Chapter 14 Isabeau
fourteen
Isabeau
I’d faced death twice in the past day. First in the drowning cage and next in the jaws of Beast. Yet it was the simple task of exploring an abandoned castle that now set my heart racing.
The borrowed green dress lay in tatters on the bedroom floor, a casualty of Beast’s hunger.
I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. After rummaging through the dusty armoire, I found a simple sleeping gown of faded blue cotton, soft with age and loose enough to slip away from claws or teeth if necessary.
The thought brought heat to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the dying embers in the hearth.
It made me note the subtle pain between my legs from our encounter last night. I could feel it as I moved my body. The pain almost a happy one that brought joy, and the rest of me did not hurt besides the bruising still healing from Gaspard.
The reminder mixed with the morning air and bit at my exposed skin, raising gooseflesh along my arms and neck.
I grabbed a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around my shoulders like a noblewoman’s shawl.
The fabric smelled of dust and forgotten dreams, but it held warmth, and warmth was more precious than cleanliness in this ancient tomb of stone.
“Right,” I whispered to myself, finding strange comfort in breaking the silence with my own voice. “Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding.”
The corridor outside my room stretched in both directions, a throat of stone and shadow swallowing what little light filtered through cracked windows. I chose the path I hadn’t taken last night, the one leading toward the grand staircase.
Each step against the cold stone sent shivers up through my bare feet, reminding me that I was woefully unprepared for life as a castle-dwelling fugitive. No shoes, no proper clothes, no idea what lurked in the shadows beyond the next turn.
Papa would have loved this place. The thought came unbidden, squeezing my heart with grief so fresh it stole my breath.
He would have spent hours examining the architectural wonders, the plumbing system that still functioned after years of abandonment, the clever way light was directed through strategically placed windows.
Instead, he hung suspended in that grotesque garden of blood-drinking roses, his life force feeding their unnatural bloom.
I pushed the image away, forcing my feet to continue their exploration.
The staircase loomed ahead, its once-grand sweep now marred by crumbling edges and missing balusters.
I descended carefully, testing each step before committing my weight.
The great hall looked different in daylight.
Less imposing, perhaps, but somehow more tragic.
Dust motes danced in sunbeams that pierced through gaps in the ceiling, illuminating the remnants of grandeur beneath layers of neglect.
A low rumble echoed through the hall, reverberating off stone walls like distant thunder. Not the castle settling, but something alive. Something large.
Beast.
My hand instinctively went to the base of my throat where his teeth had broken skin just hours before, marking me as his.
The wound was tender but not painful, a marker that I belonged to him now in some primal way I didn’t fully understand.
The knowledge should have terrified me, yet I felt only a strange calm as I followed the sound toward what appeared to be a sitting room off the main hall.
The massive doorway framed a scene both bizarre and oddly domestic.
Beast crouched before an enormous fireplace, his powerful jaws clamped around a thick tree branch.
As I watched, frozen in the threshold, he twisted his head with a savage jerk.
The wood splintered between his teeth with a crack that echoed through the cavernous room.
He spat out the broken pieces, adding them to a growing pile of makeshift firewood at his feet, echoing their fall in the large space.
The sitting room must once have been magnificent.
Even with dust-covered furniture and tattered wall hangings, I could see hints of its former glory.
Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls from the high ceiling, their facets dulled by time but still catching what light filtered through tall windows.
Furniture draped in ghostly sheets formed a semicircle around the hearth, like silent spectators waiting for the evening’s entertainment to begin.
My imagination stripped away the years of neglect, reconstructing what once had been.
Polished wood gleaming in firelight. Rich fabrics in jewel tones adorning windows and furniture.
Silver candelabras casting warm light over faces animated with conversation and laughter.
A family, perhaps the one from the portrait, gathered in comfortable luxury, unaware that their world would one day crumble around them.
The vision faded, leaving only decay and a beast growling at firewood. My heart ached for what had been lost, for the life that had once filled these walls, for whatever tragedy had transformed this place from home to mausoleum.
And, strangely, for him. This creature who had claimed me so completely, who now broke branches with his teeth to build me a fire. Had he once been part of that family? Had he walked these halls on two human legs instead of four massive paws?
A floorboard creaked beneath my weight, betraying my presence. Beast’s head snapped up, amber eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath. Another branch hung from his jaws, half-splintered and forgotten as he registered my appearance.
For a heartbeat, we simply stared at one another, predator and prey, except I no longer knew which was which. Then he dropped the branch and rose to his full height, towering above the scattered pile of broken wood like some ancient forest deity surveyed his offerings.
His snout dipped toward a high-backed chair positioned near the hearth, the gesture unmistakable in its command. Sit.
The sheer absurdity of it—this massive creature breaking firewood with his teeth, then ordering me to take a seat like I was a dinner guest—startled a laugh from my throat.
It felt foreign, that sound. How long had it been since I’d laughed?
Since before Papa’s sacrifice, surely. Before Gaspard’s imprisonment and assaults.
Before the water test and my flight through the forest.
Beast’s ears flattened slightly at my laughter, his massive head tilting in what could only be confusion. He gestured again toward the chair, more insistent this time, a low growl rumbling from his chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the laughter dying as quickly as it had come. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just...this.” I gestured vaguely at the incongruity of our situation. “You’re trying to be...hospitable?”
The word felt inadequate for whatever this was. He wasn’t keeping me prisoner. The unlocked door to my room proved that, but he clearly had expectations. Rules, perhaps. Social norms that made sense only to him after who knew how many years alone in this forgotten place.
I approached the indicated chair, noting how Beast’s posture relaxed as I complied with his silent demand. The high-backed monstrosity was draped in faded velvet, its stuffing visible through worn patches at the armrests. As I sank into its embrace, something caught my eye near Beast’s feet.
A pheasant. Dead, its neck broken cleanly, its feathers still glossy in death. Not yet plucked or dressed, but positioned carefully beside the wood pile as if awaiting its turn in some bizarre food preparation assembly line.
Understanding dawned like sunlight breaking through clouds. The firewood, the dead bird, the insistence that I sit by the hearth.
He was trying to provide for me.
To feed me.
To care for his...mate?
The word should have repulsed me, but after everything, Beast’s clumsy attempts at nurturing struck me as unutterably precious.
My vision blurred as tears welled unbidden. After days of terror and pain, this simple act of kindness—however alien in its execution—undid me completely. A sob escaped before I could trap it behind my teeth, and I pressed my palms against my eyes as if I could physically hold back the flood.
Beast made a sound I hadn’t heard before, something between a whine and a questioning growl.
When I lowered my hands, I found him closer than before, his massive head level with mine as he crouched beside the chair.
Those amber eyes studied my face with what could only be described as concern, his ears pricked forward attentively.
“No, no,” I said quickly, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “They’re happy tears. Well, not happy exactly, but... grateful.” I smiled at him, though it felt wobbly on my lips. “Thank you. For the fire. For the food. For not...” I swallowed hard. “For not being what I expected.”
Beast blinked slowly, his head tilting again as if trying to parse my meaning. Did he understand human speech? Or was he simply responding to my tone, my expressions?
He retreated after a moment, returning to his pile of branches.
I watched as he selected another, gripping it between powerful jaws before snapping it with practiced efficiency.
It was oddly soothing, this rhythmic destruction in service of creation.
Snap. Splinter. Add to the pile. Select another.
Begin again. Though, the silence made me live within my mind.