by Lelia Eye
I took the first step and started cursing a blue streak. It soon became a red streak as I tried to use anger to mask the jelly-like feeling of my legs. Well, that didn’t take long to become a green streak as my stomach began to churn and I climbed higher.
I hate heights. I hate heights. The mantra was tapped out in my head like a funeral dirge. But that wasn’t helping, so with some willpower, I changed it to: I don’t hate Elle. I don’t hate Elle. That was met with a little more success.
After what seemed like ten miles of steps, I finally made it. I was at the door to Elle’s room. The tallest room. A room that was ludicrously high above the ground.
I raised a paw, ready to scratch at the door, only to pause as I heard a sound. It only took me a few seconds before I realized what it was. Elle was crying.
That thing that I had been trying to ignore was even closer to a realization, but I still wasn’t there.
I did know, however, that I was aching inside. I knew what the pain I would feel if she left would be like, and I knew what the pain I was feeling right now was . . . and I knew I would take on whatever pain was necessary just to make her happy.
Should I let her leave forever? I wondered. Before, the idea would have been unthinkable. Now, however, it was thundering in my head.
I sat down in front of her door. The last step was up to a large flat area with a red rug, so there was room enough to sit even for a large beast like me.
I was at a loss.
“What’s wrong?” a voice asked behind me.
I turned and saw my mother—in human form, of course—standing there and looking concerned. “How did you stand keeping your nose out of my business all those years while you were gone?”
“I kept an eye on you,” she said. Admitting to spying would have made a normal person embarrassed, but all she did was stare steadily at me. I don’t know why I was surprised.
“You want to know what’s wrong? I’m about to let Elle go.”
“W-what are you talking about?” There was a break in her cool façade.
“Her father is . . . indisposed. She wants to go see him. I’m going to let her.”
Those all-seeing green eyes peered at me, taking my measure. “You’re serious.”
“No, I’m just joking about one of the most important decisions of my life. Yes, I’m serious.”
Even though I was the one who was supposed to be mad, she looked irked. “You always have to make things so difficult, don’t you? You have to be so unpredictable.”
“What are you talking about?”
She didn’t answer; she just reached up into a mass of red curls and yanked out one hair with all the interest of someone putting on a shoe for the ten-thousandth time in her life. This single strand was put in her palm, whereupon she stuck a finger down and swirled the hair around. She gazed down intently into her hand—like the whole world could be glimpsed there—and then gasped. “You can’t let her go. If she doesn’t return in a week, you’ll die.”
That did give me pause, but only for a moment. I wondered if I would die of a broken heart. “How do you know that?”
“Because I can see the future.”
I dipped my head. She had said that before, and I truly believed her this time. “If that’s my fate, then so be it. I won’t cause her any more tears.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“How’s this for serious? I love her.” Those words had been hovering at the edge of my mind but had refused to connect until that moment.
I felt like I had been shot. The weight that had been resting on my shoulders had shifted to my heart. I was conscious of the pain throbbing there, of the wave of emotions washing over me. But it was a bullet that couldn’t be removed—a bullet that would neither kill me nor make me stronger.
“Loving her doesn’t mean you have to let her go.”
I tilted my head. “You know it does.”
She sighed and pursed her lips, as if she was irked that I was right. “Just tell her she needs to come back before a week is up. That will be plenty of time to visit her father.”
“Goodbye, Mother.”
She gazed at me—she had never been the sort of woman you could just dismiss—but rather than give me grief, she nodded, turned, and left.
I stared after her for a few seconds, thinking about how much things had changed. We had been so close once. Now, it was as if a great gulf had arisen between us. I didn’t even know who she was anymore, and despite all her precognition, I didn’t think she knew who I was anymore either. The years had changed us. I wasn’t sure it was for the best.
I walked up to Elle’s door and scratched. “Elle?”
It was perhaps a minute before anything happened, but at last Elle opened the door. She stood there, face tear-stained, trying to keep her crying under control.
