by Kris Elaine
She looked at him so earnestly he felt himself drowning in the pools of her eyes. “You’re welcome,” was all he could think to say.
Cedra stared at her work trying to ignore Tuarl’s bare torso. Of course, she had seen her father and brother without their tunics, hot and sweaty from working the fields. But from what she had seen, Tuarl was different in every way. His chest and shoulders were broad, ropes of muscle just below the surface ready to fight and kill. The brutality of his youth was also on display. She declared herself finished and rose to leave rather than risk angering him with her stare.
“Lady Cedra!” Jane cried out when she stumbled on her hurt ankle.
Tuarl easily pulled her back to the bench and had her sit on the table. He studied and felt both ankles, surprising her with how gently he handled each. She hissed in pain as he flexed her foot and he stopped, his brow furrowed. Turning to Adira, he requested strips of cloth soaked in cold water. As the woman hurried out, he gingerly removed her shoe, explaining it was a sprain and the cold would help. Without asking, he then raised the hem of her skirt to just above her knee, his movements exact and efficient as he loosened and removed her stocking. When Adira returned, the cold cloths were wrapped tightly around Cedra’s foot and ankle.
Once her ankle was wrapped and cold, Clarence helped her from the table. By silent agreement, the group of them at supper in the kitchen that night.
Over the next few days, a tentative peace had come between them. Tuarl could not climb the stairs or ride Stranger with his leg, so was forced to spend his time on the ground floor of the castle. Cedra began to join him at meals and would shyly curtsy to him as they passed in the halls. Few words were spoken between them, though, and Tuarl still found himself craving her smiles.
One the first day of the autumn snows, he found her in the courtyard, playing with the boy. When she wasn’t spinning him, they ran back and forth with their mouths open to catch the flakes. Giggling and exhausted, they both collapsed and waved their arms and legs to make snow fairies.
“I want to do something for her,” he told Adira. “But she won’t talk to me. I don’t know what she likes.”
“The girls enjoy Lady Cedra’s stories,” the old woman answered. Tuarl ignored the honorific. The servants knew Cedra was not a member of the nobility, but the title suited her far better than it would ever fit on him. “And she learned her letters from her father.”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, knowing what the woman was suggesting. “Kenum hasn’t burned it?”
“Might be dusty, but he never had a reason to go in there.”
Tuarl turned his attention back to Cedra. “Have the girls clean it. I’ll give it to her when they’re done.”
“As you say, m’Lord.” The woman hesitated. “About Jane, though.”
“Which is she?”
“The blonde one, with child. The babe is nearly due and there’s no one but me to deliver it.”
“I sent for a healer. I don’t know if the university will send one after Kenum killed the last.”
“The last six.” Tuarl rolled his eyes. Of course Kenum killed half a dozen surgeons and countless other staff in the years after succeeding their father. “And what’s to become of the girl and the child?”
“Where’s the father?”
“She doesn’t know who it was. Your brother and most of his men raped her often. She only hopes the father’s dead rather than run off.”
Tuarl remembered. When he came to kill his brother, Kenum had been sitting in the Great Hall, the pregnant girl’s head bobbing in his lap while another was taking her from behind, both men laughing. They barely had time to get her out of their way when Tuarl was on them both. She had screamed when Kenum’s head dropped in front of her, blood in her hair and on her dress. How could she have known the fearsome Beast had not come to rape her as well? The other two girls were cowering in the kitchen, dresses also torn, one with an arm at an awkward angle.
“The girl can stay here with her child if she wishes. I have no reason to get rid of her. If a surgeon ever comes, I want him to look after her pregnancy. And the one with the arm.”
“Arianne, m’Lord.” Adira left then and Tuarl continued to watch Cedra playing with Adira’ grandson, Chip. The boy had been just as scared and this may have been the first time the child had ever smiled in his short life. From where he stood, Tuarl could see the boy had a tooth or two missing and only hoped they were milk teeth, rather than the child being hurt.
