Beauty and the Werewolf (13 page)

“Exactly.” She nodded vigorously. “Which makes me think they know something and are being prevented from telling anyone.”

The Godmother nodded agreement. “And that argues for it being the work of a particular magician. And the fact that the invisibles know what happened, yet are being kept from telling… Hmm.” She fell silent for a very long time, then said, “This may be the most valuable thing that I have learned since Sebastian was changed. It certainly gives me a new line of investigation to pursue.
Especially
since they told you that they can keep you from being changed.” She pursed her lips. “Don't tell anyone else, please. Not even Sebastian. Especially not Sebastian. I do not for a moment suspect him of lying to us but this suggests that whoever did this to him may still be about, and Sebastian might inadvertently let fall that the invisibles know about him. I would not like to see them harmed.”

Bella shook her head. “Nor would I. They have been very good to me.”

Again the Godmother raised her eyebrow. “Have they, now? Another interesting development.” She again pursed her lips in thought. “Well, this changes things. I will need to consult with—well, quite a number of sources. Before I dismiss this spell, is there anything more you would like from me?”

Bella hesitated a moment. “I was going to ask if I could talk to my father….”

The Godmother gave her a long and penetrating stare. “Do you really think that would be a good idea?” she asked.

Bella sighed. “Not really,” she admitted. “All we would do is try to pretend we are being brave and fail terribly and make each other miserable. I'd like to write to him, but how would I get the letters to him?”

Now the Godmother smiled. “Oh, well, if that is your only concern, I can easily arrange that. Give me a day or two.”

“You can?” For the first time since all this began, she actually felt like smiling. “You really can?”

Elena laughed. “Of course I can! I am a Godmother! And this sort of communication is very Trad—is not that difficult for a Godmother to arrange.”

“I think it will make a world of difference to both of us,” Bella told her, gratefully. “And please…I do understand now why you have done what you have done. I can't see that I would have made any different choices, or that I
could
have. It must be awful for you.” She wasn't sure why she had added that last, but she knew when she said it that it was both true, and the right thing to say.

“Thank you for being so understanding.” Elena sighed, and for a moment, looked very sad. “You are correct. It is often very difficult to be a Godmother. Most of us are only human, and far too often our only choices are between
bad
and
worse,
and no matter what we do, someone is going to suffer.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Bella asked hesitantly.

“You can keep talking to your invisibles,” the Godmother said immediately. “They might be able to drop you some hints. And if you get anything, no matter how insignificant it seems, tell me or my Mirror Servant immediately.”

“I can do that,” she promised, although she really hoped she would not have to speak too often to that uncanny face.

“Very well, then. My dear Alex and I do have other issues to deal with, but I hope you will keep in mind that we have not forgotten you even if we might not have answers for you quickly.” The faint smile when Elena said “dear Alex” gave Isabella the tiniest twinge of jealousy. She knew who “Alex” was—the Godmother's Champion and also her husband. To be a Godmother with all that power
and
to have a truly beloved partner seemed…a little unfair.

Don't be ridiculous. She probably earns it twenty times over.

“Take care, Isabella. And be ready for my next gift very soon.” The mirror fogged over, and the Godmother was gone.

BELLA SUCCESSFULLY RESISTED THE TEMPTATION TO SIT
and look into the mirror for the rest of the afternoon. Instead, she decided to follow the Godmother's orders—they couldn't be called “advice,” given how they were delivered—and find out as much as she could about the invisibles.

One thing was certain—the Godmother knew something about these creatures, and what Bella had told her had taken
her
completely by surprise. For a Godmother to be surprised, something quite unusual was going on.

I suppose they could be dangerous,
she mused.
But then, anything can be dangerous. They must like me, since they said they would protect me.
Or they could be lying, of course, but it didn't seem as if the Godmother had any suspicion of that, and all of Bella's instincts told her that the invisibles were to be trusted. So since the most forthcoming seemed to be Sapphire, that was who she focused on.

She wasn't going to be foolish, however. She would try and make her inquiries casual, and put no pressure at all on the creature. If Sapphire answered a question, all well and good. If she didn't, Bella would let it drop for now.

After she unlocked her door and put the mirror away, she was pretty certain that rummaging through her closet would make Sapphire appear, especially when she began taking things out and laying them on the bed. The servant seemed very…proprietary…about Bella's wardrobe. And Bella had gotten the impression that Sapphire would have been better pleased if her “charge” liked to change her clothing two and three times a day, as Genevieve did.

Sure enough, she hadn't gotten more than a gown and two skirts out when her door opened and the blue ribbon appeared, bobbing toward her in what looked like an agitated manner. One of the skirts lifted off the bed, as Sapphire attempted to return it to the closet.

Bella held out a hand, preventing her. “I really do not like these things
at all,
Sapphire,” she said, frowning at them. “They don't suit me. I don't really like this gown much, either. I'd rather be rid of them.”

