Gilded Rose: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling (Celestials Book 1)

by Emma Hamm

  “I don’t want to die,” she said, taking another step backward. “This is not my choice.”

  She knew he could speak. She’d heard him talk before, although it had been a grave tone that had sounded more painful than possible. This time, the King of the Dread did not speak to her. He tilted his head and took another lumbering step forward.

  “I want to stay human.” Amicia couldn’t let him do this without knowing she didn’t want it.

  He took another step forward. She took one more step back, the last one she could give him without tumbling over the edge of the roof.

  She glanced over her shoulder and stared down at the ground. So far below her. She wouldn’t survive a fall; there was no chance of that. Which meant she had to stop here, and he finally had her.

  Could she throw herself over the edge? That would prevent him from doing what she didn’t want him to do. Her father had taken his own life. Or… he’d had her do it. He’d prevented them from changing him because he’d known it was a fate worse than death.

  And yet the Dread in the kitchen had been kind. It had fed her, and it hadn’t told the others where she was. At least, she didn’t think it had. Perhaps the tomb had been a trap.

  She screwed up her face at the thoughts and shook her head. “I have too many questions that have yet to be answered!” Her shout fell onto the snow, limp and tired. “I want to know what is happening here. I want to know what happened to you, who that man in the tomb is, why some of you can speak and others cannot! You cannot take away my mind when there are so many questions left unanswered.”

  That seemed to elicit some kind of response from the monster before her. Something flickered in his gaze. A recognition, perhaps. A thought or a memory that drifted before his eyes, only to be swallowed once more by rage and hatred.

  The King of the Dread lunged forward and grasped her by the throat. She held her breath, kicking her legs and holding onto the thick wrists that lifted her higher and higher into the air.

  She dangled over the edge and sent a single prayer to the heavens. Whatever god was listening, please, save her.

  The King drew her closer to his face. Close enough to see that his eyes weren’t completely yellow. There was a ring of red around the outside. And fangs poked out from his bottom jaw and overlapped his lips just a little.

  “You should never have come here,” he snarled. His voice boomed through her mind, quietly as it was said, until she could think of nothing else.

  She dug her nails into his wrists and croaked back, “On that, we agree.”

  He lifted a brow, and the same strange expression crossed his face. An expression she couldn’t put her finger on. For a second, she thought he might let her go.

  And let her go, he did.

  Her fingers slipped off his wrist as he opened his hand and dropped her off the roof of the chateau.

  Chapter 12

  Pain consumed her body in licks of great flames. She couldn’t think past the sharp burn stretching from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes. She tried to recount the injuries, to focus on just one pain, but found she couldn’t pick just one.

  Something had scraped her cheek; the entire left side of her face felt raw, like she’d fallen onto a grater the cheesemongers used. She lifted a hand to touch the heat plaguing her face, only to drop her hand at the sizzling ache.

  In particular, her right arm felt… wrong. She could tell her fingers were swollen. She attempted to open the fingers, but they wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she focused.

  A soft sound, a whimper, escaped, a breath of agony reminding her she was still alive.

  Recounting all the pieces of her injured body, she moved her attention to her left leg. Burning, inflamed, so harmed that she wanted to forget it was attached to her body.

  The thick bone of her thigh shot spikes of hot pain straight up her spine to the base of her skull where it throbbed and screamed. She couldn’t feel her foot, knee, anything below that point.

  Had she lost the leg? No. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten herself in this situation. But she was still herself, and that must mean she was no longer with the Dread.

  She let out another soft sound, hoping someone would notice she was awake and needed help. Even taking a deep breath was too much. When she inhaled, needles jabbed into her chest.

  Broken ribs, must be. She’d seen someone get kicked in the chest by a donkey once, and that’s how the little boy had described the feeling in his ribs. Like someone was squeezing him in a hug that was too tight. Every movement poked his lungs, and that’s how she felt.

  “Please,” she croaked, “water.”

  She blinked her eyes open. Herbs hung from the ceiling. Basil, parsley, lavender, all preserved for the winter that would be here soon. Or was it already winter? Her thoughts were all scattered.

  The scraping of a chair against the stone floor meant she wasn’t alone. Thank gods. She could feel a splint on her leg now that the fog of pain had passed. And someone was watching her, which meant the bed cushioning her was in a medic’s home… But why would a medic have herbs hanging from their ceiling?

  The second scraping sound wasn’t from a chair. Some memory flickered in her mind. The grind of wings against the floor, fists pounding through walls, and yellow eyes staring at her through the holes.

  Hunted.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t control the shallow breaths that turned into hesitant gasps. Her ribs protested, but she now remembered everything.

  The roof. She’d been thrown off the roof like trash, and no one had cared. None of the beasts had tried to stop their king.

  And the king. He had been a true monster. Those eyes that had stared back at her were pulled straight from the skull of a demon and set into a face much worse than the bowels of Hell could create.

  There had been no mercy in those eyes. The strong set of his jaw, the frown that furrowed his brow, the rage that had set his teeth, these emotions spoke of a soul who wanted nothing more than to destroy her. And he had. He’d thrown her three stories into a blizzard.

