Beauty and the Beast: The Only One Who Didn't Run Away

  “I am simply borrowing it,” she says. “And I shall leave them some coin. But let us get in quickly before they return from lunch.”

  I toss the remaining ginger into my mouth, cringing at the sharp taste. Still, it is better than losing my last meal to the waves. Handsome piles our bags at one end, and we climb aboard. No doubt the journey was lovely, with fish splashing happily beneath us, the glint of sun on the water creating a kaleidoscope of colors. But since I do not open my eyes until the boat scrapes the bottom of the opposite shore, I cannot say with certainty.

  As we crossed the sea, Veronica and Handsome had been talking about the wondrous artwork gracing the walls of the home we would soon enter. They tried to outdo each other with stories of fairies and mermaids swimming together in fountains of gold. Yet when we land, a hush falls upon them. I follow their gaze to the buildings, now only a stone’s throw away. They are in ruins.

  We climb out in silence, and in silence we explore the piles of stone and wood, the remnants of frescoes, the dried-up fountains with their cracked marble tiles. Veronica sits down hard on the ground, her feet hanging over the edge of what was once a brook, and is now only dust and twigs. She lays her head down on her arms and begins to weep.

  Handsome and I remain behind her, each placing a hand on her shoulder. We stand like that for long moments, feeling the rise and fall of her sobs.

  “My mother is not here,” she finally says, voice cracking. “There is no sign she ever made it. I shall never know what she was searching for.”

  Handsome and I exchange a look. He motions with his eyes for me to say something. “But you made it here,” I say, hoping they are the right words. “You did not give up, nor let anything or anyone stand in your way. Your mother would have been so proud.”

  She sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “But I hoped … ouch!”

  “Are you all right?” I ask, crouching down beside her. “What happened?”

  She leans over to examine her ankle. “That grasshopper just bit me!”

  I look around in time to see a small green grasshopper hop away into the dried-out ravine.

  “Grasshoppers do not bite,” Handsome says. I am sure he would have teased her further had our current situation been different.

  Veronica gets to her feet, wiping her eyes almost angrily. “Well, this one did!”

  I watch the grasshopper hop down from rock to clump of brown grass to crumbly leaf, where it stops, no doubt unaware of the drama he is causing. Veronica storms off, ranting about evil grasshoppers and ruined buildings and the unfairness of it all. Handsome goes in pursuit.

  Perhaps it is due to years of training in spotting small objects in my path, or perhaps because I am sitting alone with nothing to look at, or perhaps it is simple luck. But I am the one who spots the strawberry-size stone glowing in stark contrast to the brown leaf beside it.

  I scramble down the side of the dried-up brook, afraid to take my eyes off the shining object. The grasshopper hops away as I push the leaf aside and reach for the stone. It is just as Veronica described it. A pure pink, dusty from its burial, but still vibrant and beautiful. A small, dirt-filled hole at the tip must have held a chain at one time. I hold the stone up to the sun, and a thousand streams of light shoot out from it. It is so pretty I have to force myself to lower it. For all its sharp edges, the stone feels warm and comfortable in my hand.

  I find the others sitting on the remnants of a marble staircase, picking at pieces of tall grass growing between the stairs. Veronica seems to have calmed down. Handsome has a way of doing that. He must be an excellent older brother.

  I hold out the stone. Veronica gasps and grabs it from my palm.

  “My mother’s crystal! Where did you find it?”

  I point to the spot. “Under some leaves at the bottom of the brook. I was watching the grasshopper, and then I saw the stone.”

  She holds it close to her chest, her eyes shining, only not with tears this time. “So my mother did make it here!” Just as quickly, her eyes dim again. “But I do not understand. She never would have simply left it behind.”

  “Perhaps she lost it,” Handsome suggests.

  I think of how deep it was in the ravine. “Or perhaps she hid it. If the buildings still stood when she was here, that ravine would have been filled with water. Perhaps she threw it there to protect it?”

