Beauty and the Beast (22 page)

The beast — I mean,
Riley
— walks into the dining room for breakfast with a wine cork on the end of his nose. I laugh so hard that juice flies from my mouth. I hurry to wipe it up. Now that I have discovered I am dining with the royal family, I am trying to be more ladylike. I did not even grumble this morning about having to wear a dress. I suspect the queen was the one who took all my old clothes, but I do not want to insult her by asking, or seem ungrateful for the new ones.

“Just when I didn't think you could look any stranger,” Alexander says, “you prove me wrong.”

Riley tries to eat with the cork on but makes more of a mess than usual. Usually, I would look away so as not to embarrass him. Now it doesn't seem to matter as much.

In the late afternoon, I sit down to write a letter to Papa and Clarissa telling them everything and requesting their secrecy. In case danger befalls us on the trip, I want them to know I am happy now, and that the beast is not evil at all, quite the opposite. Once the letter has left the castle — in the hands of a trusted messenger — I feel like a huge weight has been lifted.

That night after dinner, Riley walks me back to my room. “The pull is getting stronger,” he whispers. “We should leave tonight after dark.”

“So soon?”

He nods. “The buzzing in my head is getting stronger every moment. My body keeps trying to lead me out the door.”

Now that the time is upon us, I don't want to leave.

“Are you all right?” he asks, bending down to peer into my face.

I nod. How can I tell him his castle feels like home to me now? All that is missing are Papa and Clarissa. “I am just nervous, that's all.”

“Me, too,” he says, and begins stroking my hair absent-mindedly. I close my eyes. I am reminded of the gentle way Clarissa used to brush my hair.

This feels very different.

A moment later he pulls his hand away. “Forgive me!” he says. “I did not mean to be so forward. I don't know what came over me. I've never, um, felt this way about anyone.”

I smile up at him. “Me neither.”

His cheeks redden. “What about Handsome?”

I shake my head. “My sister wanted me to like him in that way, but to me he was always a friend.”

“That is a relief,” he says.

We stand together for another moment just enjoying each other's company until he clears his throat and says, “Well, then, I will see you in a few hours. Meet me in the kitchen after sundown.”

“Okay.” I open my door. Sitting on the end of my bed is a small but sturdy case, packed full, with my traveling cloak and boots beside it. I turn back to Riley and point it out. “I have a feeling Godfrey is one step ahead of you.”

Riley grins. “He always is.”

 

I am the first to arrive at the kitchen, and I set my bag at my feet. The smells from dinner linger in the room, along with the warmth from the embers in the bottom of the oven. Outside the thick windows, the wind is picking up again. I do not relish braving the outdoors. But I trust Riley completely and am excited to be on a quest again. He arrives a moment later, looking back over his shoulder.

“Did you check the room?” he whispers. “I trust Godfrey to keep our secret, but the castle is unusually quiet.”

I slip the crystal out from under my thick traveling clothes, and look around the room. “Your mother is sitting on a stool beside the counter, your father is sitting on
top
of the counter, and Alexander is glaring at me from the floor beside the sink.”

Riley swings open the door to the pantry to reveal Freddy and Godfrey and a large pile of trunks. Freddy waves happily. Godfrey shrugs guiltily.

“Well!” Riley says in his deepest beast-voice. “Looks like our leave-taking has gotten a bit more complicated.”

“We are coming with you,” Alexander declares.

“You are not,” Riley says. “Only Beauty and I are going. This is too dangerous for anyone else.”

“But we could be useful,” the queen argues. “Being invisible has its advantages.”

“I doubt you would be invisible to the witch,” Riley says, which is probably true.

The group continues to argue about it until Riley stamps his huge boot upon the floor. “No one else is coming,” he growls. “We will be passing through very dense forest. Winter is fully upon us and time is fleeting. I know you want to help, but you would be more of a burden.”

I am glad Riley cannot see their hurt expressions. I can tell he feels bad having to be so direct, but it is necessary.

“Make certain the witch does not see you watching her,” the king warns. “Or we will likely have another beast in the castle.”

I try not to react at his words, but I feel a chill nonetheless.

“And promise you will break the curse before you run out of time,” the queen adds. “Whether or not you have succeeded in defeating the witch.”

“Fine,” Riley says, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I promise to let Beauty kiss me.”

Alexander laughs, and then the others do, too. I join in, but in truth, I am nervous at the thought of the kiss. Usually, a girl's first kiss isn't a matter of life or death.

The queen hands me a bag of provisions. “Do not forget to eat and rest. You must keep up your strength.”

The king hands me another bag. “These are carrots for Mortimer. The old boy loves his carrots.”

“Mortimer?” I ask, holding the bag out in front of me.

“But he is your finest steed, Father,” Riley says, answering my question. “I cannot promise that he … that we …”

“I know, son,” the king replies. “I know. But Mortimer is reliable and strong, and what better time to put those qualities to use than now?”