  Her hair had tangled in front of her face, but she had still seen him as she’d fallen. A dark silhouette against the storm that had opened up once more to pour snow down upon them like sharp shards of glass. He’d spread his red and black wings wide and roared to the clouds.

  She didn’t remember hitting the ground. Only flight before nothing at all.

  How had she survived?

  A grotesque face appeared in her line of vision as a Dread bent over her. The one from the kitchen, she thought, although it was hard to tell any of them apart. Its slate gray skin was a little different from the ones she’d seen up close, however. This one was a little darker than the others, a little chalkier perhaps, but certainly darker.

  “Are you awake?” it asked, the words slurring as it tried to speak around the fangs poking up from its bottom jaw.

  She didn’t want to respond to one of the Dread. She wanted to shrink back into the darkness of pain and anguish.

  But her throat needed water and her tongue had dried to the top of her mouth. Working through the dryness, she managed a, “Water,” before her ability to speak disappeared once more.

  The frown on the Dread’s face deepened. “Stay where you are, mademoiselle.”

  She couldn’t even move her hand. If they wanted to keep her where she was, that would be easy enough. Amicia couldn’t protest, however, not yet. Once she got water, she would give this Dread a piece of her mind.

  She’d assumed they wanted to turn her. They’d done that to Remy, after all. Why was she any different?

  The Dread appeared once more with a tankard in its hand. The beast held out the water to her and said, “Your water.”

  Amicia stared at it with desire. She tried to lift her hand, but damned if she could manage it. Her swollen fingers ached and the other arm felt like it was… tied down? Why couldn’t she lift her uninjured arm?

  “Oh,�
� the beast muttered. “That’s right. You wouldn’t be able to. Here.” It leaned forward and slid a clawed hand underneath her back. Gently, it lifted her up and pressed the tankard against her mouth.

  Amicia gulped mouthfuls of the cool liquid like it was some magic potion to heal all her wounds. And perhaps it could. As the water slid down into her stomach, she felt a burst of relief and life pour into her body.

  The Dread helped her back down, but even that movement exhausted her. She tried to still her ragged breathing, so it didn’t disturb her lungs too much, then looked around the room.

  She was in the kitchen, the one where the beast had fed her the first time. The golden table was a dead giveaway, although she didn’t know why she was here. Of all places, they’d taken her to the kitchens? Were they going to eat her?

  The Dread dragged a stool over to her side. The movement was awkward to watch. Its wings impeded its movements, flopping at its back, catching on the table and underneath the stool until they settled at its sides.

  Heaving a breath, it stared at her with slitted eyes before saying, “You must have questions.”

  “Several.”

  “You are allowed to ask them.” It blinked at her, the eyes too large for its face and the candlelight glinting against its large teeth.

  Amicia wanted to snap a sarcastic response. She could ask as many as she wanted. They didn’t have to answer them.

  But this creature had shown her kindness when none of the others had. It deserved a little more of her respect than those who had tried to see her killed.

  The first question that slipped off her tongue was, perhaps, a foolish one. However, she still asked, “Why did you help me?”

  The Dread’s mouth dropped open for a moment before it cleared its throat. “You are just a girl.”

  Amicia waited for the rest of the explanation, but it became clear the beast would not continue. That was all it planned on saying, as if the words were enough of a reason to feed her. “You wanted to help me because of my sex?”

  “No, because you seem like little more than a child. I don’t enjoy scaring children.”

  Amicia was hardly a child. She should have been married with children by now, but her father had needed her help in the workshop. The beast was kind to think she had aged well, but she wasn’t young by any means. “Thank you… I think.”

  The Dread inclined its head in respect, then glanced up. Was it waiting for more questions?

  “How did I get here?” Amicia asked.

  “We think you came from the nearest town. I don’t know the name, but that is what they assumed.”

  All right. She would need to ask much more specific questions. “How did I come to the kitchens after I was thrown off the roof?” she clarified.

  The beast shifted its wings in clear excitement. Leathery appendages snapped out, high above its head, drawing its back straight and firm. “The Master brought you here to me.”

  “The master.”

  “Yes, he is a good master. Loyal to his people. And he entrusted me to keep you alive.” The beast was obviously proud of such a task, but it did little to explain why she wasn’t dead.

  “He what?”

  The words made little sense. The King of the Dread had tossed her from the roof of the chateau. A decision that was undeniable. He wanted her dead; otherwise he would have dragged her through the broken windows and done whatever he’d wanted to do with her.

  Amicia turned her head on the pillow beneath her, pressing her left cheek against the scratchy fabric. She winced. There had to be some explanation, but she couldn’t think of one. She wanted to prod at the Dread more, to get her questions answered more thoroughly.

  Her gaze fell on the doorway to the kitchens where the shadows parted like a curtain to reveal a much darker form lurking there. The King of the Dread, it had to be. None of the other creatures had eyes like that. Candlelight reflected in them, making them glow a deep red.

