Chapter 11 Isabeau
eleven
Isabeau
The beast’s fur felt like heaven against my naked skin. Soft and warm in a way I’d never experienced before, even in the coldest winters when Papa would pile every blanket we owned onto my bed.
Each strand of his pelt cushioned my raw flesh, soothing the scratches and bruises from my flight through the forest, from the iron cage that had nearly been my coffin, from Gaspard’s cruel hands.
My body still throbbed from the beast’s claiming, a pleasant ache unlike anything Gaspard’s fumbling assaults had left behind.
I should have been terrified, should have been fighting to escape the massive creature that carried me like a bride across the threshold of this abandoned castle. Instead, I found myself nestling closer to his broad chest, seeking more of that impossible warmth as we entered the darkness beyond.
His heartbeat thundered against my ear, strong and steady. Not racing with bloodlust or violence, but calm, almost gentle. The contrast between his fearsome appearance and the careful way he held me sent my mind spinning with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
The castle swallowed us into its darkness, the stone walls exhaling a breath of stale air that carried centuries of dust and secrets.
What little moonlight penetrated through broken windows and collapsed sections of roof created silver pools on the marble floor, illuminating our path like stepping stones across a midnight lake.
The beast moved with surprising grace, navigating the debris-strewn entrance hall as if he’d walked it a thousand times before.
I blinked, willing my eyes to adjust faster to the gloom.
Gradually, shapes emerged from shadow showing overturned furniture, shattered vases, and tapestries hanging in tatters from walls that might once have been grand.
Something terrible had happened here. Something violent enough to leave scars on stone and wood that even time hadn’t erased.
“What happened to this place?” I whispered, not expecting an answer from the creature who carried me.
The beast’s chest rumbled with a sound too complex to be a simple growl. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought it sounded like sorrow.
Moonlight suddenly flooded through a high window, illuminating a broad expanse of wall at the far end of what must have been the great hall.
Hanging there, dominating the space despite its damaged condition, was an enormous portrait.
Or what remained of one. Canvas hung in shreds, as if attacked by claws or blades with particular fury.
Through the tears, fragments of faces stared back at me.
A man’s stern jaw, a woman’s gentle eyes, a few children’s curious expressions.
A family. Once whole, now ripped apart, just like the portrait that preserved them.
The beast paused before it, his amber eyes fixed on the ruined image. A low sound emerged from his throat, not a growl but something more mournful. Something that might have been a sob in a human chest.
My heart hammered against my ribs as understanding bloomed.
The portrait, the beast’s reaction, the strange intelligence behind those animal eyes.
This wasn’t just any abandoned castle in the forbidden forest. This was his home.
And those faces in the portrait…were they his family?
Had he once been the stern-faced man? The curious child?
Had he once been human?
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it awakened a strange compassion I hadn’t expected to feel after everything I’d endured.
If he had been cursed, transformed into this creature of fur and fang, then he too knew what it was to be trapped.
To be seen as something other than what you truly were.
Before I could form words to ask the questions swirling in my mind, the beast turned away from the portrait, carrying me toward a grand staircase that swept upward from the center of the hall.
Time and neglect had taken their toll here as well.
What must once have been carpeted steps were now bare stone, with remnants of fabric clinging stubbornly in corners.
The balustrade was broken in places, leaving gaps like missing teeth in a once-perfect smile.
The beast climbed with steady steps, the staircase narrowing as we ascended.
I noticed how the stairs had been worn down in the center, countless footsteps over countless years carving shallow depressions in the stone.
How many people had climbed these stairs when the castle was whole?
Servants hurrying to attend their masters?
Children racing to their lessons? Lovers seeking private moments away from watchful eyes?
And now there was only us. The beast and his captive. Or was I his guest? His mate? I still didn’t understand what had happened in the forest, why my body had responded to his claiming with pleasure instead of pain, why I felt this strange connection to him despite his fearsome form.
At the top of the stairs, the beast turned right, padding down a long hallway lined with doors.
Some hung askew from broken hinges. Others were missing entirely, revealing glimpses of abandoned rooms beyond.
Bedchambers mostly, with four-poster beds like ghostly sentinels waiting for occupants who would never return.
Moonlight streaked through windows, casting everything in silver and shadow.
The beast seemed to know exactly where he was going. He paused before a door near the end of the hall. It was intact, unlike many of its neighbors. With a nudge of his massive head, it swung open to reveal a bedchamber larger than any I’d seen.
This had been someone important. Someone wealthy and powerful, judging by the size of the room and what remained of its furnishings.
A massive four-poster bed dominated the center, its frame carved from dark wood that had somehow survived whatever destruction had claimed the rest of the castle.
The fabrics weren’t so fortunate. What had once been rich velvet drapes hung in tatters from the bed’s frame, their color faded to a ghostly memory of burgundy or perhaps deep blue.
The blankets were in similar disrepair, torn and frayed at the edges, though they appeared cleaner than I might have expected after years of abandonment.
Had the beast maintained this room? Was this where he slept when he wasn’t prowling the forest or terrorizing the villages?
He approached the bed and set me down with surprising gentleness, my body sinking into the mattress that, despite its age, was far softer than the one I’d had at home.
It felt strange to be naked on these unfamiliar sheets, exposed in this strange place with this even stranger creature watching me.
Yet I felt no immediate urge to cover myself.
The beast had already seen every part of me, had claimed me in the most primal way possible. What modesty remained after that?
Still, the night air was cool against my skin, raising gooseflesh along my arms and legs.
The beast seemed to notice my discomfort.
He turned abruptly, dropping to all fours with a fluid motion that reminded me of his animal nature despite the human intelligence behind his eyes.
He padded across the room to a tall armoire that stood against the far wall, its doors closed against the dust and decay that had claimed so much of the castle.
