Beauty and the Beast: An Adult Fairytale Romance

by Vivienne Savage

  “There is a pond a short way up this path.” He gestured to a trail between a dense line of hedges too narrow for his large body to traverse.

  Ana lingered at the entrance but made no move to travel further, reluctant to explore deeper into the mountain wilderness by herself. Instead, she gestured to a clearing across the way.

  “What’s that over there? Is it a graveyard?” Ana asked.

  “It is nothing,” the dragon rumbled, only to cross to her opposite side and obstruct her view of the tastefully decorated mourning ground.

  The small cemetery made a stark contrast against the rest of the fortress, the headstones gleaming black marble rising tall, topped with beautiful figures in a perpetual dance. Ana’s brows raised, and then she turned to gaze up at him. “I wouldn’t call a graveyard nothing,” she protested. “Are those the graves of the castle’s former inhabitants?”

  In an instant, he snapped, from docile afternoon companion to fanged terror. He towered above her and snarled, “I said it is nothing!”

  She shrank away and backward a step. “Apologies. I should return to the castle. Th-thank you,” she stammered.

  Beast remained as she hurried away.

  “Princess Anastasia?” Hora called to her as she entered the keep.

  Ana rushed past the castle’s matron with tears rushing down her cheeks. She didn’t stop until she reached the safety of her room and slammed the door shut behind her. With quaking limbs, Ana leaned back against the door and dropped her face into her hands.

  “What have I done?’ she whispered.

  Ana threw herself across the bed and sobbed herself to sleep. Sometime later, she stirred to the sight of a blue sky beyond her window. A handsome, old-fashioned clock on the wall told her barely an hour had passed.

  The nap had left her refreshed but no less wary of her surly yet hospitable host, and she regretted picking over her breakfast. Her belly rumbled to protest its empty state.

  Tap tap.

  Ana’s gaze swung around to her left where the curtains billowed in the wind. A blue bird had flown in through the open window and landed on a small table below it. The creature tapped its beak against a covered silver platter until Ana ventured over for a look and raised the lid. Steam rose from a bowl of creamy tomato soup served with thick slices of dark bread.

  “Do you want some?” She pinched a morsel of the bread and offered it to the bird.

  At the conclusion of her lunch for two, she peeked into the hall. With no sign of Hora or Beast within view, she meandered into the wide corridor and made the library her only friend. The books provided her entertainment, its expansive shelves her security. She read until the sky darkened beyond the window, and without clouds, it became an infinite plane of midnight velvet speckled with glittering celestial bodies.

  Dinner had long passed by the time she returned to her private bedchamber with a bucket in hand. She found her room undisturbed save for the removal of her lunch tray and the scent of roses in the air. Blinking, she proceeded forward to the bathing room and found it transformed.

  Several luxurious burgundy rugs covered the cool floor beneath her bare feet when she moved inside to investigate. Steam arose from the bath nearby, allowing her to pick out notes of other oils she favored. A hint of citrus from bergamot. The musky aroma of sandalwood. Like a child, she clapped her hands then hurried over to trail her fingers through the water.

  The perfect temperature.

  “This can’t be real. This isn’t the same tub; I know how this bathroom appeared this morning,” she muttered.

  But it was real. All real and hers. The tub was embedded in a tall stone slab, and a bather would have to walk up several stairs to step deep within its basin. She stripped out of her clothing and pinned her hair before settling into the water. Its embrace sapped her strength and invigorated her all at once, a strange contrast.

  Afterward, she dressed in a silk night rail and dressing gown before returning on velvet-lined slippers to the bedroom. Those had also awaited her in the bathing room.

  How peculiar. A castle ruled by a dragon with all of the modern conveniences of the recent years he could never appreciate. She doubted Beast could even dip one of his feet into the tub, and giggled at the thought of him trying.

  Did dragons bathe at all? He certainly didn’t smell objectionable—a little earthy, like moist soil and smoke, but not awful.

