15. Dimitri
Chapter 15
Dimitri
I t was hard to turn around and walk away from the two girls. At least they had each other, while he was left alone with nothing to do but wait. He had no other option, though. If they were going to follow the story, they had to leave at least a little time for the substitution to be arranged.
As he walked back to the manor, he felt hot and itchy all over. His mental discomfort seemed to be leaching into his body, making him want to break into a run.
He pulled at his collar, dislodging the snowy white scarf he had carefully arranged before heading for the Mortar and Pestle. At least he would be sleeping in a proper bed that night after his efforts of the morning—a morning that felt impossibly distant.
He scratched at his back through his vest, irritated. Wasn’t it enough for his mind to be in turmoil? Did he have to be so uncomfortable as well?
His fingers tried to reach the spot through the material, but there seemed to be something in the way. Did he have something stuck under his shirt? If some leaves from the garden had slipped down his collar that would explain the discomfort.
Pulling the ends of his shirt loose, he reached up his back for the itchiest spot. Yelping, he pulled his hand free. It didn’t feel like a leaf. It felt like?—
He touched his back again, swallowing hard when he felt the same furry sensation. Slowly his eyes dropped to his other hand.
Instead of a yelp, he gave a bellow. His once familiar hand was barely recognizable. The hair of his arm had grown so wildly long that it was bursting from the cuff of his shirt and obscuring most of the back of his hand.
Forgetting propriety completely, he pulled up his shirt to gaze with horror at his stomach. It wasn’t just his arm or his back. He was covered in hair.
He broke into a run, racing for the manor door and a mirror. At least he could still move freely. He should be grateful he felt no urge to drop to all fours and lope along like a wolf. Or was that just because the transformation was incomplete?
He’d known their plan involved him turning into a fabled Beast. But the descriptions he’d read in books had been both vague and varied, so he’d had no clear idea of what to expect. And for some nonsensical reason, he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
Everyone who turned into a Beast must have a different experience—like the different punishments the Legacy enacted for leaving the kingdom’s borders. He only hoped the Legacy would continue to go easy on him.
Standing in front of the mirror, it was hard to muster relief, however. His body hair had grown so long it more closely resembled fur than hair, and his facial hair now obscured everything except his eyes. He didn’t recognize himself at all, and if he attempted to venture into Thebarton, he would likely be chased away by fearful townsfolk. He wouldn’t even be able to blame them. No one who saw him could mistake what had happened, and if they feared to associate with Rosalie’s family, they would fear him even more.
“I should have gotten more supplies,” he said aloud to the mirror. “I didn’t think this through very well.”
Perhaps they could request help from Daphne if they needed it. She wasn’t likely to abandon Rosalie after going so far to help them.
With that mildly reassuring thought, he had to pull together an evening meal for himself and then attempt to sleep. The task seemed impossible, despite his comfortable new bed, but eventually he succumbed to slumber. As he drifted off, it was with thoughts of the next day’s work. He would need to prepare a second bedchamber now that the manor was getting another inhabitant.
He was awake just after dawn and glad for an activity to fill his time. But when he got to the bedchamber he had chosen for Rosalie, he was left silent and staring. The manor had been keeping itself clean since his arrival, but it had now raised its efforts to a whole different level.
The room before him looked just as personalized as his mother’s had done, but it also gave off a fresh feeling, as if it had been prepared only hours before. Gone were the neutral colors he remembered previously, and in their place was deep purple with hints of gold. A room ready for royalty.
Fresh cut flowers filled the air with fragrance, and every possible luxury of furniture was positioned in the optimal way. Even the sheets on the four-poster bed looked and smelled fresh, as if someone had been busily changing them overnight.
He didn’t need to do any work for Rosalie’s arrival after all. But while the Legacy had done a better job than he could have, its efforts left him at a loose end. Part of him wanted to explore any other overnight changes to the manor, but another part of him was afraid of what he might find. It was one thing for the Legacy to pour power into his garden, or to keep the building free of dust, but he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of it flowing freely through his home.
He took a further step into the room instead and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the dressing table. Recoiling in shock, he nearly collided with the open door. Had he grown even more hair while he was sleeping? It looked matted now, and he recognized nothing of his old self except his height.
He turned quickly away from the reflection, deciding he could face the rest of the castle after all. But he had barely reached the top of the main staircase when a loud knock rang through the entryway, echoing from the double doors directly beneath him.
Someone had already arrived. Given his current appearance, he could only hope it was Rosalie.
He raced down the stairs only to pause with his hand on the latch. What would Rosalie think when she saw his new appearance?
When he had imagined her moving in, he had conveniently forgotten the state he would be in. Now that the moment had come, he hesitated to open the doors. Part of him resisted the idea of her seeing him as a Beast.
But the thought was pure foolishness. He couldn’t avoid the meeting, and it didn’t matter anyway. Rosalie had never seemed to like his face, so what did it matter if it had changed beyond recognition?
He pulled the doors open with one swift heave, and Daphne stepped inside. His heart immediately sank. Had Rosalie gotten cold feet in the night?
The thought was inconceivable. Had something happened to her then?
He barely had a chance to feel a flash of concern before Rosalie followed Daphne inside.
“I’m the one who asked for the rose,” she said. “I’m here to take my friend’s place.”
Relief filled Dimitri, and he nearly forgot his line. But both girls were looking at him expectantly, so he managed to stumble over it.
“Do you come willingly?”
“I do,” she said. “Even if I am to die, I’ll remain gladly in place of my friend.”
No sooner had she finished the sentence than a series of loud bangs sounded outside. All three of them jumped, and Rosalie and Dimitri both ran for the open doorway.
Outside, a series of bright fireworks in brilliant colors exploded across the sky, the deafening cracks continuing.
“What a waste,” Daphne said from behind them, peering up at the sky over Rosalie’s shoulder. “There’s no point having fireworks in the daytime.”
“At least we know the Legacy accepted the exchange.” Dimitri looked down at Rosalie with a smile. So far everything was going according to plan.
“This is a disaster!” Rosalie hissed through her teeth, flattening his pleasure. “How do we make them stop?”
“Do we need to?” Dimitri asked as a final bang rang out and silence fell. He smiled. “Look, it obeyed your command.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, almost on a wail. “Any fireworks is too many. I don’t know where Jace is holed up with his men, but I’m guessing it was close enough to hear those!”
Dimitri paled as he finally realized what she had grasped immediately. Everything wasn’t going to plan at all. Their whole strategy hinged on keeping his transformation a secret from Jace, but the Legacy had just made a very loud and public announcement.
“He can’t know where it came from or what it signified,” Daphne said. “Not for sure.”
“Perhaps not.” Tension radiated from Rosalie’s shoulders. “But we’d better be prepared for him to come looking.”
Dimitri’s stomach tightened. He had already decided never to step outside without his sword, but that didn’t feel like enough. He needed to start wearing it inside the castle as well.
“Who knows,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “Maybe they’ll take one look at me and run in horror.”
Both girls turned to him and blinked, seeming to take in his new appearance for the first time. But there was only one reaction he cared about. His eyes stayed fixed on Rosalie.