As he did so, I untied the strips of damp fabric from my waist that held my father’s knife.
My fingertips traced the pruned ridges of my skin, wrinkled like ancient parchment from hours submerged in the river’s icy embrace before running with it clinging to me.
The sodden fabric peeled away with a wet sound, releasing me from its clinging prison.
Freedom came with a price. My flesh, pallid and death-blue beneath the moonlight, erupted in violent shivers as the castle’s glacial air kissed every droplet clinging to my body.
Each breath of wind felt like winter’s teeth against my exposed skin, turning the water’s remnants into pinpricks of frost that traced my spine like a lover’s cruel caress.
I tucked the knife under my pillow, leaving it for later, just in case. Then I pushed the squelching fabric to the floor so the bed wouldn’t ruin. My gaze found the back of the beast with his head turned for his eyes to watch me closely.
I pointed to the pillow with a hard swallow. “Protection.”
He dipped his chin and turned his attention to the cabinetry ahead.
Rising up on his hind legs, the beast attempted to open the armoire door with one massive paw.
His claws scraped against the wood, leaving fresh marks beside older scratches that suggested this wasn’t his first attempt.
The handle eluded his grasp, delicate and designed for human fingers, not beastly paws.
A frustrated growl rumbled from his chest as he tried again, this time with both paws. Still, the handle slipped from his grip, the door remaining stubbornly closed.
After a third failed attempt, he turned back to me, his amber eyes fixing on mine with unmistakable intention. With a deliberate motion, he nodded toward the armoire, then back at me.
He wanted me to open it.
I tried to stand, my legs wobbling beneath me as every muscle in my body protested the movement.
After everything—Gaspard’s assault, the near-drowning, fleeing through the forest, the beast’s claiming—it was a miracle I could move at all.
My first attempt ended with me sinking back onto the bed, my strength failing me when I needed it most.
The beast made a sound that might have been concern, crossing the room in three long strides to reach me. Instead of forcing me up or growing impatient, he lowered himself beside the bed, offering his broad back as support.
“You want to help me?” I asked, unsure if he could understand human speech despite his obvious intelligence.
The answering rumble from his chest felt like affirmation. Cautiously, I placed my hand on his back, fingers sinking into that impossibly soft fur. Using him as a crutch, I managed to stand on trembling legs. The beast rose slowly, matching his pace to mine as I leaned heavily against his side.
Together, we made our way across the room, an odd pair, being the naked girl and the monster, moving as one toward the armoire.
His size struck me anew as we walked side by side.
Even on all fours, his back stood level with my breasts, his massive shoulders broader than any man’s I’d ever seen.
If he rose to his full height, he must have been nearly eight feet tall, dwarfing even Gaspard’s imposing frame.
Yet despite his size, despite his obvious strength, his movements remained carefully measured, accommodating my weakened state with a patience that seemed almost tender.
This was not the mindless beast that had supposedly terrorized our village, that had been blamed for the disappearance of countless sacrifices.
This was something or someone else entirely.
When we reached the armoire, the beast stopped, looking up at me expectantly.
I released my grip on his fur, steadying myself against the wall as I reached for the handle he’d been unable to grasp.
It turned easily under my human fingers, the door swinging open with a creaking protest of ancient hinges.
The contents took my breath away. Dresses.
Dozens of them, hanging in neat rows despite the passage of time.
Some showed signs of age. Moth holes near the hems, colors faded from what must once have been vibrant jewel tones, but most remained in remarkably good condition, protected from the worst ravages of time by the solid wood of the armoire.
There were gowns for every occasion. Morning dresses in light, airy fabrics.
Afternoon tea gowns with modest necklines.
Evening gowns dripping with beadwork that caught the moonlight and sparkled like fallen stars.
And at the far end, ball gowns fit for a princess, their full skirts taking up twice the space of their plainer sisters.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I ran my fingers over the nearest gown, a simple day dress in faded green that looked as if it might actually fit my frame.
I hadn’t given much thought to my nakedness while running for my life or being carried by the beast, but now, faced with the prospect of actual clothing, I felt an overwhelming gratitude.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the beast, unsure if he could understand but feeling the need to acknowledge his consideration nonetheless.
He dipped his head in what might have been a nod, then suddenly stiffened, his ears pricking forward and his entire body going rigid with attention. His head swiveled toward the door, nostrils flaring as he scented the air.
I strained my ears, trying to hear whatever had caught his attention. But there was nothing. Only the whisper of wind through broken windows and the settling of ancient timbers.
Yet the beast clearly heard something I could not.
His entire demeanor changed in an instant, the almost human intelligence in his eyes receding as animal instinct took over.
With a low growl that raised the hair on the back of my neck, he lunged toward the door, abandoning me without a backward glance.
“Wait!” I called, stumbling forward a step before my weakened legs protested. “Where are you—”
But he was already gone, his massive form disappearing down the dark hallway with surprising speed. The pounding of his paws on stone faded quickly, leaving me alone in the strange bedchamber, naked and bewildered, with only the silent dresses for company.
I sank to the floor beside the open armoire, my back against the wall, suddenly aware of how completely exhausted I truly was. The beast’s fur had kept me warm, but now, without his heat, the chill of the night air raised goosebumps across my naked skin.
Whatever had called him away, whatever primal instinct had overwhelmed his human intelligence, I could only hope it wasn’t a threat.
Because as strange as it seemed, the beast had become my only ally in this new, terrifying reality.
My protector, my captor, and maybe my mate—I didn’t know which he truly was. Perhaps all three.
What I did know was that I needed a bath, clothes, warmth, and rest if I was to survive another day. With trembling hands, I reached for the green dress and stood up, determined to at least solve one of those problems before exhaustion claimed me completely.