‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he managed, before their passion overwhelmed them and any words were lost in mouths and hands and movement and love.
When they were done, they lay together and looked at the sky and laughed and smiled in the way new lovers do, and then kissed some more. Soldiers could have stood over them and Petra wouldn’t have noticed. This was true love. She’d realised it the first time she’d seen him, and her heart had known it the first time she’d heard his distant howl through the forest wall. He was for her, and she was for him. Petra and Toby. Petra and the wolf.
‘Are you hungry?’ he said eventually, gently pushing loose strands of hair out of her face. ‘There’s a bakery just down there. We could get some bread.’
‘What about the first minister’s men?’ she asked.
‘They’re not looking for us, they’re looking for Rumplestiltskin.’ He grinned and got up before pulling her to her feet. ‘And if he’s not carrying a spindle I doubt very much they’d recognise him. Soldiers, as a rule, aren’t the brightest boys. Not in this kingdom at any rate.’
‘Then let’s get some bread.’ She linked her arm through his and they strolled down the path in the sunshine as if they had no cares in the world.
As soon as the waft of baking hit the light breeze, Petra realised just how hungry she was, and they joined the small crowd of early risers waiting for their turn at the baker’s hatch. She was lost in her own thoughts of love and laughter, leaning her body into him, needing as much contact as possible, until she felt Toby’s grip tighten slightly on her arm, and then the words of those around them became more than just background hubbub and her appetite vanished.
‘I just saw the blacksmith’s wife. It came into their house through the back door last night. The blacksmith came down to catch it ripping a haunch of venison they’d been saving apart. He said he’d never seen such a beast. Its eyes glowed, that’s what the blacksmith said.’
‘It’s not natural, everyone knows that. All that blue fur. And twice the size of a normal wolf.’
‘Should be hunted down. Maybe then the forest will open up.’
‘Maybe the wolf’s what’s cursed us.’
Toby mumbled at the baker who presented him with four large freshly baked rolls, and then he tugged Petra away.
‘We’ll go to the queen and she’ll send soldiers to find it. Nowhere to hide with the forest closed round us. They’ll hack it to death. Before it starts coming for the children.’
She kept her arm in his and kept their pace slow as they walked back up the path and the voices faded behind them. Their sentiment echoed loudly in the silence though, Toby’s jaw stayed tight and all smiles were gone.
‘Don’t listen to them,’ Petra said. ‘They’re just stupid gossips.’
‘I would never attack children,’ he said, through gritted teeth.
‘I know,’ Petra said. ‘Forget about them.’ It was easier said than done, and she knew it. ‘Come on, let’s see if the others are awake. Find out where the prince has gone.’
Beautiful as the day was, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief when they were underground again. Whatever she’d said to try and make him feel better, Toby was right to worry. Petra might know very little about court life, but she understood village gossips. It didn’t take much for a few exaggerated words to become blazing torches and pitchforks, and the idea of a mob coming for Toby made her stomach lurch up to her heart and vice versa.
‘No,’ Toby said, when they’d heard the huntsman’s plan. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, I do.’ The huntsman glowered up back from beneath his dark hair. ‘That girl’s dead because I bandaged Beauty’s finger and woke her. I have to put it right.’
‘It has to be put right, yes. But not by you.’
Most of the bread lay half-eaten on their plates, any hunger forgotten after hearing of what the Beast had done, and of the prince’s deal with Rumplestiltskin. Petra felt quite sick. But nothing could prepare her for what came next.
‘I’ll do it.’ Toby said simply. ‘You can all go back to the forest and I’ll stay.’
‘No,’ Petra gasped. ‘That’s stupid. You have to come too.’
‘Why?’ He looked at her, his eyes flashing bitterly. ‘You’ve heard what they said. Why would it be different anywhere else? Wherever I go, I’ll be hunted. At least here I’ll be free.’
‘You can’t!’ Tears sprung to Petra’s eyes. ‘We can’t be apart. I won’t leave you!’