Riley nods and takes the carrots from me. The queen strokes my cheek, so lightly, so gently. I do not recall my own mother stroking my cheek, although I am sure she did, at least once. Now I know what I have been missing. A knot forms in my throat, and I am glad when Alexander ushers us out the door. I follow Riley to the stables. “Mortimer is in the last stall on the left,” he whispers, stepping back into the shadows. “I will wait here in case a groomsman is still inside.”

I race over to the last stall to find the largest black horse I have ever laid eyes upon. His saddle is gleaming, his reins braided gold threads. He does not even snort when I approach, only tosses his head as I lead him out of the stable. A part of me is disappointed that I will not be running, but I see the sense in riding since we have no idea how far we will have to travel. Mortimer's footrests dangle by my ears. However will I climb up?

Riley reappears and I have my answer. He places his hands on my hips and lifts me onto the horse's back as though I weigh no more than the bag of carrots. I wish he could ride behind me, but, of course, the horse could never bear his weight. Riley ties our bags to the horse, and leads us to the edge of the castle grounds, careful to stay in the shadows. Apparently, the village folk know of the beast, but few have seen him. Riley would like to keep it that way.

Once safely into the woods, we take off at a sprint. Riley easily keeps pace with the horse. In fact, I think the horse is slowing him down.

We run through the crisp night air as the stars shine bright above us. The moon is half full, and provides plenty of light to guide us. We duck around the outskirts of Riley's kingdom, and then stick to the sides of a narrow road. It is long past curfew now, and we do not expect to run into any travelers. Still, better to keep out of sight as much as possible. People can be unpredictable when they are scared. And while I am used to Riley's appearance, he would indeed cause quite a fright to strangers.

After a few hours, we find an empty barn a good distance away from other buildings. We gulp from our canteens and feed Mortimer his carrots. Then we both fall asleep the moment we rest our heads.

Breakfast consists of the bread, cheese, and dried meat sticks that Riley's mother gave us. I smile when I discover the solid gold silverware in the sack. We hardly need something so fancy, but I suppose when you are royalty all of your silverware is fancy.

“The tug toward the witch is almost unbearable now,” Riley admits, pacing the length of the barn. “To be honest, I am beginning to feel frightened.”

“We will be very careful. We will not get caught.”

“My fear lies elsewhere.” He stops beside me, but looks down. “I am afraid that as I get closer, I will not be able to stop. What if I run right to her?”

I put my hand in his. “I shall stop you.” We both know that chances are my meager strength would not be able to overcome the witch's pull. Still, it makes me feel better to say it, and him to hear it.

“I wish we had a better plan,” he says. “One that we know will succeed.”

“Me, too, but until we know what the witch's weakness is, we won't know what to do about it.”

Neither of us is willing to say what we're really thinking — that she may not
have
a weakness.

We do not talk much as Riley leads us on a race across the countryside. His pace never falters, and he never seems to tire. He has donned a cloak that covers him head to toe. Whenever we cannot avoid coming close to another person, he hunches over to appear shorter. Since everyone else is bundled and hunched against the cold, he does not receive more than a second glance.

By the next day, the passage has become so difficult that I fear Mortimer will get hurt if we keep up this pace. Rock ridges and wide streams block our way, and Riley plunges ahead. By sundown, my whole body aches from holding on to Mortimer so tightly. “Riley,” I call ahead to him. “We need to rest.”

“I'm sorry, I cannot stop,” he says, slowing his pace only slightly so I can catch up. Ahead of us is what looks like a huge dark wall that I cannot see around. As we approach, the wall reveals itself to be a mass of twisted branches and leaves that stretch as far east and west as I can see.

“We will have to leave the horse here,” Riley announces. I hesitate, but Riley reaches up for me. I give Mortimer a final pat and the last carrot and then let Riley lift me off. My legs wobble as my boots hit the ground. Unable to support my weight, I fall to my knees.

“Climb on my back,” he says, kneeling down and bending over.

I do not argue. With my arms tight around his neck, Riley tears through the thick brush with his arms held in front of him. Still, the branches whip our faces and scratch our arms. The speed is thrilling. We fly through the forest now, and I realize how much Riley had been slowing his pace for me, even though time could have run out on him. My heart grows even fuller.

In the near-total darkness, Riley jumps over fallen logs, ducks under low branches. I yell when I see danger, and he obeys. We are a good team. After hours of this, I am both exhausted and wide awake. “We are almost there,” he says with certainty. And a moment later, we emerge from the dense woods. Without the tree cover, the dark is a bit less total. Riley skids to a halt and I climb down, my legs so shaky from gripping that I do not try to walk. I lean against him and look around. Objects slowly reveal themselves as my eyes adjust. The moon first, then some stars. Then a vast openness on three sides. An openness that leads to … the sea! I turn frantically from side to side as more and more of our surroundings become visible. There is no denying it. I grab Riley by the arm. “I have been here before!”

“But I do not understand,” I say, relieved that for the moment at least, the almost unbearable buzzing in my head has now ceased. “We are in the middle of nowhere, and that forest was nearly impassable. How could you have gotten through it?”