“I’ve reconsidered,” I said. I felt like clenching a fist or digging my claws into the ground, but I wasn’t a human or a cat, so I couldn’t hold on to anything. “You may go to your father.” I wanted to turn back and look at my mother, but she was gone. My words had been said; they couldn’t be unspoken. But I guess my mother already knew my mind was made up.
“You—” Elle was still having trouble speaking after having cried her eyes out. “You mean it? You’re sure I can go?”
“Yes. Your father needs you.” So do I, I thought sadly.
Elle lunged forward and threw her arms around me. “Oh, thank you! Th-thank you! I’ll be back!”
Only halfway joking, feeling like I was being torn in two, I said, “I doubt you’ll even remember me in a week’s time.”
She pulled back and looked at me, shaking her head. “That’s not true. I’ll be back in a week. I promise.”
I wanted to say something about not making promises she couldn’t keep, but I didn’t. Instead, I watched as she rushed into her room to begin packing, and then I took a minute to step inside and look around. The room had a fountain that was a miniature version of the one outside, though at the top was a rose made of stone. Against one wall was a series of grates shaped into a rose, with fire flaring brilliantly behind them. On the ceiling were several small glass roses that tinkled together as I looked at them. It all reminded me a bit of my mother, and I wondered idly whether she had stayed there as a child.
Elle tossed some items onto the bed and paused. “What . . . what can I take with me?”
“Anything—everything. I will give you clothes, books, jewels . . . . Whatever you want is yours.” Even my heart.
She nodded and continued packing, though her forehead was crinkled in a frown. After giving her one last glance, I left her room and made my way down the stairs and then outside the castle.
I went to Luna’s stall and oversaw the Invis filling saddlebags with jewels and cutlery and pretty dresses. Of course, there was only so much you could put on a horse without breaking its back, but I had the Invis do what was possible. At least Elle didn’t weigh much.
We had finished by the time Elle came out with her pack, and I wondered what she had chosen to take with her. But I didn’t ask. I just watched as she fastened the pack to Luna.
“I was hoping you would be here waiting,” she said. She looked at the other saddlebags, obviously wondering what was inside, but she resisted the urge to look.
“I had to tell you goodbye.” I tried to say it in a lighthearted way, but it still felt like the words “for the last time” were tacked on to the end of it. This was goodbye forever. Who would ever keep a promise made to a beast?
“I wanted to . . . ask you something,” she said hesitantly. “Jacques, can you take care of Étoile for me?”
I would give you all the stars in the world if I could, Elle. “Yes. I promise I’ll watch out for her.”
“You don’t just mean you’ll let the Invis take care of her?”
“I’ll play with her every day,” I promised. “I’ll even let her come in the castle. I will do whatever I can to make it so that she won’t miss you.” Not like
how I’ll miss you.
She smiled. “Thank you, Jacques.”
“No, not ‘Jacques.’ I will let you know my real name before you go, so you—so you will remember me.” I tilted my head. “I am the worst part of a rose.”
Her brow furrowed. “Stem, no—Thorn?”
“Yes—well, Thorny.” Actually, my name was “Thornwald,” but I preferred the nickname my mother had given me.
“But the thorn is important,” she protested. “It protects the rose.”
I couldn’t even manage a beastly grin. “That’s what my mother used to tell me. But sometimes, the rose cannot be protected. Goodbye, Elle.”
“My real name isn’t ‘Labelle,’” she said slowly. “But I will wait until I return to tell you what it is.”
You won’t come back, and I will never know. “All right.”
“I’ll see you again, Thorny.”
“Goodbye, Elle.”
I watched her mount Luna and disappear from the castle grounds and my whole world. When I thought she was out of earshot, I threw my head back and howled.
Chapter 16: Feeling Week
You know that feeling when you are waiting for news that could be incredible or terrible, and your stomach feels like it’s filled with gently twitching fingers and your nerves are shot and every new noise or flash of color sets your heart racing? Multiply that by about ten, and that is just how I felt the first day Elle was gone.
