“Then rest,” he told her. “Once the moon has risen, I will carry you away from here. By dawn, you will have left this forest for good.”
CHAPTER TEN
Ari edged open the storeroom door and slipped quietly inside, taking care that no sound should drift upstairs to wake Rose. He did not bother to light a candle—he could see just as well in the dark as he could during the day.
Sacks of flour lined the wall nearest the door, traces of white powder showing were several had been removed for use in recent years. Ari saw them and flinched. As a beast, he did not eat bread, but Rose enjoyed having a fresh-baked loaf with her meals. Once she was gone, there would be no reason for the kitchen to make them anymore.
Why is this so difficult for me? Ari wondered, gritting his teeth against the all-consuming ache in his chest. I should be used to people leaving by now. First my father—then Arden and my mother—then Liliath . . . . But Rose is making my heart bleed as if it were being pierced by a thousand thorns.
Straightening as best he could, Ari forced himself to move further into the room—here, various barrels and trunks were stored. The barrels contained wine and basic preserves, but Ari was not interested in those.
Instead, he opened the first trunk he came to and found inside an assortment of spare dishes, while another trunk revealed folds of silken cloth. The third chest he opened was smaller and held three dresses. Ari touched one lightly, taking care not to let his sharp claws rip the delicate material.
He had ordered these dresses made for Rose shortly after her arrival, but she had refused them, claiming they were too exquisite for a peasant girl to wear. Wanting only to please her, Ari had replaced them with simpler gowns, but he had stored the original three away in case Rose should ever change her mind.
Leaving the trunk with the dresses open, Ari continued to make his way around the room. Most of the items he found were for normal household use, but some were remnants from the days when his father had held grand hunting parties at the lodge. Ari made a mental note of the most valuable, beautiful effects as he went along. His circuit complete, he carefully emptied the largest trunk of its contents and began to refill it with the things he had chosen.
* * * * *
Rose slept poorly, too concerned over what the Mirror Room had revealed to truly take her rest. At last, the Beast knocked upon her door, and she leapt out of bed.
“It is time,” he said gravely, leading the way down the stairs.
This is it, Rose thought, I am actually going to leave this place! She had thought she would have to spend the rest of her life at the lodge, and the sudden return of her freedom made her head spin. Unbalanced, Rose tripped, and only the Beast’s quick reflexes kept her from plunging down the steps.
“Thank you,” Rose said, steadying herself.
He turned away. “You have nothing to thank me for.”
Outside, the moon shone full and bright. The Beast gestured for her to climb onto his back, and Rose did so, wrapping her arms securely around his neck. The moment she was settled, he took off for the trees, racing so fast that the air whipped tears into her eyes.
The Beast maintained his initial burst of speed for far longer than Rose would have thought possible, and when he finally did settle into a more sedate pace, it was still much faster than her own legs could have taken her. By the time they had reached the crossroad, Rose’s skin was half-frozen from wind chill.
“How do you get to your home from here?” the Beast asked her, abruptly coming to a halt.
She managed to unclench one hand and point. “I just follow that path, and it lets out of the forest a league from my house.”
The Beast nodded, but instead of letting her down, he set off down the road in the direction she had indicated, his gait smoother now that he was traveling on a beaten path.
Rose gulped. Did the Beast intend to take her all the way to her house? Surely not—it would be far too dangerous! She could imagine all too clearly how her family and the other villagers would react.
Instinctively, Rose opened her mouth to tell the Beast to let her down . . . but then closed it again before she could. It could not hurt to postpone their parting until they were a little closer to the edge of the forest.
With a sigh, Rose laid her head upon the Beast’s shoulder, thinking of the last time she had made such a journey. She had been going the opposite direction, riding a horse that had terrified her nearly as much as her intended destination had. Yet the Beast had not proved the monster she had been expecting—quite the contrary, in fact! He had treated her with the utmost kindness and respect, and over time he had actually become a very close, very dear friend. Only the fact that she could never go home had marred her happiness with him, but now even that was no longer a factor. The Beast had released her from her promise, and for the first time in almost five years, Rose was truly free.
Now here she was, undertaking another journey in the hopes of saving her father’s life. Once more, she feared what she would find at the end of it. The only difference was that this time, she had the Beast as her traveling companion, and his presence was a solace as they journeyed together through the dark night. She would miss him.
With a sigh, Rose snuggled close and shut her eyes. The next thing she knew, the Beast was nudging her awake with one paw.
Rose blinked and sat up. They were still in the forest, but only just—the dense trees ended a few paces away, and she could see the road continuing on past fields and farmlands, beckoning her home. The sky in the distance was a deep purple—the velvety hue that bespoke the hour before dawn.
Stiffly, she climbed down from the Beast’s back.
“Thank you, I—what is that?” she asked, jumping a little as something moved in the trees right behind him.
It was a packing trunk, suspended in midair. It must have been following them the entire time, though Rose had not noticed it until now.
The Beast beckoned the trunk forward. “It is a gift . . . my apology, if you will, to your family and to you. Forcing someone to leave their loved ones against their will . . . I had forgotten what that is like. Tonight, you reminded me how it feels to be torn from someone you care for.”
