Beauty and the Beast: The Only One Who Didn't Run Away Page 10

  She shakes her head and starts walking again. For a girl with short legs, she truly is speedy. I hurry alongside her.

  “The crystal is pink,” she explains. “The size and shape of a strawberry. I was two years of age when last I held it. It is valuable beyond measure. Our quest is to find it.”

  I nearly trip over my feet. “We are searching for a priceless stone? I thought we were trying to find your mother.”

  She stops and fixes those eyes on me again. “If we find the crystal, we will find my mother.”

  Godfrey! I assumed everyone had run last night, even him. After all, a monster had entered the castle. One does not usually stick around to see what happens next. “Er, one moment, Godfrey.” I back out of the room and close the door. “What should I do?” I whisper to the seemingly empty hall. “If he sees me like this, it would be the end of him. He is not a young man.”

  “He is very nearly blind,” Alexander says. “Mayhap he will not notice?”

  “I think he will notice when he tries to dress me and all my clothes are ten times too small!”

  “You must tell Godfrey you are not in need of his services anymore,” Father says, his voice breaking. “Seeing you this way would distress him too greatly.”

  I cross my arms. “He has been with our family forever. I cannot send him away.”

  The door behind me creaks open to reveal Godfrey, holding the towel and a ball of lavender soap. “Indeed, Prince Riley, you cannot.”

  I hear my family scramble out of the way as Godfrey steps into the hallway.

  “There is no need to hide,” he says loudly. “I know you are all here.”

  No one replies.

  “I can hear through walls, remember? I know what is going on.”

  “You … you do?” I ask.

  “Your voice is deeper, true.” He looks directly at me, squints, and gives me a once-over. “You have grown considerably taller. And quite a bit wider.” He reaches up to touch my head, then lets his hand trail down my arm. “And quite a bit more hairy.”

  “Indeed I have,” I reply, surprised. “Are you not frightened? An evil magic is afoot, and I am quite the beast. If you could see better, you might run from me like everyone else.”

  “I am old,” he replies with a shrug. “I have seen many things, including some that cannot readily be explained. I am your chamberlain. I always have been, and I always shall be.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “Thank you, Godfrey.” I want to thank him for still treating me like a person, but I am not so good with my words.

  He leans around me and squints down the hall. “I can hear you breathing, King Silas. And the queen and Prince Alexander, too. Where are you hiding?”

  Since there is no use pretending with him, I say, “Actually, Godfrey, they are not hiding at all. They are right beside me.”

  He shakes his head. “I may see most poorly, sire, but even I can tell the hallway is empty besides you and me.”

  “’Tis true, I’m afraid,” Mother says. “We can see ourselves but are invisible to everyone else.” Godfrey twists first to the left, then the right, then behind him. Seeing nothing, he turns in all directions again. Before he can comment on this unexpected development, Mother’s voice hardens. “Alexander! Put your vest back on!”

  “But why? No one can see us!”

  “I can see you. It is not proper. You are still a prince!”

  I can’t help but smile as Alexander grumbles.

  “I am sorry, Prince Riley,” Godfrey says, thrusting my towel and soap at me. “But I cannot stay in these circumstances. This is a deep, old magic, and I must not be around it.”

  My heart sinks. Having Godfrey here made everything a little less frightening.

  “Dearest Godfrey,” Father says, sadness lacing his voice, “we understand. We never meant to get you involved. We shall miss —”

  “I am merely jesting with you all, sire,” Godfrey says in the general direction of where Father’s voice came from. “My place is at your side.”

  Father laughs his big booming laugh. “Good one, old man.”

  Godfrey chuckles. “I could not have been your chamberlain for all those years without picking up a trick or two.”

  “I could eat you, you know,” I tell him, handing him back the towel and soap. “I have been motivated by less.”

  Behind me, Father chuckles.

  “I assure you,” Godfrey says, “I would be quite stringy and bland. Come, let us get you washed up and put some real food into your ample belly.”

