23. Chapter 23
23
BEATRICE
The griflets were away from the palace for their hunting lessons much of each day, which left me too much time for thinking. Something was terribly wrong at the Forbidden Palace. I didn’t know exactly what, and I didn’t even know how to ask about it. I would have loved to believe I was imagining the changes, but I knew better.
So, I clung to denial. Surely everything would work out in the end. I trusted the Gamekeeper to protect us all.
He still came to the dining room most evenings, but he was quieter, more solemn, and I seldom actually saw him. Even when I did catch glimpses of his eyes or his broad shoulders, I had no hint of his thoughts. More concerning than his occasional absences, which I could blame on his duty to protect the Forbidden Palace, was the fact that he hadn’t asked me to marry him all week. Not once.
Did he somehow know about my dreams of Othniel? Had Chicky told him?
I would have liked to ask his opinion about those dreams—they were unbelievably vivid and lifelike. But I couldn’t. I mean, the last thing I wanted was to hurt the best friend I’d ever had. I could never marry him—he wasn’t human, and nothing could change that fact—but in my secret heart I’d been pretty much in love with him since I was fifteen. A foolish crush that I hadn’t yet outgrown.
One evening at dinner, Win was very quiet. Which was concerning. I tried several times to draw her into conversation, but she kept eating and ignored me. At any moment, the griflets would return from the last of their hunting adventures—sort of a final examination—and the Gamekeeper wasn’t here yet. I tried to focus on the dining room’s peaceful atmosphere, the magnificent artwork, and especially the food, but I kept glancing at his empty chair.
I’d just taken my first bite of lemon-curd cake when I heard voices and scuffling and the rustle of feathers in the hallway. “They’re back!” I mumbled around the mouthful.
I barely heard Win say “No kidding” before the griflets burst into the dining room.
Dodger proudly announced, “We graduated!” His voice was deep now, matching his masculine beauty, but my heart still saw him as the clumsy little griflet of a few weeks earlier. “Bogdan says we’re prepared to support ourselves in the wild. I took down a mountain sheep and gave it to the families of our troops.”
“I killed a wild boar,” Chicky added. “It was delicious.” She turned to me. “I shared it too, I promise, Beeetrice.”
“That’s my girl.” My heart warmed. “Who’s Bogdan?”
“Our teacher,” Dodger said. “He’s awesome!”
“He’s very handsome.”
Dodger rolled his eyes at his sister. “He’s too mature for a baby like you.”
Chicky merely preened her breast feathers, fully conscious of her golden splendor. Sometime during the past week, she’d sprouted feathery tufts on her head that resembled outer ears. I wasn’t sure if ear tufts were unique to females. Or maybe only golden griffins had them? I kept forgetting to ask the Gamekeeper. When he was even around.
“Excellent work, both of you.”
Oh! He was present. My heart skipped a beat or two, partly from surprise, but mostly from relief at the sound of his voice, which still gave me shivers at times.
The griflets visibly puffed up at the Gamekeeper’s praise. “We help fight for you,” Dodger said.
“I do hope it won’t come to that.” The Gamekeeper’s voice revealed so much emotion that all the breath seemed to leave my body, and tears burned my eyes. Why? Why had I reacted so strongly, as if to some tragedy?
“No fighting, you two,” I said by rote, as if they’d been bickering.
“We fight the enemy, not each other,” Dodger protested.
“Most of the time,” Chicky added truthfully.
“Duh! They’re not griflets anymore, in case you haven’t noticed,” Win snapped at me before turning to ask them for details about their hunt.
She was right. I did sound ridiculous, like a clingy mother. While Win questioned the griffins, who would always be those sweet clumsy hatchlings in my heart, I seized my opportunity to speak quietly with the Gamekeeper. “They’re so big and mature now. Do all magical creatures grow that quickly? I miss my little pin-feathered hatchlings!”
“Every variety of creature is unique,” he said. “But griffins are unusually precocious.”
When I sneaked a glance at him, I inadvertently met his gaze. My heart gave a lurch, and guilt swept through me as I looked away.
An impression of his golden eyes filled with longing and love appeared behind my eyelids whenever I closed them. Yes, I loved him dearly. So dearly that the thought of leaving him behind at the end of this adventure turned my heart to lead.