Cedra noticed Tuarl did not use his walking stick when he approached her one day. He was still limping but did not show any other outward signs of pain.
“I’m glad to see you are getting better, my lord.” She gave her best curtsy. The way he looked at her made her face warm. She was wearing the blue dress again and remembered how he said it suited her.
“Eager to be rid of me, my lady?” he asked, but in the dim light of the corridor his grey eyes seemed to dance with amusement. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I’m not here to talk about my leg. I want to show you something.” Cedra’s interest was piqued. “If I may,” he added.
At her nod, the Beast held out his arm to escort her down the gallery. Through the Great Hall, he led her through another door and down a shorter, narrower gallery that led parallel to the courtyard. At the end, he stopped and turned to her.
“You have to close your eyes.”
Cedra studied at him a moment, trying to decide his intent, before complying. His large, rough hands delicately engulfed hers and gently tugged her forwards. She felt some warmth from a small fire to one side and a bit of light from a window shone through her lids on the other.
“Open your eyes,” he directed.
The first thing she saw was his grey depths watching her with something she almost wanted to identify as hope. Then, behind him, she saw shelves of books. Turning her head to one side, then the other, she spied more books, with a shelf of scrolls by a window. There were comfortable looking chairs and couches by the burning brazier and under windows and by lamps. She gripped his hands in delight before releasing him to circle in place, taking in her surroundings. Above the door was the Beytill crest, white, with a black unicorn. A worn bear skin served as a rug before a couch at the brazier.
“So many books,” she whispered.
“My boyhood tutor once told me ‘if you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.’”
“It’s beautiful,” Cedra sighed. She had never seen a library, only heard it was what nobles used to store their books. Her father had so few he kept them in a trunk and pulled them out for only an hour a day to teach Cedra and her brother their letters.
“It’s yours, if you’ll have it.” Tuarl tried to hide how anxious he felt. What if it wasn’t a library she wanted? She was a commoner, the daughter to the elected official of a tiny village. His castle was the farthest she’d ever been from home. What would she do with so many books? He was caught up in berating himself to the point that he did not see her fly at him until her arms were around his neck. Only by instinct was he able to catch her and brace himself before either of them dropped to the ground.
“Thank you,” she said. He couldn’t see if she was smiling, but decided he liked her hugs just as much.
A new routine began to develop between the two of them. Over breakfast, Cedra would read aloud from whatever book she had found. Some were simple stories, meant to help young children learn to read. Others were more difficult and Tuarl would sit beside her, helping her with the longer words and explaining the ones she did not know. After breakfast, he would follow her to whatever task she set herself for the day. In the glass garden, he obeyed her commands perfectly in weeding the beds or pruning the shrubs. As a surprise, he plucked a blooming blue rose he found and broke off all the thorns before presenting it to her. She finally smiled openly at him when she threaded it through her braid. Inside, he would move broken furniture or hang any tapestry she pointed at. Then, after supper, they wou
ld retire to the library together, where she would read aloud and he would watch the way the fire of the brazier played off her skin. And, finally, each night, he would escort her to the corridor behind the Great Hall and bid her goodnight, watching her wind her way up the steps of the east tower until she was out of sight before he turned towards his own room in the west tower.
One evening he at last told her his history. Everything from the torture his own brother inflicted on him, to his begging the kind for sanctuary, and his suspicions of the true nature of his family’s demise were all laid bare. None of Cedra’s questions went unanswered. In return, she told him about her own life. She talked about her childhood before the king’s death, when she was permitted to play freely outside. She described her confusion when she was no longer allowed to leave the cottage, and her fear as she hid under a bed during raids.
“You really did save us all,” she finished softly, watching the fire in the brazier.
From beside her he said nothing, just slipped a handkerchief into her hand to brush away the tears.
“Why is there no healer here?” Cedra asked one day over breakfast.
“The university is most likely tired of Kenum killing them,” Tuarl shrugged. He did a quick calculation in his head. “I sent for a new one several months ago, when I took the castle. He would have been here by no if they meant to send someone.”
