“I am no use with words and not fit to speak with her. I would give up my own voice to have Charmeur be the one to convince her to stay with us. He is already half in love with her…as am I.”
Licking her paw, Fleur looked directly at Angel through the cover of branches and gave her a blue-eyed wink.
Half in love? How was that possible?
Angel felt horrible for intruding on his private musings and eased back, careful to not knock any plants over or make a sound. She retreated from the glass house, closing the door silently, and set out for the castle again, wondering why Bestiale sat in the glasshouse talking to himself and why Fleur would lead her there.
Looking up at the sky, she knew she had time to visit the library before supper and set out in that direction. Charmeur was nowhere to be seen, but as she drew close, Angel spotted something draped with a cloth on the terrace he’d been on earlier.
The leaded glass doors to the library opened for her as she approached, and she wondered why the door of the glass house hadn’t done the same. But cats didn’t talk, so she couldn’t very well ask Fleur why. She shed her cloak and the fur-lined boots after entering the room. She would’ve contented herself with the book she’d found interesting the day before, but she desired to know more of the story behind the stained glass.
The fur rug tickled between her toes as she crossed it and sank into the plush chair, her heart racing a little as she recalled what had happened the last time she’d sat there. Breathing deep, she put those arousing thoughts aside, tucked her bare feet beneath her, and looked up at the glass. It blurred, and the images began to reform on the first panel, continuing with the story.
The daughter of the king and queen was their pride and joy, the rose of their kingdom, and beloved by all. The teenager grew lovelier with each passing day, and even more important, she was kind and had a pure heart.
Like any kingdom, the royal residence was always full of gossip. One day the princess overheard a rumor among the servants about the handsome chief gardener who grew the roses she and her mother loved so much. The gossips whispered that he looked so much like the king while the prince closely resembled his mother. Being innocent of the ways of the world, the princess couldn’t understand how it could be that she had another brother. After cajoling the whole tale from her lady’s maid, the princess went in search of the chief gardener. Filled with the idealism that came with youth, she was overjoyed to know she had another brother, despite the circumstances.
She found him on one of the castle balconies, seeing to the care of the climbing rosebushes, and excitedly told him what she had heard.
Seating her on a bench beneath the arbor, he kneeled before her and explained to her the reality of life—that his mother was merely a servant to her father, as was he. The royal blood in his veins was for naught since his birth was illegitimate.
The princess was convinced something could be done.
“You’re damned right it could,” Angel muttered to herself.
The gardener’s heart was touched that she would even notice him, much less care for his situation. She replied that he was her brother, no matter what any gossips said, and she loved him as a sister, regardless that her mother sat on a throne and his mother dusted that throne. She insisted that she could do something, and though he was content with his lot, he told her that his mother was aging and entering her frail years. If he could ask for one thing it would be that she be relieved of her duties and allowed to rest in her old age rather than work until her death or infirmity overtook her.
The next panels told of the princess going to her father, a man of leonine visage, assured of his own importance, and appropriately named King Leo. She found him in the audience chamber, with her mother beside him. The queen was a great beauty possessing a pride and inner strength to match her mate’s, so it was no surprise her name was Lionne. It was after her the castle had been named Castle Le Bijou de Lionne. The Jewel of the Lioness. But with her great strength and pride also came arrogance.
On the other side of the king was the princess’s full blood brother, the crown prince. A young man of lustful reputation, such that his exploits with the castle maids and willing ladies of the court were known far and wide. Few were rumored to have been able to resist his auburn-haired good looks, wit, and courtly charm. And like his parents, he was arrogant and proud.
The court was assembled in the audience chamber for the celebration marking the change of seasons and the bountiful harvest. As the youngest child, and a little bold herself, the princess set out to ask what could be done for the gardener and his mother, assured her father would give her whatever she asked of him. She wanted the gardener as a brother and wouldn’t be satisfied until she obtained his acknowledgement as the king’s son and her half-brother.
The gardener feared for the outcome and how it might hurt the princess’s feelings if her query was rejected. So he watched from the shadows of a doorway leading to the servant’s hallway and listened to what she said.
“Oh, this is a bad idea, sweetie. You should wait and catch him alone when you can sweet-talk him,” Angel murmured, worry growing for the pair of them. There was no way the gardener would want her to embarrass herself.
Before the crowded assemblage, she pleaded his case to her father, and as the gardener feared, the king refused to acknowledge a bastard.
“What a dick.” The image in the window began to fade completely, and Angel sat up straight, nearly dumping Fleur, who had jumped into her lap at some point, onto the floor. “Wait! Don’t go! Sorry! Sorry, magic…enchanted stained glass window thingy! I’ll be quiet and just watch, okay? Please?” A few seconds later, the frozen images returned and reanimated.
The king noticed the attention the princess drew as she begged for the easing of the maid’s duties. Fearing that his courtiers might think he’d gone soft, the king refused that request, as well, saying it was the way of life in his kingdom. If the woman wished to eat, she must work.