  I follow him back into my chambers, and hear the rest of my family trail behind. I stop. Alexander bumps into me. “Ow! You are quite a bit harder than you used to be. It’s like walking into a wall!”

  “We must have some ground rules,” I proclaim. “Just because you are invisible does not mean I need to have you sharing my bath. Or sneaking up on me. There is such a thing as privacy.”

  “He is correct, of course,” Father says. “As tempting as it is to play around, we must be sure to make our presence known to Riley and Godfrey at all times. Else they would be at a terrible disadvantage.”

  “Agreed,” Mother says. “We shall announce our presence upon entering a room, unless a stranger is in the midst.”

  “Where is the fun in that?” Alexander asks.

  Ignoring him, I nod. “Thank you for the courtesy. In return I shall refrain from eating all of you for supper.”

  “Your bark is worse than your bite,” Alexander teases.

  “Try me,” I reply.

  “Come, Prince,” Godfrey says, leading me over to the tub in the corner of the room. “You smell a bit … how shall I put it … ripe.”

  I am about to comment on that remark, when I approach the mirror and catch sight of my reflection. For the second time in two days, I am shocked at what I see in the glass.

  I had thought being dressed like a roasted pig with vegetables was bad. This is so much worse.

  I can hear the monks chanting their morning prayers while we are still half a block from the monastery. I used to love hearing them sing when I was younger. I am tempted to close my eyes and listen now, but time is of the essence. We enter the courtyard to find the others already gathered.

  Handsome is wearing a large pack looped over both shoulders, a wide-brimmed hat, and a canteen attached to his belt. He certainly looks ready to travel. I had to convince Papa that it would not be practical to wear a dress, and he had finally relented. I am pleased to see that Veronica is in breeches, too.

  Veronica’s grandfather and Papa shake hands. Clarissa gives me a tight hug, engulfing me in her new cloak. She even wears it to sleep. “Be safe,” she says. “Have fun, make friends, and bring me something. A nice hat, perhaps. I could use a hat.”

  I laugh. “You will have a whole pound a week to buy a hat. You could buy six hats for that.”

  She grins. “You are right! I forgot.”

  “If you do not get fired, that is.”

  She pretends to pout. “I am much more careful now.”

  This is true. Yesterday, she did not set a single thing ablaze, nor turn anything (or anyone) a different color. Although it had taken Master Werlin an entire morning to figure out the correct combination of oils and minerals to get the green color from her hair.

  “Thank you for taking over my job until I get back,” I tell her. “It is very kind of you.”

  “I enjoy it,” she insists. “It makes me feel useful.”

  “Perchance the boy of your dreams will come into the store while I am gone.”

  She smiles. “If he does, I shall do my best not to give him an ointment to make his hair fall out.”

  “That sounds wise.” I hug her again until Papa pulls me aside.

  “Beauty, I know you are not a quitter, well, except for a job or two, but if you do not feel safe at any point, I want you to come home.”

  “I know, Papa. But I gave my word that I would see this through.”

  He reaches for my ha
nd. “If it is not safe for you, it will not be safe for the little girl, either. It may fall to you to convince her of that.”

  I nod. He is right. Perhaps that is another reason her grandfather chose me.

  “I am glad Handsome will be there,” Papa says, glancing over at him. “He will protect you both.”

  “I am glad, too,” I reply. I reach up to touch my mother’s old locket, which I had hung around my neck before leaving the house. Perhaps somehow she is protecting me, too.

  “We must get started,” Veronica says, appearing at my side.

  Papa gives me one last hug. “Send word if you can.”

  “I will. Do not worry about me.”

  He nods, but I can tell by the anxious way he is twisting his hat in his hands that he is going to worry no matter what.

  When everyone else has gone, Handsome reaches into his pocket and pulls out what I thought was a pocket watch. Instead, it has a single black arrow, bobbing around in what looks like water. The letters N, E, S, and W are spaced evenly around the edges. He holds it faceup in front of him, then shifts his feet until the arrow points at the N. “All right, I have found north. Shall we set out?”