But how could I agree to marry a beast ? If he’d been a dwarf? No problem. Even a shifter or something mostly human . . . maybe. But although the Gamekeeper walked upright, he was, well, beastly. Although I had never found him revolting. He always smelled clean and good, and his fur was soft.
For the first time, I hesitated, considering the possibilities. If the Gamekeeper asked nothing more than a sweet companionship arrangement, I thought I could handle that, maybe. If it could only be the way it was back when I visited Faraway Castle every summer—the two of us talking, laughing, and communing for the rest of our lives—I would have welcomed that. With all my heart.
But I didn’t know if such an arrangement was even possible. Anyway, he’d stopped proposing to me days ago . . . probably because I’d begged him to stop. What could I do now, beg him to start asking again?
At this thought, I glanced his way and met his eyes, golden like a lion’s but far too expressive to belong to a beast. He wasn’t really a beast. He was a sentient being with a heart that loved deeply.
Can humans die of confusion? I felt torn to pieces inside.
As soon as we rose from the table, Win rushed out into the corridor with the griflets, but I lingered, hoping for . . . well, maybe another proposal? Not that I’d exactly decided to accept . . .
“I wish you a good night, Beatrice,” the Gamekeeper said with a polite bow.
“You don’t wish to talk?” I blurted, inexplicably panicking.
“I treasure our conversations—never doubt it—but tonight I am weary.”
“Weary from maintaining the magical borders?” I dared to ask.
“And for other reasons. Sleep well, dearest.”
Before I could blink, let alone recover from that unexpected endearment, he was gone. Was the “something wrong” I’d sensed related to his exhaustion?
I rested poorly that night, waking after brief snatches of sleep to find my heart racing and sobs filling my throat. I struggled to sit upright in bed, and by the dim light of the banked fire I saw Chicky sleeping in one of her impossibly contorted positions on the hearth. If I asked, would she help me visit Niel again? But what could he do to help us here in the future? Nothing at all. So, I lay back down, dried my face on my pillowcase since tissues weren’t a thing at the palace, and tried to stop worrying.
It eventually worked; in the morning I felt better. But then I realized that the hearth was cold and no one had come to lay out my clothes. After letting Chicky out of the room (she wasn’t good at unlocking doors), I drew my own bath and selected clothing from the highboy. I was used to serving myself, but I missed the friendly silence of my maids’ company, and I couldn’t help wondering if the castle staff might be in some kind of trouble. Would the invisible chefs, footmen, and maids have gone to take part in whatever battle seemed to be waging somewhere nearby? Or maybe at Faraway Castle?
In the breakfast room, the buffet didn’t appear as quickly as usual, but I was relieved to see any food at all. There were no oranges or sticky buns, my favorites, and Win complained of her scones being stale. The griflets devoured their meal without complaint, but afterward Dodger paced the corridors, up and back, his talons clicking on the tiles. When he and Chicky began to bicker, I sent them out to play in the gardens. They may have been adults in appearance, but they were adolescents on the inside.
“Don’t wander off,” Win cautioned them.
In the peace following their departure, I faintly sensed the Gamekeeper’s presence, but he never appeared. I spent most of that morning in the music room, playing moody concertos and sad love songs on the piano. By noon, foreboding had formed a cold lump in my chest.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” Win inquired at lunch, which consisted of cold sliced beef, slightly stale rolls, and a bowl of apples. “We must leave while we still can.”
“What are you talking about? How could we leave?” I laid my serviette beside my empty plate.
“Back through the caves, of course. The power that trapped us here is fading quickly as the enemy weakens.”
“No way in the world am I going back into those caves.”
Win rolled her eyes, then shrugged. “Okay, we’ll fly. The griffins can carry us. Beatrice, we’ve got to go help with the battle. Dodger told me he wants to help,” she explained while wrapping extra food in a serviette.
I shook my head in disbelief while she tucked the bundle of food inside her loose jacket and picked up the coat hanging on her chair. “Us? Fight in a magical battle?” I pointed from myself to her. “Neither of us has enough magic to be of any use whatsoever. Someone would have to waste time and energy protecting us instead of fighting! And the griflets may look grown up, but they’re adolescents with no common sense, let alone battle training.”
She gave me one of her patronizing smiles. “You obviously don’t understand the importance of this battle. It will affect the entire world. Everyone with any magic at all must participate. I finally got a message through to my friends, and help is on the way. They’ve made a gap in the barrier.”