The refusal drew the attention of the queen and the prince, and when the princess repeated her request of them, hoping they might sway the king to her cause, they laughed in her face. Because she loved her family, it hurt the princess’s heart that they would laugh at such a serious matter. Knowing her pain was on his behalf, the gardener entered the resplendent gathering, though it was forbidden for an outdoor servant to be there. Clad in his grass-stained breeches and dirty workman’s apron, he bowed before the king and asked him to forgive the princess’s innocent whim. Having inherited his father’s boldness, however, he, too, requested the easing of his mother’s duties. She had served their king and queen unfailingly and without complaint her entire life.
The prince demanded to know where the filthy gardener had found the gall to enter a royal chamber uninvited and to speak to the king in such a fashion. The maid in question rushed forward and begged the royal family’s forgiveness and tried to retreat with the gardener and the young princess in tow, but the foolish prince wouldn’t have it and struck the gardener.
The gardener was a good man, known for both his intellect and kindness, but he was not without a temper and the prince had pricked it greatly, going on to imply that his mother was a whore who had gotten what she deserved and was lucky to have a position in the castle at all.
The prince drew his sword, half in anger and half in jest to entertain the guests by humiliating the gardener. The gardener possessed only the blade he used for pruning and drew it when the prince made clear he intended to draw blood. The situation escalated, and the princess pleaded with them to stop, incensing the prince even more when he realized she was trying to protect a servant over him.
The gardener tried to keep her behind him, to avoid being injured, but she had no regard for her own safety, and when trying to deflect the prince’s sword, it was his own blade that pierced the princess’s innocent heart. He cried out, catching her against him, not caring if the prince struck him down. While he tried to stop the blood flowing from her
wound, the princess whispered to him that it wasn’t his fault. It was hers for thinking she could change the world. She went limp in his arms. His heart was shattered.
Angel sat up, sniffling, and wiped the tears from her eyes as the scene vanished into a rose garden pattern. Fleur gazed at her with concerned eyes and rubbed her head against Angel’s chin, purring as she kneaded her paws into the velvet of Angel’s skirts.
“Thank you, Fleur. Well, that explains why the audience chamber gave me the creeps. That poor sweet princess was trying to do the right thing in that room and got herself killed instead.” Angel’s heart was also saddened for the gardener who had tried to protect her.
Chapter Six
Charmeur stood with his brother before the fireplace in the dining room. The second bell had just rung, and they were both waiting for Angel to appear.
He’d always been proud, easy-going, and he’d always been truthful about who he was. But Fleur had told them that Angel had witnessed more of the story in the stained glass. Shame still filled him for his part in the tragedy that had landed them in this predicament.
Yes, it had been Bestiale’s knife blade that had injured Fleur, but it had been his own conceit and pride that had put it there. He’d thought only of the moment, the sport and the reckless spectacle, but never that someone he cared about might’ve been injured.
It had been no great shock that Bestiale was his half-brother. Anyone looking at the man would’ve been able to spot the resemblance to their father. There had been a time when he’d even questioned his father about it in private.
The thought of a brother, even an illegitimate one, had pleased him—someone to share the hunt with, the womanizing, even—but his father had quickly and vociferously disabused him of that notion. To acknowledge him was to give Charmeur the possibility of competition for his throne. Better to keep him close, under control, and under the king’s yoke. If Charmeur chose to befriend him as an adult, and Bestiale could accept the contact without the acknowledgement, fine. But to recognize him publicly was to make a potential rival of Bestiale, and a useful pawn for those who were always conniving behind the king’s back for more power.
Charmeur’s desire to rule unimpeded had overruled his longing for a brother. It had been because of him that they’d all been cursed. And even after he’d accepted his beastly appearance, he’d still taken his anger out on them.
It had been only in the last few maddeningly lonely years that he’d finally come around to the beast he truly was. And because he was truly the bigger man, Bestiale had accepted his companionship without making him beg for forgiveness from them first. They’d finally been able to build the relationship he’d wanted from the beginning. Maybe that was what the enchantress had been waiting for.
Charmeur looked up when Angel padded in on the silent soles of her leather slippers, as beautiful as her angelic namesake.
Bestiale had insisted before Angel’s arrival that Charmeur and their sister remain silent in their mind link unless he asked for their input. Bestiale was a man of action and purpose. He understood the importance of his every word, and to have so many voices in his head confused him and gave him a headache. Charmeur had already apologized and promised to contribute with his own plan later, rather than to add to the problem by talking too much.
Not even purring, Fleur was similarly quiet as she sat staring into the fire, her tail twitching whenever the wood popped. While they’d waited for Angel’s arrival, though, she’d cautioned Bestiale about revealing further information concerning their curse. If he spoke any portion of why they were held in their present forms with the seasons suspended before Angel found it out for herself, it could very well transport Angel back to her world with potential harm for her and eternal beast-hood for the three of them.
“Good evening, Angel,” Bestiale murmured, self-conscious as always of his perpetually hoarse voice—something else that Charmeur could blame himself for.
“Hello.”
Bestiale held out his hand, remembering to take care with his claws, a gesture which Charmeur was thankful she allowed, and his brother helped her into her seat.
