“The mask,” she clarified. “And, um—and the gloves.”
He grimaced. Of course she had noticed the gloves—or perhaps Erin, once the initial fright had worn off, had taken the time to think it through. “They’re not,” he said flatly, well aware that there was an annoyed growl in his voice. Particularly not trying to eat—or, for that matter, to do anything—with the mask on. He’d lost ten pounds in the months Erin had been here, simply because he wasn’t able to get food through the mask and had discovered that she didn’t like the idea that he came to dinner only to keep her company, then had another meal of his own later in the evening.
“You could take them off.” Callista didn’t look at him as she said it. Considering how impressed he was that she was able to get the words out at all, he decided not to quibble about the fact that she was addressing them to her plate. “I mean, I already know what’s beneath them.”
You could take them off. As though it was just that simple. As though he was wearing them to conceal some scar or other that was really only a problem to him.
“I’m not afraid,” Callista added, when the silence wore on for too long to be truly comfortable.
Not afraid? Griffin considered that. Or simply more afraid of the unknown, of the waiting for the moment when my face will be revealed, than of seeing it now, when her sister has just finished describing it to her? He looked out at Callista, oddly grateful for the fact that the mask concealed his expressions along with his true face. “You must promise me,” he said slowly, considering the words carefully, “that if it proves too much for you, you will simply say so, so that I might put the mask back on rather than distressing you unduly.”
“I don’t plan to be distressed,” Callista said simply. “But should I find your form too much to handle, I’ll be sure to tell you.”
Griffin sighed. The mask was incredibly hot, deeply uncomfortable, especially since it forced his inhuman face to conform to human confines. He had lines engraved deep in his face when he took the mask off, so deep that it took the hours he slept to wear them away again. They were invisible beneath his fur, or at least he was relatively sure that she wouldn’t be observant enough to notice them, but they were still highly uncomfortable. It would be nice to be able to take it off—to not have to worry about it in his own home, at least for a little while. “You won’t be afraid?” he pressed.
“I already know what’s beneath it, and I’m sitting at your table anyway,” Callista reminded him tartly. “If I were that afraid, I think I would have already done my running.”
He chuckled softly at that. Well, on her head be it, then. She wanted to see what was below the mask for herself? At least he would be able to get a few breaths of cool air—and perhaps he would stop feeling quite so nauseous in the process.
Very slowly, half waiting for the moment when she would beg him to stop, he lifted his hands to the mask and pulled it away.
Callista watched him with steady eyes. She blinked once, her gaze sweeping him from the top of his head to his chin, and then returned to her meal. “The gloves, too,” she suggested without looking up. “You’ll be much less likely to spill. I never did understand the point to wearing gloves while eating much of anything.”
It was Griffin’s turn to stare at her. He felt decidedly off-balance. “You’re not going to swoon?” he asked curiously.
“If the sight of your face didn’t do it, I doubt your hands will.” She tossed a cheeky smile his way.
Who was this girl? At first glance, she didn’t seem terribly different from her sisters or, indeed, from any of the other young ladies who had graced him with their presence since the curse had struck. She wore the same beautiful gowns, carried herself with the same innate grace; and though he had noticed that her manners lacked some of the court polish he was used to, he had assumed that it was simply lack of experience more than anything, since Erin had indicated that Callista rarely left the family home. Her long, brown hair was styled the traditional way—perhaps more likely to fall around her face than traditional ladies would have preferred, but nothing that he could complain about. From the moment she had set foot in this castle, however, Griffin had been able to plainly see that she was quite different from the others.
To both see it and be incredibly grateful for it. It was abominably hot in the dining room this evening. With summer coming on, it shouldn’t be such a surprise; but something about the day had caused heat to collect in this room, and between his fur and the stifling amount of clothing he had to wear in order to prevent it from showing, Griffin was sure he was going to sweat through more calories than he could actually consume—especially prior to removing his mask.
He stripped the gloves away. Callista did dart a glance at his hands—probably confirming the fact that he did, in fact, have talons and fur on them—and then looked back down at her meal, spooning another bite of soup into her mouth as calmly as if she sat across the table from hairy, beastlike men on a regular basis.
“Well. That must be better,” she said lightly as he reached out a clawed hand, took the spoon, and managed to actually take a full bite.
“I have to admit, it’s much easier to eat this way,” he said lightly, trying not to invest the words with any deeper meaning.
She laughed softly. “I can only imagine the coordination it took to get even a bite through the hole of that mask,” she admitted. “Tell me—is soup easier or harder than other foods?”
“I get a few bites in that way,” he admitted. “Because it’s so thin, at least it fits through the hole. Sandwiches are nearly always a loss.”
“And meats?”
He shrugged. “When I’m being particularly coordinated, I can get a few bites in, but it does require a great deal of patience.”
“More than I have, I’m sure,” Callista informed him. “I can’t imagine who designed that thing.”