None of this sounded right, and her attitude irked me. “I can’t stop you from leaving, but I’m staying here. My magic would be of no use at all, and the griflets are too young to fly that far with us on their backs.”
As if on cue, Win rolled her eyes. “C’mon. Let’s go find Dodger and Chicky, and we’ll discuss this and make plans. Now is the safest time of day, while the enemy is distracted.”
“What are you talking about? We’re safe from our enemies here.”
“So you think. First, we find the griffins, then I’ll explain.”
“Just so’s you know,” I shot back, “you’ll never get me to fly on a griffin’s back. Not a chance.”
I repeated that statement more than once while following Win through the breakfast room’s back door into a hall I didn’t recognize, then through an exterior door into a chilly afternoon. Exclaiming over the cold, I wrapped my light jacket closer, hugging myself.
“You should have brought a coat.” Win shrugged into hers.
“Why? Where are we going?”
“To a practice field.”
“You might have warned me.” I scrambled to catch up with her, looking around with growing curiosity. “Practice for what?”
“Flying, of course.”
We traversed a gap between the palace’s back wall and the nearly vertical stone cliff. Beautiful vines and shade-loving shrubs and flowers formed a bower of green and color, and water trickled into a frost-lined pool beside a path. Win strode ahead without hesitation, so I followed her. Some of the vines and flowers had withered in the cold. “I’ve never seen the back of the palace before. Why’s it so cold?”
“You’ve never seen most of this place, but I’ve been scouting around. The griflets know to meet me up ahead, and I’m giving you another chance.”
“Another chance for what?” This did not sound good.
“You’ll see.”
As soon as we emerged from behind the palace, our path began to zigzag downward between large boulders. I was too busy watching where I put my feet to give the mountain views more than fleeting glances, but my suspicions rose higher with each step. I needed to know what Winifred was planning.
Look up at me, Beeetrice!
I paused, shaded my eyes, and found Chicky high overhead, her great golden wings spread wide, and that long tail of hers trailing behind. Dodger chased her while they bickered, laughed in their squawky way, and enjoyed the freedom of the skies. Those two were devoted siblings despite their constant competition.
“Beeetrice!” Dodger called, and when I looked his way, he performed a loop-de-loop, tipped into a steep dive, spread his wings to stall, and made a neat landing in a grassy field.
From my standpoint on the rocky slope, I clapped and cheered. “Awesome landing!”
Certain that Chicky would attempt a “top this,” I hurried down to the level clearing just in time to hear inside my head: Beeetrice, watch me! Shading my eyes, I obediently looked up to where she soared, a tiny silhouette in the vast sky. With dizzying speed, she spiraled downward and at the last moment cupped her huge wings to perform a perfect four-point landing in the field.
“Bravo!” I shouted, applauding again. “You both are amazing!” Forgetting their dignity, they scrambled toward me like happy puppies.
“Get over here, all of you,” Win called, her tone peremptory. “We’re safe at the moment with no one to overhear, but there’s no time to waste.”
Something in her voice set my teeth on edge. After all the generous kindness we’d received, she still believed the palace staff and the Gamekeeper were spying on us?
She might as well have saved her breath. The griflets never so much as paused in their rush to bunt their feathery heads into my shoulders—gently, as though afraid they might break me, which they could easily have done. Win was still shouting orders and angry-walking in our direction when Chicky paused to meet my gaze. I think Win wants us to do something bad.
I gave my head a little shake. You may be right, but we need to hear her plans.
Both griffins agreed.
I could only wish for the gift of appearing as emotionless as they did. Maybe it was their feathers? Yet their emotions were clear to me: Chicky was skeptical, and Dodger was hopeful. I could only hope Winifred wouldn’t hurt my brave, kind boy.
I rested one hand on the back of each feathery neck as the three of us approached Win.
“Hurry,” she demanded, beckoning us closer. Win’s magic was minimal—hembez level—yet I suspected it could be quick and sneaky. Dodger walked straight up to her, but Chicky and I stopped at a wary distance.
Win scowled, as usual. “Okay, listen up. First, you need to know the history of this place.” She indicated our surroundings with a sweeping gesture. “Do you know how Adelboden stopped being a kingdom?”
The griffins looked at me, but I could only shake my head. “It’s been a republic all of my lifetime.”
