The Rose and the Balloon: A Beauty and the Beast Story (Once Upon a Twist Tales Book 1)

by Kirsten Fichter

  And that might wound him more than her bitter words.

  SEVEN

  “Look! Look!” Queen Maeva tugged on Janelle's hand. “It has a pink balloon, so it looks like a giant rose! Isn't it pretty?”

  Janelle repositioned her fingers so that the queen's tight grip wouldn't cut off the circulation in her hand. “It is very pretty,” she said, looking at the giant balloon being constructed in front of her. The shimmering pink fabrics really did give the impression that it was a giant rose. Janelle couldn't imagine what it might look like sailing in the blue sky.

  Crazy Maeva beamed in satisfaction. “I had it specially designed, you know. We're going to sail it over the flora show tomorrow. Do you think the minister will like it?”

  “I cannot think that he won't.”

  “Good.” The queen wriggled happily. “So, when's the wedding?”

  Janelle had gotten used to her blunt comments but this one took her back a little. “Um... well... I haven't gotten the chance to discuss that with Dmitri.”

  “Hurry up and discuss it then. These things don't plan themselves.” Crazy Maeva squeezed her hand. “I can't wait for you to be his wife. It's all going to be so wonderful.”

  Janelle sighed. How do you tell a mother that you can't fulfill her deepest wish? And how long do we need to keep that fact from her? She hated the secrecy; it felt too much like an outright deception. The queen deserved to know. Was there a gentle way she could introduce it to make her understand?

  “Your Majesty, may I ask you something?”

  Crazy Maeva grinned at her. “Anything, deary.”

  “Why do you want Dmitri to get married so much?”

  “Because he needs a wife. He is too serious, and he needs to learn how to love again.” The queen lowered her voice. “I know I'm just a little crazy, but I'm still his mother. I know what he needs. And what he needs is a wife.”

  “But what if he isn't ready?”

  She laughed. “Oh, he's ready. He's twenty-four, you know. And even though he's got this big castle, and me, and the twins, he's lonely.” Heaving a sigh, Crazy Maeva turned away. “He's been lonely ever since his father died, poor thing. They used to be great friends; they did everything together. And then after my husband died, Dmitri thrust himself into the role of leadership and has been miserable ever since.”

  Janelle stood, marveling at the queen's words. True, she may be crazy, but she still retained a great deal of understanding. She loved her family, and she knew when they were in pain – and why they were in pain. Janelle didn't think she'd ever heard something like that from the queen before. Many people were too eager to write her off as insane, so eager, in fact, that they often missed the fact that she still cared. She still could comprehend.

  Crazy Maeva patted her hand. “I know you and Dmitri have had some cross words in the past, but don't let it get you down. He needs to love, deary. And I think you can teach him. He's just cross because he's got so much on his shoulders. Let him breathe, and love him all the while, and he'll be fine.”

  Janelle felt her own shoulders sag. “That's the problem. I don't love him.”

  “No?” Janelle hadn't intended on the queen overhearing her remark, but she caught it anyway. “You might not now, but I know you will. He's a fine young man, and you're a wonderful girl. Give it some time. You must like him somehow, because you wouldn't enjoy arguing with him as much as you do. Oh, look! They're attaching the basket now!”

  But the excitement of the balloon was gone for Janelle. Did she really enjoy arguing with Dmitri? She enjoyed besting him, humiliating him, putting him in his place, and that wasn't the same thing, right? Besides, there was a difference between liking a good argument and liking a person. Especially when that person was Dmitri.

  She looked back to Crazy Maeva. The queen loved her son – there was no doubt whatsoever about that. She knew that below the gruffness that surrounded him, Dmitri was a real person. He was only bruised from the past, struggling to maintain the present, and worried about the future. Have I really just been misjudging him all this time, Lord?