  She considers my words. “Perhaps she did hide it,” she says. “But these ruins look like they have been here for a century, not merely a few years.”

  “That is true,” I admit.

  “Either way,” Veronica says, staring down at the stone. “Finding this means she is truly gone. It means we can go home.”

  Handsome touches her arm. “Are you all right?”

  She nods. “Better I know the truth.” To my surprise, she turns to me and puts her arms around my waist. “Thank you,” she says.

  I, not used to hugging anyone outside my family, pat her on the back in response. “Do not thank me. Thank your biting grasshopper.”

  She laughs. “Perhaps I will!”

  But when we go to look for it, it is gone. I show Veronica the spot where I had first seen the stone. She climbs down and digs around the area until her hands are scraped up, but finds no other clues.

  When we get down to the boat, I dig through my pack and pull out the leather cord that was wrapped around the book from the monastery. I loop the cord through the hole in the crystal and tie the ends together. Veronica solemnly slips the necklace over her head. The stone thumps against her tunic, looking as though it’s been there forever. It occurs to me finally that her flowery scent is not perfume. It is simply the way she smells. I have no doubt I do not smell as sweet.

  We are quiet as Handsome rows us back to the port. But it’s a different kind of quiet than our time in the carriage. It’s the kind of quiet that marks the end of something. This time I keep my eyes open, for who knows if I shall ever see the sea again. It is hard to believe the desolate, empty ruins are right atop the cliff. Down here is so vibrant. Boats of all sizes and shapes sail by, carrying people and fish and wooden crates to wherever their final destinations lay. The world is much bigger than I had supposed, with everyone busy leading their lives, working their way toward their futures.

  It dawns on me that I have been rude by never asking Handsome about his future bride. I haven’t been putting it off for any real reason, only the time never felt quite right and I have little practice in asking personal questions. But as Handsome steers us in between two small boats carrying stacks of fruit, I decide the time has come.

  “What is she like?” I ask. “Your wife-to-be?”

  He smiles. “Suzy is lovely. I have known her all my life. She is sweet and kind to everyone. She liked that you set that piglet free.”

  I am surprised, but pleasantly so. “You told her about that?”

  He nods. “I had to go to my village with the baker to get some supplies. I was able to see her briefly.”

  He tells us more about Suzy, about how kind she is to animals, and how she loves dancing but only in large groups, and how she wants ten children. By the time we reach the shore, I have a clear image of a lovely young woman who I’m certain will make an excellent wife to my new friend.

  This time, when the boat scrapes along the shore, I put my feet right in the water instead of waiting to get out on dry land. It is cold, but refreshing, and the sand is much softer underfoot than I had expected.

  A red-faced fisherman paces the edge of the water, clearly the owner of the rowboat. Veronica quickly pacifies him with coin. We hurry past him onto the shore, our packs bouncing on our backs.

  True to his word, the carriage driver awaits us in town. We stock up on food and drink, and settle back in for the journey. Handsome talks excitedly about how he will work on perfecting his bread recipe when he gets home and makes us promise to come for the wedding. I shall miss him, but I am happy for him.

  The days pass much quic
ker this time, and when we are only a day away from home, Handsome points out the window and says, “My village is a few miles down that road.”

  I glance at Veronica, who nods. “You should go, then,” I tell Handsome, leaning forward to rap on the window. The driver pulls to the side of the road. “Veronica and I will be fine on our own for one more day. It does not make sense for you to come back home with us only to leave again.”

  He shakes his head. “I told Veronica’s grandfather that I would escort you both on this quest, and my job is finished only when I drop you safely at the door of the monastery.”

  Veronica shakes her head and pulls out her purse. “Your job is finished now. You are officially fired.” She drops a pile of coin in his hand. Then she reaches out and places her hand over his. “Be well.”

  “Are you certain?” he asks, looking from her to his closed hand and back.

  She smiles. “I will be fine, cousin. I am in good hands.” Handsome leans over and gives her a long hug.

