by Wendy Mass
Also, he makes me forget about my own appearance, and for that alone, I am grateful.
“Are you all right, miss?” Godfrey asks.
I nearly stumble again as I drag my thoughts back to the present staircase. “Yes, thank you, I am just tired.”
“Did you not sleep well? I can get you a new mattress by tonight.”
“No truly, ’tis fine. I was up late.” I feel my cheeks begin to heat as I add, “Talking with the beast, I mean.”
“He is quite special,” Godfrey says, not looking directly at me. “Is he not?”
I nod, although I know he cannot see me. Before the beast, the only male other than Papa who I had befriended was Handsome. And Handsome did not make me feel like this after less than a day. A pang of guilt strikes me as I realize I have not yet thought of Papa or Clarissa this morning.
The beast awaits me in the dining room. He looks a little tired around the eyes, but otherwise he is quite well groomed. A green ribbon holds his hair back from his face. His cheeks are smooth, and while wide, they frame his face nicely. He catches me looking at him and smiles. I quickly focus on the gold plate before me.
The food is so excellent and plentiful that I manage to eat enough food for three people before the beast offers to take me on a tour of the castle. The first stop is the library. I cannot help but stare. Although I have only the monastery library to compare it to, this is beyond anything I have imagined. Thick velvet rugs and oak-paneled walls, glorious oil paintings on the walls between shelves. And the books! Rows and rows of them. Plain and ornate, ancient and new. Every shelf has a few gaps where the books Papa now owns once rested. To my utter surprise, I find myself feeling guilty that he took them away from this place, which is so clearly their home. And then, of course, I feel guilty for feeling guilty!
“What do you think?” he finally asks.
“Your library is truly magnificent.” I squint at an object on the floor by his foot. “Is that a dead leech?”
He quickly scoops up the bug, pushes open the window, and tosses it out. “What dead leech? Imagine, a beast like myself, the king of the castle, with a dead leech on the library floor.”
I pretend to curtsy. “Again, my humblest apologies. It was so clearly a piece of dust.”
“You are forgiven,” he says. “But I shall be keeping my eye on you.”
I blush, and so does he. “Come,” he says, hurrying from the room and the awkward moment. “There is much more to see.”
The next few hours pass quickly. Although the snowstorm has passed, the air outside is cold. Still, we walk through the castle gardens, where fresh vegetables, herbs, and fruits have managed to escape the frost. They surely should have been harvested by now, but with only a young boy, an old man, and a beast (whose age I cannot even guess) to tend them, I am not surprised that they remain in the ground. The flower garden, however, is in full bloom and well cared for.
As we walk, I tell him of finding the map inside the book. I do not go into detail, for it is Veronica’s story, not mine.
“We must return to the library!” he exclaims when I am done. “Maybe one of our books has a secret map hidden within!”
I laugh. “Trust me. I have taken apart many a book, and no other ones will contain such a secret. Your books are far too precious to destroy.” I tell him how the book was not the only thing we “borrowed.” When I mention how Handsome and I took the two robes from the monks, he stiffens a bit, and I fear I have offended him. “Do not worry,” I say quickly. “Veronica returned them, only a little worse for wear.”
He does not reply at first, then says, “Handsome must be very … handsome.”
I turn to him in surprise. Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in his voice? I laugh. “He does not think so. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right?” Then I feel my cheeks grow hot. “I mean, I know I am not beautiful, and my name … well, you are the first person not to laugh or cough or otherwise react negatively when you heard it.”
He examines me so carefully I have to look away.
“Have you seen me lately?” he asks. “Who am I to judge another’s appearance?” He looks down, then back up at me again. “I am sorry that you were treated that way in the past. But, Beauty, you must know. You are quite beautiful.” He looks down again and I am glad, for I do not think I could meet his eyes. No one has ever spoken to me like this. It feels … odd. And it makes me feel grown-up. And a little giggly, which is embarrassing.
“And I do not mean beautiful only in comparison to me,” he adds. “Although it does help that you are not made out of various animal parts.”
I laugh, grateful to have an excuse to do so. “Thank you, I think.”
I swear I hear a woman sighing behind us, but, of course, no one is there. I follow him across the garden path toward the kitchen, looking back over my shoulder. As we step inside, I ask, “Do you ever get the feeling your house is haunted by invisible ghosts?”
“All the time,” he says, quickly locking the door behind him and leaning against it. “All the time.”
“You never brush your fur for us,” Alexander teases when I walk into the dining room for supper. “And you are wearing the new shoes Mother had made for you.”
“Do not tease your brother,” Father says. “He looks very dapper.”
“Any comments from you, Mother?” I ask, assuming I have the pleasure of her company, too.
“We did not appreciate being locked outside this morning,” she says icily.
“You should not have been following me. Or sighing loudly. Beauty can hear you.”
“Perhaps we were overly bold. Well, you will be pleased to know, then, that you and Beauty shall be dining alone tonight, so you will not have to worry about us interfering.”