  With a guilty feeling, she realized that she had been the one not only to start most of their arguments, but she'd also been looking for the dissension in every one of their encounters. It wasn't so much that she argued, but that she pushed the argument without just cause. True, Dmitri had been partly responsible for destroying their house, but he had acted to save his brother's life. He had scolded Nicoline about the feather duster puppet because he was concerned about her safety. Even their current engagement hadn't been his doing. No – Dmitri had made it very clear he didn't want to marry her from the start, but he only kept up the façade to please his mother.

  And then Janelle herself had threatened the one thing he kept to himself, his one secret, his beloved project. He had every right to throw me out. I was trespassing where I didn't belong and meddling with things that weren't mine.

  She bit her lip. And he followed you, Janelle Roux. He tried to apologize after dinner that night, and what did you do? You were horrible to him. You wouldn't even let him talk, explain himself. Somehow talking to herself only made the guilt all the worse. You owe him an apology more than he owes you one.

  Her heart sunk even lower. I'm so sorry, Lord. She realized she wanted to make amends, to start over, but how? Dmitri hadn't spoken to her since, not since he had tried to apologize. Every time their paths crossed in the hall, he avoided her as if he was frightened of her.

  Janelle straightened so quickly it made Crazy Maeva jump beside her. The arguments had gone far enough. She would make things right. She would apologize to Dmitri.

  She just didn't know when.

  ~*~

  The day of the flora show dawned bright and too early in Janelle's opinion. Her father awoke her at sunrise to take her down to examine the roses before breakfast. His vase was already arranged, and had been rearranged no less than seven times, but he still was not convinced of its perfection.

  “Should I have chosen a simpler vase?” he asked Janelle, concern wrinkling his brow. “The queen said I might have my pick of whatever I could find, and this one was already in my room. Should I have gotten a different one?”

  His daughter glanced down at the vase. It was simple, in its own right, but the cut crystal was elegantly designed with diamond-shaped marks covering the lower curves. “Father, it’s beautiful.”

  He looked at her, his attention suddenly cut from the roses. “That's it? Where's the you're amazing or you'll win for certain that you usually give me? Is something wrong, Janelle?”

  “N-no, nothing's wrong.”

  Lord Roux took her hand. “That's not the answer I was looking for. Come now, you can't hide what you feel from me. I'm your father. I know when something's bothering you.” When she didn't speak at first, he sighed. “This must be partly my fault. I know I've been so involved with the show, and I am truly sorry for that. Janelle, my darling daughter, I feel that I have neglected you.”

  She forced a small smile. “Well, I can't deny that I have felt a bit neglected.”

  “Can you forgive me? I don't have to enter the show this year.”

  Janelle looked at him in surprise. “Of course, you're forgiven, but you must enter. I know you love it so much, and I wouldn't want to take that away from you.”

  “Even if it means I get distracted?”

  His innocent comment brought about a real smile that time, and she threw her arms around him. “Father, it's your little attention to details and your distractions that make you the man you are, and I love you for them.”

  “And I love you, too. More than anything else in the world.” He returned the embrace warmly and then stepped back. “Now, tell me what's on your heart. I know there's something else you're not telling me.”

  Janelle bit her lip. “It's just... well, I had an awful argument with Dmitri the other day, and... and now I'm afraid I'll never get to apologize.”

  “Ah, daughter, young love can be d
ifficult sometimes.”

  “But I really don't think I love him, Father.”

  “Perhaps; perhaps not. But it is a terrible thing to drive a wedge between friends. Why do you think you'll never apologize?”

  “I haven't been able to speak with him since that day. He yelled at me, and I said terrible things back to him. He did come to me, but I was horrible to him. Father, I just couldn't stand to see him, let alone speak with him. What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

  “Surely it can't be that bad,” Lord Roux said, kindly squeezing her fingers in his own. “Dmitri is a little hot-headed, I've noticed, but he'll come around.”

  “Pardon? My lord, my lady?”

  Janelle turned to see a servant bowing in their direction.

  “Prince Dmitri has requested an audience with the lady Janelle Roux in the library.”

  “Dmitri?” She threw a glance at her father.