  “I can make the best of this,” she announced to no one in particular before crawling into the bed. Someone had turned the sheets down the way her mother once did, back when the queen still had a stable mind.

  Ana nestled into the bed and fell fast asleep, for once without worries and without fears.

  His hair reminded her of fire—wild but not unkempt, barely tamed waves reaching his broad shoulders. As he had before, he wore a kilt in the fashion of the people from Cairn Ocland, though she didn’t recognize the tartan from her history lessons. Most of the Oclanders had perished during the Beast Wars, beaten back by the King of Dalborough, and the remaining clans had scattered to escape persecution from the west and slavery from the opportunistic Langese people of the south.

  They were such proud people. Such proud, handsome people, too, she thought, staring into his bright hazel eyes. He appeared as uncertain as she did and hung back to study her.

  “You need not fear me,” he spoke up first.

  “Whoever said I feared you? Maybe I only wanted to stand back for a moment to admire you from afar,” she retorted, keeping her voice light and playful. Flirtatious.

  His frown deepened and a wrinkle formed between his brows. His surprise made Ana doubt whether or not he was a fabrication of some dream or a magical construct of the castle she’d found after wandering from her bed in the middle of the night.

  Is this a waking figment of my imagination or a sleeping fantasy? She recognized each step of the garden down to the blades of untamed grass poking between the stones on the ground.

  Deciding it was definitely a dream, and a very pleasant one to converse with a young man who didn’t paw her, she approached him first. An indescribable urgency like she’d never felt before made her run her fingers through his hair and smooth his untamed waves back from his handsome face. He leaned into her touch.

  It wasn’t proper for a young man and woman to be together alone and unchaperoned. Her mother would have had a fit, and despite the man committing no wrongdoing, her father would have had him thrown into the dungeons for a day or so for having the audacity to enjoy her company, just to remind him of his place and all.

  Thinking back, she realized her father was more of an ass than she’d thought.

  Anastasia felt a smug sense of satisfaction in doing what she wanted in her very own dreamworld, with her very own handsome man from the so-called Savage Plains.

  “You are one of the Beastmen from Ocland, aren’t you?” she asked gently. In some ways, he reminded her of an animal himself. When he pressed his cheek into her fingers and closed his eyes, he resembled a dog happy to greet his master, as did the way his nostrils flared when he breathed her in before letting his nose skim over her wrist. She shivered.

  “Beastmen? Yes. We were called that once.”

  “Then why are you here?” she asked, probing.

  “Where else would I be?” he replied, grinning easily. The consternation had melted away, leaving an easygoing smile in its place. The tension shattered.

  “Riding the plains to the east of this mountain on the back of one of your animals,” she teased. She could easily imagine him astride a griffin, a wild one who had retained his spirit and served out of loyalty and companionship, not because it had been stolen as an egg and slowly had its will broken.

  Her sleeping mind had conjured up the best kind of man, finer than her deceased betrothed and without the condescending bravado. She felt like the nameless warrior would protect her—not endanger or cause harm.

  The thought made her giggle, and her laughter, of course, made the youn
g man tilt his head down to look at her. Studying him, she didn’t think he was as close to her age as she’d previously assumed. He was probably nearer to thirty, but built and chiseled like a laborer. Or a knight who had seen many battles.

  Her dream mind should have conjured him naked, so she could better appreciate his muscles. Instead, he wore a white linen shirt, unfastened at the neck to reveal the dip between the muscles of his fine chest. Brazen confidence drove her to place a palm above his heart, and he froze.

  “What courage you have to brave this fortress,” he whispered. “But will you wield the same tenacity to free me from my imprisonment?”

  “Are you a captive here as well?” she asked.

  “All is not as it seems, lass. You’ll come to see that in time.”

  Then the nameless man raised her hand from his chest and kissed her knuckles before touching his cheek to her palm. He hadn’t shaved recently, and stubble abraded her palm, its color as red as the auburn locks on his shoulders.

