“That’s a parlor trick, boy,” the ogre says, his eyes and voice somber. “I am the most powerful being that has ever set foot in this kingdom. I do not suggest you test me.”
My hand is still extended, and I stand frozen, shocked at the magic that stole my rapier from my grasp. Slowly, I lower my arm.
With a flick of his hand, my sword lifts from the ground and levitates over to him. He holds it gingerly in his gnarled grasp. “Belonged to your father?”
I clench my jaw, refusing to answer him.
“They always do. It’s good to keep that poetic tradition alive.” He pulls his eyes from the blade and meets my gaze. “Just think of what a prize this will be should you ever best me and win it back.”
My temper escalates, hot and impulsive. I’m about to rush him, armed with only my fists, when Etta grasps my arm, pulling me back.
“Not now,” she whispers firmly.
Still seething, I turn to her, ready to argue.
Etta’s eyes are soft, understanding, but there’s a firmness there. A promise that this isn’t over. And then she turns to the ogre. “I’m keeping my cat with me from now on.”
The ogre smiles and holds out his hands in placation. “I’ve nothing to hide from him.”
She scoops up Puss, who still resembles a livid dandelion, turns abruptly, and marches down the stairs that lead back to the garden. I follow, but before I leave, I glance over my shoulder at the monster I will defeat in the near future.
He looks back, meeting my challenge, and I close the door behind me.
Chapter 35
I find Beau in a hall, holding a candelabra, staring at a portrait of a young man I assume must be his father. The light is dim, as always. All the draperies are shut and the endless candles burn, dripping wax but never snuffing out.
Beau’s jaw is tight, and his eyes are hard. He’s been inconsolable these last few days—angry and bitter. Now he looks broken.
Silent, I come to stand next to him. His father was handsome, and the artist captured the wanderlust in his eyes. It doesn’t surprise me he ventured out to make his own fortune.
Beau must take after his mother, though. The man before him had sandy hair, and his features were mischievous, cunning but without apparent malice. There are enough similarities to make the connection between Beau and his father without ever having met the man, but it’s not a resemblance that is uncanny.
“I don’t remember what my parents look like,” I admit. My voice echoes in the hall, and I wince.
Slowly, blinking as if he just realizes I’m standing with him, Beau turns. “Not at all?”
“It’s faded from my memory. Sometimes, a little glimpse of them comes back, but like smoke, it’s gone just as quickly.” My throat goes thick, and my eyes begin to sting. “Do you think I’ll forget Eugene and Thomas?”
As soon as I say the words, a tear spills down my cheek. I grit my teeth and clench my eyes shut, refusing to give in to this.
Beau sets the candelabra on a fern table, places his hands on my arms firmly, and angles me toward him. There’s fire in his eyes, a steadfast determination. “I will break this curse.”
I want to believe him, but it’s been two days since the ogre imprisoned us, and we’re no closer than we were the moment we rode over the drawbridge.
“What do you think they’ll believe has become of me?” I ask.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Unable to help myself, I nod and step into his arms. Beau doesn’t hesitate this time, unlike so many times before when I’ve touched him or brushed next to him. He simply wraps his arms around my back and holds me with a fierce protectiveness as I bury my head against his chest.
Chapter 36
Tired of the dark, muted candlelight, I yank the draperies open. Diffused sunlight, white and perfect, shines through the tall, stately window. Outside, snow falls on the distant farms and forests. It’s the first snow of the season. I rest my elbows on the sill and set my chin on my palm, my nose itching from the dust I kicked up when I opened the drapes.
We’ve been at the Carabas estate for nearly two months. The olive greens and yellows of early autumn changed to vibrant reds and oranges, and then the leaves fell. The last that remain, stubborn, immobile, cling to the tree limbs, brown and weathered. Soon they’ll be covered with white.
I haven’t seen my brothers; I haven’t been able to send them word of my whereabouts. Kerrick has no idea where we are either. I would like to think the prince would rescue us if he did, but I’m not sure with how we left things.
