Chapter 10 Isabeau
ten
Isabeau
The ancient iron of the gate bit into my palm as I pushed, reopening the wound the rose thorns had left. Fresh blood welled, warm against my freezing skin, and with it came a strange surge of strength.
The metal groaned in protest, years or centuries of rust giving way beneath my desperation.
I wondered if it was the blood that persuaded it to yield, if this place, like the roses, hungered for sacrifice.
Either way, the gate relented, swinging inward with a shriek that echoed through the courtyard beyond, announcing my arrival to whatever might be waiting in the shadows.
The gap was barely wide enough for my body to slip through, the torn fabric of my dress catching on the jagged edges.
I yanked it free, caring little for the additional rips.
The garment was already ruined form Gaspard’s angered touch and the cage they sank me in, soaked through and clinging to my trembling form like a second skin.
What did a few more tears matter when I’d already lost everything else?
I stumbled into the courtyard, my bare feet landing on cracked stones that had once formed an elegant path.
The raven was nowhere to be seen. Had it abandoned me now that I’d reached my destination?
Left me alone in this dead place with nothing but roses that fed on human blood and the ghosts of whoever had once called this castle home?
The moon emerged from behind a cloud, bathing the courtyard in silver light.
I could see more clearly now. The remains of what must have been a magnificent fountain dominating the center, its basin cracked and dry.
Stone benches lined the perimeter, many toppled or broken.
Statues stood as silent sentinels, their features worn away by time and weather until they resembled nothing so much as featureless ghosts carved from stone.
For a moment, the sheer enormity of what I’d survived and what I’d escaped crashed over me.
I’d fled my home. Been nearly drowned as a witch.
Discovered my father’s body suspended in a grotesque garden of blood-drinking roses.
And somehow, impossibly, I was still alive. Still breathing. Still standing.
A laugh bubbled up from my chest, bordering on hysteria. I’d made it. I was safe. For now, at least.
The sound died in my throat when I heard it. A low, throaty rumble that wasn’t thunder, wasn’t the shifting of ancient stones, wasn’t anything that belonged in the world of men. It reverberated through the courtyard, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
I froze, the breath catching painfully in my lungs. The cold that had been numbing my extremities was suddenly forgotten as heat flooded my system. Not a true warmth, but the burning rush of terror. My eyes darted from shadow to shadow, seeking the source of that terrible sound.
“Who’s there?” I called, my voice embarrassingly small in the vastness of the courtyard. “Show yourself!”
The rumble came again, lower this time, almost contemplative. Like the purr of a cat, if that cat were the size of a horse. My heart hammered against my ribs, the rush of blood in my ears nearly drowning out all other sounds.
I spun in a slow circle, eyes straining to penetrate the darkness that pooled in the corners of the courtyard. That’s when I saw it. A deeper shadow near the broken fountain, a patch of blackness that seemed to absorb what little moonlight reached it. A massive shadow that breathed.
As I watched, paralyzed by a terror more profound than anything Gaspard had ever inspired in me, the shadow moved. It detached itself from the darkness surrounding the fountain and stepped into the moonlight.
God in heaven.
The beast stood before me, massive beyond imagining.
It was the size of three wolves combined, its body covered in thick fur that gleamed rich brown with honey highlights where the moon touched it.
Its face resembled a lion’s, with a broad muzzle and sharp, gleaming teeth visible even with its mouth closed.
But above its eyes rose two black horns, like those of a bull, curving up toward the night sky in wicked points.
It moved with an impossible grace for something so large, padding toward me on four massive paws tipped with black claws that clicked against the stone path. Its amber eyes were so unnervingly similar in color to my own, and they were fixed on me with an intelligence that belied its bestial form.
This was no ordinary animal. This was the beast of the Forbidden Forest. The creature that had supposedly taken my father and all the other sacrifices before him. The one who’d ransacked villages when a sacrifice hadn’t been given. The thing no one could kill as it destroyed.
Only, Papa hadn’t been taken by a beast at all. He’d been consumed by roses, his blood feeding their unnatural bloom.