Win nodded, her expression grim. “Schools don’t teach its true history, but my great-grandmother knew it and passed down the story. The last King of Adelboden was Siegfried III, and during his reign, evil magic rose in the land. The royal family fought to stamp it out, but one night a terrible magical Beast appeared in the palace and killed everyone, even the king.” Win related the story with a dramatic conviction that made my heart clench.
“Several powerful enchanters moved the palace and its grounds into these remote mountains, trapping the Beast and the servants’ ghosts here forever. The servants keep serving, but they’re fading away now. After a hundred years, the evil Beast is probably a ghost too. I know I’ve never seen him.” Her silvery eyes focused on mine. “If you defend a murderous ghost, you’re a traitor to the whole world.”
I suddenly felt queasy. I wanted to disbelieve her story, but parts of it made too much sense to totally discount. In my dreams of Niel, we’d mostly played or walked in the gardens. I had only vague memories of the royal ballroom, my bedchamber, and the library in my dreams. I’d never thought to look for them in the Forbidden Palace. Why would I?
It made sense that the palace had been moved into the mountains. No one would build a royal estate in a place so inaccessible. But the part about the Beast killing everyone, even Niel? Impossible. I’m a good judge of character—my father and Auntie Bella have remarked on that many times. Although some of Win’s story could be true, I knew in the core of my being that my Beast, the Gamekeeper, was alive, and that he was not evil.
But maybe he had been evil at one time? What if he did kill Niel? I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. If he did, there had to be some explanation. Maybe some evil enchanter took my Beast under his power and forced him to kill the King of Adelboden. Any number of explanations might clear his name.
I just didn’t happen to know of any.
Win was still talking when I refocused. “I’ve been stashing food and warm clothes for us among the boulders. We can’t carry much since the griflets are still young, but with a bit of effort and some rest stops, they can make it to Faraway Castle.” She pointed at some misty-looking mountains. “We’ll fly between those peaks and along a valley. Some of our allies located thin patches in the magical barrier a few days ago and slipped through a note of explanation and orders.”
“What? Where is this magical border? How did you get there?”
She scowled, avoiding my gaze. “I do have magic, you know.” When she darted a wary glance at me, I noticed something different about her eyes—like, a flash of unnatural blue? I couldn’t have explained what I’d seen, not even to myself. I might have imagined it, but I didn’t think so. Whoever these allies of Win’s were, they must be enemies of the Gamekeeper, which made them my enemies too.
“I can’t stop you, Win, but I won’t be joining you. The Gamekeeper is the best friend I’ve ever had, and he isn’t evil. I don’t know who’s been filling your head with these lies, but I don’t believe they have your best interest in mind.”
Instead of rolling her eyes and insulting me, Win snatched one hand out of her coat pocket and made a quick throwing motion in my direction. Too startled to move, I saw Chicky leap to shred the invisible whatever it was with her claws before one of her huge wings folded me against her side. From that position I couldn’t see a thing, but I felt the sizzle of magic as my griflet’s lungs inflated.
Chicky’s wing protected my ears from her chilling scream, a combination of lion’s roar and eagle’s scream laced with magic.
“Dodger, come here!” Win’s voice was a terrified squeak, yet it still wielded power.
I peered over Chicky’s wing just as her brother’s entire aspect changed. He made a sorrowful twittering sound, glancing from Chicky and me to Winifred with desperation. Beatrice!
I called back to him: “Dodger, you must do what you know is right!”
“Shut up ! How dare you speak to my—”
When Chicky’s crest rose and a thunderous growl built in her throat, Win’s threat ended in a frightened shriek.
Dodger briefly met my gaze, and I saw courage and purpose in his eyes. No fear, Beeetrice. I fly Win to safe place, then I come help you and Chicky. He lowered his head and wings, and in that split second, Win flung herself onto his back, her legs gripping his sides just behind the base of his wings. With a keening cry, Dodger launched into the sky.
Chicky and I watched as they shrank in the distance, then vanished into a thick haze. “Are they flying toward Faraway Castle?” I asked aloud.
Chicky tilted her head. Yes. Yesterday, Bogran warned us that the protective barrier around the Forbidden Lands has weakened, so we must not go near it. Today, Dodger told me that Win ordered him to order me to grab you and follow them through a rift in the Gamekeeper’s barrier.
The feathers over Chicky’s eyes formed her version of a frown. Win’s magic is not strong enough to control Dodger or me. My Beeetrice never tries to claim authority over us. Dodger knows he is free, but he thinks taking Win away will protect you.