A soft noise startles me from my melancholy thoughts, the padding of small feet on the carpet-covered stone floor. I go still, knowing if I turn the visitor will flee.
“Hello,” I say, my voice quiet.
There’s no answer, but there never is.
“I know it’s late already, but I wish the snow had waited,” I continue, knowing the brownie is listening. “I’ll miss walking in the gardens. I’m not sure how much longer I can take being trapped here.”
The footsteps fade away, but it’s not until they are gone completely that I turn. A teapot sits on the table, and fragrant steam rises from its spout. Two settings are carefully placed across from each other. In a few minutes, as I knew he would, Beau steps into the sitting room I’ve claimed as my own since our imprisonment.
He holds up a parchment invitation. “I’ve been summoned.”
I’ve already poured his tea and am adding three cubes of sugar, just as he likes it—overwhelmingly sweet. “They didn’t bother sending me one. I suppose they knew I’d be here.”
Beau sets his invitation on the table and meets my gaze, studying me. I’m not sure what he sees, but he frowns. “You’re always here.”
“Where else am I to go?” I ask, lowering my gaze. “Wallow in my bed all day? Beg the kitchen brownie for a poisoned apple so I can sleep until I’m rescued?” I try to laugh, but the sound is hollow.
Instead of sitting, Beau takes several steps toward me, his eyes worried. “Are you so very miserable?”
Immediately, my gaze drops to my gown. I have dozens, all of them beautiful silks, velvets, and laces. New jewelry appears in the box in my room every few days—rubies, sapphires, emeralds. Diamonds.
The ogre decorates me like a pet. Like one of those tiny dogs Sabine carried around.
My stomach is always full. I want for nothing.
Except freedom. My family. Sunshine.
I sigh, working to push back these maudlin thoughts for Beau’s sake. For the first month, he paced like Puss, his temper a short fuse. Slowly, as he explored his family estate, his anger lessened. Though he’s not at peace, he’s resigned himself to our temporary fate.
At least the cat can come and go as he pleases. Puss is completely resistant to ogre magic. I’ve begged him to send word to my brothers, to Kerrick at least, but he insists we’ll defeat the ogre on our own.
Lately, I almost think he knows how to accomplish it, too. There’s a look in his sharp green eyes that betrays him, a smugness. But he’s withholding the information, just another part of his insensible feline agenda.
Of course, Puss seems to be happy here. This is the life he wanted after all, even if it’s not exactly how he planned it.
Startling me, Beau brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “Etta?”
Distracted by the soft press of his hand, I realize I never answered him. “No, I’m not miserable. I’m…restless.”
Beau nods. He begins to lower his hand, and then he hesitates. Instead of moving away, he continues to trail his knuckles down my cheek, toward my jaw. As if it pains him, he again meets my eyes. His voice so soft I almost don’t hear him, he says, “Would you hate me if I told you there are moments I’m glad this happened?”
My breath catches and everything fades around us. “Why?”
He shifts forward and swallows. Then, suddenly, he smiles and sits back, clearing his throat. “I feel as if I’ve reclaimed a piece of my fat
her.”
I sink into my seat, carefully avoiding his gaze. What started as flutters and warmth has grown into something far more complicated. I’ve been careful to hide it, but when he looks at me like that, I think that maybe, he might possibly…
Instead of sitting, Beau walks to the window. “He let you open the drapes.”
“He does now,” I say, stirring my own tea. “But they close as soon as I leave the room.”
When we first arrived, the drapes would close the moment I turned away. And yet, for some reason, I never stopped trying.
The ogre is a conundrum. He’s not happy, not even with all that he has stolen for himself, but he can be benevolent in his own way. He maintains his human form, more for my comfort than his own. Every night, he insists we join him for dinner—and every night, he and Beau quarrel. Eventually, Ettiene will heave a platter across the room and stalk to his quarters, leaving us and his plethora of dwarves in stunned silence.
