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

by Emma Hamm

  The Dread didn’t want her to move. Already, two of them had stopped in her bedroom door and cleared their throats. Apparently more and more of them were finding their voices with her.

  She was less than interested in talking with them.

  They had all stayed silent throughout the nightmare of a dinner party, which only meant they agreed with that monstrous woman. If she was little more than a pet to them, then she would live like a pet.

  Her research required more attentions, anyway. She could waste time by making her way back to her room, crutch in hand, and only a few books in her arms to read for the night. Or she could stay in the place where the research took place.

  She’d already found the perfect spot for her to build a nest. Though she hadn’t been able to drag the mattress down with her, and she’d tried, the pile of blankets and pillows she’d mounded in the library’s corner proved surprisingly comfortable. Amicia had tried it out just before coming up for the last couple boxes of things.

  The mere idea she had things here was ridiculous. At first, she thought she would just be able to move the blankets and pillows. But then she missed the little books she’d brought up that were adventure stories. The candlestick Bernard had given her so she could see in the night. The box of sweet treats she had swiped from him.

  Her list grew longer and longer until she’d finally snuck into the kitchens, gotten herself a crate, and started filling it with all the items she knew she wouldn’t be able to live without.

  Hairbrush, mirror, even a few of the warming rods she could stick in the fire and run underneath her blankets to keep her toes warm in the colder nights. More and more things piled up until she realized this place had become a home to her.

  Only homes had stuff like this. There were memories here that were dear to her, comfort items that made certain she was happy and relaxed.

  When had that happened?

  Shifting the box in her arms, she hunched down to turn the knob of her door. There were only two more boxes worth of stuff, although she could fill a third if she didn’t make these so heavy.

  Her arm ached already, but it felt good to stretch out the muscle. The injury wouldn’t stop her, especially now that she could use it without a sling.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, the curse flying from her lips as the box slid sideways. Amicia sidestepped away from the door, only to find herself back in the same position. Locked in her own room with a box in her arms.

  Logically, she could have put the box down, opened the door, and then picked the box back up. But it was heavy. And her arm was already shaking.

  Trying one more time, she let curses fly through the air until the door opened on its own accord.

  Pausing mid-curse, she looked up at the wall of gray chest now blocking her way. Well, at least she’d gotten most of the room moved before the King of the Dread decided he needed to be involved.

  “Alexandre,” she said, shifting the box so she could dart past him.

  He stepped in her way. “Amicia. What are you doing?”

  “I’m moving to the library.”

  His cat-eye pupils expanded. “Why are you moving to the library when you have a good room here?”

  “I think it will be easier to finish my research in the library where I am surrounded by books. I’ll be able to research for much longer without having to bring books up and down the stairs.” She stuck out her splinted leg and wiggled it. “This makes things a little more difficult.”

  “Yes, I understand it may be hard for you to manage the stairs.” He crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t move at all. “However, you may ask any of the Dread to procure a volume for you while you’re upstairs.”

  “So I needn’t move at all?” She blew another strand of hair out of her face. “I think the Dread have made it very clear everyone has the same opinion of their little pet human. I can manage on my own.”

  “That’s what this is about?” Alexandre shifted again when she tried to move, pushing her farther back into the room with just his bulk.

  She had difficulty walking without the crutch, a new improvement on her condition, but with him bumping her backward, her leg nearly gave out. “This is about me having more time to research.”

  “This is about jealousy, again. Amicia, whatever Vivienne said was nothing more than fabrication.”

  “It’s the truth.” Though the words hurt to say, she knew they would strike him where he was weakest.

  Alexandre flinched, his head tilting to the side as though he were dodging a blow. “What do you mean, it’s the truth? What she said—”

  “Was what she believed,” Amicia interrupted. “And what others believe as well. And she’s not wrong, Alexandre. I am a weed in a garden of roses. I don’t belong in a room like this, and I certainly need not wear these lovely dresses. I’m happier in wool and linen than silk and velvet. I belong in the servants quarters or the library, and that’s where I’m happiest.”

  He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find words before he finally straightened his shoulders and set his jaw. “I won’t allow it.”

  “You don’t have a choice in the matter.” Amicia tried to scoot past him again, setting her shoulder against his chest and shoving hard.

  They both froze the moment her bare shoulder touched his bare chest. Heat bloomed through the contact, a strange heat that made the back of her neck warm.

  He wasn’t rough like the others. The few Dread she’d touched before always felt as though callouses covered their entire body. The abrasive texture made her dislike them even more. But him? The King of the Dread was smooth as the velvet she said she didn’t need.

  A ragged breath escaped her lips. “Please move.”

  “I’d feel better if you remained in this room.”

  “Move Vivienne in. She used to be a noblewoman and deserves such lavish quarters.”

