You look tired, Princess Sophie… Tara sounded hesitant, and I suspected she would have liked to substitute the word tired for something stronger. Of course, Lottie wouldn’t have commented at all.
“I will admit I have something of an aching head.” I gently massaged my temples before smiling in their direction. “Your master is not the easiest person to talk to.”
Don’t tell me he chased you off before you finished your meal again?
Tara!
Tara ignored Lottie. Would you like me to fetch you some food from the kitchens?
“There is no need, I ate enough.” I sighed. “He does have a bit of a temper, doesn’t he?”
It’s gotten ever so bad since the curse, Tara agreed.
But you’re tired, interjected Lottie. Don’t let us keep you up talking. We’ll help you undress.
As she spoke, I felt the laces at the back of my dress loosen, although I could not feel her hand. I had to suppress a shiver at the strangeness. I had made her experiment with me earlier, and nothing we tried had allowed either of us to make contact with the other. I could not see her, of course, but she had assured me that she was attempting to place her hand on my arm. And yet, each time she got close, her hand seemed to veer away, skimming just above the surface of my skin. I was just glad she could still touch my clothes.
On the other side of the room, a large jug of water lifted into the air and began pouring water into a basin. Tara’s voice sounded from that direction. I would love to see you tell him off one day. I can’t imagine being brave enough myself.
I snorted, and my laces jerked. I suspected Lottie would soon be losing some illusions about princesses and their elegant ways.
“Don’t worry, my knees knock together so loudly he can probably hear them.” I stepped away from the dress which now pooled at my feet.
Tara giggled, so I decided to push for a little information.
“How did he become a Beast? He was obviously a normal man once.”
My dress, which had been floating away from me, paused, and a small splash of water missed the basin and landed on the table.
Oh, how clumsy of me! I promise I’m not usually so careless. Tara sounded breathless as the jug floated down to the table and a towel mopped up the spill.
Any lingering uncertainty disappeared. They had been told not to speak to me about the curse. Which meant I would need to be much less direct in my future attempts. And also, that it was time to resume my search of the castle.
The next morning, I woke to a fresh breakfast laid out next to my bed. No one answered my tentative morning greetings, so it seemed my new maids had already left the room. I ate quickly, eager to return to my explorations. By the time I had finished eating, Lottie had announced her arrival and stood ready to help me dress.
I considered asking her to be my guide, but I worried that such a task might make her uncomfortable. Especially given she was still adjusting to her new role as my maid. Plus, I wasn’t sure that I could take a full day of being called ‘Your Highness’ every five words.
So, once again, I found myself wandering alone through the rooms of the castle. I soon found myself in a new section, one that seemed even more expensively decorated than the parts I had already seen. I shook my head. Such a large building to house only one prince. Yet another example of the Beast’s selfishness.
I had managed to turn myself around in circles twice when I heard a small voice.
What are you doing? Gordon spoke from a shadowy back corner.
“I’m learning my way around the castle. What are you doing?”
I’m hiding.
“Hiding from what?”
From Gilda. She wants me to scrub pots. She says it will be good for me. I don’t see how.
“That is certainly a little mysterious.” He sounded just the way I had always felt when forced to study mathematics. “You seem very young to be working in the castle.”
Gordon sighed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. That’s what I always say. I’m only nine years old, after all. One of the grooms has a son, Michael, who’s nine, too. And he’s always running around outside. But Gilda says that if the prince is housing and feeding me, I must earn my way. She says I need to learn to be grateful. He sighed again. Sometimes it’s hard to be grateful. Especially when I want a second sticky bun, and Gilda says no.
I carefully kept any amusement off my face. “Does Gilda have the care of you? What about your parents?”
I don’t know my parents. Apparently, some of the grooms found me out in the stables when I was just a baby. I wish I could have stayed out there. He sounded dejected.
“In the stables? You’d like to live with the horses?”
With old Matthew. He’s a right one. A more energetic note entered his voice. Have you seen the way he handles the horses? There’s not a one anywhere in the kingdom he couldn’t calm right down. Even the prince has things to learn from old Matthew.
“It’s a pity that I am unable to see him, then. He sounds like a fine stable master.”
Oh, that’s right, I forgot. He spent a moment pondering my predicament. You would think it would be fun to be invisible. But it turns out it doesn’t feel any different from usual. Plus, what’s the use of it when Gilda can still see me?
“What use indeed?” I bit my lip. “So, you would rather have been a groom than a kitchen boy?”
Of course! Who wouldn’t? But, apparently, they all felt that a baby needed a ‘female influence’. Whatever that means. So here I am stuck with Gilda and all the scullery maids.
I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the boy, although he himself seemed much more interested in the horses than his lack of family. And as for the Beast…expecting a young child to earn his keep in such a way? I shook my head. It was despicable. Did he truly have no compassion?
Sudden inspiration struck me. “Gordon, would you like to leave the kitchens for a while and come to work for me?”
Like Tara, you mean? I don’t think I’d make a very good lady’s maid…
It was hard not to laugh at his doubtful tone, but I managed it. “No, I was thinking you could be my page boy.”