Dear Dodger! My heart ached for that sweet chivalrous griflet. He was nearly full grown, yet he was young and innocent still. What can we do now? I asked.
Chicky tilted her head quizzically and spoke aloud: “You already know what you can do.” Her voice was raspy.
I sucked in a quick breath, startled by its chill. “Why is it so cold?”
My griflet merely waited, her gaze skewering my flimsy deflection.
“Okay, fine. I’ll call him,” I mumbled, then turned toward the palace looming over us. “Gamekeeper, we need you. Something is very wrong.” I tried to speak clearly, but my voice trembled.
Nothing happened.
I glanced at Chicky. She blinked at me.
When nothing continued to happen, pressure built in my chest until I found it difficult to breathe. He must be somewhere near—he was trapped here too. But what would I do if—
In an instant, I sensed his presence. Profound relief nearly buckled my knees, and I clutched Chicky’s folded wing for support. “Gamekeeper, Win took Dodger and left to join the battle at Faraway Castle.”
“I know.” His quiet voice was chasm deep.
I could barely discern his outline, yet his eyes studied mine, and the sorrow and pain in them pierced my heart. “I . . . We . . . What is happening?” My voice sounded shrill. “Everything feels wrong today. Win told us some crazy story about how you are the Beast who killed the last King of Adelboden, and she took Dodger and flew to Faraway Castle through a rift in your magic.” I paused to consider. “I know that you are the guardian of Faraway Castle, not an evil monster, so her story makes no sense at all. I . . . I trust you. I certainly don’t trust Winifred to tell the truth about anything.”
Again there was a pause, and then: “I value your trust.”
The depth of gratitude in his voice made my eyes burn. “Of course. But . . . can you tell me what’s going on? I feel . . . lost.” My voice cracked.
Even his sigh was quiet and slow. “My magic is weakening, and the barrier around the Forbidden Palace can no longer repel our enemies. The creatures I once protected are now guarding my borders to protect you.”
I stepped toward him, reaching out. “Why is your magic weakening? What can we do to strengthen it?” As I approached him, he seemed to solidify, and my hand cupped his cheek. I glimpsed his form, dim yet humanoid, and I felt his silvery beard. My heart nearly stopped. He was aging before my eyes, and the fading hope in his sorrowful eyes shredded my heart.
His mouth opened, and his quiet voice seemed to shake the earth: “You already know what you can do.”
My hand recoiled as my heart jolted in shock and guilt.
And he was gone.
Arabella
My pride would have had me gloss over the stickier points of my personal history, but our situation—the world’s survival—depended on my forthright admissions. I briefly studied the beautiful, intent faces before me and braced myself before resuming my confession.
“Othniel revealed his True Love’s name to me long ago. Therefore, many years later, when one of my numerous relatives married a de Callen, I attended the wedding and befriended my great-grandniece Marguerite and her worthy husband, Armand. I correctly guessed that their daughter would grow into poor Niel’s beloved.”
“Beatrice!” Rosa exclaimed. “Oh, I should have guessed! I’ve often seen them talking in the gardens . . .”
“Princess Eddi’s companion?” Briar mused aloud, his brows knitted. “Yes. I can see that.”
“By the time Beatrice was born, her parents loved and trusted me enough to make me her godmother—never realizing that I was the child’s fairy godmother. Marguerite’s sudden death only a few months later broke my heart as well as Armand’s, and I gladly agreed to become Beatrice’s live-in nanny. Although I’ve never been the maternal type, I fell head-over-heels for her the first time Marguerite laid her in my arms.
“Beatrice calls me Auntie Bella to this day, and I couldn’t love the child more if she were mine. Her magic is . . . unusual. Subtle. I would even call it latent . It manifests only when she needs it. Her father has an unreasoning fear of magic, and he still doesn’t know how I’ve protected his daughter from discovery.
“When Beatrice was seven, I convinced Armand to let me take her to Faraway Castle for a brief holiday. It required minimal arranging on my part for the child to stumble from Faraway Castle’s rose garden into Niel’s palace garden.”
From there, I related key details of Beatrice’s ongoing friendship with the Gamekeeper . . . but then Prince Briar interrupted: “Could you please skip ahead and explain the connection between the Gamekeeper and King Siegfried II?