“We tried all manner of designs,” he admitted, surprised that he was willing to talk about it at all—and yet not, because why wouldn’t he be completely out of character in this, too? Just because only Hemsworth had previously been invited to share his struggles with the mask… “This was the only one that hid everything well enough.”
“Ah.” Callista shook her head, still applying herself to her soup without seeming to need to stare at him. It gave him the confidence he needed to take a few more bites of his own, relishing the taste of food that didn’t carry the pervasive scent of plastic. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, you might as well leave it off—unless, of course, you have some greater reason for keeping the thing on.”
“None at all.” He tried a smile, well aware that it looked more like a grimace on his furred face. “But you’re certain—”
“Enough!” She waved an imperious hand at him. Clearly, the fact that he was a prince didn’t intimidate her any more than the fact that he was a beast. “I’m not going to spend every evening sitting across from someone who is desperately trying to conceal the fact that he can’t eat at a normal rate—particularly not if you’re going to hold to court manners and insist that you’re done the moment I rise from the table.”
“I—” He frowned at that, since it had been his pattern, thus far, to rise along with the ladies with whom he was sharing the meal. “Well, it was my intent.”
“Then in the interests of not spending two hours at the table every evening, I should think that the mask needs to be done away with,” Callista informed him firmly.
Griffin chuckled. “You’re a very different sort of girl,” he informed her, shaking his head.
Callista blushed, ducking her head back toward her plate. “I’m sorry,” she said cautiously.
“No, don’t be.” He took another bite of his soup—and actually chanced a bite of the bread that had been delivered along with it. “I think it’s going to be a very welcome change indeed.”
“I hope so.” Her smile was very shy, and she didn’t direct it toward him for very long. He wondered if that was because she was
feeling shy and out of place or because she was afraid of being accused of staring. He didn’t think it was that she was afraid to look at him. Actually, he was fairly sure that she wasn’t intimidated at all—just curious.
He hadn’t decided yet if that was a good trait or a bad one, but all things considered, he was fairly certain that he appreciated curiosity a great deal more than fear.
CHAPTER SIX
Getting to Know Him
Looking back later, Callista supposed that there really was no way that first meal together could have been anything but awkward. She and Griffin had been thrust together by circumstances—he by the curse, she by her father’s gambling—that neither had any control over at all; and in addition to that, each of them was trying rather desperately to get a “feel” for the other, to determine whether or not it was even going to be possible for them to build a tolerable, manageable relationship out of this situation in which they’d found themselves. All things considered, it was probably a wonder that they actually managed to speak civilly to one another over the dinner table that evening. Real, in-depth conversation was really out of the question.
Still, she could see why Erin had found the place—and the prince—disconcerting. That mask really had been enough to send chills rolling down her spine, and that in spite of the fact that she had been both forewarned and able to actually speak to the prince for a bit before she’d gotten her first good, solid look at it. Sitting across from that at the dinner table night after night while he was barely able to make conversation…she had the feeling that it could turn miserable fast.
All she knew on that first night, however, was that it was a relief to look across the table and realize that the prince was finished eating—genuinely finished eating, not just putting on a show because she was—so that she could push back her chair, excuse herself, and flee the room. It wasn’t that she thought he was a bad person, exactly—and she had settled firmly on “person” in spite of his beastly form. It was just…
I don’t know what the next year is going to be like, Theo, she wrote to her brother that night, willfully keeping the tears she felt glimmering in her eyes from falling to the paper. If it’s a year filled with silences and awkwardness, I’m going to be very glad when it’s over. But on the other hand, the prince himself doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe as I get to know him, he’ll open up more. If the other girls who have been here—and there have been others; Hemsworth, the butler, mentioned them—were like Erin and Millie, more scared and intimidated than they were anything else, I don’t blame him for being a little standoffish. Personally, I think I would just give the whole thing up after a while and quit trying, but then, I’m not the one who’s cursed.
I’m grateful for that. If everything goes terribly, at most, this is just a year. I have a lot of them left to me, and don’t worry: I’m going to make the most of this one while I’m here. He does have a huge library. I’m not all that pleased with the titles in it—it’s mostly some classics and a bunch of dusty old reference books that no one is actually going to sit down and read—but maybe I can work my way through some of them, learn a little bit more about the world, and decide on something that’s worth doing with the rest of my life. That would be a great thing to come out of a year gambled away, wouldn’t you say? A sense of purpose…I’ve always envied the rest of you yours, so now maybe I can find one of my own. She sighed, laying down her pen. Unlike her sisters, she didn’t plan to send off letters as she penned them—that would quickly start looking desperate, especially if the prince continued to be virtually silent throughout their enforced meals together and she didn’t get to see much of anyone else. The servants were kind enough, she supposed. She’d had the chance to meet all three of them that morning while she was nervously awaiting her dinner with the prince, and they had been very kind to her, offering to get her anything she needed and answering all of her questions about the castle.
