A Tale of Beauty and Beast: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (Beyond the Four Kingdoms #2)

You did say it? Even though I am…what was it? Arrogant, entitled, and self-absorbed?

I sighed. “You are all those things. But you also saved my life. Both can be true at the same time, you know. And I behaved badly breaking into your room. I can acknowledge that without taking away the endless list of ways in which you have behaved badly.”

Endless list? He huffed, irritated, but I stared at him with a stony face until his cheeks turned the faintest pink. His next words were more hesitant. When I awoke I saw you, and I remembered what you had said. I thought you would want to see me.

“And when Henshaw told you I was resting?”

In the middle of the day? Ridiculous! It’s not as if you were ill. His voice became hard again. They were trying to keep you from me, and I do not appreciate disobedience.

“Trying to keep me from you?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Has your illness made you delusional, too? You might consider listening to and believing your servants from time to time. I can’t imagine what makes them so loyal to you.”

I am their prince.

I stared at him, my brow furrowed. “No. You are a monster, locked away in a remote castle.”

He froze, such a stricken look in his eyes that I felt guilty. I had meant to shock him out of his prideful attitude, not to truly wound him. But then he opened his mouth, his row of sharp teeth glistening, and growled. I immediately stood up and strode from the room without looking back.

He stopped abruptly and called after me, Sophie, Sophie! but I ignored him. I had been clear that I would not allow him to growl at me. He needed to know that I had meant what I said.

A discreet cough alerted me as I walked past Henshaw. I briefly slowed my steps. “I’ll be back later today. In the meantime, I recommend leaving him entirely alone, although what you do is your own business, of course.” There was no reason for his servants to endure his displeasure in my place.

The Beast’s growl rumbled from inside his room, and Henshaw sighed. I think you make an excellent suggestion, Your Highness.

I sighed as I walked away. The Beast would be furious, but I didn’t regret my suggestion. I had warned him, so he had no one to blame but himself. And I needed him to see that I was a person of my word.

But as I walked away, a memory floated to the front of my mind, a small detail that had obviously been noted by my subconscious but not processed at the time. The book I had slammed against the table had not been the book on economics we had previously read together, it had been a volume of fairy tales.

He had remembered our deal and must have asked a servant to search one out for us. Had he been waiting all day yesterday for me to come and see the book he had prepared? Perhaps it had been his attempt at an apology. My steps faltered, but then I shook myself and hurried on. I had endured more at his hands than could be atoned for by a single book. The Tourney alone had made me ill twice, and that was to say nothing of Celine’s leg or of poor Marigold.

And this morning he had showed no willingness to change his ways. I had challenged him on being an animal, hoping to call out the man who remained. But it seemed he wasn’t ready to relinquish the monstrous part of himself.

And yet, as I wandered aimlessly through the castle, my thoughts kept returning to the fairy tales and to the memory of the Beast flying above my head as he leaped to wrestle a wolf with his bare hands—for me. There was something here I did not understand. A missing piece. He wasn’t the prince he had presumably once been, but he wasn’t completely the monster I had expected, either. Perhaps if I could unlock the secrets of the curse, I would be able to understand him.

My steps gained some vigor. There was so much of the castle I still hadn’t searched, and here I was with the perfect opportunity.

It took me a little bit of time to find Gordon, my unofficial guide, but I eventually tracked him down. He had already proved useful as a page boy, keeping station just outside the Beast’s bedchamber and running errands or messages as needed. He was enthusiastic about going on another exploratory mission and spent the first ten minutes trying to convince me that we should start with the dungeons. Eventually he admitted that he wasn’t allowed down there on his own, and his fascination instantly made sense.

However, I stood strong in my veto. The dungeons repelled me for the same reasons they attracted a young boy. I hoped I could discover the secrets of the curse in a part of the castle not likely to be infested with rats.

We soon found ourselves exploring yet another wing of the castle. This is the king and queen’s wing, explained Gordon. No one much has come here for years. Just the maids who do the dusting. Some of us play hide-and-seek here sometimes, though. It’s the perfect spot because the adults never come here. And I usually win because of all the practice I’ve had with Gilda.

I shook my head in sympathy with the long-suffering Gilda.

When we reached the king’s chambers, I stood for a long time, staring at another portrait of King Nicolas. This one depicted him alone and was considerably smaller, yet it still managed to dominate the room. Certainly nothing about this image changed my impression of the Beast’s father.

“Why does no one come here?” I asked, hoping to push him into revealing more information about the royal family.

The lid of a golden canister on the dressing table lifted into the air and then resettled into place with a clink. I already told you. He was a bad man. No one liked him. Plus, he cursed us all, so I guess that made people hate him worse.

I froze, my mind racing, and my mouth going dry. King Nicolas had cursed his kingdom? Not the Beast? If I had been wrong about him in this, what else had I misunderstood?

Half way across the room, the lid of a chest rose into the air and then dropped back down.

“What…” The word came out too quietly, so I tried again. “What do you mean? About King Nicolas and the curse?”

I already told you, Gordon sounded stern. I don’t think I should be telling terrible stories to princesses.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s very considerate of you, Gordon, but completely unnecessary. I’m pretty tough, you know. How about you tell me the story about the king and the curse, and then I’ll tell you how the Beast fought off a pack of wolves, and how I got us both back to the castle.”

Gordon crowed. Really? That’ll show up Michael, all right. He’s been full of stories about how he saw you arrive back. His face glowed. I wish I could have seen him fight. I once saw him sparring with some of the guards, and he was so strong.

“You go first, though,” I said.

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