  The driver holds the door open for Handsome. But before he slides out, he turns to me.

  “I am truly honored to have shared this adventure with you, Beauty. One day you shall no doubt meet another boy who realizes how special you are. If marriage is what you decide you want, of course. Do not worry, you shall know your future when you find it.”

  My eyes sting with tears at his kindness. I want to tell him that by being my friend, he has made me a stronger person. But I do not know how to say these words.

  We watch until he disappears down the road. It takes a while until the lump in my throat fades away.

  Since my tutor, Master Cedrick, has not been seen in the village since my arrival, the only person with a chance of being able to decipher the book is Alexander. And he is still on a wild goose chase to find me a girlfriend. His time would be much better spent doing, well, anything else. After my last date tried to stab me, I am fairly certain romance is not in my future. Unfortunately, Parker returned to the castle alone, so all I can do is wait.

  Thank goodness Freddy is here to keep me from checking the windows every moment. He keeps me busy playing games and sharing stories, both in the castle and outside on the back lawn in the cover of darkness. We experiment with how fast I can run (faster than a horse!), how heavy an object I can lift (a table, and a fallen tree trunk), and how quickly I can climb the sides of the castle walls by wedging my nails between the stones (very quickly). Mother does not approve of that one at all.

  Freddy continues to impress me. I worried when he was finally in the same room with my invisible parents he would find it too strange and retreat to the safety of the hidden tunnels. But he simply shrugged and said that sometimes he imagines his own parents are still with him, only they are invisible, too. That put things in perspective. At least mine are still with me, even though I cannot see them. (Which at this point may be a blessing, since according to Mother, Father has stopped wearing any pants over his knickers.)

  I have just blown out my candle on the eleventh day of my brother’s absence when I hear the carriage pull up outside. I throw back the blanket and jump out of bed. I am getting better with my balance and coordination, but still, the crash of my feet landing on the floor is loud enough to cause Freddy to run in from his guest room down the hall.

  “Alexander is back!” I tell him. “He can read the book now!”

  “Are you certain he will be able to?” Freddy asks as we race down the stairs in our slippers and nightclothes.

  “He is the only person I know who speaks five languages. If he can’t do it, no one can.”

  By the time we get downstairs, Godfrey has already come inside, and is resting on the couch. He is quite old for such a long journey, and I hope he is not unwell.

  “Are you all right, Godfrey?” I ask. “Was the trip too much for you?”

  He shakes his head. “It was actually quite exciting. It has been many, many years since I have visited the outer kingdoms. The different sounds, the smells of the local markets, all very new. And of course, everywhere I went, people thought me daft since I was always talking to someone who was not there.”

  I chuckle at that. “I imagine you were the talk of the town. Where is Alexander now?”

  “I am right here, brother,” Alexander replies, slapping me on the back. “And wait till I tell you what I have found! Or shall I say, who!”

  “Never mind that,” I say, “we have more important things to deal with.”

  “And who is this?” Alexander asks, no doubt meaning Freddy.

  “Do you not remember him? He started as a castle page a few weeks before I became a beast.”

  “And he is still here because …?”

  “Long story. I remembered this book I saw in the library about witches, and Parker went to find you, and then I was stabbed by this girl, and then —”

  “You were stabbed? By a girl?”

  “That is not important. I have healed already.”

  “You were very brave,” Mother says, squeezing my arm.

  “Do tell,” Alexander says.

  “Later, I promise.” I thrust the book open in front of where I imagine his eyes would be. “This was written by that expert on witches that the royal doctor told us about. Only it is in some strange language. If we can read it, maybe we can break the spell.”

  If he were to take the book, it would disappear. Instead, I slowly turn the pages for him. “Interesting,” he murmurs, “most interesting.”

  “What does it say?” I ask, barely containing myself. Freddy and I push in closer.

  “It is indeed instructions on how to break a witch’s spell!”

  “Hurrah!” I shout. “Did you get all the ingredients on my list? The minerals? The herbs?”

