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

  Beauty takes a step backward. “He has a point.”

  With each step she takes away from me, I feel a tiny stab in my heart. What I truly want to say is, “Can’t someone else vanquish the witch and we can get on with the kissing?” But as I look from one to the other, I see that response is not the correct one. And yet … with the original plan I get to be kissed — the one thing I thought for certain would never happen to me, either as the beast or as Riley.

  “Come,” Freddy says, waving us forward. “Everyone is waiting for us in the fireside room.”

  “Can you believe it!” Alexander says as we surface, eyes blinking in the brightness. “All you needed to do to get a date was to turn into a beast!”

  Beauty laughs and squeezes my hand again. I would be annoyed at his comment, but I am too busy smiling. My upper lip hurts from where the nose/beak is digging into it, but I care not a bit. Mother and Father embrace both of us, talking over each other in their pleasure at the turn of events. Godfrey and Freddy hang back, beaming.

  We gather around the couches, where after a lot of shushing and interrupting, I learn about how Beauty and Alexander met outside. When they are done, I ask Alexander, “You have no idea what you did in order for her to see you? Did you feel any different for that moment?”

  “I did nothing,” he insists. “One moment she was looking at me, claiming to see me. The next she gasped like she had seen a ghost, and I became invisible to her once more.”

  Beauty suddenly jumps up from the couch. “My necklace! I was looking through it when first I saw him!” She reaches under her collar and pulls out a pink stone on a leather string. She holds it up to her face and turns toward Alexander’s voice. She laughs with delight. “You have changed since I saw you last!”

  “Just in case it happened again,” Alexander says, “I thought I best change from my nightclothes!”

  She walks slowly toward the hearth, still looking through the stone. “Your Majesty,” she says, and gives a low curtsy.

  Mother gasps. “You can see me? But I must look a fright!”

  “Not at all,” Beauty insists. “You look quite lovely.”

  “She always does,” Father says.

  Beauty turns toward the sound of his voice, blushes, and lowers the stone. “Perhaps I should wait for you to put on a robe.”

  “Honestly, Silas,” Mother scolds. “How many times did I tell you?”

  I watch all this with utter fascination. Somehow, even though I am living proof that magic is real, I never would have believed a stone could reveal what is hidden to the eye.

  “Riley,” Mother says. “Please do not think me uncaring or selfish, but what if you did not try to vanquish the witch, and just ended this now?”

  I glance hopefully at Beauty, who has taken her seat beside me. She looks unsure. Then she shakes her head. “I have seen people go to great lengths to protect the people they love. A dangerous witch is on the loose. How can we sit by and do nothing?”

  “You speak the truth, of course,” I tell her, “but we don’t know the first thing about the witch, or how to bring her down.”

  “We have a book about witches,” Freddy adds, “but it is written in symbols we do not understand.”

  “May I see it?” she asks. Freddy jumps up to fetch it from upstairs. That buzzing I felt in the cellar returns as we wait. It is not a good feeling. My stomach clenches. Beauty must have felt me shiver through my glove. “Are you all right?” she asks.

  I squeeze her hand, careful to be gentle. I don’t want to worry her, so I say, “I’m merely excited.”

  She tilts her head at me suspiciously, but does not press further. When Freddy comes back with the book, Beauty holds her crystal rock up to the pages. And there, over and over again, are the same words: You must find a witch’s weakness to drain her power. That is the only way.

  “That is one powerful necklace,” Mother says in a hushed tone. “Where did you get it?”

  Beauty tells her the story about Veronica and their quest to find the stone.

  “But how did the girl’s mother come to possess it?” she asks.

  Beauty shakes her head. “I do not know. Veronica never knew that part of the story.”

  “Sorry to change the subject,” Alexander says, “but how are we supposed to find the witch’s weakness? She seemed pretty unstoppable.”

  “We will have to observe her,” Father says. “That is what we do if the kingdom is threatened. We watch our enemies, and we learn. There is strength in numbers, and you have all of us.”

