Depravity: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (A Beastly Tale Book 1) (14 page)

I pulled myself upright and quickly shed the shirt to tug on the dress.  It fit snuggly, its supple material clinging and caressing my skin as he promised.  When I stood, it fell to the floor in an overabundant cascade.  It brought back memories of trying to run through the woods with Tennen right behind me.

Trying not to scowl, I treaded lightly to the kitchen.  A crisp, white linen covered the new table.  A feast lay out upon it, and the smells of roasted fowl, creamed soups, baked vegetables, and warm bread perfumed the air.  Forgetting the dress, I moved to the only setting at the table and pushed back my chair, kicking my skirt slightly to move it out of the way as I sat.

Picking up the fork, I didn’t hesitate to start eating.  Everything looked and smelled so good my mouth watered with anticipation.

I didn’t realize the beast had drifted into the room until he passed before the fire and momentarily blocked the light.

“Are you pleased?” he asked.

“The food is delicious.  Thank you,” I said after swallowing a bite.  I broke off a hunk of steaming bread and smeared soft butter on it.  My eyes rolled back.

“And the dress?” he asked.

“Suitably ruffled for such a fine meal,” I said.

“Have you given my offer further consideration?”

Letting silence fall as I chewed a large bite, I wondered how to answer his question.  Had I thought on his offer?  Yes, but only to try to determine why he repeatedly asked, not to give it serious consideration.  After all, I knew nothing of significance regarding the beast to give his proposal serious thought.

“Do you want to know why I consistently say no?”  I didn’t wait for him to respond.  “How can I offer to stay, to obey your commands, when I see the considerable amount of cruelty and anger in you?  How will you turn that on me when I am yours to command?”  He growled ominously but didn’t move closer to the table.

“You know nothing of my anger.”  A warning growl coated his words.

“I know that you resent this manor and would have gladly ripped it down if the magic here would have let you.  And I know that you disregard most of the creatures here with you.”

“Ridiculous,” he roared.  “I do not disregard those trapped here with me.”

Trapped?  I held onto that bit of knowledge but made no comment on it.

“I saw you with the nymph,” I said, calmly taking a bite from the tender meat of the bird.  “If that is how you treat those you care for, I want no part of it.”  His growl covered most of his cursing.  “She seemed to want no part of you, the second time.  Her man stood woodenly nearby watching your use of her.  Tell me, would you have raked her trunk like you do to the wood in here had she turned into a tree?”  I motioned to the furrows dug deeply into the wood in the kitchen.  The black cloud of mist containing him churned with his wrath.

Suddenly, the table and its bounty of food flew away from me as if pulled by a gigantic hand.  Dishes clattered to the floor and shattered at my feet, splattering the gown with bits of food.  Fork still in hand, I popped my last bite into my mouth.

He raged while I chewed, my heart hammering at my audacity.  Still, I felt certain he wouldn’t touch me in anger despite my words.  He’d had opportunity to do so many times before.  No, tonight was meant to tempt me to say yes to his offer.  If he touched me, he knew the answer would never change.

“Thank you for the meal.  I enjoyed the food, but the company could use some manners,” I said lightly and stood, shaking what food I could from the dress.

I turned and carefully picked my way through the broken shards of dishware, navigating my bare feet to the safety of the bedroom.  He growled, roared, and cursed the entire time.

Staying clothed, I lay back down in bed and stopped listening to his rant.  The meal and his tantrum had exhausted me.  I went to sleep.

*    *    *    *

After pulling on my socks and then lacing up my boots, I crept to the kitchen.  Disaster still claimed the room.  On the butcher block, I spotted the shredded remains of my dress and bag.  A small sack, about the size of my fist, waited next to the pile.  I loosened the tie and looked in at the fine granules of real sugar.  The dull, light tan crystals were a rare treat this far north and worth their weight in gold.  Two gold coins rested flat against the table near the piled remains of my belongings.  I imagined his temper after I slept and his regret after he vented it on my things.  Shaking my head, I scooped up everything and headed toward the door.

I still felt weak, but no longer sick.  Unsure of the quarantine, I hoped my arrival back in the Water would not cause issue.  The vial of medicine, which had been on the chair when I woke, now hid within my bodice.  I’d sipped a small dose when I had wakened, as a precaution.

Walking out into the sunlight, I filled my lungs with the fresh air and let it out slowly.  A crow watched from a nearby tree, and I bowed to it.  It clacked its beak at me in return.  Smiling, I ambled to the gate, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my face.  It didn’t seem to happen too often inside the estate.