  “I did indeed,” he says. “It was at the apothecary’s that I met your future bride, in fact.”

  I brush him off. “Enough with that. This is what we need to focus on.”

  “You won’t need your herbs or minerals or crushed donkey horns or any of the odd things you had me buy. The solution is much simpler than that. Follow me.”

  Freddy and I exchange a glance. “Um, how can we do that when we can’t see you?”

  “Sorry. Heading to the kitchen. Invisible people first.”

  Freddy and I hang back to let my family pass. We leave Godfrey snoring comfortably on the couch.

  “Lovely knickers, Father,” Alexander says as they walk down the short hallway.

  “Thank you, son. Nice haircut.”

  “Oh, do you like it?”

  “It looks like you hired a blind man to cut it,” Mother says.

  Alexander laughs. “That would be Godfrey.”

  “Are they always like this?” Freddy asks as we follow behind.

  I nod. “Mother is fighting a losing battle trying to keep the two of them presentable. Can’t say I blame them. If I were invisible I probably would have given up on washing altogether.”

  We arrive at the kitchen to find various jars and jugs appearing on the counter with resounding thuds. “All right,” Alexander says, “step up, please.”

  I stand beside the counter while Alexander scoops out a spoonful of mustard seeds, a half cup of curdled cream, and a pinch of saffron. Then he chops up a pickle and tosses in a wrinkled, half-rotted plum. He mixes it all together in a bowl and pushes it in front of me.

  I pick up my spoon and hold it over the bowl of glop. I am not a picky eater, especially now when my stomach must be four times its regular size, but this looks truly unappetizing. “You want me to eat this? Are you certain this will break the witch’s curse?”

  “Not this alone,” he says. “While you eat it, you must also hop on one foot while singing She was a lovely lass. Oh, and you should do it in the rain.”

  “But the sky is cloudless.”

  He pauses, then says, “In the absence of rain, the book said you may use spit.”

  I lay down my spoon. “I am beginning to suspect you could not read that book at
all.”

  “Not a word of it,” he replies. I do not need to see him to know he is grinning. And to think, he used to be the responsible prince, the one who worked hard and could be relied upon at all times. Father’s jokes and tricks used to annoy him, and now he is playing them himself.

  Alexander yelps. “Ouch! Honestly, Mother, I am too old for you to tug my ear.”

  “I am confused,” Freddy says, turning toward me. “What is going on?”

  I growl and step away from the counter. “Come, Freddy. Let us get some sleep. We shall simply have to figure out how to read the book on our own.”

  We turn on our heels and march from the room. “I’m sorry! It was just a joke,” Alexander calls after us. “I was merely trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Even I would not have done that,” Father says, although I detect a note of admiration in his voice for a trick well played.

  I stop in the doorway. “What happened to your pledge to help me? You are poking fun instead.”

  “Ouch!” Alexander cries out as Mother expresses her disapproval again. “Enough with the pinching!”

  “Stop acting like a child,” Mother says, “and I will stop pinching your ear.”

  In a serious tone without any guile, he says, “You are right, brother, I am behaving horridly and I apologize. It has been a long trip and I missed being home. It was quite difficult remaining quiet and hidden in corners all the time so people wouldn’t bump into the invisible boy.”

  “I had not thought of that,” I admit, feeling a bit of my annoyance ebb away. “It must have been very hard indeed.”

  Freddy rolls his eyes at my ease of forgiveness, but I ignore it. The brotherly relationship is a complicated one; I do not expect him to understand.

  “But I truly did find you a girl,” Alexander says, dumping the bowl in one of the large copper sinks. “And I think you will like her.”

  I shake my head. “I think we have already proven that the witch knew no girl would ever love me. Your search was in vain. It is a hopeless, impossible task.”

  “And tonight we have proven that we have run out of options,” he says, his voice rising. “Your book is a scribble of nonsense. I am fairly certain you do not want to live your life as a beast, and I am absolutely certain I want to be seen again by people other than our parents.”