I believed she wouldn’t return. In my heart of hearts, I thought that was how it would finally turn out.
That would be the best ending, with her going back to live among the humans, and me facing a large empty castle, with only animals and a meddling mother to keep me company.
I visited Étoile frequently, as if she emanated a slight essence of Elle, and the lamb liked to follow me outside the sheep pen. I would often find her wandering the castle, possibly looking for Elle or perhaps just exhibiting a cat’s curiosity. Once, when the lamb was sleeping in the sheep pen, I went to sit beside her, thinking of the irony of a wolf looking out for a sheep. And then I started talking to her, though it wasn’t something I was proud of afterward.
“Do you think my death will be due to a broken heart?” I asked. “Or do you think I will simply lose myself to the beast without her smile to stop me?”
Étoile said nothing; she just kept on sleeping.
“I keep thinking about Beauty. That was what drew me to the rose—and to Elle—but now I don’t care what she looks like. All I want is her here beside me. She could be as hideous as you are, Étoile. I wouldn’t care. Once, I would have. But now I don’t.”
The lamb shifted, snuggling in closer. I shook my head.
“I will care for her always,” I said. “Even though such a beauty could never want to be with a monster like me, it doesn’t matter. Even if she breaks her promise to me. That’s to be expected, you know?”
Soleil came over to investigate what her lamb was doing. She gave an inquisitive bleat.
“She’s all right,” I told her. “Elle told me to take care of her.”
Soleil stood and stared at me with those stupid eyes, but for a second, I wondered if there were something else there, something intelligent. But then the sheep bleated again and moved about her business, and the moment passed.
I stayed there beside Étoile until she woke and began to play with the other lambs. Then I left to go sit on the fountain and stare at my broken reflection in the water. I often looked in the hand mirror my mother had given me, and I sometimes carried it around in my mouth. I had brought it with me to the sheep pen, and I had it now on the ground in front of the fountain. But it wasn’t me that I would look at in it. No, it was Elle.
The mirror was a soundless portal to her world. I saw her joy when she united with her father, and I saw his upset whenever “the beast” was mentioned. Of course there was no way to treat my existence with any sort of positivity. I could tell Elle tried—but how could you explain to anyone that a wolf was more than a beast?
I turned around and draped myself over the edge of the fountain so I could look into the mirror. “Show me Elle,” I said.
In the mirror, she was reading a book. I watched for several minutes, hoping I could catch its title, but then she heard something and set the book down with a frown.
She went to the front door, where her father was standing in the entryway and talking with great animation to a man whose clothing marked him as the royal huntsman. Gaheris Beauregard bared his teeth and gestured to Elle, and I knew he was talking about me. I saw Elle try to plead with her father, but it was to no avail. How news of me had reached royal ears, I wasn’t sure, but I knew alcohol could loosen the tongue, and the merchant had probably spoken of the ugly beast that had kidnapped his daughter in some pub.
I knew where it would go from there, but rather than try to glean more, I hopped down, picked up the mirror, and dropped it into the fountain. I would meet my fate as it came.
* * *
Later that day, at dusk, I was walking outside. Looking at the forest, I saw a silver form step forward to the edge of the trees. The wolf stared at me with all-seeing eyes. He—for I knew in my bones the wolf was male—seemed to be calling to me.
I stepped toward him, mesmerized.
I caught an image from him of a wolf pack running together, tracking prey. One of the wolves was a great black one that I had seen many times in the mirror.
I tilted my head in surprise. I had thought for certain that the wild wolves in the forest would never accept me . . . but was the real truth that I simply hadn’t been ready to accept them?
Could I do it? Was that what was best for me—to run free with the wolves, leaving behind the human world to lose myself to the beast inside me? Perhaps I would escape the death that my mother predicted would come when Elle failed to return.