The ribbon fled toward the little dressing table and returned with the slate and chalk.
“Y not?”
was scribbled on the surface.
“V prity. V V prity.”
The words were erased and others took their place.
“U r v prity, shud wer prity things.”
Aha. Sapphire
did
disapprove of her wardrobe choices! Poor Sapphire, if only she'd had Amber and Pearl to dress.
I must be a terrible disappointment for her.

This put paid to any fears she still had about the nature of this one of the servants, at least. Here was a creature who understood and adored female fashions, whose heart, invisible though it might be, fluttered at the sight of ruffles and lace. Whatever else she was, Sapphire was no different than Marguerite, the twins' maid, whose heart broke every time Bella put on one of the severely plain gowns she preferred, and who nearly went wild with happiness when Bella brought her back a frivolous little bit of frippery from the warehouse for her very own.

“These things might suit my stepsisters, maybe, but they are not for me. I can't really do anything in this gown except sit and read, or sit and embroider. I like gowns that let me—well—do things. Nice, plain ones. And I don't like fussy colors, like pink, or pale blue, or white. They don't suit me, and I'm not suited to a gown like this. I'm sure I look like a donkey in a bonnet in it.” She took out another gown and laid it on the bed. Sapphire immediately tried to put it back.

“Sapphire, look at this dress!” she exclaimed. “Tight sleeves—you can't reach for things, or lift things without popping the seam open. And look here. Lace and ruffles that get caught on everything and tear.” She shook her head. “That just isn't
me.
I want clothing that lets me feel like myself, not like a stranger. Even if I don't actually look ridiculous, I
feel
ridiculous.” Sapphire stopped.
“We R sposed to mak U hapi.”

“Well, these gowns don't make me happy. They make me feel as if I was being smothered in whipped cream,” she said decisively, and added as if the question was of no real consequence, “Who told you to make me happy?”

“Duk,”
Sapphire replied immediately.

Well…that was kind of him….
“Sebastian might have told you to make me happy, but I know he didn't order these gowns, so that must have been the King's doing. Sebastian would probably have figured I could use whatever clothing there might still be in storage here.” Assuming he thought about it at all. And she had brought with her a perfectly good wardrobe. “Hmph.”

The King had in turn probably just ordered that clothing be sent with her. Whatever underling he had that he trusted with this had found out her approximate size and made a raid on seamstresses. That made sense; the gown she had on now was only an approximate fit. She hadn't thought about it at the time, but when Sapphire had
been putting her into it, she had been adjusting it via tapes and ties and lacings. Ready-made gowns were often put together that way, and if the buyer had the extra money, they would be tailored to fit. “The King's steward would have taken care of this, and he probably doesn't have any better sense about gowns than Sebastian, but he
sees
a lot of them at Court. He must think that every female has to look like a wedding cake exploded all over her or she will not be content.”

The slate and chalk began jiggling; the ribbon was shaking. For a moment, Bella thought that the poor invisible was frightened, but then she realized that Sapphire was laughing. She smiled. It felt very good to smile.

“Have we got anyone here that can
do
something about these bonbons?” she asked. “If you'll have them altered, I'll wear them, but not as they are now. I can sew a little, but not enough to make these things sensible. I'll put up with the colors, but if I see one more ruffle, I might turn into a pillar of sugar.”

“Yes,”
Sapphire replied.
“Sho me wut u want.”

“First, get me out of
this
thing,” she demanded, and Sapphire hastened to do so. Once the offending gown had been discarded onto the bed with the others, and Bella was back to wearing something she could actually don and remove without help, she showed Sapphire exactly what she didn't like about the new wardrobe, and how her old clothing was better.

“Did Sebastian summon an entire ducal household when he started bringing you here? Because that would include several seamstresses.”

“Just called servants.”
Well, that matched what Sebastian himself had told her, that he had just summoned the creatures without being specific about their talents.

“I rather like lace, but not in places where it is bound to trail on the floor and get filthy, or get caught on things. Why are there
more of you than Sebastian remembers summoning?” she asked, at the same time pointing out the long lace ruffles on a petticoat and a sleeve cuff. She had the feeling that she was not succeeding in being subtle, but Sapphire didn't seem to notice.

“He neded us. We came”
was the reply.

“I don't see any reason why this can't be made to fasten up the front with buttons instead of lacing up the back,” she said, laying one of her own bodices beside the one with the back-lacing. “You see what I mean, here. This is how I like my bodices to fasten. How did you know Sebastian needed you?”

“We wached him.”
The new bodice levitated into the air and was turned around and around in Sapphire's invisible hands.

“And this overskirt. Two ruffles are fine, elegant even. But no one my age looks anything but ridiculous in a gown with a dozen ruffles to it. Why were you watching Sebastian?” Sapphire didn't answer that one, so Bella acted as if the answer didn't matter, and continued on. “And this…this is just horrid. I don't know if it can be picked to bits and the pieces reused, but the only thing that
anyone
could do in this overdone monstrosity is to sit and look ornamental. How did you all get here, if you weren't summoned?”