  Freddy nods in agreement. “We will have to find where the witch lives, and spy on her.”

  “But how will we find her?” Mother asks. “We have no idea where she lives.”

  “We will not have to find her,” I tell them calmly. “We simply have to wait. The witch said I would be drawn to her.”

  “Is it happening yet?” Alexander says. “There is only a few more days to go.”

  I shake my head.

  “Let us all get some sleep,” Mother says decisively. “This has been a big day!”

  I watch as Beauty’s hair is pushed aside by my mother’s invisible hands and a lipstick mark in the shape of a kiss appears on her cheek. Beauty puts her hand up to it, obviously pleased. I remember how she grew up motherless, and my love for her grows even more.

  I have just blown out the candle by my bedside when I hear a knock on the door. “It is me,” Beauty announces.

  I bang my knee and stub my toe but make it to the door in record time. I open it an inch. “Is everything all right? Do you need anything?”

  She shakes her head. “You felt it. Earlier. You felt something, did you not?”

  I hesitate for only a second before nodding.

  “Why did you hide it?”

  “You heard them. Everyone wants to help me. But it is too dangerous. All I feel is a little buzzing, a sort of tugging. But not enough to guide me anywhere. I do not want them making plans.”

  “But when it is time to go, you shall tell me, right?”

  I do not answer.

  “Riley! I am just as big a part of this as you. You need me there. What if she tries to take you before the time is up? I need to be there to kiss you!”

  She is right, of course. But the thought of putting her within reach of the witch is a terrible one.

  “Plus, I am an experienced quester,” she says proudly.

  I smile. “I do not think that is a word.”

  She laughs. “Perhaps not. But I do know how to survive on my own, and I have a feeling you did not get out much on your own in your previous life.”

  I cannot argue with her logic. “All right. I promise to tell you.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “Good night, then.”

  “Wait.” I open the door a bit more. There’s a question I’ve wanted to ask her all day. “What did you see when you looked at me with your necklace?”

  “I have not turned it upon you,” she replies.

  “Why not?”

  She shrugs. “I already know what is inside you.” She hurries off down the hall and I stand there with what is no doubt a very silly grin on my face.

  “You should really put a cork on the end of that thing you call a nose,” she calls back in a loud whisper. “It would be a lot more comfortable!”

  That night I have the dream again. I am running, panting, through a dense wood. As before, I have a companion by my side. But before in the dream, I never knew where I was running to, or running from. But when I awake, panting, and it is still not yet dawn, I know the answer. I know exactly where I am heading, and exactly who will be waiting on the other end. I shudder and climb out of bed.

  The beast — I mean, Riley — walks into the dining room for breakfast with a wine cork on the end of his nose. I laugh so hard that juice flies from my mouth. I hurry to wipe it up. Now that I have discovered I am dining with the royal family, I am trying to be more ladylike. I did not even grumble this morning about having
to wear a dress. I suspect the queen was the one who took all my old clothes, but I do not want to insult her by asking, or seem ungrateful for the new ones.

  “Just when I didn’t think you could look any stranger,” Alexander says, “you prove me wrong.”

  Riley tries to eat with the cork on but makes more of a mess than usual. Usually, I would look away so as not to embarrass him. Now it doesn’t seem to matter as much.

  In the late afternoon, I sit down to write a letter to Papa and Clarissa telling them everything and requesting their secrecy. In case danger befalls us on the trip, I want them to know I am happy now, and that the beast is not evil at all, quite the opposite. Once the letter has left the castle — in the hands of a trusted messenger — I feel like a huge weight has been lifted.

  That night after dinner, Riley walks me back to my room. “The pull is getting stronger,” he whispers. “We should leave tonight after dark.”

  “So soon?”

  He nods. “The buzzing in my head is getting stronger every moment. My body keeps trying to lead me out the door.”

  Now that the time is upon us, I don’t want to leave.

  “Are you all right?” he asks, bending down to peer into my face.

