Red (15 page)

I groaned.

“It's not so bad.” Goldie pushed up her sleeves. “We can get this done quick as pixies if we work together.”

But washing dishes in an enchanted castle was not as easy as Goldie had predicted. When we started to wash them, the dishes wrenched themselves out of our hands and smashed against the walls and ceiling, spraying shards of china all over. We tried again, with the same result.

“I think they're ticklish,” said Goldie.

They were definitely something. We had to wash them only in a circular motion with just the right amount of pressure, otherwise they went mad and we had even more of a mess to clean. But the worst was washing the pots and kettles. I accidentally scrubbed too hard on a big black kettle, the kind in which Granny would brew a potion, and it turned itself over on my head, drenching me with dirty dishwater. Goldie burst into giggles. My only consolation was that she slipped up with her own pot and got the same treatment.

After the dishes were washed, we were guided by the castle back to our room. On the beds lay two white nightgowns, one with red roses and one with yellow roses stitched on their hems.

Goldie went behind the screen to change and exclaimed, “There's a hot bath back here!” I heard her plunge into the water. “Oh, this feels glorious! It's been ages since I had a warm bath. I'm getting all the dirt and grime off me.”

“Don't forget the boogers,” I said.

Goldie paused for a moment and then said, “Thank you, Red. You're a true friend.”

After Goldie had finished washing, the bath was drained and refilled with clean, steaming water for me. I wanted nothing more than to simply collapse on the bed and sleep, but I was horribly dirty, and I knew I'd sleep better if I bathed. Also, I probably didn't smell like roses or anything. I soaked and scrubbed off the dirt and dunked my head beneath the water. I lathered my skin with rose-petal soap.

When I got out of the bath, Goldie was already in bed and fast asleep, her damp curls spread out on her pillow. I dressed in my nightgown, then sat by the fire and dried my hair with a towel. A brush rose from a table of its own accord as though to comb through my tangles.

“Forget it,” I said, and it fell back to its place.

I got into bed, which was soft as feathers and satiny smooth. This room didn't look or feel like a prison. I had been well fed, and I smelled better than I had in…probably ever, but all these comforts had a suffocating effect. I would rather rot in a dungeon than be fed and pampered while Granny lay dying. I was so close to saving her. Just outside this castle were The Red Roses, but how could I get them without the beast or his gargoyles attacking me?

Far away, a wolf howled, high and mournful. My heart leapt. I slipped out of bed and ran to the window. I couldn't see him, but it was Wolf, of that I was sure. He was calling to me and mourning at the same time.

Come!
he howled. I could feel the sadness in his cry. He felt he had failed me. And I had failed him. Who would protect him now?

I pressed my nose to the windowpane. “I'm safe,” I told him. “Keep yourself safe, friend.” I tried to send my message to him, but my words came out a whisper.

Sleep did not come easily. I kept spinning the events of the day in my head. The roses. The beast. Granny. I suspected the beast would have let us go if I hadn't mentioned Granny's name. Something about it had sparked his interest, and I wondered if perhaps the beast had imprisoned me here for ransom. He said he wanted something. Something that had been taken from him. What could it be? Whatever it was, it seemed he needed magical help to get it back—Granny's help.

In the morning, I woke to Goldie standing over me. She was so close I yelped and flinched. “Goldie, don't
do
that!”

“Did you know you slobber in your sleep?” asked Goldie. “Mummy calls it slobber-sleep. It's not very ladylike.”

“I don't give a pig's snout what your mummy thinks. Didn't she ever tell you it's not very ladylike to stare at people while they're sleeping?”

“You're grumpy in the morning,” said Goldie.

I scoffed. “Aren't you a smart one?” I threw one of the feather pillows at her, which she caught and hugged to her stomach.

“I'm hungry.”

“Were you planning to eat me?”

“Last night when I said I was hungry, the door swung open. I keep saying it over and over again, but the door won't open this time. I tried to go out the door, but it's locked, just like last night. I don't think anything will happen until we're both awake, so wake up.”

I groaned, rolled over, and flopped out of bed. The door stayed shut, but as soon as I was on my feet, a bell rang on the other side of the room, next to a little door in the wall. Goldie opened the tiny door.

“Breakfast!” She lifted a tray with bowls of porridge drizzled with cream and—

“Honey!” cried Goldie, sniffing the sweet scent. There were also fresh strawberries, ripe and red and fragrant. The smell made me homesick for Granny.