“Wer alredy here.”
Abruptly, Sapphire left the room. Before Bella could wonder if she had pushed the invisible too far, Sapphire returned with several more ribbons trailing behind herp: white, pink, pale blue, mint-green and lilac. Within moments, the discarded gowns and petticoats were sailing out the door, presumably to be altered. But since Sapphire went with them, that was an end to Bella's questioning for now.

It certainly gave her something to think about. So, the extra invisibles were somehow “already here,” and had been watching Sebastian. She had the distinct feeling that the intelligent ones were
all in that set. And they had insinuated themselves into the household because Sebastian needed them.

All of these conclusions only opened up more questions. Where had they come from before they were “here”? Could they actually be ghosts, the spirits of former inhabitants of Redbuck? Was that even possible? The only ghosts that she had ever heard of were hardly the helpful creatures that these were—nor were they even a fraction so physical. If they weren't ghosts, then what were they? Some sort of nature spirit? Something else entirely? The familiars of other magicians who had failed to release them when the magician died? How could she possibly tell?

She went to her desk, made notes, wrote down all of her questions and drummed her fingers on the desk as she thought.
Godmother should have noticed if these were familiars,
she wrote.
Unless Godmother hasn't been here herself since Sebastian changed.
Something else to ask about.
But I would think that even Sebastian would have noticed if they were someone else's familiars, wouldn't he?

I still don't know enough about magic,
she decided. But of course, there was someone here who did, and he wasn't at all reluctant to discuss anything about magic.
Sebastian would probably welcome questions,
she thought, with a little amusement.
I probably won't be able to get him to stop once he starts talking.

The problem was, just at the moment, she wasn't sure she wanted him to know these things.
I need to think very carefully how I am going to phrase these questions,
she decided, as she gathered up the items of clothing that hadn't been carried off, and put them back in the closet. It looked very bare in there now—not only because about half the clothing that had been hanging in there was gone, but because the items removed had taken up so much room.

She stretched, feeling ever so much more comfortable now that she was in one of her old, practical gowns.
Genevieve is right,
she
thought with ironic resignation.
I am never going to be a proper lady. I will never choose style over comfort.

But the thought of her stepmother gave her pause—not because she was in the least afraid of what Genevieve was saying or doing right now, but because these past few days were the first in a very long time when she hadn't been responsible for anyone but herself. When she wasn't trying to fight down the fear of what she might become…it had been rather nice. If the Godmother was right, and she
wasn't
infected, in three months time she would be back at home again, and—

And after this, how can I ever settle into a life like hers? I already loathed gossip and gowns, and now…I am not sure I could ever just go back to supervising a household, not when I've seen all this. Which means that Genevieve is right again; no one is going to propose marriage to someone like me. Men want a wife who fits into society, and I am always going to be a little outside of it. Or perhaps, a great deal outside it. And if anyone ever finds out what really happened to me, would I become some sort of freakish thing, someone that people whisper about and wonder about?

So what was she going to do with herself when she got back?

She sat on the edge of the bed abruptly. Given what she had just gone through so far, simply remaining the odd spinster who stayed unwedded and made sure that her father's household ran smoothly did not seem so bad… There was a great deal to be said for not being afraid you were going to become a vicious killer, or be hunted down by your former friends and acquaintances. And if people talked about her, so what? It wasn't as if she craved all those invitations that came to the household. Granny would still treat her the same.

Who knows? If I am eccentric enough, that might actually be a good thing. Eccentric people are often looked to for advice if they are wise enough. It might be good for business if I were to ask Father to set me up as an herb
seller. And it would give Genevieve plenty to talk about, too, and she might leave the twins to grow into their own selves instead of little copies of her.

She wasn't entirely sure she would still be able to suffer Genevieve's more ridiculous excesses in silence anymore, however. And that could cause more than a few household tremors.

Oh…but will peace and quiet make up for all the things I know about now, all operating madly beneath the surface, things that people don't even suspect?
There was another thing; now she had seen magic at first hand. She knew, and not just abstractly, that there was so much more outside of the little circumscribed life she had led. Skating expeditions and Guild dances didn't seem very exciting anymore. Could she ever go back to her old life after this?

Nor was that all…
Things are more complicated than even that.
Now she had seen what was behind the faces that the King and the Godmother presented to the rest of the world. She knew now, and could never forget, that both of them were utterly ruthless when they needed to be. She had no doubt whatsoever that while Godmother Elena was going to try to save both her and Sebastian, if it came down to a choice, it would be Sebastian who was saved—and if it came down to “Sebastian and Bella or great danger to the Kingdom and beyond,”
both
of them would be sacrificed without a moment of hesitation. And for the King? It probably wasn't even a question. He'd wield the blade himself.