  I nod. How can I tell him his castle feels like home to me now? All that is missing are Papa and Clarissa. “I am just nervous, that’s all.”

  “Me, too,” he says, and begins stroking my hair absent-mindedly. I close my eyes. I am reminded of the gentle way Clarissa used to brush my hair.

  This feels very different.

  A moment later he pulls his hand away. “Forgive me!” he says. “I did not mean to be so forward. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never, um, felt this way about anyone.”

  I smile up at him. “Me neither.”

  His cheeks redden. “What about Handsome?”

  I shake my head. “My sister wanted me to like him in that way, but to me he was always a friend.”

  “That is a relief,” he says.

  We stand together for another moment just enjoying each other’s company until he clears his throat and says, “Well, then, I will see you in a few hours. Meet me in the kitchen after sundown.”

  “Okay.” I open my door. Sitting on the end of my bed is a small but sturdy case, packed full, with my traveling cloak and boots beside it. I turn back to Riley and point it out. “I have a feeling Godfrey is one step ahead of you.”

  Riley grins. “He always is.”

  I am the first to arrive at the kitchen, and I set my bag at my feet. The smells from dinner linger in the room, along with the warmth from the embers in the bottom of the oven. Outside the thick windows, the wind is picking up again. I do not relish braving the outdoors. But I trust Riley completely and am excited to be on a quest again. He arrives a moment later, looking back over his shoulder.

  “Did you check the room?” he whispers. “I trust Godfrey to keep our secret, but the castle is unusually quiet.”

  I slip the crystal out from under my thick traveling clothes, and look around the room. “Your mother is sitting on a stool beside the counter, your father is sitting on top of the counter, and Alexander is glaring at me from the floor beside the sink.”

  Riley swings open the door to the pantry to reveal Freddy and Godfrey and a large pile of trunks. Freddy waves happily. Godfrey shrugs guiltily.

  “Well!” Riley says in his deepest beast-voice. “Looks like our leave-taking has gotten a bit more complicated.”

  “We are coming with you,” Alexander declares.

  “You are not,” Riley says. “Only Beauty and I are going. This is too dangerous for anyone else.”

  “But we could be useful,” the queen argues. “Being invisible has its advantages.”

  “I doubt you would be invisible to the witch,” Riley says, which is probably true.

  The group continues to argue about it until Riley stamps his huge boot upon the floor. “No one else is coming,” he growls. “We will be passing through very dense forest. Winter is fully upon us and time is fleeting. I know you want to help, but you would be more of a burden.”

  I am glad Riley cannot see their hurt expressions. I can tell he feels bad having to be so direct, but it is necessary.

  “Make certain the witch does not see you watching her,” the king warns. “Or we will likely have another beast in the castle.”

  I try not to react at his words, but I feel a chill nonetheless.

  “And promise you will break the curse before you run out of time,” the queen adds. “Whether or not you have succeeded in defeating the witch.”

  “Fine,” Riley says, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I promise to let Beauty kiss me.”

  Alexander laughs, and then the others do, too. I join in, but in truth, I am nervous at the thought of the kiss. Usually, a girl’s first kiss isn’t a matter of life or death.

  The queen hands me a bag of provisions. “Do not forget to eat and rest. You must keep up your strength.”

  The king hands me another bag. “These are carrots for Mortimer. The old boy loves his carrots.”

  “Mortimer?” I ask, holding the bag out in front of me.

  “But he is your finest steed, Father,” Riley says, answering my question. “I cannot promise that he … that we …”

  “I know, son,” the king replies. “I know. But Mortimer is reliable and strong, and what better time to put those qualities to use than now?”

  Riley nods and takes the carrots from me. The queen strokes my cheek, so lightly, so gently. I do not recall my own mother stroking my cheek, although I am sure she did, at least once. Now I know what I have been missing. A knot forms in my throat, and I am glad when Alexander ushers us out the door. I follow Riley to the stables. “Mortimer is in the last stall on the left,” he whispers, stepping back into the shadows. “I will wait here in case a groomsman is still inside.”