  “Amicia—”

  She couldn’t listen to this anymore. She couldn’t stand here and talk about that woman as though it didn’t make her stomach churn at the mere thought. She still pressed her shoulder against his chest and it was so warm, so comforting, so…

  No. This was nothing more than her brain trying to make her like her captor. This was just an excuse, so she didn’t feel like she was trapped any longer. She needed to be smarter than this. Better.

  Her father had been the smartest man in Little Marsh, and she needed to uphold that intelligence. She would not fall prey to her own mind wanting to seek the easiest route.

  Although, it felt good to lean on him for a few moments. And he wasn’t trying to convince her to do anything. He just stood there, letting her lean against his chest and draw whatever strength she could from his broad shoulders.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to move away and limp past him. The leg he had broken ached. The arm he had snapped suffered under the weight of the items he had given her.

  Everything was all twisted up in her head. She needed space. Time away from him so she could untangle the thoughts in her mind.

  “Amicia!” he called out.

  She didn’t stop her slow progress down the hall. Alexandre could try to distract her all he wanted, but she would make it to the library and put her box down with all the others.

  She would empty it out when she got there like she had the past four times. If he wanted to hover while she worked, then he could. But she would not stop just because he ordered her to.

  A low snarl rumbled through the hallway and the telltale sound of wind rushing through wings meant he had flown the last few steps so he was beside her once more. “Amicia, this is ridiculous. If you want to argue with me, then would you just argue?”

  “I don’t want to argue with you.” She eyed the stairs that had nearly bested her three times now. Thankfully, the library was only one floor below her bedroom.

  “Then why are you moving?”

  “I’ve answered this question a hundred times, Alexandre. I’ll not answer it again.”
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  “You’ve answered it once,” he growled. He reached out and cupped a hand at her elbow, helped her down the stairs. “And it wasn’t a satisfactory answer.”

  Amicia wanted to shrug him off, but having someone help her balance proved to make the journey easier. Her arm was already trembling with the pain. “A satisfactory answer isn’t always agreeing with you, Alexandre. Sometimes, it’s just the truth.”

  “I disagree.”

  “That’s because you’ve lived as a prince your entire life, and everyone has to agree with you.”

  “I have not!” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “That I remember.”

  The stairs would have been easier to manage if the carpet wasn’t torn up in pieces. She tripped on the edge of one before he steadied her. “I don’t need to tell you that not remembering who you were only makes my point more logical than yours.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I’m basing my assumptions on your behavior. You’re basing your assumptions on not wanting me to be right.” They reached the end of the stairwell and Amicia shrugged his touch off her arm that still tingled with heat. “You were most likely a prince, or some other nobleman if you were engaged to Vivienne. Which you were. More people than just Vivienne remember that bit of memory.”

  Alexandre rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as if it could give him the patience to deal with her. “And we’re back to the jealousy.”

  “I’m not jealous!” Her voice rang out and clear through the hallway. The words bounced back to them over and over again, warping the lie. “She can have you if she wishes. All I want is to get out of this place. I want to stay in the library so I can research longer.”

  “You already have the only book that could give you any insight on what is going on here. And it is not revealing its secrets just yet.” Alexandre stepped closer until she could feel his belly expand with each inhalation. “We live in the same chateau, petite souris. You cannot run from me just by changing rooms.”

  “I’m not running.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She was. Running as far as she could just so she could breathe a little more. His presence overwhelmed her. Maybe if she was in the library, she wouldn’t hear his tormented shouts in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t want to return to his room just to hold his hand so he could get at least one restful sleep.

  All these feelings were just her natural desire to help. Her soft touch, the part of her that bled for people who were hurting. That was what drew her to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “My arm is hurting,” she muttered, moving past him and into the open door of the library.

  Amicia slammed the box onto the nearest table, dragging items out of it and placing them wherever she could think to put them. It didn’t matter if they were haphazardly thrown around the place. This was to be her new room, and no one came into the library except…

  Him.

  Had she put herself in the only place in the entire chateau where she knew they would have some time alone together?

  Shock had her freezing long enough for Alexandre to saunter into the library. He stared at the broken windows thoughtfully. “Well, if you plan on staying here, then perhaps I should have the windows boarded up.”

  “No thank you.”

  “It’s cold.”

  “I don’t mind the cold,” she snapped, whirling upon him with a sudden burst of anger. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not some delicate little noble who needs you to take care of her? I’ve survived worse than this frigid air. You threw me from the roof and I survived. A little cold will not take me. Now get out of the library.”

  “It is my chateau, you know?” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “I can go anywhere I want.”

  “Yes, you can, but now that I’m in the library permanently, I’d very much appreciate you asking if you can come in. Wouldn’t want to have an awkward meeting when I’m changing, now would we?” She nodded toward the door. “You can go now.”