So what was this creature? And why did it watch me with such focused intensity?
The beast lifted its head, its nostrils flaring as it scented the air. Its eyes narrowed, gaze dropping to my hand where blood still dripped from the wound the rose thorns had inflicted.
Understanding dawned with horrifying clarity. It smelled my blood. Just like the roses had. This place, this forest. It all seemed to hunger for human essence.
I instinctively closed my bleeding palm into a fist, as if hiding the wound would somehow mask its scent. But I knew it was already too late. The beast had my coppery scent, and from the way it had begun to stalk toward me with deliberate steps, it had decided I was its prey.
Fear unlocked my frozen limbs. I spun on my heels and ran, not toward the castle’s entrance as I had originally intended, but back toward the gate through which I’d entered. Better the known danger of the forest than whatever fate awaited me in the jaws of this monster.
I slammed into the iron gate with enough force to jar my bones, fingers scrabbling at the rusted metal as I pushed it open just enough to squeeze through. The sound of heavy paws pounding against stone followed me, growing louder with each heartbeat.
I had barely cleared the gate when the beast crashed into it with a force that shook the very earth beneath my feet.
The ancient iron groaned in protest, bending inward from the impact.
A frustrated growl rumbled from the creature’s throat as it found its path blocked, its massive body too large to fit through the narrow opening I’d slipped through.
Taking advantage of the momentary reprieve, I plunged back into the forest, my bare feet finding a painful path among roots and stones. Behind me, the beast’s growls transformed into something else. A howl that split the night, rising to the moon like a proclamation. A challenge. A claim.
To my horror, the forest answered. From all directions came answering howls.
Wolves, dozens of them by the sound, their voices rising in eerie harmony with the beast’s call.
Were they its subjects? Its allies? Whatever the case, I was now being hunted not just by one monster, but by an entire forest of them.
I ran without direction, without thought, my only goal to put distance between myself and the creature behind me.
My lungs burned, my legs ached, every part of me protesting the exertion after so much trauma and cold.
But fear was a powerful motivator, and I pushed on, ducking under branches and skirting thorny bushes.
I tried to be clever about it, doubling back and crossing my own path, hoping to confuse any predator tracking my scent.
I wove between trees in tight spirals, splashed through a small stream to mask my trail, even backtracked along my own footprints for several yards before veering off in a new direction.
All for nothing.
A root caught my foot mid-stride, sending me sprawling face-first into the loamy forest floor.
The impact drove the breath from my lungs, stars exploding behind my eyes as my forehead connected with something solid.
Maybe a rock or fallen branch. Warmth trickled down my temple.
More blood. As if I hadn’t shed enough already.
I tried to push myself up, to continue my desperate flight, but my arms trembled and gave way beneath me. Too much. I’d endured too much. My body was failing me when I needed it most.
The heavy thud of paws on earth reached my ears, growing louder with each passing second. I didn’t need to look to know what approached. The beast had found me, despite my attempts at evasion. Whether it had tracked my scent or simply known where I would run, the result was the same.
I was caught.
I rolled onto my back, determined to at least face my death with open eyes.
The beast loomed over me, its massive form blotting out the moon and stars above.
Its breath came in great gusts, washing over my face with the scent of wild things.
Earth and musk and something metallic that might have been blood.
This close, I could see the individual hairs of its pelt, the subtle variations in color from deep chestnut to honeyed gold. I could see the pink of its tongue as it lolled from between deadly teeth. I could see the intelligence in those amber eyes, so like my own, as they assessed me.
The beast lowered its head, sniffing along my body from feet to face. A curious sound rumbled from its chest, almost like a question. Then it circled me once, twice, its tail—more wolf-like than lion—swishing behind it.
In one swift movement, it was upon me, its weight pressing me into the earth.
I gasped, expecting teeth at my throat, claws in my flesh.
Instead, I felt something else entirely.
The beast’s paw hooked into the torn fabric of my dress, ripping it further.
The sound of tearing cloth filled the night as the garment gave way completely, leaving me naked beneath the creature.