by E J Kitchens
“We’ll have a second breakfast ready as you requested for your return.”
“Thank you.” Beast set off at a fast walk toward the towering gates.
He loped through a forest that worried Belinda even as she slept. It wasn’t her forest.
He slowed as the steeple of a church and the pitched roofs of houses came into view over the treetops. Thin lines of smoke rose into the air. The unfamiliar town was quiet. Beast sniffed the air appreciatively, as if it were scented with bacon, then stepped boldly within view of the backside of the village as the church bells chimed the hour.
No one turned to stare at him before breaking into yells and running for pitchforks. No one was around. It was breakfast time.
He paced along the perimeter of the forest, darting back into the woods whenever anyone did appear. This continued for a half hour.
“Oh, Beastie! Where are you?”
Beast jumped, his mouth twisting in what likely was an oath.
“Beastie!” the saccharine-coated voice continued.
Beast backed warily toward the trees, his head swiveling back and forth.
“Beastie!” The tone was annoyed.
Beast caught the tone and the direction, and took off the opposite way. He zigzagged through the forest. The voice suddenly came from in front of him. Beast darted into a cluster of rhododendrons surrounding a gnarled beech and hunkered behind the leaves.
Light footsteps prowled the path he’d taken, and he shivered. Fur wafted down around him. Some, caught on the breeze, drifted toward the trail. Beast grabbed for the fleeing hair, snagging only as many strands as he shed to the next breeze.
The footsteps stopped, then turned toward the rhododendrons. Beast scooted back, and slid into a hidden hollow, biting his tongue to keep himself quiet as he bounced down. A sizable oak stopped his roll. Scrambling to his knees, Beast scooted around the tree, putting its trunk between him and Saccharine Lady.
“Beast?”
He grabbed a mossy rock from the bank and tossed it up and onto the trail further down. The footsteps moved in that direction. He sat as quietly as a huffing beast could until the faint toll of the church bell sounded three-quarters of an hour. Easing up, he started down the hollow, climbing out parallel to the village but closer to a stream he’d crossed on his way. Picking up his pace, he started off at a lope toward the stream.
“Beast! You’d better wait. I hear you!”
He startled, then with a burst of speed, sprinted the last ten feet and leapt over the stream. The forest beyond wavered. Beast kept running. The gates to the castle shimmered into view.
“Do you want one of these plain, ignorant peasant girls to catch you?” Saccharine Lady’s voice floated after him, but somehow, Belinda knew the lady couldn’t follow.
Ignorant peasant indeed. Belinda nearly huffed herself awake.
Belinda woke mid-morning, bleary-eyed, tired, and a little confused about why she thought a human voice was coming from empty air and why she was dreaming about a beast with two fur coats.
Oh. She was a guest of a beast with two fur coats.
Embarrassed to be waking so late, she hurriedly dressed in another very fine, very large hand-me-down, wrapped herself up in her shawl, and opened the door. Late though she was, perhaps she had time to chat up the servants and find out who Beast was before he rose.
She stepped out, then lunged back to avoid Beast as he lumbered by, his fur glistening as if he’d just come from a bath.
“Good morning, Miss Lambton.” Beast greeted her in a sing-song voice, apparently very pleased with himself about something.
Frightening her half out of what wits she had before coffee?
“Wil je met me trouwen?” He stopped to bow slightly, then added, still with that self-satisfied expression, “Just a rhetorical question by way of greeting. A tradition here. No need to answer.” His lips spread wide, revealing more teeth than Belinda wished to see in what she fancied was a smile. It was ghastly. “I’m just going down for a bit of a read before breakfast.” He nodded as if in good-bye, then shifted to continue down the hallway.
Belinda blinked. Coffee or no, she couldn’t let him outwit her. She pulled up her best obnoxious early morning grin to fortify her, then hurried after him. “Why, Beast! How impressive you are. Did you study German—or was that Dutch? I’m never quite sure, but I do believe that was Dutch.”