Beauty points at a distant shoreline. “We came from across the sea, from that port over there.” She whirls around. “And that's where I found Veronica's crystal! Right there in that dried-up brook!”

I shake my head in disbelief, although after the last few months, nothing should surprise me. “Why would we wind up here, amidst these ruins?”

Beauty lifts the crystal from her neck. It seems to glow with its own light. In a strained voice she asks, “Do you think the crystal led us back here, and it wasn't the pull of the witch at all?”

I consider her question. If that is true, we might be nowhere near the witch and may as well give up. If we figured correctly, sundown tonight will bring the witch's deadline with it. Then I remember something. “The buzzing inside my head has ceased completely. That must mean we are in the right place.” I turn in a circle. “But how could we be? Nothing lives in this barren land, let alone a witch.”

Neither of us speaks for a moment. We both just stare at the desolate landscape. Then Beauty says, “Think about it, Riley. If you were a witch, you would want to keep people far away from your hiding place, right?”

“Being a beast isn't bad enough? Now I'm a witch, too?” I can't help trying to make her smile. The corners of her mouth twitch and I wish I could be the one to kiss
her
, rather than the other way around.

“I'm serious,” she says, punching me lightly on the arm. “What if she enchanted this place to try to make people leave?”

Before I can answer, Beauty lifts her stone and peers through it. She gasps, yanks the necklace over her head, and tosses it to me. “Look!” I hold it up and watch in amazement as the ruins of the old buildings disappear. Gone are the crumbling stairs, the moss-covered columns, the dust and mud. In its place is a huge, gleaming estate, surrounded by trees and fountains and babbling brooks and animals roaming free. Although it is not yet dawn, the sun shines as bright as noontime. I lower the stone. Instantly, the dark and ruins return. I hold it back up, and the white marble building reappears, brilliant in the sunlight. I see no people anywhere on the flower-lined paths that wind through the estate. I reach out for Beauty's hand. “She is in there, I know it. I can't say how, but I do.”

“Then let us do what we came for, before someone sees us.”

I hold the stone up again and seek out the best way to get inside. “There is a path on the left side, well hidden by the lemon trees. We can enter there and stay close to the hedges. We can duck behind them if we see anyone.” I put the necklace back over her head. “You should keep this, in case I … well, just in case.”

Beauty nods, squeezing my hand, and we creep forward. Keeping the stone in front of her eye, she leads us to the right spot. “All right,” she says, stopping. “One more step and we shall be inside.”

I hold my breath, not sure what to expect. Some sort of alarm to sound, perhaps. Instead, we find ourselves in the bright sunlight, on the stone-covered path, the ruins nowhere to be seen. We no longer need the stone to see!

“The enchantment must be on the outside only,” Beauty whispers. “The witch knew no one would get close if they saw only ruins.”

We leave our heavy cloaks behind a large rock and creep forward as quietly as possible. We pass no one. I cannot see any of the animals I had spotted before, either. Only small, well-kept farmhouses, bright green lawns, ponds and fountains. Mother would love this place. I am about to share that thought with Beauty when she suddenly stops and shrinks back into the trees. I quickly follow. Only seconds later, a beautiful young woman appears in front of one of the farmhouses, much too close to us for comfort. Her long, curly hair nearly reaches her waist. A large black-and-white spotted cat trails behind her. The woman bends down and begins petting the cat until it purrs. I want to warn the lovely woman that a witch is near, but I dare not risk being seen.

As we watch from the trees, a mud-splattered pig crosses the lawn and chooses that moment to shake its rear end. Mud flies onto the lady's skirts, and she rears back and kicks the pig halfway across the lawn. It whimpers and runs directly toward us! We shrink back even farther. The woman swoops up the cat and heads down the road, fortunately in the opposite direction of our hiding spot.

The instant the woman is out of sight, Beauty reaches out and hugs the squirming pig, trying to comfort it. “I think that beautiful woman is the witch!” she gasps as the pig continues to wiggle. Beauty only tightens her hold.

She is right, of course. I should have known by the fact that the tingling has now returned. Not nearly as powerfully but just as insistent. The time is near. “I need to follow her.”

“
We
need to follow her,” she corrects me, bending her head toward the pig, murmuring kindnesses. The pig visibly relaxes. I cannot help but smile. Beauty has the same effect on me.

She nuzzles the pig once more, then gives it a kiss on the top of its head. If I live a hundred years, I shall never forget what happens next. The pig stops moving completely. Then in a blur of movement and color, it falls from her lap and starts … changing! Beauty jumps up and we grab hold of each other, transfixed by the scene before us. The pig's limbs have become arms and legs. A second later, a man in peasant garb lies twitching and panting on the ground. He is shoeless and hatless, and in serious need of a shave.

We both hold our breath while the man catches his. Then his eyes fix on me. “Ye gads!” he exclaims, looking me up and down. “The witch must have really hated
you
!”