Ahead, near the gate, a figure hid under the shadows of the trees.  I halted as soon as I spotted it, wondering if someone had crossed into the estate without the beast’s knowledge.  I didn’t have many friends in Konrall, and those I had wouldn’t risk the beast’s punishment for trespass.

“Will you not consider my offer?” the beast called to me angrily.  “I’ve sheltered you, fed you, cared for you.  You have no cause to deny me.”

Hearing his voice eased some of my fears, and I started forward.

“Stay where you are,” he commanded angrily.

I stilled, wondering what madness gripped him now.

“Your answer.  I will give you everything you desire if you but stay and do as I command.”

“Everything I desire?”  I fought to keep from laughing as he swore to it.  “That is a foolish promise when you have no idea what I desire.  What if my desire was your death or to destroy the manor?  Neither would be possible, would they?”

He snarled at my logic, and I moved forward.  He called me a spiteful woman, ungrateful and cold to the plight of others, selfish and cruel in the face of giving and kindness.  As I neared the gate, he moved back behind the underbrush, trying to stay in the shadows.  When I stepped onto the dirt just before the gate, he began to beg.

“Please,” he said.  “Anything that is within my power to give will be yours.  Do not take another step.  Turn back and stay with me.”

I shook my head and stepped forward again.  The gate swung open as he struck the tree under which he stood.  With a roar, he trampled through the brush, and I saw the beast with no obscurity a moment before I passed through the gate.

His pointy ears shot up from each side of his head.  His dark eyes were set deep under a dark, shaggy brow.  Claws tipped each digit, and fur covered his entire body.  With lips pulled back, his very sharp teeth gave no illusions as to what he was.  He truly was a beast.

I ran.  When I reached the road, I stopped and loosened my grip on the sugar and coins to switch to the other hand.  My heart pounded in my ears.

In the distance, I could still hear him.  They could probably even hear him in Konrall.

Knowing I’d made the right decision to leave when I had, despite my weak and shaking limbs, I set out toward the Water.

A nail held a sign to the front door of our home.  Ignoring the quarantine warning, I let myself inside.  A dry hacking cough greeted me, and I saw Father at the stove, cooking a watery soup.

“Benella,” he cried, backing away a step.  “You should have stayed away.”

“No, Father.  I couldn’t ever do that.”  I moved toward him and plucked my vial from my bodice and set it on the table next to the other very low vial.  “How much longer are you supposed to take the medicine?”

“Seven days from the onset,” he managed before coughing again.  The wheezing rasp at the end worried me.  He looked drawn and pale.  The hand that stirred the soup shook.  I pulled out a chair, took the spoon from him, then guided him to sit.

“Where are Bryn and Blye?”

“Sick in their bed.”

I found it odd that Bryn still lay abed when she’d been the first of us sick.  I was already up and walking about the countryside.  Keeping my thoughts to myself, I went to the well out back to fetch fresh water.

“The Head warned us not to go out during the day,” Father said.

“We need water,” I replied tartly.  I didn’t see how fetching the water only at night would benefit anyone.  It just meant Father worked when he should be resting.  If the Head cared so much, he could enter our den of sickness to scold me.

“Did you take your dose today?”

He shook his head, and I knew it was because there was so little left.  How could the doctor think this would last seven days for three people when only a quarter of the vial remained?  Father caught my expression as I carefully measured a dose into a cup and added water.

“Bryn took the dose twice a day hoping it would work faster.  I suspect Blye did the same, but in hopes it would keep her from catching it.”

I cast a glance at their closed door, the only consideration I gave them, and ladled some of the soup to Father.  As he sipped it, there was a knock on the front door.

We both exchanged glances before I called out a quarantine warning.

“I know,” a voice called back.  “I put it there.  So I’m wondering why we spotted someone entering this building a short while ago.”

My eyes narrowed, and I jerked open the door.  The Head stood in the road a good distance from the door.

“Good morning, Head.  Please, won’t you come in and discuss this transgression?  Better yet, I will come to you, and you can properly reprimand me.”

“Benella,” Father scolded behind me in a whisper.

“Please stay where you are,” the man said.  “Now that you’ve entered, you may not leave until the sickness passes.”

