched. Her mouth was dry. The memory of Aleksander’s closeness, of her desire to kiss him, came back to her and she knew exactly why she was so parched. Belle was filled with a sudden awareness of the Prince now. Her skin buzzed from the strange, new emotions he’d put upon her. He was in her thoughts, his name was on her tongue, his touch on her hand, and it was hard to deny that he might have a hold on her heart as well.

Taking a second to adjust herself, Belle stared at the roaring fire before her. The hearth was so inviting it was no wonder she had fallen asleep while reading. No more than a few hours could have passed, but her dream felt much longer—as though she’d spent a full evening with the Prince.

Not wanting to keep Laramie or Ms. Tops waiting, she stood and quickly pushed the wrinkles out of her dress. Even Ms. Tops helped to fluff and fix Belle’s crushed hair. The library was dark. Aside from the fire, there were no other sources of light. All around her was a vast blackness. Belle found that she didn’t care for libraries at night. It was a bit too spooky for her taste, and it ruined the newfound tingles on her skin.

“Come, Dear,” Ms. Tops encouraged, taking the lead.

She held a candlestick aloft, its wax melting and dripping down the long taper. Belle stayed close, listening to their echoing footstep and seeing the glint of gold from the wall inlays and the finely painted book spines. The library’s center, the circle of statues, was the worst. The subtle illumination along their faces and sharp weapons made the figures appear far more menacing than during the day. Clutching her Greek books to her chest, Belle couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Ms. Tops pushed open the library door when they reached the entrance. Though the hallways were only lit by candelabras every few yards, it was still brighter than the library. Laramie, holding a candlestick of his own, turned at the sound of the door opening. The usual two guards waited at his side.

“Here she is, monsieur,” Ms. Tops said, holding the door as Belle past through. “Don’t reprimand her too harshly, I believe his Royal Highness had her in one of his dreams. You know how hard those are to wake from.”

Laramie nodded to Ms. Tops. “Thank you, madame.”

“But, of course. Good night, Belle.” Giving Belle a wink, she turned back into the library and the door pulled closed on its own.

“So
were
you in a dream?” Laramie gestured for her to walk alongside him.

“I was, yes. I’m surprised Ms. Tops guessed.” Belle kept pace with Laramie, relieved that he didn’t seem angry with her. The clopping of heavy soldier boots followed behind and, after the unsettlingly dark library, she was grateful for it.

“She has an eerie intelligence.” Laramie looked over at Belle as they rounded the stairs. “I’m sorry she had to wake you. I’ve been awoken abruptly from a moon dream before and I know how unpleasant it can be.”

Putting a hand on her unsettled stomach, she said, “Not quite the same as waking from a normal dream is it?”

“No, not at all.” They fell silent as they traversed the rest of the way until they reached the guest rooms. Then Laramie turned a half-smile toward her. “To forewarn you, Madame Gulbrandsen was worked into quite a tizzy when she summoned me to fetch you. Worried like a mother hen.”

“Oh, dear.” Belle laughed.

One of the apartment doors swung open and someone stumbled into their path. Laramie drew up short and Belle halted only a pace behind him. At first Belle didn’t recognize the person, but then her eyes focused as the candlelight fell on the man. Belle bit back her surprise.

Lord Audun Calland grasped an open wine bottle. He wavered in place as his glossed eyes moved from Laramie to Belle. Even in the dim light, she could see that there was more wrong with him than drunkenness. One eye was swollen, his skin blackened. His lip had been busted and Belle would have guessed there were more injuries she couldn’t see. When her gaze shifted to his disheveled clothes, she found a fair bit of dried blood.

“My Lordship,” Laramie said, bowing.

Audun stared at Belle, seeing and not seeing her. He raised the mouth of the wine bottle to his forehead in a sort of mock salute. Then his gaze shifted wildly around the hall. Lips pursed, he gave them a wide berth and continued without looking back. Laramie signaled for one of the guards to follow the Calland heir.

When Laramie saw the look on Belle’s face, he added, “Best not worry about that.”

The door burst open with a clatter. Belle reflexively covered herself and the servant girl jumped in surprise. When she recovered, clutched her chest, the girl mumbled in Vakrein about losing her place. The intruder was Edvina, who came and went as she pleased and didn’t notice the shock she’d created.

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” she worried audibly as she shuffled through the tray of bathing amenities. “So much to do!”

“Edvina, what is it?” Belle asked, watching the woman frown.

“Well, he’s given us no time!” The woman picked up a bottle, read it, and then chose another. She glanced at Belle quickly with wide eyes. “It is exciting though, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Both Belle and servant girl said in unison.

“The ball, of course!” She opened up one of the bottles, sniffed it, and poured the oil into Belle’s bathwater. Realizing that they were staring at her, she added, “Don’t tell me you don’t know? The Crowned Prince is throwing a ball. Tonight!”

The servant girl jumped up, letting the poor book tumble to the floor. She squealed something incomprehensible with her Vakrein accent. Edvina turned and hopped with the girl, including her own excited giggles.

Then she paused and said to Belle, “In your honor!”

“Me?” Belle sat up, pulling her legs into her chest. The bath was starting to get cold. It was still so strange to Belle that she couldn’t just flip a lever to add more hot water. “But why?”

“Don’t be daft, Child.” Edvina waved her off. To the servant girl, she said. “Come, there’s a lot of preparation to be done.”

With no other word to Belle, they left. The room went silent; no sound other than the wind outside, the sloshing of the bathwater, and the crackling fire. It was odd to be alone, since that hardly happened in this castle. Normally there was even someone there to wrap her in a towel as she climbed from the tub.