It just wasn’t the same as having someone to really talk to—as knowing that one of her siblings was always just down the hall, and that, even if they made faces at her for the distraction, they would be delighted to go anywhere she liked with her. Knowing that there was someone on hand who would share her dreams, her thoughts, who would talk to her about the world beyond the doors of their little home.
Well, she was the one who was beyond the doors now, wasn’t she? As hard as it was to settle herself this evening, as much as she feared that it was going to be a very long year indeed, Callista could still appreciate that—because all other things aside, she was at least now on the adventure she had wanted all her life.
In his own chambers, Griffin was equally conflicted—but not because he feared that it was going to be a long, silent year. With his far greater experience in these matters and all the others girls he’d dealt with, there was no doubt in his mind that Callista was, at least, going to be different.
“Griffin?” Hemsworth tapped lightly on the door—an unnecessary gesture, which meant that he had probably been standing there long enough to feel the need to get his attention.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Griffin asked softly.
“What?” Hemsworth frowned. “I—suppose.” He inclined his head slightly, clearly having to consider it.
“I don’t mean her looks.” Griffin waved a paw dismissively. “I don’t care anything about her looks, actually. She could look like—like me, for all I care.”
Hemsworth hid a smile.
“Not to say that she isn’t quite lovely.” Wasn’t she? To his chagrin, Griffin realized that he hadn’t even taken the time to note whether or not the girl was lovely. He’d been so caught up in the other oddities: the decision to explore, rather than railing at the fate that had left her here; the fascination with a painting that he was quite sure that he had never taken that much notice of, in spite of the fact that it had probably hung in that exact spot for most of his life…and her kindness.
Oh, yes, it was her kindness that stood out to him, her kindness that had turned her face into something beautiful even though he couldn’t yet make the features come clear in his mind’s eye without a real look at them. Of all the girls, she was the first to have thought about what the mask must mean for him.
Plenty of them had complained about it. Some had called it “creepy.” Others had whined that with the mask in place, they couldn’t get so much as a look at his face, and it wasn’t fair that he was able to conceal his emotions so completely. Erin was the first to try to rip it away—it was the only reason she had succeeded. Most of the rest had either fled in terror without ever needing to see what was beneath it or had caught enough glimpses along the way to be grateful for the mask’s ability to conceal his form.
But Callista…Callista had seen what a trial it was for him, and she’d encouraged him to do away with it. Had she understood instinctively that the mask was certainly for her comfort, and not for his? Or did she simply use that as an excuse? He had to keep his guard up—had to prevent himself from swooning in weakness over the fact that she had simply noticed his discomfort—but still…
Still.
“Hm.” Hemsworth studied him. Griffin suddenly wondered, rather uncomfortably, how many of those statements he’d said aloud. “I suppose there’s no doubt that she’ll be staying, then.”
“No doubt at all,” Griffin agreed softly. Sometimes, it was all too obvious that one of the girls wasn’t going to be able to handle the castle, or him, or anything associated with the curse. Sometimes, the girl was such a bad fit that he could tell from the moment they sat down over dinner together. He’d sent a few on their way within just a couple of days.
Callista, though…Callista, he didn’t want to send away. He wanted, instead, the chance to get to know her a little bit better—and he had a year and a day in which to do it.
For the first time, that year and a day seemed like a gift instead of like a curse. Let it be a gift, God, he prayed silently. Please, let it be a gift this time. We’ve dealt with more than en
ough curses in this castle for this lifetime.
“Griffin…” Hemsworth hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head and walked away without comment.
Griffin was glad. He wasn’t in the mood for comments of any kind today—wasn’t sure he could deal with them even if Hemsworth offered them.
He returned to his balcony; and this time, he allowed himself the freedom to dream.
The prince was no more in evidence during the second day of her captivity than the first. Callista had hoped that he would be—that he would have breakfast with her, perhaps, since Hemsworth had been by to let her know that it would be set out in the dining room; or that he would decide to come by after breakfast, if he wasn’t interested in sharing the meal, and show her about the castle. Hemsworth might already have given her the briefest of tours, and Mrs. Picard had gone out of her way to give her a full tour of the rooms yesterday, making sure that she knew where everything was, but that was no reason for the prince not to use it as an excuse to spend a little time with her, was it?
She hated being lonely. She had never quite realized it before, surrounded as she was by her siblings, but Callista simply didn’t care for time truly alone, with no one even close enough to share her thoughts. She much preferred having someone to chat with, someone to voice her thoughts to.
Here, her options were quite limited—especially since Griffin seemed to be going out of his way to avoid her most of the day.
She sat down in one of the big, hard chairs in the library, frowning.There had to be some way to alleviate the loneliness…didn’t there?
She could explore a little further. That was one positive use of her time. She did, after all, have a whole castle to get a look at, but…
She blew out a frustrated breath just to watch her hair puff.
It was several long moments before she realized that the odd presence she was feeling was one of the invisible servants—and that she could tell that there was someone there, or something there.
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