  I race over to the last stall to find the largest black horse I have ever laid eyes upon. His saddle is gleaming, his reins braided gold threads. He does not even snort when I approach, only tosses his head as I lead him out of the stable. A part of me is disappointed that I will not be running, but I see the sense in riding since we have no idea how far we will have to travel. Mortimer’s footrests dangle by my ears. However will I climb up?

  Riley reappears and I have my answer. He places his hands on my hips and lifts me onto the horse’s back as though I weigh no more than the bag of carrots. I wish he could ride behind me, but, of course, the horse could never bear his weight. Riley ties our bags to the horse, and leads us to the edge of the castle grounds, careful to stay in the shadows. Apparently, the village folk know of the beast, but few have seen him. Riley would like to keep it that way.

  Once safely into the woods, we take off at a sprint. Riley easily keeps pace with the horse. In fact, I think the horse is slowing him down.

  We run through the crisp night air as the stars shine bright above us. The moon is half full, and provides plenty of light to guide us. We duck around the outskirts of Riley’s kingdom, and then stick to the sides of a narrow road. It is long past curfew now, and we do not expect to run into any travelers. Still, better to keep out of sight as much as possible. People can be unpredictable when they are scared. And while I am used to Riley’s appearance, he would indeed cause quite a fright to strangers.

  After a few hours, we find an empty barn a good distance away from other buildings. We gulp from our canteens and feed Mortimer his carrots. Then we both fall asleep the moment we rest our heads.

  Breakfast consists of the bread, cheese, and dried meat sticks that Riley’s mother gave us. I smile when I discover the solid gold silverware in the sack. We hardly need something so fancy, but I suppose when you are royalty all of your silverware is fancy.

  “The tug toward the witch is almost unbearable now,” Riley admits, pacing the length of the barn. “To be honest, I am beginning to feel frightened.”

  “We will be very careful. We will not g
et caught.”

  “My fear lies elsewhere.” He stops beside me, but looks down. “I am afraid that as I get closer, I will not be able to stop. What if I run right to her?”

  I put my hand in his. “I shall stop you.” We both know that chances are my meager strength would not be able to overcome the witch’s pull. Still, it makes me feel better to say it, and him to hear it.

  “I wish we had a better plan,” he says. “One that we know will succeed.”

  “Me, too, but until we know what the witch’s weakness is, we won’t know what to do about it.”

  Neither of us is willing to say what we’re really thinking — that she may not have a weakness.

  We do not talk much as Riley leads us on a race across the countryside. His pace never falters, and he never seems to tire. He has donned a cloak that covers him head to toe. Whenever we cannot avoid coming close to another person, he hunches over to appear shorter. Since everyone else is bundled and hunched against the cold, he does not receive more than a second glance.

  By the next day, the passage has become so difficult that I fear Mortimer will get hurt if we keep up this pace. Rock ridges and wide streams block our way, and Riley plunges ahead. By sundown, my whole body aches from holding on to Mortimer so tightly. “Riley,” I call ahead to him. “We need to rest.”

  “I’m sorry, I cannot stop,” he says, slowing his pace only slightly so I can catch up. Ahead of us is what looks like a huge dark wall that I cannot see around. As we approach, the wall reveals itself to be a mass of twisted branches and leaves that stretch as far east and west as I can see.

  “We will have to leave the horse here,” Riley announces. I hesitate, but Riley reaches up for me. I give Mortimer a final pat and the last carrot and then let Riley lift me off. My legs wobble as my boots hit the ground. Unable to support my weight, I fall to my knees.

  “Climb on my back,” he says, kneeling down and bending over.

  I do not argue. With my arms tight around his neck, Riley tears through the thick brush with his arms held in front of him. Still, the branches whip our faces and scratch our arms. The speed is thrilling. We fly through the forest now, and I realize how much Riley had been slowing his pace for me, even though time could have run out on him. My heart grows even fuller.