Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I had read those stories less as I had to work more to keep us fed, but looking back, the tales were similar.
In all of them, tragedy began a tale of wonderment.
That evening, as the sun sets, I return to my room, having seen no sign of the beast. His presence is everywhere I roam in the castle, but I did not hear his footsteps today nor smell the scent of him that makes my skin flush.
Perhaps I will see him later. I pick at the hem of my dress hoping to see him. I miss him. I miss him greatly.
My room faces the front of the castle. From my window, I can see the castle wall and the gate, though I dismiss them both with only a glance. Something far closer and far more beautiful has caught my attention.
A climbing rose has grown through the wall of my bedroom.
As I watch, the climbing stem grows steadily into my bedroom, clinging to the wall. Buds pop out of the green. It grows farther, snaking around the bedroom. I trace my fingers along the vine-like stem. The buds are already beginning to open like they would in the beginning of summer, though it’s not the right time for them yet. I stroke one of the smallest buds with my fingertip.
“There’s no sunlight in here,” I tell the flower softly. “Not the kind flowers usually search for. If you want that, you should try the terrarium.”
Thorns pop from the vine as well. I avoid them as I continue tracing the plant.
Before long, it has circled over the vanity like a wreath. Pink roses bloom on the decorative circle, almost as if the rose and the castle knew I was thinking of putting something there. I hadn’t decided what, because I didn’t want to leave a bare spot somewhere else, but now I don’t have to decide. This rose plant has gifted me something beautiful for that space on the wall.
The scent of fresh roses fills the room. I relish it twice as much as I would in summer, when roses are plentiful. How can I not? It is clearly a sign of beauty.
This is what it must mean for a cage to be gilded. Filled with fine art and books and food and clothes, with magical roses growing to please the eye.
I close my eyes, inhaling the fragrance deeply. Lulled by the magic and the scent of the roses and the safety of the brick walls all around me.
I’m deep in memories, breathing the scent of the roses and thinking of summer and gardens of sunlight, thinking of how even the warmest, most pleasant summer in the village would still have been difficult for me and my father. I compare the life I have now to the life I led then when a scream jerks me back to the present.
It’s a terrible shriek and a cry that curdles my blood.
My eyes fly open, and I freeze for a moment. It is so strange to hear another person’s voice. My heart pounds and my body knows something is terribly wrong. It is not the beast screaming, is it? No, the sound came from outside the castle. A second scream startles me into action. I rush for the window and my heart stops.
No. My blood turns ice cold at the sight long in the distance.
For the first time since I arrived at the beast’s castle, there are people at the gate in the big brick wall. I realize much too late that my absence in the village was noticed. I knew my father would know I was gone and that Ara would know when I did not come to the bakery, but I did not think a group of people would risk coming to the gate to search for me.
There are maybe a dozen people? It’s hard to make out so far away and everything happens so quickly. I do not know why they would have done it, because I recognize some faces but not Ara’s and not my father’s. I look harder, though they are moving and their faces are unclear. I want to call to them to run. Go far away! After all I do not know if they are here for me or for some other foolish reason.
And then the small crowd at the gate parts, and I suddenly understand exactly why this is happening. One man makes his way closest to the gate and stares through at the castle, and I recognize that face with a shiver of horror and fear. It is Crawe.
I’ve never felt so much dread in my life.
THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST
The beast roars inside me, the sound of his fury blocking out all other sounds. It’s hot, a burning inferno as he forces himself to the front. The tinge of iron from blood fills my mouth. For a few breaths, that is all I can hear, the sound ringing in my ears and throat and escaping me. It feels like it’s loud enough to fill the castle and warn off the intruders, but they do not leave the gate.