“Alone? Without Godfrey or Freddy, either?”
“That is correct. You should go on a proper date.”
“But, Mother, what if I make a mess of it?”
She pats me on the arm. “You will do fine. Just be yourself.”
“Or someone else entirely!” Alexander says. “Did I not tell you to refrain from boring her with tales of alchemy? And a tour of the library? What could be more boring?”
“She did not seem to find it so,” I argue.
“She was probably just being polite.”
I wave my arm toward the door. “If you are leaving, now would be a good time.” Silence. “Alexander, I can still smell you. You truly must bathe more.”
Father chuckles.
“I do not know what you find so funny, dear husband,” Mother says as she brushes past me. “You have not trimmed that beard in weeks! A small rodent may have taken up residence there and we would not even know it.”
They continue to argue over the proper level of personal hygiene for invisible persons — a conversation they never seem to agree on — until their voices fade away. I take a few deep breaths, willing myself not to say anything dumb when Beauty arrives. We had spent the afternoon digging for worms so I could reenact some of my experiments for her. Maybe Alexander was right, and she had only been pretending to be interested in such things.
The clock in the great hall chimes to mark the hour, and before it finishes the sixth chime, Beauty walks into the dining room. She is wearing a pink dress, white shoes, and the red rose I gave her tucked behind one ear. When she sees me, she stops and puts her hands on her hips. “All of my clothes have mysteriously disappeared. In their place hang ten dresses, all pinker than the next, all miraculously my size. Have you any explanation?”
This has Mother’s handiwork written all over it. “Um, laundry day?”
“I feel ridiculous,” she says.
“You look … lovely.” I hurry to pull out her chair. She stumbles a bit getting into it.
We both nibble our roast lamb and mutton, offering only harmless comments about how well prepared it is. Meat will soon be scarce as winter closes in. I hope Beauty is too distracted by the food to notice how messy an eater I am. Ind
eed, she is polite enough to look away when food falls back onto my plate. I give up on the spiced carrot soup after three spoonfuls, most of which wind up on my chin.
I look up to see a tear sliding down Beauty’s face. She tries to hide it by wiping it away as she dabs her mouth with her napkin.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
She sniffs and wipes another tear away. “Today is my sister’s birthday. I had forgotten.”
I do what Alexander told me, and make sure she knows I am interested in her life. “How old is she now?”
“Sixteen. She always thought she would be married by now.”
“Why is she not? I heard she was quite charming.”
She stops sniffling and looks up in surprise. “You did? How?”
I put my hand over my mouth. Where is that invisible brother when I truly need him? I almost let it slip that she is not here purely coincidentally. “I mean, I suspect she is charming since, well, you are wonderful to have around, and since you are sisters … it stands to reason.”
I do not know if she accepts my bumbling explanation, because she just starts crying again. “You must miss her a lot.”
She nods. “Our birthdays are so close. We’ve always celebrated them together.”
I push back my chair and stand up. I do not even realize I am doing it until I find myself leaning over the table. In my deepest, firmest, beastliest voice I say, “You should go home, then. I do not have the right to keep you here against your will. You should be with your family.”
“But I —”
“You do not belong here. I am a beast, remember? I have eaten entire families! Now go!”
For the first time, I see something like fear in her eyes, and anger, which I have not seen since our first meeting. And then she is up and running.
It does not take me long to pack my bag, considering all of my clothes are missing except a few undergarments, my cloak, and the boots I arrived in. I angrily throw Clarissa’s comb and the book I brought from home into the bag and cinch it up. If he does not want me here, I shan’t stay another moment. I upheld my end of the agreement by coming at all. I need not have shown him any kindness, just because he showed it to me. I am the prisoner, after all. Well, I was the prisoner. Now I am just a girl who feels all tangled up inside.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and bound down the stairs. I do not pass the beast on my way to the front door, for which I am grateful. I do not think I could pull off my storming-off-in-a-huff exit if I begin to cry again.
“You should not be out here, miss,” the guard tells me when I push the door open and step outside into the cold. The setting sun is nearly as pink as my dress, but I do not stop to appreciate it.
“I would like a carriage, please. The beast is sending me home.”
The guard does not wait around to hear any more. He simply says, “Wait inside and I shall find a coachman.” I watch as he rounds the corner of the castle toward the stables. I do not want to wait inside and risk seeing the beast again, so I huddle against the doorway. The wind howls, and I shiver. I think I feel worse than when I left home! I reach inside my cloak and pull out Veronica’s necklace. The last rays of sun glint off of it, and I find myself holding it up to my eye to see the light shoot off in all directions, bathing the front lawn in gold.
A rustling in the bushes beside the door draws my attention. I lean over, and at first all I see are some hedges bent at odd angles. And then suddenly a shape appears, seemingly out of the air. A boy! A boy hunched in the bushes, crying, and not even trying to hide it! He is older than me by a year or two, dressed in what looks like his pajamas although it is not yet fully dark. I feel another shiver and I hunch back against the door again. As I move, he vanishes!
