Beast within the Beauty || A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

Chapter Eighteen || To Write with a Beast

"MY ANSWER REMAINS the same," I replied, eyes averted lest an unwanted man deigns to shadow my doorway. To my relief, I only heard the maid retreat as to deliver my refusal—he shall dine alone.

The Beast had never come to my doors himself to demand my attendance or to speak with me. Instead, he chose to send word through his servants; asking if I wished for something, wanted company, or if I would like to guess how long he had lived...I would always respond negatively.

The days stretched on, long enough that I knew he had healed from that foregone night. I spent my days—they were likely months if the Flux was to be trusted as a measure of time—cooped in my large chambers.

It was difficult to keep myself occupied, for I did not fancy needlework or the other hobbies of noble women. The absence of company filled me with a sense of yearning, a longing to see the faces of my family and friends. It was beginning to fade away; the memory of Joceline's dimpled cheeks and missing teeth, Emil's rolled eyes and the mocking gestures he made when our older brother turned his back, and the times we all spent together, laughing and crying. I wanted to hear their voices and tug them into my arms, to laugh and smile in their presence.

I had gradually stopped writing to my family—even to my father, for I could not bring myself to finish any letter I addressed to him—as I never received replies and doubted that my letters were even delivered to them. I suspected his lordship and perhaps even his servants could not set foot outside the castle—asking them to send my letters was pointless.

The maids had stopped frequenting my quarters, deeming it unnecessary now that I never needed them to dress me in preparation for meeting his lordship. The two that consistently kept me company were Madame Dubois and her niece, Aurore.

It was considerably more pleasant to speak with Madame Dubois, I realized as I shut my eyes and rested my head back. "I did not know you have a son."

"I do," she replied as she pinned the lock of hair away from my face. "He does not live here—a mercy I owe to his lordship."

I frowned, sensing my brows drawing together. "Is he not cursed?"

"No..." She went quiet for a moment, her voice thickening with sorrow. "I sent him away before it could consume him." She loosened a heavy sigh. "Us servants...we age normally and any children we bear do not carry the weight of our misfortune. If I kept him, he would have succumbed to the bewitchment. I could not live with that."

I grew silent, unable to choke a word of consolidation. My eyes fell on the sickly things beyond the window. Blood-red rose bushes crawled along the balcony banisters, reminding me that they would squirm and shatter through the grass should their prey near them. It was during the Flux that they reverted to their motionless, ashen state. "And you do not blame him," I murmured under my breath. "None of you do."

"Ismae," she chided, a hand patting at my shoulder. "Please do not steer the conversation that way. It is not something I can discuss."

I slid my arms over my chest. It was as though I bore a fresh bruise and I could not deny the desire to prod it. "Has he not given you the clearance to do so?"

"He has not commanded against it," she defended as she clicked her tongue in dismay. "It is a matter of respecting his past. If you are so curious, you should ask him yourself."

"Yes," Aurore chimed in. I had not realized she was here. "I am certain he will make time to answer anything you have to ask. After all, he is your husband."

I stiffened at the word, sensing a flare of annoyance forming within me. Before I could think up a retort, the door cracked open. "Pardon me," the very maidservant from earlier called out, a scrap of paper drifting in the space she stood. "This is from his lordship."