‘You’re better off without me,’ he said. ‘Safer too. When the mob comes, which they eventually will, they won’t take kindly to anyone who’s protected me.’
‘You can’t do it anyway,’ the huntsman sighed. ‘It must happen tonight. You’ll be a wolf.’
‘Wait until the morning,’ Toby said. ‘I can do it then.’
Petra stared at him. The idea of living without him – of knowing that he was just the other side of the wall, living on, young and healthy, as she grew old and died with only the sound of his distant howling drifting through the wood to haunt her – was too much to bear. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.
‘We can’t wait until morning,’ Rumplestiltskin said. ‘It will be too dangerous; the Beast will be too alert. The plan is set for tonight.’
Petra’s head spun. She could see Toby’s distress. He didn’t want to leave her, but neither did he want to spend his life as an outcast. Always lying to people. Always hiding.
‘Wait,’ she said, suddenly. ‘Wait.’ As the perfect thought struck her, she smiled. ‘The curse doesn’t affect the one who wields it?’
Rumplestiltskin nodded.
‘Then I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘Toby can guard the room and I’ll prick her finger.’
11
‘I give you this magic . . .’
The prince was surprised that after the huntsman and Rumplestiltskin had left he did manage to fall asleep for a fitful few hours although he had left all the lamps burning. He met Beauty on the terrace for breakfast and she rose from her chair and dashed towards him, a sweet smile making her face glow.
‘I missed you,’ she whispered, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him. She tasted of the sweet apple she’d been eating, but still his stomach flipped and churned as their lips touched. He focused on the darkness of her hair, so different to the blood-streaked blonde of the Beast who’d tormented him the previous day. He forced the memory away, doing his best to lock it in a far corner of his mind.
‘I missed you too,’ he answered weakly. ‘I barely slept.’ The last part wasn’t a lie. He wondered if she had realised an entire day was missing from her memory. She took his hand and they sat in the sunshine and she talked merrily about their wedding plans as he forced a pastry and some juice inside him. In the bright daylight, and in the presence of her gentleness, it was almost possible to think that all that had happened had been with someone else completely. The girl was good-natured and lovely. She didn’t even sound the same as the other.
‘And how are you both this morning?’
The prince turned to see the first minister standing in the shadow of the awning.
‘Wonderful, thank you,’ Beauty answered, gracing him with an affectionate smile. ‘And what a glorious day.’
‘Just the man,’ the prince said, happy to hear how confident his voice sounded. He may have had a moment of weakness when he failed to defend the servant girl – he knew from the huntsman’s expression that he thought him a coward – but he was brave. How could the huntsman know what it had been like in there? Would he have behaved any differently? Probably not. The prince could be brave. And he would play his part well today. ‘I wanted to have a private dinner tonight. Just Beauty and all her ministers. I’d like to get to know them better – and for them to get to know me – before we have our wedding.’ He smiled at Beauty. ‘I don’t want them to worry that perhaps she’s made a bad choice.’
‘What a lovely idea,’ Beauty exclaimed. ‘But how co
uld they think that?’
The prince stood up and went to kiss her. ‘I would like to make sure. I want you to be proud of me.’
She wrapped her arms round his neck and laughed and then he spun her off the ground and kissed her. More passionately this time. It was strange this allure she had. He ached for her beauty even as he was revolted by the knowledge of the dormant woman who shared her body.
‘This shirt is too hot,’ he said. ‘I need to change. Shall I meet you by the maze?’ he asked her. ‘We could walk and make our plans together.’
She nodded, her face shining with love, and he turned away. The first minister followed him back into the castle, his face thoughtful.
‘How are you feeling this morning, your highness?’
‘Oh, I’m fine.’ The prince smiled. ‘Tired but fine. I had some terrible dreams. I think I might have had a fever. Or too much wine. And that terrible storm raged all night.’ He shuddered as memories of blood and the Beast and the knife rose up unwelcome. ‘But now the sun is shining and all is well.’