  Giving in to impulse, she rose up to her toes and brushed their lips together.

  Anastasia had intended sweet, but what she received was searing passion in return. The young man’s strong arms enfolded her and, in the next second, drew her flush to the masculine length of his torso. Her knees turned to jelly.

  Then his tongue probed her lips, urging them to part. No longer concerned with the weakness in her legs, she melted against him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. As their tongues met, she savored the wild, smoky taste of him.

  Long after the kiss ended, she remained pressed to the prince of her fantasies. Their brows touched, and those beautiful, hazel-green eyes remained on her face—beautiful, hauntingly familiar eyes.

  “Will you tell me your name?” she whispered.

  “Perhaps another time.”

  “Why not now?”

  Another crease lined his brow.

  “Are you unable to tell me?” she asked curiously.

  “No… I… I believe I can.”

  “Then please share your name with me. I’ve told you mine.”

  He was all hard muscle against her body, and the presence of a shirt saddened her. It had been easier to admire those chiseled lines when he was bare-chested.

  At first, her companion said nothing. She glided her fingers through his bold, red strands, and after a moment, he whispered, “My name is Alistair. Prince Alistair of Clan TalDrach. A name I have not said in quite a while.”

  Ana awakened to a bird’s song from the open window, confused and disoriented by the shift. One moment, she’d been hand in hand with a handsome figment of her imagination, and in the next, she was stirring in bed.

  A dream. It had been only a dream after all.

  “Of course it was a dream,” she muttered. “The Cairn Ocland royal family is long gone.”

  While they were a secretive bunch, she thought she would have known for sure if there was a prince. All she’d ever heard about thirteen years ago was their infamous Witch Queen, a fearsome warrior enchantress who rode into battle on the back of a black dragon.

  Ana bathed for a long time and donned a thick, wool dress, finding them in no short supply in the wardrobe.

  She took her breakfast alone without the company of the beast. He never showed, much to her disappointment. Part of her had hoped to see him again and apologize for poking what was obviously a sore spot for him.

  It was a graveyard. Of that, I am certain, Ana decided. Beast had lost someone close to him, and the wounds hadn’t yet healed.

  A morning exploration on the third level discovered an aviary filled with songbirds. Afterward, she spent lunch in the library and discovered a room adjacent to it through a small door filled from wall to wall with tomes on alchemy. Books covered every subject in the field from the poisons of Liang to the healing tonics of Creag Morden.

  Absorbed in a book about elemental magic, she missed her chance to eat, or thought she had until she emerged an hour after noon to find a tray awaiting her on a small table.

  Why hadn’t Hora greeted her?

  After enjoying hot soup and bread, she sipped tea and surrendered her afternoon to reading about the flora of Cairn Ocland. She wanted something to discuss with the man of her dreams and giggled when she realized how preposterous she sounded.

  As if a dream man cared what she spoke to him about.

  Regardless, she became absorbed with the pages, pages that had seen much love. She found notes in the margins written in a delicate script, but she didn’t understand the language. Something told her it was a woman’s handwriting. A simple translation spell transformed the words from the Oclandian language to her native tongue.

  The Witch Queen, she thought. This must be her book.

  Ana returned the ribbon between the pages and closed the leather-bound tome, deciding to take it to her room for reading by candlelight in bed. When she emerged from the small alchemy haven, the sight of Beast passing the window startled her, and she nearly dropped her book.

  Was he looking for her?

  She glanced at the doors and pursed her lips. Since her arrival, she’d noticed certain areas of the castle had dragon-sized entries. The magnificent library had an enormous open space, more than large enough for him to comfortably sit. Odd, she thought, but perhaps the Witch Queen had enjoyed pleasant evenings here with her fearsome dragon on guard.

  Maybe she would invite him to join her next time. The rest of her life was a long time indeed, too long to live in disharmony with her host.