Goldie scooped up a spoonful and was about to shove it into her mouth when I knocked it away.

“Hey! What did you do that for?”

“We're prisoners, remember? It could be poisoned.”

“Our food wasn't poisoned last night,” said Goldie.

“Of course it wasn't. The beast was eating that food, and anyway, you can't always tell right away.” I sniffed at the porridge. Most poisons left a bitter aftertaste and sometimes had an odor.

“Red, I'm
starving,
” Goldie whined.

I lifted the spoon and took just a tiny lick. I smacked my lips and tried to detect anything sour or bitter, but all I tasted was sweet cream, and it awakened my ravenous hunger. My stomach growled. “I guess it's okay.”

Goldie dove for her spoon and devoured the porridge. I ate mine almost as quickly, and then we smashed the strawberries in our mouths.

When our bowls had been licked clean, we found that our clothes had been washed and mended and folded in neat piles on the ends of our beds. Once we were fully dressed, the door clicked open.

Beast stood in the doorway, as though he'd been waiting with great anticipation.

“I'm afraid I've made a bit of a mess in the foyer,” he said, and he led us to the entryway near the stairs. Muddy paw prints covered the floors, tables, and chairs. A broom, bucket, and mop presented themselves and gathered around Goldie and me.

“Get to work.” Beast sang the words with wicked glee, and left us.

“Oh, ghastly goiters, chores are worse than imprisonment,” said Goldie.

“Hmph,” I said. “A broom can't
make
me clean up.” I went to step around the broom, but it shifted to block my path. I stepped the other way, with the same result.

“Cheeky, huh?! But you're still just a pile of sticks!” I backed up and ran to leap over it, but the moment my feet left the ground, the broom swept me back so that I tripped over the pail, which flipped up in the air and landed on my head.

Goldie stifled a giggle. “Are you hurt?”

I lifted the bucket off my head and threw it against the wall. “Curse all cleaning supplies!” The broom bopped me on the head.

Goldie no longer made any effort to hide her giggles. She keeled over laughing and grasped the mop to keep from falling over, but as soon as she touched the handle, the mop sprang into action. Instead of attacking her, it started to glide and spin Goldie like they were dancing at a ball. “Oh, my goodness, Red, this mop is
romantic
!” The mop hopped and twirled, and Goldie giggled with glee, completely lost in the moment. She even started talking to the mop.

“Why, yes, I would love another dance, thank you.”

“Oh, you are
such
a fine dancer.”

“What's that?
Marry
you? But what would my mummy say? She would not approve of a mop for a son-in-law!”

While Goldie danced with her romantic mop, I wrestled with my fickle and obstinate broom. I chased it in circles, the bucket trailing at my heels so that I tripped over it at every turn. I finally held the broom down long enough to sweep up some of the mess; a moment later, it wrenched itself free and scattered my dirt pile.

“Aaaargh!” I roared. I took an ax from a nearby suit of armor and pressed it against the broom handle like a blade to the throat. “Behave, or I'll chop you up.”

The broom functioned in the appropriate manner after that.

Once we swept up the mess, the broom, mop, and bucket surrendered.

“Phew!” said Goldie. “I'm quite fatigued.”

I was likewise exhausted and hoped to find a quiet place to rest. No such luck. Beast was waiting for us right outside the doors, a few feathers stuck in his fur.

“I'm such a clumsy-claws,” he said. “I had a run-in with the pillows in the sitting room.”

The sitting room looked as though it had snowed inside.

For three days, the beast ordered us about. We swept and mopped and scrubbed until it was dusk, and my knees were bruised and my arms were like melted wax.

And the beast was not our only problem. The castle itself was a formidable foe, bursting with spells and enchantments. Whatever the beast ordered, the castle carried it out. The brooms, buckets, dishes, doors, and furniture all worked like taskmasters, until the third day.

Goldie and I had just finished breakfast when the door opened. We walked through, expecting Beast to be there to give us another chore, but he wasn't. So we were wandering through the corridor and down the stairs when we heard a faint thump
.

“What was that?” Goldie asked.

“Our next chore, probably,” I said. Beast was probably knocking down a wall just so he could make us clean it up.

We opened doors, peeking in various rooms, but they were all empty.

We heard another thump, louder this time, like something had been dropped or thrown against a wall.

“Perhaps someone is trapped,” said Goldie.

“Maybe,” I said. Whatever it was, my curiosity had been piqued. We followed the sound to a set of tall doors. Muffled grunts and the occasional thump came from the other side. Slowly, I turned the knob, and the door opened.