You’d think we’d grow used to his tempers.
We drink our brownie-supplied tea, and then Beau leaves to find Puss. The cat has disappeared again. I’m not sure he’s even at the estate right now.
Bored, I walk through the halls, opening curtains, leaving the rooms, and then peering back in to see if they’ve closed behind me. They have. I’ve spent most of my days like this, obsessed with light.
Tired with the ogre’s obstinacy, I don a cloak and step into the gardens. The snow crunches under my feet, and I take in a deep breath of frozen fresh air. I make my way toward the back of the gardens, closest to the woods, where there are fewer guards and dwarves. Even the fairies are absent, probably warm in their tiny homes, wherever those may be.
I pause near a locked gate, resting my gloved hand on the iron bars, and peer into the forest. Even if I had the key, I couldn’t pass. I turn, rest my back against the gate, and lower my hood. Soft, crystalline flakes drift downward, and I close my eyes, letting them fall on my face and eyelashes.
“The master has sent me to inform you that you’ll be late for dinner if you don’t head back in now,” a dwarf says from not far away.
So much for being alone.
With my eyes still closed, I thank him and wait for him to leave. When he does, I linger a few more minutes, studying bare branches and looking for winter birds. Though the hem of my gown is wet, I don’t bother changing for dinner. I hang the cloak on a peg near the door—it will find its way back to my room—and go to the dining hall.
“You’re late, Etta,” Ettiene says from his usual spot at the head of the table.
Beau sits a few seats down, on his right. As if he and the ogre have already been arguing, he looks irritated.
I don’t bother to apologize—who apologizes to their jailer, after all?—and find my seat, which is directly across from Beau.
The mood of the evening is particularly tense, and it doesn’t help when Puss leaps on the table, opposite the ogre in an obvious challenge.
“Remove the cat,” Ettiene says to a human guard.
The man eyes Puss as he approaches. The last man who was ordered to “remove” Puss suffered from several painful, angry red scratches across his face. This guard doesn’t take the risk of grabbing the cat, but instead tries to shoo him away.
Puss, irritated, purposely winds through the table settings, knocking over wine bottles and a saucière.
“Enough,” I say, growing weary of the display. I pick up the cat and pull him onto my lap. Puss struggles to get away, but he soon quiets, grumbling softly to himself.
With the contrary cat in my arms, I gladly excuse myself from the dinner before dessert is served.
I drop Puss as soon as the doors close behind us.
“I’ve found a way for you to escape,” he says without a preamble.
Freezing, I turn toward him. “What do you mean?”
He passes me, striding toward my quarters. If I want to hear what he has to say, I’ll have to follow him. We wind through the halls, and the cat doesn’t speak until we reach my room.
“I believe that if you’re holding me, you can pass through the ogre’s boundary.”
Sitting on the bed, I say, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Puss joins me and stretches out on his favorite spot on the end. “Not even worth trying?”
“How will leaving help Beau get his family home back?”
Puss yawns. “It won’t. But it will allow you to go back to Kerrick. Marry the prince, leave this behind.”
Irritated, I stand. “I promised I would help Beau. I won’t leave until we’ve defeated the ogre.” I look over my shoulder. “And I won’t desert all the creatures trapped here, either.”
“Fine,” the cat says, closing his eyes. “Have it your way. But don’t you think that if the boy wanted you, he’d have made his intentions clear by now?”
Slowly, I turn back. The cat opens one eye, scrunches his nose, and then lifts his head. “What is that look?”
What if Beau doesn’t know how I feel about him? What if I haven’t made myself clear? Perhaps I’m the one who needs to be brave. And if it ends badly, if Beau hates me for what I’m about to do, then I will try to leave with Puss.
“Where are you going?” Puss demands as I march out the door.
“To see Beau.”
Chapter 37
The ogre is bored, vicious, and he takes great amusement in tormenting me about my imprisonment.
