TFT 01 Beauty and the Beast (21 page)

“Ah-ah-ah. I did not say you could leave, dearie. It’s been too long since I’ve supped on a maiden’s heart,” the woman said, rubbing her gnarled hands together as she lurched closer.

Severin was off Fidele in one smooth movement, standing between Elle and the crone with his rapier thrust at the old woman.

“Not a step forward,” he growled.

The crone snarled. “I have no need for men. Leave, boy.”

“No,” Severin said.

The hag stopped shuffling and regarded Severin. The white color of her eyes seemed to swirl as she studied him. “A fighter are you? Won’t do you any good. Stand aside or I’ll curse you.”

“It’s a little late for that,” Severin said, crouching in what Elle recognized as a sword stance.

The hag chuckled, making the hair on Elle’s arms prickle. “Heroics will only see you dead,” she said, her voice growing darker until she sounded like the rumbling growls of starved wolves. “Your curse is nothing but child’s play; I can forge something a thousand times worse. A century of being picked at by crows—they’ll start with your eyeballs of course—or how about being buried alive? Maybe I’ll imprison your spirit and you can serve me for eternity, but that wouldn’t be as satisfying as baking you whole. Oh, I do so love to be gruesome.”

“Severin,” Elle said.

“Be still,” Severin ordered.

“But in the end, maybe I’ll gut you and tan your hide. You would make a fine decoration,” the hag said, bobbing her skinny neck.

When Severin took another step towards the crone she raised her staff. Again the wind buffeted Severin and Elle, pelting them with shards of ice. The horses screamed. The hag laughed.

The crone hugged herself while Severin and Elle recovered. Her laugh broke into a shriek when Severin nailed her shoulder with a hand axe Elle hadn’t seen him unearth.

The hag screamed like an animal and whirled her walking stick in the air. “You shall pay for that, beast!” she spat, her staff starting to glow the same curdled color as her eyes.

Severin struck like a snake, stabbing his sword in the woman’s chest before ripping it upwards.

The woman howled and her body erupted into ash colored snow, sickly swirling for a moment before the wind carried it away. Her howls echoed in the woods long after the fight was over.

Rosemerry shook, and Fidele tossed his head after Severin sheathed his sword and mounted up.

“What was that?” Elle asked, gripping her saddle for support.

“A mountain hag, I think,” Severin said. “They are twisted, evil magical entities. They mostly live in Verglas, our northern neighbor, but sometimes they wander south to us in the winter months if they are desperate enough. They prey on young women, killing them and devouring their hearts. Typically one does not see them in Loire but on the darkest days of the year. I find it worrisome that one is already this far south when it is but the first snow of the season.”

Elle shivered and felt for the shape of her dagger pressed into the side of her boot.

“We should return to the chateau. I wouldn’t think more than one mountain hag would wander into this wood, but I don’t wish to chance it. This way,” Severin said, taking Fidele off the path.

The mouse colored horse plunged into a drift to skirt around the fallen tree before Severin steered him back onto the road.

Rosemerry followed, shaking once to making his fur poof up.

When they were further down the road Elle twisted in the saddle to glance behind them. She could barely see the fallen tree—a sad, black figure spread across the road. “Severin, thank you.”

“For?”

“For fighting the hag for me.”

Severin pulled Fidele into a halt and actually turned around to stare at Elle. “As long as you are in my care you are my responsibility. I will make sure no farther harm comes to you.”

“Harm is one thing, but she threatened to curse you more than you already are.”

“I was prepared for such an outcome.”

“And you still did it?”

“Of course.”

Severin and Elle stared at each other for a few moments before Severin said, “I don’t understand what you are surprised about.”

Elle stared down at Rosemerry’s fat, glossy neck. “No one has ever been willing to sacrifice themselves for me.”

“Elle.”

The tone of Severin’s voice dragged Elle eyes up so they met his.

“I will always protect you,” he said before straightening in his saddle and cuing Fidele on.

Elle stared at Severin’s back, her mind in an uproar. She wanted to believe Severin, but how could she when she was indentured because of him?

Late that night Elle crept down the hallway that led to the kitchens. The castle was quiet, not just because the servants couldn’t talk, but because everyone was asleep. It was the dog watch of the night, and Elle had spent hours tossing and twisting in her bed. She was so restless Jock had abandoned her after the first hour.

“If I can’t rest I may as well get a snack,” Elle said, following the corridor.

When she entered the kitchens, Elle was shocked to find Bernadine, alert and working. The doughy woman was puttering around her domain, arranging gleaming pots and inspecting fresh produce, and she was not alone. Heloise sat on a stool at the table Bernadine bustled around, nursing a cup of steaming tea.

“Bernadine, Heloise?” Elle said, alerting the women to her presence.

Bernadine smiled and beckoned Elle in. When Elle stalled, somewhat embarrassed to be seen by the older women in her dressing gown, the cook waddled forward and grasped her hand, pulling her into the warmth of the kitchen.

The air smelled like freshly baked bread, and two fireplaces blazed with cheerful flames. Jock slept on his back, his belly exposed to the world, cuddled next to a kitchen cat that was kept to keep the chateau clear of mice.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Elle said, sliding onto a stool next to Heloise.

Bernadine smiled at Elle and wrote,
You came to the right place
, before she grabbed a fresh loaf of bread with a towel and started sawing at it with a formidable looking knife.

Heloise retrieved another cup and saucer. She poured out a serving of tea and presented Elle with the cup.

