“Who is the young couple?” I asked. “The one on the gate, and on the front door?”

  “You are full of questions tonight,” the Beast observed. Not quite the response I was hoping for. We reached the pier and proceeded down it toward the boat, our shoes making hollow sounds against the wood.

  “I’m always full of questions,” I admitted with a sigh. “It used to drive my mother crazy when I was a child. I’d try my best not to ask them, but it would always make things worse. I’d store them up only to let them loose in a great flood, just like tonight. I therefore solemnly promise not to ask any more questions this evening.”

  “You will have a hard time keeping that promise, I think,” he remarked.

  I laughed before I could catch myself. “And I think that sounds just like a clever challenge.”

  We reached the end of the pier. I released his arm, and watched as the Beast stepped down into the rowboat. It rocked beneath his weight then steadied.

  “How about this?” I said, on impulse. “Let’s see which one of us can go the longest without asking a question.” I heard him pull in a breath. “And the one I asked just now doesn’t count,” I hurried on. “Whoever gives in and asks first must receive a truthful answer, but then the other gets to ask two questions, and receive two truthful answers in return.”

  He gave a grunt. “You have brothers and sisters, don’t you?”

  “Two sisters,” I said. “Stop trying to weasel out. Is it settled?”

  “I don’t suppose that counts either,” the Beast said.

  “Of course not. We’re still establishing the rules. And don’t think I didn’t notice the way you snuck in a question. Rhetorical questions are considered cheating, by the way.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he observed.

  So do you, I thought. But I was determined not to stray into potentially unpleasant territory.

  “Very well. I will play this questions game,” the Beast said. “Now hold still.” I opened my mouth to ask the obvious question, then closed it again. “Very sneaky,” I replied. “I am standing still. I eagerly await your explanation as to why.” I can lift you down into the boat, of course,” he said. Perhaps I was becoming accustomed to the timbre and cadence of his voice, but I could hear the smile within it.

  He was enjoying himself.

  “I can get down myself,” I protested.

  “No,” he countered at once. “It’s too far for you to step, as I did, and it’s not safe for you to jump. If you want to go out on the lake, you have to let my help you down.

  That’s my bargain, Belle.”

  Don’t call me that, I almost snapped. Instead I bit down, hard, on the tip of my tongue.

  “I’m standing still,” I said.

  He reached out, grasped me tightly around the waist, and lifted me up. His hands were so large they almost spanned my waist. My stomach made a strange little lurch. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

  He is so strong, I thought. Strong enough to snap me in two without breaking a sweat. Strong enough to shelter me from whatever harm might come. I felt my arms begin to tremble, suddenly, as if it were I who carried some extra weight. The wind whisked by to snatch at my skirts, billowing them into a great cloud of dark blue fabric. I felt like I was flying.

  The Beast lifted me up, high above his head. I threw my own head back and laughed at the unexpected glory of it. The stars were just beginning to spangle in the sky overhead. From the unseen far shore of the lake, I heard a night bird call.

  The Beast made a half turn, the boat rocking a little under his feet. I put my arms around his neck and held on tighter.

  He stopped, the boat steadied, and he set me down, sliding me along the length of his body. Just for a moment. My face brushed against his. I heard him pull in a sudden breath even as I made a sound of wonder. For there was something unexpected here, a thing my senses were trying to tell me but my mind refused to grasp. Then my feet were in the boat. He took a half step back, grasping my forearms to keep me steady as the boat rocked once again. As soon as the motion stopped, he let me go.

  Heart roaring in my ears, I sank down onto the wooden seat in the bow. Without a word, the Beast took his place in the stern and unshipped the oars. Then he cast off, using the end of one oar to push us away from the pier. He rowed steadily and quietly for several minutes. I sat, and waited for my heart to steady, watching the stars come out.

  “It’s very beautiful,” I said finally.