Beast stuttered, then slowly turned back to her. A halo of white rimmed his wide blue irises.
Point for the ignorant peasant.
“I thought you … um … didn’t know any other languages?”
“Well, know and recognize a few words are two different things, aren’t they?” The white halo grew, taking on a haunted look. “But you didn’t answer my question,” she continued. “Do you study languages or do you acquire them from those you devour? The latter would be so much simpler. I wish I could do it. You know, you inspired me yesterday. I borrowed several language books from the library last night—sleeping in a strange place is always so difficult.”
She took Beast’s limp arm and led him down the corridor toward the stairs. “I remember seeing that you have a lovely pianoforte. I’m determined to indulge in music while I can and learn to say lovely things like you do. My voice instructor when I was young was a hopeless romantic and forced me to learn a tremendous number of foreign love songs. I think I’ll look them up and translate them. What do you think? Will you help me translate? You’re so well fed—I mean well-studied.”
Beast groaned.
“What was that, Beast?”
“I think I’m going to have a headache.”
“Oh dear. Perhaps you’d better go outside. I find fresh air always helps me. Perhaps a round of archery? Or is that too strenuous for you?”
“I hunt with my teeth,” he growled, extricating himself from her and limping down the hallway, “but indulge yourself if you like. Please excuse me.”
When Beast was sufficiently far away, Belinda indulged in a snicker, then continued on to a shamefully late breakfast.
The fare was more than satisfactory, but the conversation was not. She couldn’t get anything out of the servants beyond Beast’s love of coffee time, tea time, hot cocoa time, and evening stroll time. She did note, however, that if she crossed her eyes, she could just make out the waver of the servants.
Despite that success, Belinda found the day exceedingly frustrating. Every time she went to the library or tried to find Beast, a servant fetched her for another dress fitting or insisted she go to the kitchen for another dessert. While she was struggling through her fifth donut—a little thing to follow her three slices of cake, two pieces of pie, and cup of gelato—a servant made a whispered comment that it would take a lot of those to get her to the right size.
Right size? To fit those dresses the servants found for her? Groaning, Belinda lowered the last bite of donut back to her plate.
“Eat up, miss!” a cheerful cook’s assistant said. “The master will be offended if you don’t eat your fill while you’re with us.”
“How about another cup of tea to help me wash it down?” Belinda asked sweetly.
“Of course, miss.”
There was a swish of fabric. Crossing her eyes, Belinda could just tell that the maid had turned away to the pantry.
Belinda darted out of the kitchen, and ran, one hand on her protesting belly, until she found an exit.
Spying a bench outside the stables, she collapsed onto it, and only with great effort did she manage to keep her insides in their proper place. Moaning, she laid her head back against the stable wall and let the sunshine on the cool day warm her cheeks.
After a few minutes, the noises of people moving about filtered through the wood and windows to her, then voices.
“How is your leg, this morning, Y—”
“Beast,” hissed a familiar, deep voice. “Call me Beast.”
Belinda sat up. Beast was out here?
The servant, a groom o
r the stable master Belinda assumed, lowered his voice. “Surely you don’t expect the woman to be out here?”
Belinda huffed. She didn’t reportedly spend all her time by a cozy fire.
“Lyndon,” he said seriously, “it wouldn’t surprise me to find her wherever I am. I’m not certain whether she’s cleverer than—than her, or just a nuisance. A very strange one, at that.”
Belinda gripped a handful of skirt, a familiar pang troubling her heart. It wasn’t as if she wanted to fit in with the company of a beast content to be cursed! Here, it was a good thing to be “strange.”
“Why did you allow her to come?” Lyndon asked.
“Because, well … well, you know what happened the last time I ignored someone ‘in need.’”
“What kind of ‘in need’ is this one?”
“Oh, she gave some tale about her father being gone and some villager pestering her.” He added in a mutter, “She had such a desperate look in those big brown eyes of hers that I believed her.”