  He only smiled. “Didn't I say he'd come around? Don't keep him waiting.”

  Janelle never remembered much about running to the library. All she could think about was the angry, despicable things she'd said and how much she wanted to take them all back. She swung through the door, her apology already bubbling from her mouth.

  “Dmitri? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it. I was upset and...” She stopped.

  A man stood at the window, in much the same position that she had stood during her first meeting with the Crown Prince. But instead of the familiar, dark-colored and elegantly tailored vests that characterized Dmitri's wardrobe, this man wore a bright orange shirt, heavy embroidery covering every inch of the puffy sleeves. The shine of his perfect, black boots clashed with the colors of his outfit and, to make his presence even more of a headache, he’d also donned a vibrant purple cloak that dragged a full foot on the ground due to his lack of height.

  It wasn't Dmitri.

  “Adam?”

  Red hair flopped as the duke's son bowed. “My deepest apologies, Janelle, but I did not think you would wish to see me. That is why I used the prince's name.”

  “What do you want?”

  He spread his hands. “Nothing much, nothing much. I only wanted to inquire after your health.”

  “My health?” Janelle stepped back, confused. “I... am fine.”

  “Forgive my asking this, but did you argue with the prince? When you entered, you sounded like you were apologizing.”

  “Oh, it was nothing.”

  Adam Caron cocked his head. “Really? You seemed most sincere and contrite.”

  “Please, Adam...”

  He held up his hands. “It is too presumptuous of me. I am sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. But I was only eager to see that you were all right.”

  “Of course I'm all right.”

  Adam smiled. “I am happy to hear you say that.”

  Janelle only had a moment to wonder at his words before something covered her mouth and the world went black.

  EIGHT

  Dmitri was in a foul mood – again. Even the knowledge that his project was complete couldn't make things better. What was the rose now when he'd made a mess of everything else? He was afraid to approach Janelle lest he provoke her to wrath again. Every time he saw her, all he could think about was the angry words that had passed between them. He knew she hadn't told anyone about the rose yet, but that didn't mean she'd keep it a secret forever.

  He glanced out the window, trying to admire the beauty of the morning. The gardens and courtyard below were all prepared for the flora show that afternoon, but it all mocked Dmitri. This was supposed to be his big moment, his golden opportunity, but everything felt flat. The anticipation that should have consumed him was consumed itself in his anxiety.

  The clock in the corner lightly chimed seven, and Dmitri glanced at it quickly. Breakfast wasn't going to be served until eight. I have time.

  Suddenly motivated to reawaken the dead excitement, he grabbed up his key. His quick strides soon took him out of his room and down the hall. When he was once more surrounded by the familiar heaps of oddities of his work, he tried to take a deep breath. The musty air was something he breathed in normally, but today it tasted different. The once-overlooked corners of the room seemed darker than before, haunting him with deception – betrayal.

  “It'll make things better!”

  But the darkness only mocked his words. Would it?

  “The arrangements are already made,” he said, trying to convince himself as well as the probing restlessness stirring in the air. “I cannot back away now.”

  Even as he said the words, he knew the truth. His plans might have seemed great at one point, but now he saw them for what they really were: selfishness. He couldn't go through with it.

  Dmitri whirled when he heard the door creak. For a moment, he thought it might be Janelle, and his breath caught in anticipation. But the figure that appeared was not feminine.

  “Ah, my dear prince,” Duke Caron said, bowing gracefully and extending his cape out to the fullest. “I had hoped to find you here.”

  Dmitri's brow lowered. “What are you doing here?”

  The duke looked around casually, almost as if he were already acquainted with the contents of the room. “I do realize this is a personal chamber, but I cannot help but express an avid interest in it, Your Highness. Particularly when I seem to have the exact key to fit the lock.”

  The prince's hand flew to his belt. No – his key was still attached to the ring. Then how...?

  Duke Caron smiled and held up an identical key. “Your Highness is prone to losing things, and it was not difficult to procure a copy.”