“Thank you,” Elle said, sipping the tea. It was chamomile, lightly sweetened with honey. It warmed Elle from the inside out, and took the stiffness out of her shoulders.

Bernadine slathered butter on a steaming slice of honey oat bread before she placed it on a plate and slid it in front of Elle.

Elle bit into the rich bread, sighing with satisfaction.

Now, what has you upset?
Bernadine asked.

“I’m not upset, it is merely that I cannot sleep,” Elle firmly said before sipping her tea.

That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.
Heloise wrote.

You clearly have something on your mind. Tell us
,
you’ll feel better
, Bernadine urged.

You’ve raised Bernadine’s curiosity now. There will be no silencing her until you tell
, Heloise wrote when Elle delayed replying by eating more warm bread.

“I was thinking of the mountain hag,” Elle said.

Heloise crossed herself, and Bernadine puffed up like Jock when he barked at Severin. Neither Bernadine nor Emele had taken the news of the mountain hag particularly well when Severin and Elle returned from their ride. Elle half expected the ladies maid to insist on sleeping in her room that evening.

Bernadine tugged on her mask before writing,
It is a good thing His Highness was able to protect you.

Heloise nodded once and raised her tea cup in a silent toast.

The memory is keeping you awake?
Bernadine added to her slate.

“In a way,” Elle said. “I don’t understand why Severin protected me.”

It is the duty of a man to protect his companions
, Heloise wrote.

“To a certain extent, that is true. But the hag was threatening him, and I don’t believe it was a mere play. She would have harmed him.”

His Highness is too good of a soldier to be taken down by a mountain hag
, Bernadine wrote, her small lips twisted in disgust.

“But why did he even take the chance?” Elle asked, cradling her tea cup.

His Lordliness will make extravagant sacrifices for those he treasures
, Heloise wrote with some wryness.

“I cannot be important to him. I’m nothing but a rooftop prowler,” Elle said.

But you are important to him
, Bernadine wrote.

“Why?”

Only His Greatness can answer that question
, Heloise said, spinning her slate for Elle to see.

Bernadine eagerly scribbled away on her slate.
How do
you
feel for His Highness? Is he important to you?

Elle stared at Bernadine. “After staying here for so long one would think I would no longer be shocked by your boldness or match making ways.”

Bernadine has the subtlety of an avalanche
, Heloise wrote.

Bernadine silently chuckled, nearly bowling Heloise over on accident with her plump backside when she walked around the table to check a pot boiling over the open fire.

Heloise turned so her pronounced nose thrust in Elle’s direction.
At minimum you feel friendship for His Worthiness. You laugh and enjoy your encounters with him.

“Yes.”

Bernadine eagerly waddled back to her slate on the table.
If the roles were reversed and it was
you
facing the mountain hag for His Highness’s sake, would you do it?

“Of course, but that’s different. He is a sovereign. The country needs him.”

You would not try to save him for any other reason?
Bernadine asked.

“I don’t know,” Elle said, eating the last bite of her bread.

Bernadine deflated in disappointment before she busied herself with sawing another slice of bread.

Heloise, however, smacked her open hand on the table, making a loud crack.
Let me tell you something, missy. You young maidens now days get misty eyed thinking about true love and the fathomless adoration you will share. It’s not like that. Real love is looking at someone and knowing that you wouldn’t mind waking up to their bad breath for the next century, and you are fine with them seeing you before you brush your hair and fix your face for the day.

Elle blinked, surprised by the housekeeper’s sudden outburst, but Heloise wasn’t finished yet.

Loving a person isn’t a magical, sparkly passion. It’s hard work. It’s putting the other person before yourself. It’s companionship and being able to trust and depend on each other. That loquacious true love everyone spouts about is really finding a partner who will go through the heartbreaks and joys of life with you.

Heloise stopped writing only when Bernadine smacked her over the head with a wooden spoon. The housekeeper narrowed her eyes at the cook like a bird whose feathers had just been ruffled.

Be gentle
, Bernadine wrote to her friend.

Heloise scoffed and finished her tea.
If you will excuse me, good evening
, she wrote before swirling from the room.

Elle and Bernadine watched her leave before Bernadine continued.
Heloise lost her husband when they were both dreadfully young. They had been married but five years. She still misses him.

“She is right, though,” Elle said. “I am terribly unromantic. The pretty stories about beautiful girls finding true love never caught my fancy. I thought love would be useless in the real world, where merchant’s shipments are delayed by muddy roads, countries are forever eyeing each other in thoughts of war, and one must work to live. Heloise’s explanation of love is perhaps the first definition I have ever felt to be true.”

Most dwell on the feeling of love, rather than the relationship itself
, Bernadine nodded.

Elle rubbed the sides of her teacup in the following silence. “Thank you for the refreshments, and for the conversation,” she said, sliding off the stool when she finished her tea.

Has it given you anything to think of?

Elle considered the question for a moment. “It has. Good night, Bernadine.”

Good night to you, Elle. Sleep well
.

“I shall certainly try.”

Chapter 12

Love and Squirrels

“Do I have something on my face,” Severin said. He didn’t even look up from his book.

Elle, who was leaning against a bookshelf and watching the prince, tilted her head. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at me. Is something wrong with my face—besides the obvious?”

“Oh, no. I apologize, I was merely thinking,” Elle said, clasping her hands behind her back before meandering to Severin’s table.

Stacks of neatly piled books were posted at the corners like paper watchtowers. Maps of the border Loire shared with Arcainia were spread around the table.

Elle peered over Severin’s shoulder to study his work. “So you’ve caved and have agreed to war on Arcainia?”