  He stared at her with such hunger she worried he would stalk into the room and finish what he’d started. The beast inside him wanted to kill her, that much she knew. He wanted to plunge his claws into her chest and pull out her beating heart just so she could see him devour it before she died.

  She swallowed hard, trying to push the fear down in her chest. Fear would only fuel the rage inside him, and she refused to let him think she was weak. Even wounded, she would meet his gaze without flinching.

  He did not enter the room. Instead, the King of the Dread remained standing in the shadows. Watching her but never moving.

  The Dread beside her continued speaking about what an honor it was to heal her body, but Amicia only caught the end of its words.

  “You have broken many bones in your body, but I have splinted them as best I could. Your leg may not heal naturally, but that is to be expected. I’m afraid doctoring was never one of my talents, but we will get you walking again, mademoiselle. I’m certain of it.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, still staring at the King. “But why did you let me live?”

  Her question wasn’t for the Dread beside her, but for the creature who lurked in the darkness.

  Why hadn’t he finished the job? If he had found her still breathing in the snow, he might have crushed her skull with his foot and been done with it. He could have turned her into one of his own, which he had wanted to do only moments before.

  Instead, he’d carried her in from the storm and given her to the only Dread who didn’t seem to hunger for her blood.

  “Why?” she repeated once more.

  The King of the Dread turned away from her. His thudding footsteps echoed in the halls beyond, melding with the sound of his wings touching the walls and scraping the delicate wallpaper. His tail lashed behind him, the wicked tip glinting.

  The other Dread didn’t appear to react or even know that its master had been standing and listening to them speak. “I’m not sure, but that is a question you might ask him. I’m certain he’d like to see you. It’s all rather odd, if you ask me, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m just a lowly servant.”

  Amicia had more questions to ask, but her body was tired. Exhaustion played across her vision in sparks of light and dark. “Perhaps we will both get our answers. I must rest.”

  “Yes, you should. The best way to heal, after all, is to sleep.”

  Amicia didn’t know if she could ever sleep again. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the glowing red gaze throwing her off a roof. But she wanted answers.

  So she would heal, and she would force him to explain his actions.

  Chapter 13

  “You are, without a doubt, the most difficult patient I have ever treated.”

  Amicia grinned and situated the makeshift crutches underneath her arms. “What luck you must have then! I’m the only patient you’ve ever treated.”

  The Dread harrumphed and jolted forward when Amicia listed to the side. It let out a long sigh before grumbling, “It wasn’t luck which sent you to me.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It was a demon straight out of Hell, and yet you still call him master.”

  One week of feverish ramblings had turned her voice raspy and her throat sore, but at least she could think clearly now. That was a start and the first step toward healing. Amicia was just grateful she felt like herself again.

  The shadows weren’t moving anymore. The fire didn’t burn her body from the toes up. These were a step in the right direction, and a direction she hadn’t thought would be possible.

  The Dread had hovered around her for the entirety of each day. Its master had seemed to relinquish their cook to take care of her. Another strange thing Amicia didn’t understand in the slightest.

  She was certain the creature who looked over her was male. When he helped her to change out of her dirt-smudged dress, he would blush a darker gray. In addition, he was likely a lot younger than he looked.

  Perhaps her own age, or maybe even younger. Although she had seen no children in the Dread�
��s ranks. It made sense they would want to procreate, but wouldn’t their young be small?

  Amicia allowed the Dread to steady her, blew a strand of dark hair out of her eyes, and grinned at the beast. “See? No problem at all.”

  “You’re going to re-break your leg.”

  Maybe, but she couldn’t lay on that bed a moment longer. Now that the Dread weren’t chasing her through the chateau intending to devour her whole, she would get clean. Even if it meant re-breaking her damn leg.

  She tested out the first step and hopped on the second so she wouldn’t jostle her left leg. Her left broken arm made this a rather ungainly movement and one that hurt no matter how hard she tried to favor the side. But she moved, step by step without falling over, which meant she could make it to the bathing house the Dread claimed was outside.

  “See?” she announced, triumphant in her new movement. “I didn’t fall over.”

  “You will.”

  Amicia glanced over her shoulder at the glowering beast. Even now, her heart skipped a beat at the angry expression. She felt the blood drain from her face and her knees grow weak. Was this when the beast decided it didn’t want to put up with her anymore? Was it going to lunge at her?

  The grooves on the Dread’s face deepened, and it let out an angry huff. “Stop it. Whatever that thought was, enough of that. You’ll fall over, and then I must pick you up.”

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “What were you thinking, anyway?”

  Amicia didn’t want to admit it had been fear turning her stomach. The beast had been nothing but kind to her. Admitting such a thing felt like she was letting the King of the Dread win. Not all the Dread were slavering beasts.

  She hoped.

  Shaking her head, she took another lumbering step toward the door and focused on the pain in her bicep. The bone had snapped clean underneath her when she fell, according to the Dread who watched over her. It hadn’t broken through skin, so a simple splint had been easy enough to affix.