Chapter 6 Belle
Six
Belle
“Rosalie,” Pierre calls loudly, his booming voice resonating through the castle.
The mirror reappears on the wall; her surface rippling like water. “Yes, sire?”
“Show Belle her father.”
I sit up straighter, clutching the sheet around me. Pierre’s face is carefully blank, but I can feel the tension rolling off him through our bond.
Rosalie’s surface clouds, then clears to reveal an image of my father.
He’s in our small cottage, looking thinner than he was just a few days ago when I left. Older. He’s trying to lift a heavy sack of grain, struggling with it, and I watch him wince and press a hand to his chest.
“Oh, Papa,” I whisper, bringing my fingers to my trembling lips, my eyes filling with tears.
The image shifts. My sister Margot is lounging on the sofa, examining her nails. My brother Claude is asleep in a chair, mouth open, snoring. Neither of them moves to help as my father finally drags the sack across the floor, breathing hard.
“They never help,” I say in a shaking voice.
Pierre stays quiet. Just watching me with his beautiful golden eyes.
The scene continues. My father sits down heavily, still catching his breath. Margot doesn’t even look up as she calls, “Papa, I’m hungry! When’s dinner?”
I’m on my feet before I realize I’m moving. “I have to go. I need to check on him.”
Pierre goes very still. “Belle…”
“He needs me, Beast.” I’m already looking for my dress, panic rising in my mind. “I shouldn’t have left him alone with them his long. I knew they wouldn’t take care of him, I knew…”
“Belle.” Pierre catches my hand gently, his claws careful against my skin. “Stop.”
I look at him, and something in his expression makes my chest ache.
“You’ll let me go?” I ask quietly.
“Of course.” He says it like it’s obvious. Like it was never any question. “He’s your father. You need to make sure he’s safe.”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by something that feels strangely like grief.
“I’ll come back,” I say quickly. “I promise, Pierre, I’ll come back. I just need to make sure he’s okay and set things up so my siblings actually help, and…”
“I know,” he rumbles softly, cupping my face with one huge hand. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
He dresses me himself, with careful, gentle movements . Neither of us speaks. The weight of what’s happening sitting heavy between us.
The bond in my chest pulls tight and painful.
When I’m ready, Beast leads me down to the entrance hall. The horse I rode here is already waiting, saddled and ready.
I turn to face him fully, and my throat feels impossibly tight. “Pierre…”
“Go.” He cups my face with one massive paw. “Take care of your father.”
“I’m coming back,” I repeat, more insistent this time. “A few days. Maybe a week at most. Just long enough to make sure he’s stable and…”
He kisses me. It’s desperate, claiming and feels entirely too much like a goodbye…
When he pulls away, his golden eyes are dark with something I can’t read.
“Go, Belle. Before I change my mind and keep you here.”
I want to argue. Want to make him understand that I’m not leaving him, not really, that this isn’t the end.
But my father’s face flashes in my mind…exhausted, struggling, alone…and I know I have to leave now.
“I love you,” I blurt out.
Pierre’s eyes widen, his breath catching. “Belle…”
But I’m already mounting my horse, because if I don’t leave now, I won’t be able to.
When I look back, Pierre’s standing in the doorway, massive, beautiful and mine. He raises a hand in farewell. Then the gates close, and he’s gone.
The forest seems darker on the way back, colder. The bond in my chest aches with every step my horse makes away from the castle. Away from my mate.
By the time I reach the village, the sun is setting. Our cottage looks smaller after days in a somewhat decrepit, but still grand castle.
I tie the horse and push open the door.
“Belle!” My father’s face lights up with relief. He’s sitting at the table, and he looks even more worn up close. Thinner. Grayer. “You’re back! I was so worried when you didn’t return. The Beast, did he hurt you?”
“No, Papa.” I hug him carefully, feeling how frail he’s become. “He didn’t hurt me. But what about you? Your health…”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just getting old.” But he’s avoiding my eyes.
“Papa.”
“I’m fine, Belle. Really.” He pats my hand, but I can see the exhaustion on his face. “I’m just so relieved you’re home safe.”
“Relieved?” Margot’s voice comes from the bedroom before she appears in the doorway. “Belle! Finally, someone competent to handle things around here. Papa burned dinner last night, and Claude hasn’t bothered going to the market.”
I blink. “I’ve been gone for days and no one went to the market?”
“We’ve been busy,” Margot says, waving a hand dismissively. She doesn’t look busy. She looks like she just woke up from a nap.
“Busy doing what?”
Claude wanders in, yawning. “Oh, good. You’re back. We’re out of bread.”
I look at my siblings. Both healthy, well-fed, and completely unbothered. When my father looks like he hasn’t slept properly in days.