  Dmitri straightened. “Duke Caron, I don't know what you might be about, but I assure you that you are in violation to the privacy of the royal family. Trespassing where you have no right and procuring such things as copied keys are criminal offenses in the eyes of Rohesia's judges. I must ask that you leave before I am forced to do something I might regret.”

  The duke held out his hands. “Oh, no, no! Your Highness, please! Nothing drastic. I am merely curious in what interests my prince. What lays hidden in this very chamber.”

  The rose still lay covered beneath the blanket, but Dmitri refused to glance in its direction. Does he mean he knows about it? Somehow, that realization was not comforting. “My business is my own, I'm afraid. Any curiosity you might have about me or this room I would ask you quell.”

  Duke Caron shook his head sadly. “But that is just the trouble with curiosity, Your Highness. It cannot be quelled. I fear I am unequally matched to force its submission.” He began walking forward, picking his way through the mess, overly cautious that his cape remained clear of any contact. “The truth is my curiosity does not stem from the secret I do not know, but rather from the one I do.”

  Dmitri fought the urge to step back. “What do you mean?”

  “It's quite simple, really,” Caron replied. “Your rose is without doubt the most glorious piece of flora in the kingdom. Nothing compares at all in the show, in fact. With it, one would most certainly escape the depraved title of second.” His face remained the same apathy as before, yet his eyes hardened as he looked at the prince. “I want it.”

  “Are you mad?” The statement, so innocently given from the duke spiked Dmitri's temper. He already knew about the rose. How much worse could the day get? “You may not have it. I have worked far too long to hand it over to someone else.”

  “I did not think you would just, as you so eloquently put it, hand it over,” the duke said. “I was hoping for something much richer.”

  “A negotiation?” Dmitri snorted. “And what might you have that would equal its value?”

  Duke Caron studied his fingers with an indifferent air. “Oh, nothing much. Only the life of the girl you seem to love. The girl with whom you had a most unfortunate argument with yesterday.”

  “Janelle?” Why was the room spinning? Dmitri wanted to grab something to keep himself upright. The duke had overheard his excha
nge with her the day before? “You wouldn't.”

  Caron sighed. “Your Highness, do not underestimate any man simply because he is fashionable. What I offer is genuine.” His smile turned evil in one, fell swoop. “You see the stakes clearly, now what is your answer?”

  Dmitri's head whirled. I've spent years working on the rose, studying, preparing... No! Nothing can be more important than Janelle's life. She is far more important than a bit of glowing glass. He set his jaw. “Where is Janelle?”

  The duke laughed. “Wise choice, my prince. I consider the negotiations to be complete.” He stretched out his hand as if to shake Dmitri's, but stopped. “Alas, I fear you think poorly of me, and I cringe to understand your opinion. You may prove more useful out of the way, if only to prevent any mischief.”

  The last thing Dmitri remembered was Duke Caron snapping his fingers.

  ~*~

  “Dmitri! Wake up! Dmitri, please!”

  His head swam in agony, and he fought to make sense of the voice. Where am I? He could feel an odd heat coming from above, but a draft drifted over him.

  “Dmitri!” Someone was crying, but his mind was too foggy to discern who it was. “Dmitri, please! I can't do this by myself. I need you. Please, Dmitri!”

  He wanted to move his arms, but they felt like lead. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, demanding peace. Why couldn't he just lie still for a minute? He'd be better in a little bit; he just needed some time to lie still and make some sense of things.

  The sobs didn't go away, but the voice had fallen into soft tones. “Oh, Dmitri, can you hear me? I'm so sorry. I-I was wrong. I shouldn't have judged you so quickly. I was horrible to you, and I intentionally looked for a quarrel. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm asking for it. Please, Dmitri, wake up. I need you. Don't leave me here all alone. Please come back.” A small sob strangled the silence following the words, and then: “I love you.”

  He must be dreaming; that was the explanation. This was some sort of weird nightmare – no, not a nightmare. He wouldn't have heard the words he'd dreamed of in a nightmare. Get up. You have to get up.