  Veronica shakes her head. “We do not need the compass yet. We have one last thing to attend to here.”

  “Here where?” Handsome asks.

  “Here,” she repeats. “At the monastery. In the library.”

  We do not move. Outsiders simply do not go into the monastery library.

  She pushes our bags with her feet until they are nearly hidden by a bunch of shrubs behind the bench. “Come.”

  “I have not lived in this town long,” Handsome says, “but I do not think we are supposed to go in there.”

  “I have lived here long,” I say, “and I know we are not supposed to.”

  “It will be fine,” Veronica promises. “You are with me.” She heads to the front door. We have no choice but to follow.

  I turn to Handsome. “I have a feeling this will not be the last time she will be leading us into places we are not supposed to go.”

  “No doubt. We might as well get used to it.”

  Inside, the front entryway is very simple. Stone and wood, simple religious decorations hanging from the walls, along with robes from metal hooks. It feels drafty, although I can see no windows. Definitely not the cheeriest place for a young girl to grow up.

  The chanting is much louder from inside. I do not see any monks milling about, so they must all be in the service.

  “Take this,” she says, tossing a robe to each of us.

  We grab for them before they hit the ground. “What do we need these for?” Handsome asks.

  “Just put them on.”

  “You’re the boss,” he says, slipping it over his head. I do the same. Mine is too long and drags along the stone floor.

  “Now flip up the hoods.”

  We flip. Again, mine is too large and covers most of my face. When I point this out, Veronica says, “Good. We do not want them to know you are a girl.”

  Before I can ask why, she takes off around a corner.

  Handsome groans. “We have not even traveled ten yards and I already want to leave her behind.”

  I laugh. “Remember, we are doing this to help her.”

  He grumbles but hurries along behind me. We catch up with her outside a large wooden door. A symbol of a book inlaid with white marble is carved into it. I cannot help tracing it with my finger.

  “Do not speak if anyone is inside,” Veronica warns. “I shall answer in your stead.”

  “Wait,” Handsome says, reaching out for her. His arm gets caught under his robe. “Can’t you tell us what we’re doing here?”

  “We do not have time for questions,” she replies. “Services will end any moment.”

  Before either of us can ask what we are doing, she pushes us through the door, slips in behind, and then shuts it right away. The library looks no different from what we have seen so far, other than the long tables and shelves of books. I have seen paintings of great libraries, with marble floors and chandeliers and stained-glass windows. This is not one of them. But the stacks are full, and the books lend a slight air of coziness to the room.

  A quick glance ensures us we are alone in the room. “What are we doing here?” Handsome asks. “If you forgot to pack a book, could you not have retrieved it on your own?”

  She shakes her head. “I am not allowed in here. Only monks are.”

  Before I can point out that we are not actually monks, the door swings open. Handsome and I instinctively tug on our hoods to hide our faces even more.

  “Friar Tal,” Veronica says, hurrying over to the wide man in the brown robe. “These two monks from the next parish over requested to see our library. Everyone was in the service, so I hope you do not mind that I led them here.”

  “Not at all, child,” he says, patting her head. “What else could you have done?”

  “They have taken a vow of silence,” she adds.

  The monk looks over at us. We bow our heads in greeting but do not look up.

  “I just came in for an extra prayer book,” he says. “But I shall return in a few moments and will help them find what they need.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  He ruffles her hair. I am glad to see the kindness he shows her. Even when she is lying.

  When the door clicks shut behind him, she says, “We must be gone before he returns.” She runs past us and begins pulling books off the shelves, then shoving them back in.

  “Veronica,” I say, reaching for her arm. Of course, mine gets caught inside my robe, too. “What are you looking for? We cannot help you unless you tell us.”

  “A book,” she replies, continuing her frantic search.

  “Obviously. But what book?”