Does a page boy have to scrub pots?
“Not a single one.”
Well, in that case I suppose I could give it a try. Do you have your own horse? I could look after her for you.
He sounded so eager that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a page boy’s usual roles didn’t include horse care. “I do, indeed. Her name is Chestnut. But, for now, I was thinking that you could be my guide around the castle. If you grew up here, you must know it very well.”
Oh, I’m the best. I have to be—to keep finding new hiding places where Gilda can’t find me. Did you know I once used the moving cupboard that takes the food between the kitchen and the dining room to hide from her for a whole day? She was watching the door of the kitchen, sure I would come back when I got hungry, but little did she know, I kept using it to sneak back in for food. He sounded extremely proud of this accomplishment.
I paused for a moment as I imagined how easy a task he would find it to hide from me. “If you’re going to be my page boy, Gordon, you must promise you won’t hide from me as you do from Gilda.”
Oh, no, I would never, he assured me. I expected to hear a comment about my royal status, but instead, he added, You’re letting me look after your horse. Chestnut, I should say.
I grinned at being put so effectively in my place–which was apparently well behind my mount. Gaining a guide who seemed to have not the least filter on his words seemed well worth any small bruising to my ego. And, in fact, Chestnut was an extraordinary horse who had borne the trip into Palinar admirably. Perhaps Gordon had the right of it.
It turned out to be difficult to direct a guide when I couldn’t risk telling him my true purpose. Not when the entirety of the staff had shown themselves determined to keep me in the dark. Gordon’s easy chatter could work against me as well as for me.
Still, at least I no longer kept finding myself back in the same room. Gordon showed me all around this more lavish wing of the castle, except for one set of rooms which he blithely informed me belonged to “the prince”.
None of us are allowed in there. Which means it would make the best hiding place, of course. His wistful tone made my lips twitch again. But I daren’t. The prince might eat me.
“Eat you! I’m sure he would not.”
No, you’re probably right. But one of the grooms told me…”
I put up my hand to stop him. I had enough terrible imaginings about my betrothed running around my head without adding to the mix ridiculous horror stories made up to tease children. “No one is going to be eaten. But I dare say it is best if you don’t attempt to hide in there regardless.”
Gordon reluctantly agreed with me, only cheering up again when he remembered that he no longer had any need to hide from scrubbing pots. We had nearly made our way back out of the Beast’s wing, when we passed a door that looked just like all the others. Oh, and there’s the gallery, of course. I suppose you’ve already seen that.
I stopped. “The gallery? You mean a portrait gallery? This door?”
I pushed it open as soon as I heard his confirmation. As much as I tried not to let them, the Beast’s eyes—so human in his otherwise terrifying form—haunted me. And I hadn’t forgotten the overheard conversation of the scullery maids, who had called him handsome as well as scary in the days before the curse. His own castle should have a portrait of him, surely.
The door unexpectedly gave way into a cavernous hall, lined with portraits on every wall. High windows poured light into the space, illuminating the heavy paint and vibrant colors. I ran my eyes down the closest portraits, but could tell from the clothes that they could not be the Beast.
“Gordon? Are you here?”
Yes, Princess Sophie. He sounded like he was already a long way down the hall.
I raised my voice slightly. “Is there a portrait here of the current royal family?”
Of course—it’s that big one. I suspected he was waving, having once again forgotten that I couldn’t see him.
I scanned the walls, hoping to spot one significantly bigger than the others. And, sure enough, I soon found a painting easily twice the size of the others around it. It hung in the middle of the room, dominating the wall.
In the center of the portrait loomed an older man. He wore the crown of Palinar on his head and his hand rested against the hilt of his sheathed sword. I fell back a step as I gazed into his motionless visage. There was a hardness and a cruelty in the lines of his face and the tilt of his eyes that scared me more even than the Beast.
I took a steadying breath.
To the king’s left sat his wife, her daughter standing behind her, posed with one hand on her mother’s shoulder. The two looked so similar as to be startling, Princess Adelaide merely a younger version of her mother. Both appeared gentle from their painted expressions, a soft light in their familiar blue eyes. I remembered that eight-year-old Princess Daisy of Trione had reported that Adelaide had always been kind to her when they had met. Unlike Prince Dominic.
Thinking his true name drew my eyes irresistibly to the other side of the portrait, no longer able to resist the pull of seeing the Beast in his old form. The painting could not have been painted long before the curse—Prince Dominic looked at least seventeen, the age he had been when the other kingdoms lost contact with Palinar.
Once again, the painter had done a masterful work, the face in front of me looking almost frighteningly lifelike. Somehow the artist had even managed to capture something of the intensity of his gaze. Prince Dominic might have inherited his eyes from his mother, but they burned in him in a way they didn’t in her.
The young prince stood slightly separate from the others and back a step. His expression looked distant and cold, but his hand on his sword hilt lacked the aggression of his father’s stance. Once again, I marveled at the nuance the painter had managed to convey.