He looked away. “I am truly sorry for all the anguish I have caused you and your family. I know I cannot change the past or truly make amends for it, but at least the contents of this trunk will ensure your family a comfortable future. When you are with them again, I hope you will not think of your time with me as a total loss. Understand when I say that I cannot bring myself to regret it—only the pain it has caused you.”
Rose waited until he looked at her again and then kissed his dark nose. “My freedom and my family are the only things I have lacked these past few years. Now you have given them both back to me. Thank you. If—when—I return again, whether for a visit or for . . . longer . . . it will be my choice as your friend and not your prisoner.”
His gaze, golden-green in the pre-dawn light, caught and held hers, and she could see the question it contained . . . the question she half-feared, half-desired to hear.
“Rose—” he began, and then broke off with a sigh. The Beast turned and prodded the trunk forward. “Follow her now,” he commanded, “and remember what I told you.”
At her questioning look, he explained, “I commanded its contents to act like normal goods from now on, though they will still obey your orders if you choose to give any. The trunk similarly will follow you home, but once it touches the ground, it will no longer move about on its own unless you tell it to. I would recommend not letting people know these things are enchanted. It could cause . . . problems.”
“All right,” Rose agreed, biting back what almost felt like disappointment, “but there is something more I need to know: how do I find the lodge again? For I truly do mean to come back, if only for a visit.”
The Beast’s expression brightened. “I will have the lantern wait for you at the crossroad. It will hide as before, and only appear at your comma
nd. But in case something happens to it,” he turned and opened the trunk slightly, drawing something out, “I want you to have this.”
He held out a small box to her; puzzled, Rose opened it. Inside was a ring nestled on a velvet cushion.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Beast . . . I—”
“It is nothing,” he said quickly. “Just a ring—well, a guide now. If you put it on and tell it to find me, it will tug at your hand so you go in the right direction.”
“I see.” Rose slipped the ring onto a finger. It was cool against her skin, with a texture like stone rather than metal. In the dim light, she could glimpse a design on the flat part of the ring, but it was still too dark to make out what it was.
“Thank you,” she said.
They stood awkwardly for another moment, but the vision of her father dying was still too strong in Rose’s mind to let her linger long. With a half-smile and wave, she set off down the road and away from the forest, the trunk following silently behind. When she glance back, the Beast was nowhere to be seen.
* * * * *
Rose cautiously opened the front door of her house just as the sun was breaking over the horizon. The sitting room was deserted, and the doors to the two downstairs bedchambers were closed. Rose whispered for the trunk to settle itself in the corner by the fireplace, then tiptoed across the room to her father’s door.
Swallowing down her sudden nerves—what if he had gotten worse?—she pushed the door open.
The room was empty. Even the small possessions she remembered from her youth were gone. Only the bed remained, neatly made as if it had never been slept in.
Choking back tears, Rose backed out of the room and closed the door, leaning against it for support as her shoulders heaving with silent sobs. She was too late!
A slight creak made her glance up in time to see her aunt emerge from the other bedroom, an empty pitcher held loosely in one hand. The woman caught sight of Rose and gasped, the earthenware pitcher falling to the floor with a loud crash.
“Rose?” Aunt Tess asked, stunned.
“Yes, Aunt. I am here.”
The next moment, Rose found herself wrapped in an embrace so tight, she was sure it would bruise her ribs. The hug shattered the last of Rose’s composure into as many pieces as the pitcher.
“Oh, Aunt—my—my father—”
“How did you get here?” Aunt Tess blurted out, unheeding. “We thought you must be . . . it had been so long . . . . Is the beast dead? Did you run away? Will it come after you?”
“No, Aunt,” Rose shook her head. “The Beast released me from my promise when I saw—when the mirrors showed—oh, Aunt!” Fresh sobs overtook Rose, and this time they were far from silent.
“Rose!” cried Adara’s voice, and she wiped her eyes to see both her sisters hurrying down the stairs, their eyes wide. As they fell on her with hugs and kisses, Rose realized that something was different from the mirror’s vision: Adara’s cheeks were bright and full—not pale and thin—and her eyes were unlined with worry; as for Chase, she showed no sign of being with child.
“I—I do not understand,” she stuttered, drawing back slightly. “Father—”
“Oh, of course!” Aunt Tess exclaimed, her eyes falling on the nearest sister. “Chase, go fetch him! He is sure to be in the fields by now—he said he wanted to be plowing by sunrise.”
Chase took off running, and Rose allowed herself to be guided onto a wooden chair, her mind spinning. Her father was not dead?
“But—but where are his things?” she asked, confused. “I opened his room, and they were not there.”
“Sold—along with most everything else—to pay for our dowries,” Adara answered, her voice raw with emotion. Rose glanced around the sitting room and noticed for the first time the lack of its traditional belongings.
“Dowries?”
Adara’s face brightened even further. “Chase and I are getting married! And now you are back, too, and I feel—I feel—deliriously happy!” She sat down hard on another chair.