“Oh.” She picked at her toast, a sign he had quickly learned meant she wanted to say something but uncertain of his reaction. Tuarl reached over and took her left hand in his right, waiting for her to continue. “I sent for one a fortnight ago. I told them Kenum was gone and that any surgeon who came would be safe.” Her wide blue eyes looked up at him imploringly. “I didn’t tell them you were master now.”
His lip twitched. It was clever of her to avoid any mention of him. No surgeon would want to serve under a Beytill, no matter that the real monster was dead. He was still the Beast to anyone outside the castle. “Thank you,” he answered, lifting his fork. “If a healer does come, it may be better for you to meet him and explain.”
“He’s due today.” His head snapped back up and he stared at her in surprise. “I said there were maids here hurt by the Giant and his men, and a surgeon was greatly needed. I got a response saying to expect him today. I can have him look at your leg first, make sure it is healing well.”
Her words sounded more and more uncertain as she spoke and Tuarl realized she was afraid she had made him angry. He gave her hand a squeeze and looked away, returning to his eggs. “Have him look at Jane and Arianne first. Jane must be near due and Arianne’s arm might still be fixed.” He looked side-eyed at her. “Beasts don’t need looking after.”
He saw her look away with a small frown on her face. “Don’t say that,” she mumbled so low he almost didn’t hear.
True to her word, the surgeon did arrive that day and was quartered in a room just above the Great Hall. Tuarl kept to his room that day and watched the arrival from the window of his tower room. The surgeon was young and handsome, someone who could easily turn any woman’s head. Cedra met him in the yard and Tuarl could see the young man was focused solely on her. He hated the attentions he imagined this mere boy would shower on the girl. Why would she give an ugly beast her smiles when there was a young, handsome healer instead? A couple of hours before sunset, a timid tapping at his door broke him from his thoughts.
“Your Grace?” she called softly through the door. Not wanting to startle her, he slowly opened the door and stood in the gap created, blocking her view of the room. “Master Owen wishes to meet you.”
Tuarl felt the invisible knife in his gut twist. “Does he know who his new lord is?”
“He does. I told him he has nothing to fear from you.” That caught him by surprise. The once frightened woman telling others not to fear him? “He’s already checked on Jane and examined Arianne’s arm. Your leg is the only injury left to check.”
“What about the one with the eye?” he stalled. An irrational part of him said the longer he didn’t meet the surgeon, the longer the other man didn’t exist, the longer he had her to himself.
“Rose?” She titled her head quizzically. “She only had a black eye. It went away ages ago.”
“And you? Are you well? What about your ankle?”
Cedra giggled and took a step closer to him, placing her hand on his arm. “I’m well, healthy, and healed. Your leg worries me. I’d like him to see it, make sure I did you no damage.”
His arm burned where her hand rested and air fled from his lungs as she looked at him so earnestly. “The knife did more damage than you.” His voice sounded choked to his own ears and he cleared his throat before continuing. “But I will see this surgeon for you.”
Her cheeks pinked and she turned away, grinning. Like an obedient pet, he followed her down the steps and across the gallery above the Great Hall until they stood outside the healer’s door. The whole walk, she chattered away about Jane’s pregnancy and the new surgeon, though Tuarl later could never remember what exactly she said.
Cedra was relieved when Master Owen declared the Beast’s leg was healing properly, though the knife had done permanent damage and he would always have a slight limp. In celebration of his health, she offered to make apple tarts for after supper. She giggled nervously when he raised his one good eyebrow at her. She explained the tree in the garden had finally started to produce some fruit and the tarts were her favorite sweet to make. An odd, soft look came across his face and he nodded for her to go.
Adira had never made apple tarts before, so Cedra was in charge for once. At each additional ingredient, Chip dipped his fingers in for a taste, curious at why she was so excited. Arianne fetched anything she was asked for, but accidentally dropped the sack of flour. The resulting cloud of powder had them all laughing. After brushing off most of the mess, Cedra returned to work. Chip ate half the first batch even though it burned his tongue, so she immediately went to work on a second.