  “I do not know for certain,” she admits. “Look for a dark blue cover, leather I am guessing, with a symbol of a cat on it.”

  “Does it have a title?” I ask.

  “If it does, I do not know it.”

  We split up and each start at a different spot. I knew the monks had a lot of books, but I did not know they had so many fine ones. A few I even recognize from Papa’s collection. Perhaps by the time I return from the quest, his business will have picked up again. I know it vexes him greatly.

  I linger too long over a particularly beautiful book with metal hinges and rose quartz encrusted on the cover. “Beauty!” Veronica hisses from the next shelf over. “Keep looking!”

  “Sorry,” I mutter, quickly moving along to a section of newer books. These have pages made of bark instead of vellum or parchment. It is odd that either a goat or a sheep or a tree has to give its life so people can read. Papa has sold a few books with cotton pages, but they are rare and hard to come by.

  “I think I found it!” Handsome says, probably too loudly for Veronica’s comfort.

  He holds up a slim volume. As I get closer, I see the words How to Rid Your Home of Mice engraved in gold lettering across the cover. An unmistakable drawing of a cat lies beneath the title.

  “Sounds like a fascinating book,” Handsome jokes.

  Veronica snatches it from his hand. “This is it! Now let us be gone from here.” She pushes open the door and the sound of singing returns.

  We only make it halfway to the entry hall when the song ends and a loud shuffling sound begins to fill the hallway we just passed.

  Veronica clutches the book to her chest. “You must hide me,” she says, panic in her eyes.

  Handsome does not pause. He swoops her under his robe, where she steps up onto his feet. He closes the robe around her so that only her eyes are visible. With our hoods down, we shuffle toward the door. I can hear the hallway filling behind us, but we do not stop until we have shut the door behind us.

  Handsome grabs all of our bags from behind the hedge. We run at top speed down the road, through the alley that runs behind the bathhouse, and into the woods at the northern tip of the village. I can see
he has that compass out again, and is holding it in front of him as he guides us through the woods, the bags bouncing against his back in a way that looks most uncomfortable. Even though I am not quite sure what just happened, or why we are running away from the very place Veronica calls home, it still feels good to run at all.

  Finally, Handsome signals we have gone far enough, and my heart slowly stops pounding. We are deep into the woods now, in an area I do not recognize. I flip back my hood. Panting, I ask, “Did we, or did we not, just steal a book from the monastery?”

  Veronica nods, plopping down on a log. “We did.”

  “And why, exactly, did we do that?” Handsome asks, tossing the bags off his back and sitting beside her.

  “Because we need it.”

  “Surely they would have lent it to you,” I point out. “You said you have friends amongst them.”

  She shakes her head. “I could not have asked. Not for this one.”

  “Why?” Handsome asks. “They do not want you to learn how to rid your house of mice?”

  She rolls her eyes. “The book is not really about that.”

  “No?” I look at her, confused. “What is it, then?”

  She pulls it out from under her tunic, where she had tucked it during our escape. She looks both ways, but no one, of course, is near. Not for many miles. She gathers us close anyway, and whispers, “Inside this book lies a map. Or at least that is what I have long hoped.”

  “I already have maps of the surrounding villages,” Handsome says. “Safe paths through the forests, locations of inns, all that. Your grandfather gave them to me.”

  Veronica shakes her head. “This would be a different kind of map. My mother hid that book in the monastery for safekeeping. She swore me not to retrieve it until I was ready to use it.”

  We both look at her in surprise.

  “She told me not to tell anyone, not even Grandfather or the monks. It is the last thing she said to me before she left.”

  We are silent for a moment, and then Handsome says, “Well, let’s see it, then, shall we?”

  Veronica takes a deep breath, unwinds the leather cord around the book, and opens the front cover. The title repeats again on the first page. She flips through pages of text and the occasional illustration of a cat catching a mouse by various methods. When she reaches the end, she starts again. Then she holds the book by the covers and shakes it. Only dust and two long-dead beetles fall from the pages.