“I am fully aware of that.  I can read,” I said, pointing to the sign right beside me.  “We are running low on medicine.  The doctor said he had more if we had payment.  We also need supplies: oats, flour, any greens to be found.  Can you arrange for that?  I’d rather care for my father than have to run any errands,” I spoke softly, watching him to see if he understood my threat.

He nodded slowly.

“We can leave it on the porch and knock when you can come out for it.  You have payment for it?”

Nodding, I turned away from the door and grabbed the two coins I’d set on the table.  Father’s eyes rounded, having just noticed them.  At the door, I flipped them so they landed at the Head’s feet.

“Boil them before you trade with them.”

The Head reached into his pocket for a piece of leather and wrapped the coins within before walking away.  He would probably boil the coins and burn the leather.

“Where did those come from?” Father asked when I closed the door.

I smiled and sat by him.

“You will never believe the story,” I said, knowing full well he would.

Just then, the bedroom door opened, and Blye shuffled out.  She coughed weakly into an embroidered linen square, no rasp evident in her exhale.

“I heard voices,” she said pathetically to explain her presence.  Then her eyes widened at the sight of me.  “Benella, where did you get that dress?”  She rushed forward and touched the sleeve of it.  “Exquisite,” she breathed and tugged me to my feet.  “What happened to the hem?”

When she met my eyes, looking for answers, I asked a question of my own.

“Why are you still abed?  You seem fit enough.”

Her air of excitement immediately left her, and she again coughed into her linen square.

“I think I’m well and come from the room, but too soon I feel worn and shaky and need to rest.  The illness teases me, giving me a moment of normalcy, then robbing me of it all within the same hour.”

Probably just long enough for her to eat, I thought nastily.  I closed my eyes and pushed away my anger, knowing Father listened to us.  It would do no good to pursue the subject.

“Then you should be back abed to rest.  I will bring you something to eat soon.  The Head went for supplies.”

She nodded weakly and shuffled back into the room.

*    *    *    *

By dinner, I’d made a hearty soup with the supplies delivered by the Head.  He’d put the two gold coins to good use, and we had plenty to hold us for four days, including more medicine.  I ladled Father and I each a healthy portion.  He rose from his bed to join me at the table.  I felt his forehead when I noticed an extra shine in his eyes.  He felt too warm, and I recalled how I’d burned with a fever.  After we ate, I helped him to bed, giving him a drink before directing him to call for me if he needed anything.

Then I took what remained of the soup, added cold water, and served the tepid watery mix to my sisters in bed.  They took their bowls without comment and drained them while I watched.

The next day Father grew worse.  I gave him another dose from my bottle, promising that any pain he felt in his lungs would soon disappear, and left him to sleep.  For my sisters, I gave them their dose for breakfast and promised them food, soon.  I delivered the food several hours later.  More watered down soup.

An agonizing day passed, listening to Father’s racking cough.  I sat by his bed, just watching him breathe, and wondered if the beast had done the same while I suffered through my fever.  By the time the sun rose, Father rested easier, and I made him drink more water before bathing his face.

At no time during the night had either of my sisters crept from their room, so I went to check on them as well.  Both slept soundly, each on her own side of the bed, and I felt a twinge of guilt at my assumption that they faked a lingering illness.  I waited until I closed the door softly before I let a small cough escape.  Had Father not been ill, I would have been in bed last night as well.

Tiredly, I sat beside him again and soon began to doze.

As the days passed, so did the supplies.  We all managed a full seven days of medicine, but remained in quarantine until Father’s cough subsided nine days after I had returned home.  By then, very little of the salted stag meat remained.  When the Head declared us fit to open our doors again, we all worked together to clean and air out the cottage.  I avoided the chore of boiling the linens and thought of the beast.

With supplies so low, my sisters whispered to me about going for more.  They didn’t ask how I came by the dress or why the Head gave us the food he had.  They only knew that I’d been the source of the good fortune that helped us through the sickness.  When their incessant pleading became too much, I snuck away at dawn to visit the sisters.

Father had returned to teaching the day before.  Though I hadn’t been to the Whispering Sisters in over a week, the guard nodded when he saw me and let me in.  Ila greeted me just inside the door with tea.

“What brings you here today?  I heard about your illness and am glad you’re fit again.”

I nodded in agreement and followed her down the stairs to the bathing room.  After so long away, her nakedness drew my gaze again, but she didn’t seem to notice.  Aryana already lounged in one of the heated tubs.

“My sisters are making my ears bleed with their—” I took a deep breath and then lowered my voice to mimic their husky whispers.

“Could I bathe today?” I asked, instead of complaining.