Charmeur worried for the moment she made the connection—if she hadn’t already—that it was his foolishness that had gotten them into their present circumstances. She seemed to like him, or at least to not fear him, and he didn’t want that to change. The years, the loneliness, and the guilt of having hurt someone he loved would all pale if she looked at him as a true beast.
Fleur joined them at the table, and when Bestiale glanced her way as he took his seat, she remained silent, which seemed to surprise him. Instead of chattering as a teenaged sister would do, she simply stepped along Bestiale’s big shoulders and rubbed her chin against his furred temple before nonchalantly leaping across the table to Charmeur to do the same, as if giving her silent endorsement. Charmeur chuckled silently and reached up to scratch behind her ear, earning a purr and then the sharpening of her claws on his velvet jacket while she giggled. She knew how he hated her damaging his velvets with her infernal claws. He’d let Fleur shred the lot of them if it softened Angel to their cause.
Angel made an appreciative sound as she used her fork to pierce the tender roast beef on her plate. “This looks and smells divine. Speaking of divine scents, the roses in my bedroom are exquisite. Did you put them there?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Bestiale replied with a nod. “They do not compare with your beauty.”
Charmeur gave a definite nod of his head, to confirm that he felt the same say.
Angel settled her gaze directly on him as she chewed and swallowed. She took a sip of her wine, and a tingle swept through him as he watched her lick her lower lip.
She said, “How did you come to be mute? Someone as flirtatious as you must’ve at one time had quite a way with words.”
Charmeur chuckled and murmured softly in the link so as not to distract Bestiale overmuch. She is beautiful and smart, brother.
Bestiale relayed as much to Angel and then added, “Charmeur would have you know that he finds you supremely beautiful, surpassing all others he’s ever known.”
Angel broke into laughter, and a ripple of pleasure coursed up Charmeur’s spine at having inspired the sound, but she hesitated for a moment before she spoke. Finally, she said, “Given how much you flirt with me, I imagine you’ve had a lot of practice…at some point in the past.” She looked down at her plate, but he thought her eyebrow had a little upward tilt. She glanced at him, and he was a little surprised to feel heat rise in his face. He hadn’t blushed in years.
Charmeur thought there was more to what she’d said but remained silent for Bestiale’s benefit, and his brother didn’t inquire what she meant by the comment. She didn’t seem agitated, and she continued to eat as they served themselves from the platters containing fruit. There was meat, but they preferred to consume theirs in a way that she would find revolting.
“I enjoyed exploring in the gardens today,” she announced, watching both of them as she nibbled at her bread.
Charmeur prompted him, and Bestiale said, “Charmeur mentioned he saw you out there and that you have a unique talent for whistling.”
The pearls adorning her tiara shimmered in the firelight as she nodded. “Yes, my Uncle Harrison taught me how to do that during summers when he and my father would take me and my two best friends camping. It was a handy talent when we were out on the lake and the others were on the shore.”
Bestiale swallowed a bite of strawberry, and his face grew serious. “Do you have much family?”
Neither of them had considered that when they proposed they were also asking her to leave behind loved ones.
“Just my uncle and my friends, Caresse and Elaina. They were with me when…well, when all of this happened,” she murmured, waving a hand about the room. “We were camping in a rather remote part of Mount Rainier National Park. That’s where my father and uncle
always took us. Dad passed away last summer.” She took a sip of her wine. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
Charmeur and Bestiale both shook their heads, and Fleur grew still and listened as Bestiale said, “We’re sorry for the loss of your father. I do not know of…Mount Rainier. Is it a beautiful place?”
She seemed to have difficulty swallowing but eventually nodded. “Yes, it’s lovely. One of my favorite places on…Earth. You’ve never heard of it?” She shifted her gaze between them. “Never?”
Bestiale shook his head. “I’m sorry. No. I should like to see a place you care that much about. What of your mother? And no siblings?”
Her lips firmed, and she gave a dry chuckle before taking another sip of wine. “Nope. Mom divorced Dad when I was in high school, saying she’d had enough of scraping by. That was before his luck with his investments turned. She tried to come back then, saying he owed her another chance, but we both refused. She and I…don’t have a lot in common. My dad remarried, and unfortunately, he didn’t do any better with the second wife. And now that he’s gone, and I’ve inherited his estate, I have to deal with her. Harrison has been a huge help in that regard.”
“I’m so sorry for your past troubles.”
“It’s not all bad. I have my friends and uncle. For a while I was engaged, but I discovered my fiancé was unfaithful and broke up with him, last week as a matter of fact. That’s why we went on a camping trip—so I could get away from the drama of him begging me to take him back and the paparazzi.”
“Papa—what?” Bestiale asked, glancing at Charmeur and getting a shrug in reply.
Angel shook her head. “It’s not important. I can’t imagine you’d ever have experienced anything like it. Reporters, photographers, journalists popping out at inopportune times, yelling questions, trying to tease gossip out of you, get you riled up so you can give them a good juicy quote about your rat-fink ex-fiancé. My private life, and pain, has become front-page news for tabloid rags.”
Beasts in Winter [Tangere Tales 1] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting) Page 7