“Rather pretty, is she?”
“I’m not interested,” Beast growled.
I should hope not!
“I should hope not,” the servant continued, amused, “if she’s a strange village lass. You never were one to let a pretty face ruin your reason. I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”
There was a pause before Beast asked, concern in his tone, “Is Robert still crazy about Lucrezia?”
“Yes,” Lyndon said with a sneer. “I can’t understand it. He used to be almost as wise as you in terms of reading people. But now? He’s either seemingly trying to avoid the woman, or it’s ‘Yes, Lucrezia. Whatever you say, Lucrezia.’” His toned changed. “It worries me.”
Beast didn’t reply, and Belinda wished she could see if his face expressed concern. If it was even capable of such a mien.
“But your leg … Master Beast?” Lyndon asked a moment later.
“It’s a little stiff this morning. It will limber up as we walk, I’m sure.”
“Ah. I haven’t noticed it bothering you since—”
“I know,” said Beast, his tone worried.
“Perhaps,” Lyndon said hesitantly, “perhaps, this is a good thing. If—”
“How could this possibly be a good thing?” Beast snarled.
“Master—”
“It’s better this way.”
The wind stirred the dry leaves in the trees at the stable’s edge before Lyndon replied, sadly, “You play a dangerous game, my lord.”
Game? Belinda shivered along with leaves in the silence that followed.
“It’s better this way.” Beast’s voice wasn’t so confident as before. “Come, Lyndon. To the woods.”
Belinda groaned. Of course they’d come out her way. She started to rise, but sank back to the bench when her stomach bucked her lead.
Inside, voices gave way to footsteps, one set much heavier than the other.
Leaning her head against the stable wall, Belinda closed her eyes and relaxed.
“Where shall we go today?” The servant’s voice was resigned.
“The southern section. I …” Beast sighed. His heavy footfalls stopped. A second set of soft ones retreated to the stable. The light beyond Belinda’s eyelids darkened, and a claw poked her shoulder.
“Hey!” Belinda cried, opening her eyes and clutching her shoulder to wipe away the strange sensation, and make sure she wasn’t punctured. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You were drooling.”
“I was not!”
Beast cocked an eyebrow at her. “Go to your room to sleep.”
Belinda leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms, then moved them to her side when her stomach protested the extra weight. “I will not. I came out here to escape. Your servants are trying to force feed me, to fatten me up or some such nonsense.”
“Are they? How delicious—for you, I mean.”
Belinda glared at him. He had that cunning look about him again.
She smiled sweetly and rose carefully. “Might I walk with you? I feel in need of exercise.”
“I’m not going for a walk. Go inside and take a nap.”
“But I promised to help you with—”
He leaned closer, the cunning look shifting suddenly to one of command. “Go inside.” He said it in that way that showed his teeth very well.
Who was she to gainsay the request of her host?
“As you wish, Beast.” Belinda curtsied, then walked slowly back toward the front of the castle, the hair on the back of her neck giving her the impression Beast was watching.
She was met at the door by a floating tray.
“Miss Lambton! We just made fresh batches of all Beast’s favorite cookies. Won’t you taste test them for us? We made hot cocoa to go with them!”
Belinda took a nap in self-defense.
Belinda was able to descend to dinner in a dress that fit—temporarily, if she listened to the servants’ not-quite-whispered comments about getting her fattened up and needing her gowns let out by the next week. Beyond that, she wouldn’t need them any more, they whispered in a knowing manner.
“Isn’t the lamb superb?” Beast said solicitously halfway through the main course. All attempts at conversation on her part had been redirected to food and encouragements for her to eat until she’d given up and just eaten. Her portions at dinner were twice as large as they had been the evening before.
Belinda managed half a smile. “Excellent.”
“Eat up.” Beast’s broad, toothy grin was a trifle too wide.