They were all giggling over a story about when Tuarl was a boy and gotten stuck under a pile of armor when everyone around Cedra suddenly grew quiet. Turning to the door, she found the topic of Clarence’s story watching them. Or, rather, watching her. She felt her heart hammering in her chest. He watched her with such intensity it made the place between her legs throb. Without preamble, he strode across the kitchen, past everyone pretending to be busy, and wiped her cheek with his thumb. When he pulled it away, she saw it was coated in powder.
“There was an accident with the flour,” she explained. He had been so kind to her she knew she had no reason to fear him. Then why did she feel so nervous now?
“Best be careful,” he said seriously. “I can’t always be there to save you.”
Cedra could only nod as she gazed into his eyes. Despite his tone, there was something in the grey that could be mistaken for mirth. He stepped closer to her and leaned in. Some part of Cedra thought Tuarl meant to kiss her. She knew she should be scandalized, that a man would take advantage of her. Instead, her heart fluttered and her hands flitted slightly, not knowing what to do with them. One of his hands stayed at her cheek and the other reached behind her. As he leaned ever closer, Cedra’s eyes slipped closed.
And then he pulled away. Her eyes snapped open and she watched him take a massive bite of tart.. Her jaw dropped in surprise. Did he really only come to the kitchen for a tart? Why had he not asked her to move if she was in his way? The sound of Adira scolding Tuarl for spoiling his supper brought her back to the present and Cedra quickly went back to her work. She tried to hide her shaking hands by stirring the bowl and pouring dollops into the small crusts. From the corner of her eye, she saw him leave the kitchen and she was finally able to draw a deep breath.
Supper was as simple as always, something Tuarl preferred. There was no need for a large, elaborate meal for so few, when the rest of the kingdom starved. Cedra’s apple tarts, though, were delicious. The one he stole from the kitchen was good, though he h
ad craved the woman standing in front of them instead. The heat of the kitchen and her hard work had mussed her hair, and her face and dress were smudged in flower. But with her comfortable laughter, she had never been more beautiful. It was only Clarence’s false cough to remind Tuarl that they were not alone. Now there was a small pile of tarts sitting between them to share. And they still weren’t alone.
After Cedra left to bake, the surgeon happened to mention that he had some skill with a citole and singing. Without thinking, Tuarl told the handsome man to play during supper. Now he sat at one of the tables, picking at the strings. He noticed how Cedra’s leg could not stay still under the table and she kept darting glances at the healer as they at. He scowled jealously. Not in the castle for a day and the better-looking man was already a favorite. After she finished her second tart, she turned to him.
“Can we dance?” she requested.
He stared at her hand resting easily on his and cleared his throat. “I’m out of practice,” he explained. “Maids rarely wanted to be seen on my arm.”
“I can teach you,” she chirped, hand moving eagerly to his shoulder. “I don’t know the high, courtly dances. But I can show you the ones we had in my village.”
He couldn’t say no to the glitter in her eyes. He nodded and let her pull him to the floor. The surgeon played a slower song at Cedra’s direction. Then her hands were on his, pulling his arms around her. She talked him through each step, leading him in slow circles around the hall. After a few circuits through the steps, he began to lead her himself and a smile spread across Cedra’s face as she openly gazed at him. Surprised, Tuarl stumbled and stepped on her foot, breaking the moment. She offered him another dance. He refused, worried any more missteps would leave her with a limp as bad his own. Instead, they bid each other a good night Cedra giving a perfect curtsey as he bowed.
Cedra giggled and spun in circles every time she remembered the dance. Tuarl had been awkward and was not comfortable, but he had learned for her. The memory of his warm arms and large hands wrapped around her coaxed her into sweet dreams each night. The thought of his almost kissing her in the kitchen woke her each morning with a smile. She wondered at this change, at the fear vanishing completely since he had saved her in the woods. It was an effort for him to control his temper around her, but she had begun to see she had never been in danger from him.