  Remarkably, he stalked to the exit and began to leave. As if he understood she needed privacy and was comfortable to give up his most sacred place in the entire chateau.

  She hadn’t thought her speech would work, and yet, it had.

  Amicia trailed along behind him, putting her hand on the door, ready to snap it shut in his face. Expect, when he turned around, she noticed something rather odd about his mouth. His lips weren’t pushed out as much. They were… well, flatter.

  Furrowing her brow, she leaned a little closer as he began to talk. “I wish you would reconsider, Amicia. This chateau still isn’t all that safe for you—”

  “Yes, yes. Dangerous, poor little human can’t take care of herself, and you wish she would listen. I’ve heard it before, and I’ll be fine.” She leaned back, distracted by the proof of change she had just seen for herself. “By the way, your fangs are gone.”

  He blinked at her, his jaw falling open for a second before he snapped it shut. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean it quite literally.” Amicia reached up and tapped her own mouth. “Gone.”

  Then she slammed the door shut in his face. What in the world was going on in this chateau? Blooming roses and missing fangs?

  Chapter 28

  Alexandre buried his nose in the book a little further, holding it up as a shield so he could watch her buzzing around the library like some kind of demented bee. What woman cleaned this much? She had claimed moving into this space was just so she could research more, but he hadn’t seen her research at all this morning.

  He’d come here intending to force her back into the privacy of her room. He’d even ordered a few of the Dread to pop in and meander around the shelves. They couldn’t read, although he wasn’t sure why, but they could make it difficult for her to research.

  But she wasn’t researching. Instead, she gave up on reading and started cleaning. Of all things!

  When she’d left the library, he’d felt a thrill of accomplishment. Then she had returned with a bucket, mop, and broom.

  Damned woman always seemed to be one step ahead of him. He slouched in his chair, staring at her over the pages of the book as she precariously balanced on a ladder and reached with the broom to wipe away some spiderwebs.

  “Stop staring at me,” she said, her voice ringing through the rafters.

  “I’m not staring,” he grumbled. “And the library isn’t dirty.”

  “It is dirty. It looks as though no one has even attempted to clean the place in years, and I believe there’s a hundred spiders up here making their little families and nests.”

  Alexandre snapped his book shut. “Then perhaps you should let them live their lives, woman.”

  “Woman?” She held onto a rung and swung a bit to stare at him. The mere movement gave him a heart attack. Did she want to fall?

  “Would you prefer it if I returned to calling you petite souris?”

  “I have a name,” she snarled.

  She was so pretty when she was angry. Heat turned her cheeks a lovely shade of pink and made her freckles stand out all the more. The dark waves of her hair were far too pretty for him to focus on anything else. The light reflected off the strands in blues and purples the color was so dark.

  A voice in his head said to keep quiet and let her work. He was bothering her when she had finally chosen a place in his chateau to call her own. It was progress, and any progress was good.

  But another voice said to poke and to prod. To tease until she couldn’t stand it anymore and she hopped down off the ladder. The red on her cheeks would reach the tips of her ears, and the sway of her hips when she stalked toward him to scold would only capture his attentions even more. He’d reach out with his clawed hands and place them on the dip of her waist and—

  He needed to focus, damn it. She was his prisoner, he was her captor, and he couldn’t be thinking like this.

  Clearing his throat, he stood from the worn chair. “Give me
one good reason I should allow you to continue cleaning.”

  She lifted a delicate brow. “Because it’s dirty.”

  His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. There wasn’t an argument to that. He knew the library needed cleaning, just like the rest of the chateau.

  And he couldn’t lie and say the difference she’d already created wasn’t visible. The bookshelves looked more like they used to. Back when the entire room gleamed in gold, the chandelier on the ceiling lit with hundreds of candles, and scholars finding the exact volume to help in their research.

  He could almost see them wandering through the shelves, hanging onto the ladders, standing in front of the window silhouetted by the sun.

  A memory? Again?

  All because this little mouse of a woman had cleaned the library. He could feel more memories bubbling in the corners of his mind, tiny flickers of life as it once had been. Details of who he had been and what his life had once been like.

  Alexandre licked his lips, then set his book on the table beside the chair. He made his way toward Amicia. “What can I help clean, then?”

  “You?” She hooked her elbow through the rung and stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Help clean?”

  “Is that so surprising?”

  “Do you even know how?”

  He didn’t, not in the slightest. But it couldn’t be that hard. He ground his teeth and replied, “Just tell me what you want me to do, petite souris.”

  She stared at him for a few more moments before shrugging her shoulders. “Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth. The curtains on the windows are too high for me to remove, but if you could get those down, that would be a good start.”

  “Why are we taking down the curtains? They help keep the heat in.”

  “Because they are filthy. We need to take them outside and beat them.”

  He flared his wings and gave her a feral grin. “What did they do to deserve a beating?”