  “Indeed, it is. It will be even more lovely when the moon is up.” He continued to row, the motion smooth and steady. “You asked me a question earlier.”

  “I asked several questions earlier.”

  “True enough. This one was of a…numeric nature. you wanted to know why I ask you to look into my eyes for the space of time it takes to count to five.”

  “Only if you feel like telling me,” I said quickly.

  “It’s not so very complicated,” the Beast replied. “Five is for five heartbeats, the length of time it takes to breathe in or out. For that if how quickly a life may change, for better or for ill. The time it takes to make up, or change, your mind.”

  “That’s it?” I cried. “No story of enchantment, of brother against brother or son against father?”

  Then I dropped my head down into my hands when I realized what I’d done.

  “There is some of that, as well,” the Beast said mildly. “But that tale has not been spoken in many years, and then only in daylight. It is…not a tale for the dark.” There was a pause, during which he began to row once more. “I believe you owe me several answers, Annabelle.”

  “Yes, yes.” I said. “All right. I know.” I lifted my head, straightened my shoulders, and lifted my chin. “I’m ready.”

  “You might,” he observed in a mild voice, “try to sound a little less as if you were about to face a firing squad. You said you cam here of your own free will. Did you mean it?”

  “Within reason,” I replied. “One of us had to come, either Papa or i. I couldn’t let it be Papa. Losing him would devastate my mother, I think, but more then that…” I broke off.

  “More than that?” the Beast prompted.

  “You want to know what lies within the Heartwood,” I said. “To see the face of true love. Papa cannot show you that. Only I can.”

  “Then why haven’t you?” he asked, his voice very, very quiet.

  “I honestly don’t know. It’s never been this difficult before. Usually, all I have to do is hold a piece of wood in my hands to see what it holds inside it.

  “But with the Heartwood, it’s almost as if I’m not looking in the right place, as if there’s some extra angle I’m supposed to consider, some additional question I’m supposed to ask.

  “I’d like to find the answer just as much as you want me to,” I said. “It’s the only was I can go home.”

  The wood of the oars scraped softly against their metal locks as the Beast slid the oars forward, then pulled back, slowly.

  “You find it so unpleasant here, then?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. it isn’t that. It’s very beautiful here, and I think that you…” I paused for a moment, to be certain of what I wanted to say. “You are doing your best to take my min doff the fact that I can’t go home. You have been very kind. But this isn’t my home. You must see that.”

  “I see it very well.”

  “What do you see when you look at me?” I suddenly asked.

  The Beast lifted his head. I could feel his eyes on me in the gathering dark. Just do it, Belle, I thought. Look up. How hard can it be to look into his eyes?

  But in spite of my mind’s questioning. My eyes would not obey. It was like the Heartwood, only worse. For I wasn’t altogether certain I wanted to discover the secrets of the Beast’s face.

  “Bits and pieces,” the Beast said at last. “Tonight, for instance, I can see that you have on a blue velvet dress. I already know that your hair is brown and that it curls, and that the top of your head reaches no higher than the center of my chest.

  “But your face defeats me utterly. I cannot see your features, the shape of your lips, the color of your eyes. Although I think…” He broke off and leaned forward as if to examine something. “That you have a dimple in your chin.”

  “I do,” I acknowledged, not quite sure how I felt that he’d discovered this. He’d seen me more clearly than anyone had in years. “My eyes are –,” I began.

  “No!” he interrupted swiftly. “Don’t tell me. It’s important I discover this for myself, with my own eyes.”

  There was a charged silence. Here it comes, I thought.

  “Please don’t ask me,” I said. “Just this once. Just for tonight.” He leaned back then, and I could almost hear the effort that it cost him to do as I asked.

  “Look into the water, Annabelle,” he said at last. “You can see the stars.” So grateful I though I might weep, I turned, rested my hands on the gunwale, and gazed down. For several moments, all I saw was the sheen of the water, gleaming like a black pearl. Then, quite suddenly, I could see the stars, as if the universe had flipped upside down, and the heavens blazed up from below the surface of the lake, rather than shining down from above.