And I had to admit the scullery maid was right. Prince Dominic had been tall and strong, his face almost too handsome for comfort. The first time I had seen the other princes of these lands was when Lily and I had arrived in Marin and been presented to the court at the opening of the Princess Tourney. Only Dominic had been missing. At the time, I had found Daisy’s older brother, Prince Teddy, cute. I even remembered using the word handsome at one point.
But I knew now I would never even have noticed the others if Prince Dominic had been there, too. Even as young as he must have been when he sat for this portrait, he made Teddy look like a boy. I couldn’t explain exactly why, but it hurt me to look at him as he used to be, his face so closed and hard.
I overheard someone say that King Nicolas wanted theirs to be the biggest of all the pictures. Did you know that they had four horses on the carriage that brought it here from the capital?
How in the kingdoms would I know such a thing? But apparently the question was rhetorical because he forged ahead. Four horses just for a picture. Can you imagine? I’d like to drive four horses, someday. I don’t suppose you brought four horses with you? On your carriage perhaps?
“I’m afraid not. I rode.” I tried to steer the conversation back to the royals, eager to take advantage of the opportunity to talk to someone who didn’t guard their words. “Did you ever meet King Nicolas?”
No. The king never comes here. And I was only three the last time Queen Ruby and Princess Adelaide visited. Gilda tried to lock me in the kitchen the whole time. He sounded scornful of such an attempt. They were here for a week, and on the first day I climbed up to the cooling pies the chef had made for the evening meal. I ate so much I felt sick for days. They let me out after that.
I could easily imagine the havoc a determined three-year-old could wreak on a busy kitchen and felt sorry for everyone involved. I wanted to ask him what had happened to the rest of the Beast’s family but didn’t want to rush into it in case he clammed up after all and refused to answer any more questions.
“Did the prince not get on with his father?”
Gordon snorted. No one got on with old King Nicolas. He was a monster even without a curse. The adults are always sending me out of the room when they talk about it, so I have to listen at the doors. If you weren’t a princess, I’d tell you some of the stories, but it doesn’t seem right to tell a princess such awful things.
I once again examined King Nicolas, the man who had wanted his own portrait to dominate the gallery. It wasn’t at all hard to believe the man in the picture had done despicable things. His wife, on the other hand…
“And what of Queen Ruby? What stories have you heard about her?”
I don’t need stories, I met her myself. He sounded proud. Well, I was only three, so pretty much a baby, but I remember her, a little. And Princess Adelaide. The princess played with me every day after they let me out of the kitchen. And the queen gave me the biggest red ball you ever saw. He fell silent, apparently dwelling on the magnificence of this gift. I would still have it, too, if Michael hadn’t ‘borrowed’ it and lost it. I tried to make him give me his ball, even if it wasn’t as nice as mine, but he’s a big bully. He dwelt on the injustice of the situation.
“I’m sorry it was lost. If I get the chance, I’ll try to find you another ball.”
Really? That would show up Michael! Make sure it’s a red one, though. His is only brown.
“I’ll do my best. Perhaps I can ask the queen where she got the original one from.”
Ask her? Gordon easily took my bait. You can’t talk to someone who’s been dead for years! Really! Girls. I could easily picture him shaking his head in scorn.
So, Queen Ruby was dead. I glanced between her and her terrifying husband. Did that mean King Nicolas was dead also? I felt guilty for hoping so, but I didn’t think I could cope with both the Beast and his father—at least not if the king was anything like this portrait made him look.
A heaviness gripped me. I had suspected before I came that the missing Palinaran king and queen must be dead, but I had still held out some hope. My eyes once again traveled to the prince. Could the Beast have had some hand in the deaths of his parents? I wouldn’t have even considered the possibility if not for the darkness and misery of the Tourney—a reflection of the Beast himself. And I had now seen his temper first hand.
If he had killed them, would that have been enough to curse his kingdom? It was a chilling possibility, but hard to countenance in the face of his servants’ support—and that of a godmother, supposedly. A godmother, despite the fact that the rest of the kingdoms hadn’t seen one in generations.
But still the seed of doubt lingered.
Chapter 11
Gordon suggested we move on, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the captivating portrait. I took several steps back, trying to get far enough to absorb the scope of the whole family at once. It was strange to see such similar features animated in such different ways.
What are you doing here? The now familiar growl sounded so abruptly that I jumped.
I put a hand on my racing heart and glared at the Beast. “I’m merely entertaining myself in your portrait gallery. I assume you didn’t hang all of these works of art just so you could forbid anyone ever looking at them.”
I didn’t hang any of them. And I would burn this one if it were not for…
When he didn’t continue, I frowned, sure he had been finally about to say something of interest. I glanced as surreptitiously as possible between the Beast himself and this portrait of Prince Dominic. He was recognizable still, especially the eyes. But his current face appeared even more misshapen against the image of what it used to be. Had I made a mistake by searching out his portrait—his previous humanity only highlighting his current beastly state?
This wing is forbidden to you.
I jumped again at the aggression in his tone after such a long silence. “Of course I shall not enter your chambers, but what reason can you have for barring me from this hall?”
A Tale of Beauty and Beast Page 8