“What happened?” I call out, looking around wildly. “Where did you go? Who are you?”
“You … you could see me?” the now-invisible boy asks. A rustling follows. “Beauty?”
His voice sounds like he is getting closer. I back up against the hard door, glad for its solidity. “How do you know my name?”
“Do not be afraid,” the voice says.
“That is easy for you to say. You are not the one seeing ghosts!”
“I am not a ghost,” he says, his voice coming at me from the left now.
“Then show yourself.”
“I cannot,” he says. Then he begins to weep again. “Please do not leave. None of this is Riley’s fault. I am the one who spoke to the witch. It is my fault he is the beast, and then I let him believe it was something he did. What kind of brother am I?”
I turn in the direction of the voice, beginning to feel dizzy. “The beast is named Riley? He has a brother?”
A gasp, followed by silence. Then more weeping. “Now I have truly ruined everything! You were not supposed to know his identity until you fell in love! I warned him not to talk about all those boring things and chase you away, and now you will never love him and he will remain the beast and I shall remain invisible, forever!”
Now I am the one stunned to silence. His words run around one another as I try to make sense of them. The beast is really a boy named Riley. This boy in pajamas is Riley’s brother. And he has ruined something? I was supposed to fall in love? “I need to sit down,” I announce to the empty air.
An invisible hand on my elbow leads me to a stone bench by the door. I think the boy sits beside me, but I am not certain.
“I am sorry,” the voice says, sounding truly miserable. “I should not have laid that upon your feet. It is I who ruined this, not you.”
We sit in miserable silence for a moment. Then I ask, “What exactly did the witch say when she cursed your brother?”
“She said the girl couldn’t know who he really was until she fell in love with him. And then the curse would break when she kissed him. And now you know who he is and there are only a few days left before the deadline. All is lost.”
“You have ruined nothing,” I whisper, so softly I am not even certain the words came out. Handsome said I would know my future when I found it, and I have. The beast — or Riley as he is called — he is my future.
I know not how long I have huddled here in the dark. The root cellar was never a very inviting place. Damp, dank, and windowless, it is perfect for storing wine and vegetables, but I would much rather be sulking and miserable up in my bedchambers. I am hiding from the others, though, who have no doubt figured out by now that Beauty has left and that I chased her away. This is the last place in the castle I could think of where I could be alone.
I feel a ghastly ache inside me, and I know there is more to it than the anguish of realizing I shall remain a beast forever, the property of an evil witch. I have only read about it in books, but if I had to guess, I think the pain is heartbreak. I also fear I am coming down with a cold. I feel a strange chill, like an insistent buzzing inside my head unlike anything I have felt before. I wrap my arms tighter around myself, but it does not help.
A wine bottle crashes to the floor a few rows away from where I am crouched. I look over and see a lantern making its way toward me. “Go away, Freddy,” I call out. “Nothing you could say would make me feel better.”
“Perhaps you will want to hear what I have to say, then.” The lantern draws closer and Beauty steps into view. I nearly fall backward in surprise. Her dress is covered in purple stains.
“I owe you a bottle of wine,” she says. “I hope it was not too valuable.”
“What … what are you doing here?”
She smiles and in her eyes I see no anger, no fear. “I have come to kiss you.”
My jaw falls open. If I were not already sitting on the ground, I would surely have fallen to it in surprise. As much as I want the kiss, I cannot take it. I lower my head. “But I have behaved like the beast I am. You deserve much better than me.”
She shakes her head. “A real beast would never feel that way. And you are not a beast. You are a boy trying to save his family. And then you tried to save mine by
sending me away.”
“But … how did you know all that?”
“I know you are Prince Riley. I know your family is invisible and that they care about you very much.”
My eyes widen as her words sink in. “Then all is lost.”
She shakes her head. “Not lost.” She reaches out and lays her hand in my glove, where it looks so tiny but feels so nice. She squeezes, tight. Suddenly, I understand what she means. She loved me before she learned my identity! I meet her eyes, dazed.
Before I have a chance to think one more thought, to apologize in one more way, she moves toward me. All my experiments, all my knowledge about nature and the sky and music and worms, none of it has prepared me for how it feels to have someone you love about to kiss you for the first time. I close my eyes.
“Wait, stop!” a voice cries out. My eyes fly open. Another lantern rushes toward us, this time with Freddy at the other end.
I turn to glare at him, hoping to scare him away with the force of it. But he only comes closer. He better have a good reason for ruining my first kiss.
“I am sorry,” Freddy says, out of breath. “But you must listen.”
“Can’t this wait?” I ask through gritted teeth. “We were in the midst of something important.”
He shakes his head. “I’m truly sorry, but you want to vanquish the witch, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“If Beauty kisses you now, the curse will break, but you’ll lose all the beast’s advantages — the speed, the strength. I do not think Prince Riley would fare as well. No offense intended, of course.”