  Between one breath and the next, I thought. That’s how little time it takes to change perspective. The time is takes to count to five.

  “The waters of this lake can show many things,” the Beast said quietly. “If you gaze into the water and wish hard enough, you may be offered a glimpse of what you wish for most.”

  Can it show me my family?” I asked, gripping the gunwale tightly. If I could just see them, I thought. Perhaps I would be less homesick. Perhaps I would find it easier to see what the Heartwood held inside. “Can it show me my sisters, Papa, and Maman?”

  “If that is what you truly wish for,” the Beast replied.

  I leaned out over the water, wishing with all my heart. As if in answer, the surface rippled. The stars seemed to blend together until the lake became filled with a hot, white light.

  But I did not see my family. Instead, as if in a mirror, I saw two figures, a young man and a young woman, seated I a rowboat.

  She was wearing a dark blue dress. He was clad in russet-colored velvet. As I watched, he leaned forward and held out a hand. She reached back. Their fingers touched.

  He carried her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss inside her palm.

  No! I thought.

  For I knew this couple. I had seen them on the gate, on the front door of the great stone house. Their images, their spirits, seemed to be everywhere on the Beast’s lands.

  Until this moment, I had always assumed they were a couple from the past. A rendition of the young husband and wife buried beneath the Heartwood Tree.

  But now, gazing down into the lake, I saw the truth in one great, blinding flash.

  This couple was the future of this place. Its salvation, not its past. What I had seen was still to come. All of a sudden, I was on my feet, heedless to the boat’s rocking.

  “Belle!” the Beast said sharply. “Sit down.”

  “Why did it show me that?” I gasped out. “That wasn’t what I asked for.”

  “It must have been, at least in part. For the water shows only what the heart wishes, and when it does this, it cannot lie. That is the heart’s true strength, the way it keeps us alive.”

  “But I don’t want those images to be there. That isn’t what I want!” I cried.

  I tried to back away from him.

  “Belle,” he said again, urgently. “You must stop moving. You will overturn us both.”

  He reached up to steady me, but I jerked away from his outstretched hand and tumbled over the side.

  The water closed over my head – cold, so very cold. I kicked my legs, desperately trying to get back to the surface, but my long skirts pulled me down and down. I opened my mouth, as if to scream in anguish and fear, and felt the cold kiss of the water against my tongue.

  I am going to die, I thought.

  But, suddenly, the Beast was there, his strong fingers closing over the hand I’d snatched away from him just moments before. He gave a great yank and my body shot upward. I was flying through the water now. The lights of the stars seemed to shimmer all around me. Then the world went black and I saw nothing more.

  When I knew myself again I was lying sideways, cradled in a pair of impossibly strong arms. From a great distance, a voice was speaking – calling my name, begging me to answer, and cursing me, all at once. I pulled one aching breath into my lungs, gave way to a great bout of coughing, then tried again.

  “Stop shouting,” I managed to croak. “You’re hurting my eardrums.” He made a sound then, the most human I’d ever heard him utter save for speech himself, something caught between laughter and a sob.

  “For the love of God, what were you thinking, Annabelle?”

  “It’s no use scolding me,” I said.

  My stomach was full of jitters and my head felt light. I wanted to lean my head against his shoulder and leave it there forever; I wanted to claw my way out of his arms.

  “I’m sorry about the dress,” I said.

  He stopped walking. “I don’t care about the dress and you know it.” He gave me a shake, as if to rattle some sense into me. “Look at me. Look at me, Annabelle.”

  “I can’t!” I cried. “I don’t know how. Stop acting like a Beast. Stop asking me to try.”

  He set me down, releasing me so abruptly the soles of my feet sang with pain as they hit the cobblestones. We were back at the house, in the courtyard. I had no idea we’d come so far, that he’d held me so long in his arms.