“I’m surprised you haven’t tried harder to save her,” he says after Etta leaves with Puss squirming in her arms. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
I pull my eyes away from the door, not wanting him to sense how much I wish I could help Etta escape. I’d do anything just to free her from this elaborate cage.
Even if letting her go would nearly kill me at this point.
“Why do you keep her?” I ask. “Why not set her free? She means nothing to you. We both know it’s me you want.”
Now that Etta’s gone, the ogre drops the mirage, changing his form back to his true self.
“She’s seen me and can never leave.” He offers me a repulsive, toothy smile which makes my dinner churn in my stomach. “Besides, she’s a nice addition to my collection, don’t you think?”
I stand, too angry to trust myself further and stalk to the door. When I open the latch, the door sticks, not by lock but by magic.
Seething, I wait for the ogre to free me.
“Is that any way to thank your host for the delicious meal?” he asks, laughing.
If I were to take a right hook to the guard to my left, could I relieve him of his sword before the others attacked? I’d have to be quick. The dwarves pack quite a punch, as I found out the first time I attempted to kill the ogre at dinner. And the second.
And the third.
“I wouldn’t try it,” the ogre says, reading my hesitance correctly. “Now. Let’s remember our manners, and I’ll let you go.”
“Thank you for dinner,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You can do better than that.”
I stretch my head to the side, trying to relieve a kink in my neck. Still looking at the wooden door, I say, “Thank you, Monsieur Ettiene, for your hospitality. As always, we are ever so grateful.”
The door swings open, hitting my chin when I don’t step back fast enough.
“There,” the ogre says, a smile in his voice. “Was that so difficult?”
Slamming the door behind me, I leave the dining hall, rubbing my jaw. When I reach my room, I find the usual bouquet on my bedside table. Each day it’s changed out for a new one, and each day there are instructions to give the flowers to Etta.
The romantic kitchen brownie is a troublesome matchmaker.
Why don’t they realize I don’t deserve her? That I walked Etta into this mess, and I can’t find a way to get her out. Thoughts of defeating the ogre and winning my family’s land back are gone. The ogre’s too powerful, and I am only one man.
As I d
o every day, I push the drapes aside, unlatch the window, and toss the flowers out.
I was selfish today, almost told Etta how I feel about her. It’s getting more difficult, especially when we are each other’s only allies besides Puss.
I will have to be more vigilant.
I’m rubbing my temples when a knock sounds at the door. I’m about to ask who it is when the door swings open and Etta strides into my room.
Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks like a woman on a mission.
“Beau, I…” she begins and then trails off, losing the nerve that was propelling her forward. Then she meets my eyes and takes a deep breath.
Just as I find myself smiling, wondering what this strange fit is about, she throws her arms around my neck. Too startled to think clearly, I stare at her, noticing for the first time the gold in her eyes. The smell of the flowers I just dumped out the window lingers in the air, mingling with the faint scent of the floral soap she uses in her hair.
Without another word, she kisses me.
Chapter 38
Beau goes statue-still, completely stunned and unresponsive.
What have I done?
How does one extract themselves from this position? Do I simply pull away, walk out the door? Pretend it never happened? Make an excuse?
And what kind of excuse is there? The dwarves put me up to it? The ogre enchanted me?
All these thoughts go through my head in a matter of seconds.
I pull back abruptly and remove my arms from his neck. “I’m sorry—”
Before I have the words out, Beau grabs my wrist and gently, but firmly, yanks me back. “Etta, wait.”
My heart thrums like fairy wings, making me lightheaded. Embarrassed, overcome, I glance about the room, planning my escape.
“I thought,” I stammer, feeling ridiculous. “I mean, I hoped…I was foolish. I apologize—”
When I try to yank away, Beau releases me only to grasp my waist and pull me toward him. He’s so close, I can hear his breath, feel each rise and fall of his chest. His eyelashes are dark and long, and they frame questioning eyes.
The Marquise and Her Cat: A Puss in Boots Retelling Page 15