Something hot rises in my chest.
“Starting tomorrow,” I say in a deadly quiet tone, “things are going to change around here.”
* * *
The next morning, I wake them both at dawn.
“What are you doing?” Margot moans, pulling a pillow over her head.
“You’re going to cook breakfast,” I tell her. “And you’re going to the market. Here’s a list.” I shove it at Claude.
“But I don’t know how…”
“Learn. I’m done doing everything around here while you two just sit around.”
They complain, whine, try every excuse. But I don’t budge.
The following day, they’re actually doing their tasks. Badly, but still.
By the third day, Papa is looking better. Less tired. He’s even smiling again.
But I feel like I’m dying inside. Every hour away from my Beast is pure agony. The bond in my chest pulls constantly. It’s a physical ache that never stops. At night, I lie in my small bed that’s so much smaller and colder than his, and stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
I miss everything about him. His warmth. His low, gravelly voice. The way he looks at me like I’m the prettiest, hottest, most precious thing in the world. Our library. I even miss Gideon’s sassy comments and Louise’s fussing.
On the fourth night, I give up on sleep. I sit by the window of my room, looking out toward the forest, toward where the castle lies hidden in the darkness.
The enchanted rose my father stole from Pierre sits on my windowsill. It’s still beautiful, preserved by magic, but in the moonlight I notice something that makes my stomach drop.
One of the petals looks… dull.
I pick up the flower, carefully examining it. No, I’m not imagining things. The color has definitely faded from one petal.
“What does that mean?” I whisper.
The rose doesn’t answer, but the bond in my chest pulls even tighter. Something’s wrong.
“Isabelle?”
I turn to find my father in my doorway.
“Papa. You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.” He comes to sit next to me.
I don’t answer.
He’s quiet for a moment, then continues, “You want to go back.”
It’s not a question.
“I can’t,” I reply, hearing my voice crack. “You need me here. You’re not well enough yet, and Margot and Claude are barely managing…”
“Belle.” He takes my hand. “I’m getting better. You taught your siblings how to help. And they’re doing it.”
“Barely.”
He shakes his head, leaning to catch my eye. “They are. And they will keep doing it.” He squeezes my hand. “You don’t need to stay for me.”
“Papa…”
“You’re miserable, sweetheart.”
“I’m fine,” I try.
“You’re not. You barely eat. You don’t sleep. You just stare out the window like you’re waiting for something.” His voice is gentle. “Or someone.”
My eyes burning with unshed tears, I finally admit, “I miss him.”
“The Beast?” my father asks in a cautious voice.
“Pierre.” I touch the rose again. “His name is Pierre, and he’s…
Papa, he’s not what you think. He’s a beast, yes, but under all that, he’s kind.
So kind… He gave me a library. He made me laugh.
He…” My voice breaks. “He let me go even though I could see it was killing him. Because he knew you needed me.”
Papa is quiet for a long moment. Then he asks softly, “Do you love him?”
“Yes,” I whisper back. “I do.”
“Does he love you?”
I think about Pierre. About the way he holds me like I’m precious.
How he watched me explore the library with a soft expression on his monster face.
About his booming laughter, his possessiveness and how he makes me feel seen in a way no one else ever has.
And all the memories I’m pushing away in the presence of my father…
I feel the bond between us pulling at my chest, desperate to bring me back to him.
“He does, Papa. He really does.”
“Then you should go back.”
“I can’t just leave…”
“Belle.” His voice is firm now. “I’m your father. My job is to make sure you’re safe and happy. And right now, you’re neither of those.”
“I’m safe here…”
He shakes his head. “You’re wasting away, my sweet girl.”
“But you…”
“I have two other children who can take care of me. They’re lazy, but they’re learning. I’ll be fine.” He stands, pulling me up with him.
Our bond flares up again, sharp and painful, and I gasp. Papa’s right. Something is wrong. I can feel it. But I can’t just leave, right?
I look at my father. He’s already stronger than when I arrived, with more color in his cheeks, standing straighter.
Then I look at the rose. Another petal has faded while we’ve been talking.
“Tomorrow,” I hear myself say. “I’ll go tomorrow morning. After I make sure Margot and Claude know what to do…”
“Belle.” Papa’s voice is gentle but urgent.
“First thing in the morning, Papa.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but finally nods. “First thing. Don’t let anything stop you.”
I won’t, I want to say. But the words stick in my throat. Because what if I’m too late?
I lay back in bed, still holding my rose, staring at the ceiling. The bond in my chest aching.
“I’m coming back, baby,” I whisper into the darkness, hoping he can hear me. “I promise, Pierre. Just hold on. Please hold on for me. For us.”