“I can hardly believe it myself,” Aunt Tess murmured, stroking Rose’s head as though to convince herself that she was real.
Suddenly, the light in the room faltered, and Rose twisted around in her chair to see her father’s silhouette standing in the doorway. She did not even realize she had risen to her feet until his arms were around her, and he was crying into her hair.
“Rose—my Rose—my precious little girl—”
Rose tried to speak, but failed. Instead, she just buried her face in his shoulder, content to simply hold him and never let go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Queen Kariana fought to keep her composure and lost.
“My husband is dying,” she whispered, tears curving in glistening tracks down her cheeks.
Bertard nodded, his eyes wide and terrified. They both knew that the King would soon name him as his heir, and while Bertard had dedicated his life to the logistics of running Nathar, he lived in dread of the day he would be called upon to take the kingdom’s commanding role.
“I beg you, call on the fairies—make them use their magic to cure him,” he plead with the Queen once again.
Kariana shook her head. “Derik will not let me summon them, though I have asked him many times. I think he is still ashamed at how he treated the fairies in the past, and he will not apologize now merely to obtain their aid.”
“But he is the King! He needs to utilize every available option.”
“I know that, but I cannot convince him to do so! Sometimes I wonder whether—whether he—”
“—whether he wants to die,” Bertard finished bluntly.
The Queen cast a quick glance around her receiving room, but the servants and ladies she had ordered away had not yet returned. Relieved, she lowered her voice even further. “The King has suffered much disappointment over the years. Hope is a luxury he no longer permits.”
“And you, My Queen?” Bertard demanded. “Do you still permit yourself to hope?”
She closed her eyes. “I must.”
“Then let me send for the fairies!” he requested fervently. “The fairies and . . . King Tirell.”
She frowned. “We sent for Tirell long ago. He did not deign to answer us . . . not even with a refusal.”
Bertard shrugged. “The messenger never returned, did he? Who is to say King Tirell even received your request?”
Overwhelmed, Kariana stood up abruptly and paced the room, pausing to pull back the hanging slightly that separated them from the royal bedchamber. King Derik lay sleeping on their bed, his face wasted and wan. The poison that was eating him from the inside had ravaged his strong features—she could only imagine what damage it had wrought that she could not see.
She swallowed hard. Always, Kariana had been a wife first and a queen second. She could not lose her husband now—not when there was still a chance they could save him.
“Send for them,” she told Bertard, letting the tapestry fall back into place. “Send for them all.”
* * * * *
Rose did not open the Beast’s trunk for two days—not for lack of curiosity, but because the upheaval caused by her return drove his gift completely from her mind.
Before her family had even started to settle down from the shock of Rose’s return, Jon arrived to call on Adara, starting a new cycle of stunned exclamations and hurried explanations. He recovered his composure quickly, however; Rose, for her part, was delighted to reacquaint herself with the man who had won her sister’s cautious heart. At Adara’s request, Jon left again to fetch Gareth so that Rose could meet Chase’s betrothed, too.
That same afternoon, the village steward stopped by to confirm the report of her return and to ask if Rose thought the Beast would be a danger to the village. The vehemence of her refusal astonished them all, and the steward went away again looking thoughtful.
Over the next two days, many others stopped by the house as well—ostensibly with goods or well wishes for Adara and Chase�
��s upcoming wedding, but it was obvious their real reason was to gawk at Rose, who soon learned to dread a knock on the door.
“You have no idea how odd all this is,” Adara confided to Rose after one such visit. “Most of the villagers stopped talking to us after you left. They thought we were cursed.”
Such hypocrisy filled Rose with righteous anger, and she had to struggle hard not vent it on their unsolicited guests. At the same time, each fresh visitor brought a surge of disappointment as Rose realized that the one person she did want to see had still failed to come by.
It was Aunt Tess who finally brought up the issue of the trunk, demanding to know exactly what was taking up so much space in her sitting room. Surrounded by her family and as keen as they to see what was inside, Rose lifted the heavy lid.
“Oh!” Chase exclaimed, peering over her sister’s shoulder. “Have you ever seen such beautiful clothes?”
“Where did you get these?” Adara wondered, hesitantly reaching out to touch a deep onyx button on a wine-red gown.
“The Beast gave them to me shortly after I arrived, but I gave them back—they were far too fine for me to wear,” Rose replied, stunned to realize that he had kept them all these years.
“I would have worn them,” Chase sighed with desire. She lifted a leaf-green gown out of the trunk and held it close to her body, swishing her hips to make its skirt twirl.
Rose smiled. “It suits you.”
Chase glowed. “Oh, could I wear it, Rose? Just for my wedding? It is so much nicer than my any of my clothes!”
“Of course you can. It is yours,” Rose replied. “And Adara, you must have one, too.”
Adara gently lifted the red dress out of the trunk. “I never thought to own something so fine. It is—look!”
There was no need to ask what had startled Adara. Where the dress had lain, a solid gold goblet glinted up from the trunk.
Riven: A Merged Fairy Tale of Beauty and the Beast & Sleeping Beauty (The Enchanted Rose Trilogy: Book 3) Page 6