He knew he wasn’t looking entirely normal. He could feel himself trembling and there was an entirely surreal quality to the day, as if perhaps this was the dream and all the horrors he’d experienced were the reality that was waiting for him to wake. But perhaps that would help the first minister to believe him.
‘Dreams can be strange things,’ the first minister said reassuringly. ‘I find it best to keep busy and then they fade quickly.’
‘Exactly,’ the prince flashed him a smile. ‘So will you organise the dinner?’
‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘Hopefully your friends will have returned to us by then.’
‘My huntsman is thorough,’ the prince said, balling his hands into fists to stop them trembling. ‘He will return when he has your traitor and not before. Unless your soldiers find him first, of course.’
‘Of course,’ the first minister agreed.
‘And then we can all live happily ever after.’
The prince had never been so happy to close a door behind him. This was going to be a long day.
He did, in part, take the first minister’s advice and kept busy. His stomach was in a knot that somehow the huntsman’s and Rumplestiltskin’s plan would be found out, and then the full wrath of both queen and ministers would land on him. He wasn’t afraid of the dungeons, although he was sure that were he dragged there that would change, but he was afraid of anything that might bring the Beast back. As he walked through the maze with Beauty, pretending to be enthused about finding the right path through it and laughing loudly when they found themselves in yet another dead end, he fought back images of the writhing couples and the extraordinary pleasure he’d felt before the horrors of the serving girl’s death. How could Beauty have wrought it all?
Finally, they found the centre of the maze, a circular space with a waterfall and a stone bench decorated with woodland creatures, and Beauty pulled him towards her and kissed him again, and despite his inner torment he felt himself responding to her. He remembered the full curves of her firm body under the sheer dress the Beast had worn and he felt a sudden urge to rip her clothes from her and take her rough and fast over the bench.
‘I can’t wait until our wedding night,’ she said, softly, her own eyes glazed with longing. ‘When at last we can love each other properly.’
A part of his heart broke then. He couldn’t help it. He had thought she was so perfect – and, here in the maze, she was so perfect – that he wondered if he was still, after everything, a little in love with her. That thought revolted him and instantly all he could see behind his eyes was blood, and the heat of the sun was the feel of it on his skin, and the rush of the waterfall was the sound of her mad laughter as she revelled in death, but still he wanted her. Was that her magic at work, he wondered? How could he tell? If he ever loved a princess again, he decided as they finally strolled back out and towards the castle, he would make sure she was as beautiful on the inside as out before he kissed her. Whatever spell Beauty held over him would soon be over, he comforted himself with that. And when he was gone from here, he would think of her and the Beast no more.
Dinner finally came around and the prince was the perfect host, ensuring everyone’s glasses were constantly full and regaling them with tales of his life back at his father’s castle. He took time to question all the ministers about their families and their roles in the queen’s cabinet and they in turn, as the wine flowed, told him tales of their city that clearly filled them with pride. In the main, he was surprised to realise, they were good men. How much did they love Beauty that they could cope with the Beast? Or were they simply too afraid of her to act? Once again, he felt proud of his own bravery and vital role in the plan to return them to the safety of their slumber. He sipped his wine, careful not to drink too much, and reflected on the huntsman. It was good that he would stay behind and put her back to sleep; that would ensure that when the prince returned home he could tell the story as he wished, with whatever small adjustments were required. This was his adventure; it would be told his way.
‘Goodnight, my love,’ the prince said, about to leave a swaying and giggly Beauty at her bedroom door. ‘Until tomorrow. Until our wedding day.’
Even though his sane mind was desperate to get away from both her and the castle, his heart ached with the knowledge that if all went well, he would never see her face again.
‘I love you so much,’ she said, squeezing him tightly. ‘Tonight, I will go to sleep the happiest girl in the world knowing that you are to be my husband. I’ll be dreaming of you and our happiness until I wake, of how perfect our life will be together.’