  Chapter

  ANASTASIA CARRIED HER basket to the next tree, her face raised to study its bounty of sweet fruit.

  The palace orchards spanned across acres, seemingly home to every fruit she could desire. She hadn’t expected to find the tropical, orange-fleshed citrus fruits native to Liang’s southern climates, but she’d discovered them and rejoiced.

  “One would think this orchard was fairy-blessed in addition to its enchantments, the way the fruit sways so heavily from each bough but never bends the branches.”

  Hora chuckled. The matron offered her no assistance, and that was well and fine with Ana. She needed the exercise, unacquainted with sitting in a library all day despite her tendencies to value her studies.

  “Tell me, Hora, why do you remain here alone with him?”

  “Where else would I go?” the older woman asked.

  “Another castle perhaps. Your meals are… incredible. I imagine any lord or wealthy noble would be thrilled to have you among the staff. Or even a husband! Is there a husband?” She knew so little about the woman who crossed her path on occasion.

  “There was once, but he is long gone and passed from this world,” Hora said. “I suppose the truth is… I am happy here. My fondest and happiest memories are of serving this household. It binds me here. I can think of no better place I would be.”

  Ana bent to pluck up a fallen apple, its flesh pink and creamy white beneath the peel, unusual and different from the reds and greens she knew at home with their white inside. “Even with Beast?” She glanced up at her companion.

  “Even with Beast. He’s a good one, though he is inexperienced with young, human women. You must excuse him.”

  “He asked me a strange question once,” Ana murmured. “If I could love him.”

  “He means no insult to you with his questions.”

  “I realized it, but in the days since he yelled at me, there are no questions at all. He hasn’t come to me for company,” she said, sighing, “and I don’t know where to find him. One would think a creature of his immense size wouldn’t succeed at hiding so well.”

  “Oh dear,” Hora said. The woman sighed. “He is ashamed to have lost his temper and scared you.”

  “I’m ashamed to have fled in terror as I did,” Ana admitted. “My emotions got the best of me.”

  “Which is natural, Princess Anastasia. We all have emotions and lose control of them at times.”

  Basket full, Ana stepped away from the tree
s and shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare. “Does he always vanish like this? How does a dragon even hide?”

  “We all have our secrets,” Hora replied. “Give him time, Princess, and he’ll come out again. I promise you that. Shall we return?”

  Ana sighed. “I suppose so. Part of me had hoped he would see us.”

  “In time, sweet girl. He knows he’s made a blunder, and he’ll come to you once he can conquer his pride.”

  “All right.” Ana forced a quiet smile and buffed one of the apples against her dress. “I plan to leave these in the dining room as a peace offering. If you cross paths, will you let him know?”

  “Of course. He’s fond of these apples.”

  While quiet and resistant to sharing information about Beast, Hora was a font of information. Ana studied the old woman. “You served the royal family, Hora. What were they like?”

  “Kind,” she replied. “They were kind.”

  “The queen?”

  “Exceptional. She treated all members of this castle staff as if we were family. We wanted for nothing. To her, we weren’t merely servants, we were cherished and loved.” She sighed.

  “And her dragon?”

  “Rua was as protective as any dragon could be of his rider. He gave his life to protect her, and she carried on the fight for some time afterward to protect this castle.”

  “And then she fell,” Ana whispered.

  “Yes. They were outnumbered and taken by surprise.”

  “But why? I’ve read about the war and an account from King Frederick during history lessons. My tutors say Cairn Ocland brought it on themselves for denying the Creator and practicing… awful things.” She swallowed as heat surged to her cheeks. The Oclanders were seen as uncivilized and hedonistic.

  “Greed. It had nothing to do with our customs or our failure to worship your god. It was greed. These mountains are filled with treasure, and it isn’t all gold, Princess Anastasia. Your father knows of the flowers that grow here, but I believe I know what truly lured him to attack.”