  “Find what the Heartwood holds soon” he said.

  Then he was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I slept badly, my dreams full of water, and awoke to a sky filled with dark and glowering clouds. The air was as thick as damp cotton. I threw back the covers and got out of bed, leaving the bedclothes in a snarl. The change in the weather made me angry somehow, as if it, too, conveyed the Beast’s displeasure, and kept me confined indoors.

  We’ll just see about that, I thought. Ignoring the wardrobe with its selection of fine dresses, I put on my plain homespun once more. Then I set out for the stables in search of Corbeau. I might not be able to do anything about the weather, but I definitely wasn’t going to let it, or anything else, boss me around.

  Fortunately for the success of my rebellion, Corbeau was in his stall. This wasn’t always the case. Sometimes the horse simply roamed free, other times the Beast rode him himself. Corbeau swiveled his head around as I came into the stall.

  “Good morning,” I crooned, running my fingers through his mane. “You’d like to go for a run, wouldn’t you? You don’t want to stay indoors any more than I do, do you, Corbeau?”

  The horse whooshed out a breath, whether in agreement or disparagement of my proposed plan of action, I couldn’t tell. But he made no objection as I saddled him and led him into the courtyard. I walked over to a stone planter flanking the steps to the house, clambered up it, and mounted Corbeau. As I settled into the saddle, he pranced a little, reaching out with his neck to feel the bit between his teeth.

  “Take me somewhere, Corbeau,” I commanded. “I don’t care where, so long as it’s away from here. Now run. Run! ”

  He shot from the courtyard like a bullet, heading for the orchard. Up and down the rolling land between the hills we went, as if running an obstacle course, then through a great meadow that lay beyond. The horse’s coat grew shiny with sweat. My hair tumbled loose around my shoulders, curling in every direction as if each strand had a mind of its own. But no matter hoe far Corbeau and I ran together, I could not outrun the fact that I was trapped. I could no longer see the loveliness of the land all around me. All I saw were prison bars.

  At last even Corbeau’s strong legs grew tired, and his pace slowed. We settled into a walk, traveling aimlessly. Movement was all that was important. For once I stopped, I would be admitting the truth, admitting defeat: There was nowhere for me to go.

  When I saw a pair of iron gates up ahead, I realized we had come to a place I recognized. It was the entrance to the Beast’s lands, the same gate I’d passed through I had no idea how many days ago now.

  I brought Corbeau to a halt, tossed my legs over his head and slid down. I caressed the black velvet of his nose. Ten steps took me to the gate. It was shut fast, the couple’s hands clasped together tightly.

  I moved forward until I stood before the image of the woman. Let go, I thought.

  Let go of his hand and let me out.

  I felt a sob rise up, straight from my heart.

  “Let me go,” I said. I slammed my fist against the gate, felt the iron bite into my skin. “Let me go. Let me out.”

  Over and over I cried out my request, beating against the gate until my hands were bloody and raw. And still, the woman and her love clasped hands, pledging their devotion and my imprisonment both. Until at last, I sank to my knees, cradling my torn hands in my lap. Corbeau walked over to nuzzle the top of my head.

  “Ah, Belle,” I heard the Beast say behind me, so gently that it made me want to weep. “What have you done?”

  “Go away,” I said, without turning around. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to try, and fail, to gaze into your eyes. I don’t need to be reminded that I can’t see what’s hidden in the Heartwood, that I’m dialing at the only thing I ever did well.

  “I don’t want t be here. I never wanted to be here. I want to go home.” A great stillness filled the air, as if the very land around me held its breath.

  “Is that truly what you wish?” the Beast asked.

  I did begin to weep then, great scalding tears, as the sob that rose from my heart threatened to split it open wide.

  “Yes,” I choked out. “I can’t do what you need me to. I can’t do anything right. I don’t know why you even want to keep me here.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15