He was glad her face was pressed against his chest, because although the prince could be weak and selfish and part of his mind and heart had been more damaged than he could yet imagine by his experiences with the Beast, he did not consider himself a cruel man. The knowledge that he was sending her to her death ached inside him in the echo of her happiness. He did care for her – for this sweet girl – how could anyone not? He felt every one of his flaws like knives in his skin, and for a moment she was only Beauty; there was no Beast.
‘Dream of us forever,’ he whispered. ‘And may your dreams be wonderful.’
‘Oh, they will be,’ she said, squeezing him tighter. ‘My sleep will be wonderful because tomorrow we wed.’
When the prince finally walked away, he did not look back. He couldn’t bring himself to, and then there was the click of a handle turning and she was gone.
‘So, you’re not staying?’ he said, slightly dismayed, when he heard the new plan. They’d arrived together an hour or so after the prince had returned to his room, the wolf – a part of the story that the prince felt he could wait until later to hear about – guarding the room outside while they fetched him. He’d changed back into the clothes he’d arrived in, his royal cloak freshly cleaned, and bundled towels arranged under his sheets to look like someone was sleeping there. With the arrangements made and his things gathered and ready to go, a little of his confidence had returned.
‘It’s better this way,’ Petra said. ‘And he knows the forest and the forest knows him. If anyone has a chance of cutting you out, it’s the huntsman.’
‘Yes,’ the prince said. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ He smiled at the huntsman. ‘It will be good to return together.’ In many ways, on reflection, it would be. The prince wasn’t entirely sure he could find his way through the forest on his own, and he’d had enough adventures for a lifetime. As for how the story was relayed to the king, he doubted the huntsman would care. He was a rough sort, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d know not to contradict the prince. ‘And I shall make sure you are rewarded for your noble offer anyway,’ he finished.
The huntsman simply nodded, but the prince shook the slight away. They were leaving and that was all that mattered.
‘Do you want to stand here all night talking about it, or shall we get on?’ Petra asked. The huntsman grabbed her arm, as sh
e turned towards the door.
‘I’m still not happy about this,’ he said.
‘Well, I am.’ She smiled and her elfin face was transformed into something beautiful. ‘We’ll have a hundred years together, and then after that we’ll get to grow old. What other lovers have had that opportunity?’
Rumplestiltskin was carefully pulling the spindle from his knapsack and the girl looked at him with a strange affection as she opened the bedroom door and led them back out into the corridor, the wolf immediately rubbing itself against her leg. She stepped closer to the huntsman so the old man was out of earshot. ‘When you get back to the forest, tell him he must go to my grandmother’s house and tell her his story.’
‘Why?’
‘Just make sure he does. It’s important. Also, have him tell her to listen for me at the forest wall.’ She reached up and kissed the huntsman on the cheek, and then did the same to the prince before taking the spindle from Rumplestiltskin. ‘Now go.’
‘I give you this magic,’ Rumplestiltskin said. ‘I hope it brings you better luck than it did me.’
Petra smiled at the old man. ‘It will. And we’ll make sure it works this time.’
‘Good luck.’ The prince said, his feet itching to be gone. Every second they loitered was another moment they could be caught.
‘Three hours, remember,’ Petra said. She smiled once more, and then with her red cloak flowing behind her and the blue wolf leading her, she turned and ran down the corridor towards the queen’s apartments.
12
‘See to the queen!’
The forest wall was battling them every inch of the way as the three men hacked and squeezed their way through the branches and vines, repeating the method the huntsman, Petra and the prince had used, holding a small space open while they cut through to the next. None spoke as they worked, all three aware that they weren’t going fast enough. The forest had been tough before but this time the branches seemed aggressive. Even before they’d travelled the first foot, the prince’s shirt had been torn, leaving a small piece of cloth flapping on a thorn behind them.
Beauty Page 11