The sound of a happy bleat reached my ears, and I turned to see Étoile running toward me with a frolicking step. My eyes flicked toward the silver wolf, who lowered his head and gave Étoile a hungry look.
Growling at the wolf in warning, I turned my back to him. Nudging Étoile with my nose, I encouraged her to move away from the forest. One of these days, the lamb was going to get me in trouble, running free as she did. But her appearance did remind me—I had a promise of my own to keep.
When I had herded the lamb to a safer distance from the forest, I turned my head back briefly to see if the silver wolf was still there. But he was gone.
Yet it almost felt as if he had left an imprint of an image behind—like a note of sorts signifying that we would meet again. But I dismissed the thought as far-fetched since I would, after all, be dying soon. For now, all I needed to worry about was this stupid sheep.
* * *
At last, the final day of waiting arrived. Elle had still not returned, and I had still not died of a broken heart. I began to wonder if my mother’s prediction would be proven wrong. But as the final hours of that last day neared, I heard the castle doors open and a voice say: “Your Majesty, surely there is no wolf here.”
My breath seized in my chest. I froze. My death had come at last.
Unwilling to accept it quite so easily, I rushed to hide in a nearby room. Every subject in Magnolia knew their king to be a mighty hunter who favored dangerous game. I had heard many times the tale of his defeat of a man-eating mountain lion called Dagger-Paws with the very weapon that was its namesake. The royal huntsman at the Beauregard home had been serving as his eyes and ears to help him find me. To make matters worse, His Royal Majesty was an excellent tracker.
“No, Hickory, look at how the dogs are straining. They know the beast is here. Take them and wait outside with the horses and that ridiculous frolicking lamb.” He was talking about Étoile, who had followed me to the castle.
I heard a murmur of assent—there was no arguing about staying, not with him—and the royal huntsman and dogs left, though the door was kept open. I could hear the dogs complaining about being tak
en away from the hunt, though that didn’t concern me. What concerned me was that I was alone with what might be the kingdom’s greatest hunter. This was a man who was so consumed by hunting that he had chosen one of his dogs to serve as his Animal Crest, that animal familiar meant to symbolize a ruler’s reign.
But he wasn’t just an excellent hunter. His ability to hunt game was almost supernatural in nature. If not for the fact that he shunned magic, I might have believed he used some sort of fairy pendant to assist him.
“I know you are here,” he said.
Not knowing what else to do, I fled. The hunt began.
Never underestimate what panic can do to you. It can turn an intelligent man into a gibbering buffoon. That was what I felt like as I ran. All I could think about at first was how I was really human and he was human and how we should have been able to talk this out but couldn’t because he hated magic and me being a talking wolf would only hurt my case.
A shot went off behind me and nearly shocked my heart into leaping out of my chest. Somehow, however, I maintained enough presence of mind to duck into a nearby room.
The room was connected with two others, which I knew thanks to Elle’s tour. I murmured, “Invis, open.” Then I darted into one of the adjoining rooms. The door shut behind me.
“Come out, foul beastie,” he called tauntingly. “It’s only a matter of time before I am upon you. Would you not rather face me head-to-head?”
He was already in the next room. Though the door closed by the Invis was somewhat camouflaged, he would only take a few minutes to poke around before realizing I wasn’t there. I ran out into the hallway.
Taking a chance, I crossed in front of his doorway and ran back toward the main entrance. I saw a glimpse of him as I passed by—he was wearing a red greatcoat with golden capelets, perfect for a flashy ride in the countryside—and tried not to think about the gun he had in hand.
Standing in the castle foyer and looking at the open double doors, I knew I had a choice to make. I could go outside. Then, I could enter the woods (where the dogs would easily follow me), the maze (where I was just as likely to get lost as he was), or one of the animal pens (where again the dogs would find me). For dangerous game such as myself, it didn’t seem like he would want to use the dogs, but he would if necessary.