Sighing, Belinda put down her fork and pulled out a small glass bottle she’d purloined from the healer’s room earlier. If she were destined to be strange, she was going to be successful at it. And she’d use that trait to help a certain recalcitrant, cursed beast, since doing so meant helping her father.
She ran her thumb over the bottle’s soft cork stopper. It was time to enact The Uncurse Plan, Part C: Preventing Run-off Belinda Attempts. She’d managed an hour in the library before dressing for dinner and had made good use of it.
She removed the cork from the bottle and drank the water she’d filled it with. Giving an exaggerated shiver, she replaced the cork. For good measure, she gave a genteel cough and patted her chest, repeating that until Beast looked fully her way.
“Um … Miss Lambton, are you ill?”
“Me?” Genteel cough and chest pat. “Oh no. I am always in perfect health. Thank you.”
“But you just—”
“Oh this!” She held up the bottle. “This is my daily dose of Mithridatium.”
Beast’s eyes took on a bluebird-before-a-sky-of-white-clouds look. “Mithridatium?” he repeated questioningly, the tone more of shock at her than an unfamiliarity with the elixir.
“Yes, the universal poison antidote.” She pulled out another small bottle, this one filled with powdered sugar saved from some of the pastries sent up to her room as an appetizer. “Which reminds me.” She tapped some of the powder into her mouth and swallowed, making a face fit for unsweetened lemonade. After putting the bottle away, she daintily wiped her lips, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
He gaped at her.
“When I was young,” she continued after a sip of wine, “we had a neighbor who died under suspicious circumstances. My father was reading to us at the time about the great king of Pontus, King Mithridate, about his fear of being poisoned and thus his habit of ingesting small doses of poison to build an immunity, and his invention of the Mithridatium elixir. I determined I would never be poisoned, so I take my daily doses.”
She flicked a knowing glance his way. “I pity any wild creature who might think to make a meal of me, what with my daily doses and all. I’m quite poisonous by now, but unharmed thanks to the elixir.”
Beast didn’t respond. He was still gaping.
Putting aside her napkin, she leaned back in the chair. “I’ve had enough to eat tonight, excellent meal though it was. I wouldn
’t want to be fattened up like a lamb for slaughter, especially not after your servants so kindly made me this lovely dress. You won’t be offended by my not eating dessert, will you, Beast?”
Beast closed his mouth, then cleared his throat under Belinda’s placid smile. “No, not at all.”
“You’re very kind. As I recall, Mithridate was a formidable general as well as a king. If you were a military man, Beast, what would be your opinion of the recent naval maneuvers? I noticed you get the papers; you must have read about them.”
His eyes returned to their bluebirds-in-the-clouds look before narrowing in what might have been anger. “I only read the comics.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” Beast said coldly. “Are you well versed in poisons, Miss Lambton?”
“Only enough to ensure my own safety.”
His eyes narrowed even more, as if in suspicion, though of what she had no idea. He put his napkin beside his half-full plate and rose. “If you’ll excuse me?” he said, an actual anger, not mere irritation, in his tone.
Gaping herself now, Belinda stared after him as he stormed out, bellowing to the servants about him going to the tower and not wanting to be disturbed.
When the door closed in what might be a polite slam, Belinda leaned her elbow on the table and rubbed her forehead. So far she’d managed to make a fool and a nuisance of herself.
With a sad laugh she threw her bottles into the fire. She was as bad at this uncurse business as the enchantress. What do I have to do? Can you even force someone into a change of heart?
And if he did release his curse, would he allow Belinda to stay until her father returned?
Chapter 5
Belinda woke shortly after dawn with a headache and a terrible restless feeling. She hadn’t dreamed of Beast but of Gaspard. He was hunting for her and was concerned. Aside from the pastor and his wife, and a few older ladies, Gaspard was the only one to care for her, and certainly the only one her age to want her around. He and his uncle had been the ones to teach her to hunt and fish, skills that had greatly helped her family, as he’d often reminded her. Was she wrong to run from him? Would love grow in time if she married him?