He froze, not a muscle moving as his eyes tightened. Then he bared his fangs and growled, the sound starting low, but gaining quickly in volume. My eyes widened, and Chestnut shied, reacting to my tensing legs as much as the noise.
She turned her head toward the stable, and I encouraged her to move faster with a further tightening of my knees. As we fled ignominiously, I felt shame course through me. Once again, my courage had failed me.
Chapter 7
I trembled the whole time I groomed Chestnut, as the terrified energy of the ride and the tension of the confrontation with the Beast drained away. When I finally made it back to my room, I had regained my calm. Until I saw a new parchment pushed under the door.
You will not leave the castle grounds under any circumstances. It is not safe. The gate will remain closed and locked from now on. Do not try to circumvent it.
No details or real explanation. No apology for nearly getting me killed. The new note followed the last one into the fire. There was no way now that I would be attending a meal with him, even if it meant going hungry.
As twilight approached, the sound of inaudible whispers filled the room. The wardrobe door rattled and opened, a breeze ruffling the dresses. I resolutely turned away, despite my rumbling stomach.
The whispers seemed to grow more agitated, the soft sound growing louder and more discordant. The door of my room swung open, and I strode over and slammed it shut again. The whispers went silent for a moment before bursting out louder than ever. I went over and sat in a chair by the window, staring out into the garden below as the last rays of sunset burnished the flowers.
More rattling emanated from the wardrobe, but I resolutely ignored it. Material enveloped me, and I yelped inelegantly, fighting my way free of the many layers. I stood up and glared down at the violet dress which had apparently been dropped on my head.
I turned my glare on the room but, of course, it remained empty. “Leave me alone,” I said out loud. “I’m not going.”
More rattling and rustling spread through the room, and my door swung open again, but I continued to glare indiscriminately until it slowly subsided. “If he wants me to eat with him, he needs to learn to ask nicely.”
A sound more like a sigh than a whisper filled the room, followed by silence and the soft closing of the door. I shook my head. I had been right the night before—the castle seemed committed to my dinners with the Beast.
I flopped down on my bed. My defiant stance unfortunately meant a night of boredom as well as a night of hunger. I sat up abruptly. The food I had so far eaten had tasted real enough and had filled my stomach. If it was only delivered by the enchantment and not created by it, then there might be a kitchen full of food in here somewhere. A kitchen where I could requisition a meal.
Given their recent agitation, I doubted the lights or whispers would be inclined to help me circumvent the Beast’s orders in this way. But I had spent my entire life in various palaces and castles, and I was starting to get a feel for this one. I suspected I would be able to find my way there eventually.
Listening at the door for any hint of movement in the passage outside, I pushed the door partially open and slipped out of the room. I felt a little ridiculous creeping along through empty passageways in a castle that contained only one other inhabitant—and one who was presumably in the dining hall. But somehow—possibly due to wishful thinking—I had begun to think of the whispers as companions. Slightly misguided ones, perhaps, but company of a sort. And I wasn’t entirely sure what they would do if they saw me.
I chuckled quietly. If they saw me. Whispers didn’t exactly have eyes, and for all I knew they were part of the magic of the castle, in which case I was trying to hide from the walls themselves. But still I trod as quietly as possible, stopping to listen and then peer around each corner.
It took me well over an hour to find the kitchens, by which time I was beginning to fear that the Beast must be finishing his own solitary meal. And I had no idea where he went when he wasn’t riding or eating. The thought made me tread even more carefully, but it also made me more determined. I would not go to sleep with an empty stomach while he satisfied his hunger.
When I finally reached a promising doorway, I stuck my head around cautiously. Sure enough, a large kitchen greeted me with a cheerful fire burning in one of the fireplaces. I thought I had become used to the strange ways of the castle, but my knees gave a slight wobble at the sight of plates, cutlery, and food flying around the room. After a moment, I registered the presence of the whispers.
I stood there motionless until a sort of pattern emerged. The remains of a delicious looking feast were cleaning themselves up, scraps making their way into scrap buckets of their own accord and dishes washing themselves. If I hadn’t felt so unnerved, I would have laughed at the comical sight.
I wish you could see this, Lily, I projected into the nothingness. I wish you were here.
The whispers seemed to rise in volume as I thought of my sister, although still stopping short of any clear meaning. I sat just outside the doorway and let myself fall into the grip of sadness and loneliness. What was the point of new sights and adventures if I had no one to share them with?
A loud crash and a renewed surge of whispers distracted me from my melancholy. Peering into the room once more, I saw that shards from a large dish now lay scattered across the floor. I could almost hear a recriminatory tone to the sound of the whispers, and they sounded so much like words that I listened intently hoping to decipher something. They had become much louder since I had first encountered them, and I didn’t understand how I was still unable to hear any words amid the rustling, murmuring sound.
I held my breath, tipping one ear toward the kitchen, but still the sound seemed to slip past my consciousness. I thought again of my twin and all the theories she would have about this odd place, and a sudden thought struck me. I had put plenty of effort into connecting with her, throwing my projections out in her direction, but I hadn’t put the same experimentation into listening. Perhaps if I could not reach her, she could still reach me.
It was a more difficult prospect, of course, because it required that she be attempting to reach me at the exact moment that I was attempting to listen. But the more I understood and perfected my ability to listen, the more likely I would hear her next time she projected. The thought excited me enough that I didn’t want to wait.
I settled myself more comfortably against the wall and closed my eyes. At first, I strained my ears, as I had done moments before, and I had to remind myself that I had never used my mouth or ears to project with Lily. Instead I tried to clear my mind and focus on what it felt like to hear her voice in my mind.
Hurry up!