The room was an enormous library. The walls stretched higher than the tallest trees in The Woods. The ceiling was a dome of glass that flooded the room with light, illuminating thousands upon thousands of books. I never would have believed so many books existed in the entire world.

Beast stood by a bookshelf, tearing through a volume with feverish passion, as though searching for something. When he did not find it, he growled and flung the book to the floor. The book floated up and placed itself on the shelf while the beast moved on to the next. This continued until he noticed Goldie and me.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

“Look at all these books!” Goldie exclaimed. “I
love
books. Mummy once got me a book with lots of pictures. I looked at it so many times it fell apart.” She started to walk along the bookshelves, brushing the spines with her fingertips. “I wish I still had it. I wonder if there are any books with pictures in here, perhaps one with a handsome prince who kisses awake a beautiful princess— Oh!”

A book lifted itself off the shelf and floated to Goldie. She opened it, and sure enough, the pages were full of colorful pictures. “How lovely!” She settled herself on a cushioned chair and engrossed herself in the book. This seemed to soften the beast somewhat.

“And are you fond of reading, Red?” he asked. “Did your granny read you many books?”

“Books are rare on The Mountain,” I said. “Granny mostly told me stories.” I had learned my letters and words by reading Granny's spells and potion recipes.

“I will tell you a story, then,” said Beast, “one your granny surely never told you.” I fiddled with my dress, trying to seem uninterested, but I had a queasy feeling in my stomach that whatever story the beast was about to tell was significant.

“There once was a princess,” Beast began, “who had everything she could ever wish for. Gold and silver, land and loyal subjects. She was lively and intelligent. She played instruments and sang sonnets, but above all, she was beautiful, and the fame of her beauty spread throughout the land. Brave knights and handsome princes came from far and wide to win her hand in marriage, and yet the princess was unhappy, for she knew that one day it would all come to an end. She would grow old, and her beauty would fade. Eventually she would die. Oh, the thought was unbearable, that she should grow old and become nothing but bones and dirt in the ground.”

I grumbled a little. I didn't need another lecture from a nonhuman about the foolishness of humans despising death. I was sure beasts lived for a thousand years, like dwarves.

The beast continued. “The princess knew of an enchantress rumored to wield powerful magic. The enchantress healed the sick. She gave barren women children and caused failed crops to grow again. The princess summoned the enchantress to her castle and commanded that she make her immortal. She offered her riches. Gold, silver, jewels, half her kingdom, if only she would help her stay young forever. The enchantress refused. It was a foolish idea, she said, and she would have no part in it.

“The princess was not accustomed to being denied, especially in such an insulting manner, so she threatened the enchantress with dungeons and torture and death if she did not obey her command.

“The enchantress laughed. She did not fear such a threat.

“Then the princess did something she had never done in her life. She begged. She got down on her knees and pleaded with the enchantress. She would do anything, anything at all, if only she could live on, forever young and beautiful.

“The enchantress gave a final warning: ‘No human should live forever. It goes against human nature.'

“ ‘Then I don't want to be human!' declared the princess. ‘I am more than human! I am royal! Take death away from me!'

“ ‘If you truly wish it,' said the enchantress. ‘I gave you fair warning, but because you are such a determined fool, perhaps you deserve to get your wish.'

“The enchantress spoke an incantation, causing roses to grow in the palace garden. She covered the entire grounds with roses. They crawled over the gates and the statues, overtook the shrubs and trees, and in the center of it all was an enchanted rosebush. Red roses. Magic roses.

“ ‘Pick one,' said the enchantress. ‘Prick your finger on a thorn. Give your blood to the earth, and you shall never die.'

“In eager haste, the princess plucked a rose and pricked her finger. She allowed a drop of her blood to soak into the earth. She felt the magic rush into her body like fire, making her strong, powerful, unbreakable. She was immortal! She danced among the roses until she frightened the gardener, who had been trying vigorously to trim them back. When he saw the princess, he screamed and ran away.

“He is stunned by my immortal beauty, the princess thought.

“She walked through the castle and everyone who saw her fled. The cook, the butler, her ladies-in-waiting. Even soldiers with spears and swords shouted in fear and fled the castle grounds.

“The princess went to her chambers to observe her new immortal state in the mirror, and when she saw herself, she wished to die. She was immortal indeed, but she was no longer human. She was…”

“A beast,” I whispered. Beast fell quiet. “You're the princess.”

“Was,” said the beast.