“You are so self-contained,” Aryana commented.  “You need to let your thoughts out more often so they don’t sour you from the inside.”

She rose from the tub, and I held out a hand to help her.

“If I speak my mind, I will sour my family.  I’ve grown used to biting my tongue over the years.  It usually doesn’t bother me.”

Ila made a neutral noise as she led the way to the back room.  They shooed Gen out.

“Is this a new dress?” Aryana asked, touching the fabric.

I nodded and reached for the buttons running down the bodice.

“It’s very pretty,” she said.  “I imagine Blye was quite jealous of it.”

“How do you know Blye?” I asked, curious that she knew Blye well enough to know of her nature.

“Only what we hear from our clients,” Ila whispered, helping me lift the dress over my head.

“Your clients speak of my sisters?”  I didn’t like that at all.  Yes, I knew Blye could be a bit vain and jealous and Bryn a bit selfish and harsh, but they were my sisters.  I loved them regardless.

“A few.  They or their wives must see your sisters in the market district during the day,” Aryana said on her way to fetch two pails of warm water while I discarded my underclothes.

Water cascaded over my head, and I raised my hands to wipe the water from my eyes.  The touch of a hand on my back and another on my legs jarred me from my thoughts of a gossiping market street and to the reality of bathing with two relative strangers.  My eyes widened a moment before Aryana slid her soaped hands to my shoulders.  Her firm fingers melted my objection.

The past week of fetching, cooking, and cleaning had caused knots and strains, which had helped inspire the visit to the sisters to soak in one of their tubs.

“You’re still considered new in the village, so people will talk about you.  They’ve commented on your good trading skills, too.  Many wonder where you find out of season produce.”

In that moment, I was very glad I’d hidden the sugar under my mattress at home.  Perhaps I needed to alternate where I traded and ask the beast for more common items.  What was I thinking?  Was I going back?

A hand slid over my breast, distracting me.  A tingle of awareness prickled my skin.  It felt odd, but not painful, just wrong.  I’d washed myself plenty of times and never gotten such a reaction before.

“Here,” Ila handed me the soap, having reached my upper thighs.  I was thankful she let me wash myself instead of continuing upward.

“You have more tension than most men,” Aryana commented as she worked her way down my back.  “Perhaps after a soak, you’d like us to soothe your muscles.”

I recalled how Gen had reacted and politely declined.  I caught Ila’s knowing smirk, but ignored it.  They rinsed me, and the three of us walked to the tubs, picking three close together.  We didn’t talk much.  Too soon, Ila was insisting we get out before we made ourselves sick.  We went to rinse with cool water, and they worked oil into my hair again after I dried by the fire.

*    *    *    *

When I returned home, the lingering smell of eggs and bacon tinted the air inside the cottage.  Bryn stood before the wash pan, scrubbing the dishes.

“How did you get more food?” I asked excitedly, my stomach grumbling and eyes wandering, looking for what my nose smelled.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Eggs.  Bacon.  I can smell it,” the words took on a harsh tone as they tumbled from my mouth.

“Oh, yes.  There wasn’t enough to share.  Sorry,” she said airily as she set a pan aside.

“Did you at least give some to Father?”

“Please.  He sits all day.  I’m here cleaning, cooking, running to the market.  I needed the food so I wouldn’t collapse,” she replied irritably.

She refused to turn and look at me.  I frowned at her back.  We had no food and no coin.  Again.  Trading away the sugar would be dangerous, but Father wasn’t eating again.  I went to the mattress and felt for the sugar, but pulled out an empty hand.

“Don’t bother,” Bryn said.  “I found what you were trying to hoard selfishly and traded it for the food.”

My mouth dropped open.

“A handful of sugar for only enough bacon and eggs to feed one?”

“Just go and get more,” she said with a shrug as if I had come by the sugar easily.

I thought of the beast and his last, frightening appearance over a week ago.  In all likelihood, I would not be welcomed back.

“I can’t,” I said desperately.  “That was the last of it.”

“Every time you leave, you come back with something new.  Don’t tell me that’s the last of it.  Go.”  She picked up a bag and threw it at me, her face twisted with anger and her eyes filled with tears.

I took the bag and left with nowhere to go.  The sisters were now accepting customers, and I wouldn’t enter the estate again.

Walking to the outskirts of town, I found a new patch of grass near a tree and sat there until the sun started to crest the horizon.  Stomach cramping, I started the walk home.