Rose Bound Magic Page 6

  There was nothing. In a silent panic, she knew her eyes could no longer see, not her world, not the other. Both were lost to her forever. Once wasting away from enchantment, the girl now wasted away from despair, driven mad by the knowledge of what she had once seen and no longer could.

  The pair sat in silence once Bell finished, Fluffy snoring at their feet. There was nothing oppressive about it.

  Bell addressed the room. “When I was little, I would ask my nursemaid to tell me the story again and again. I loved the idea that I was named after a magic plant that gave you the power to see things no one else could. I thought it was incredible. It was only as I got older that I realized what a dark story it was, and what an odd namesake for a child. A story of blindness and loss.”

  “I don’t think it’s a story of blindness and loss,” Beast interrupted. “Belladonna allows one to see what others cannot. It opens your eyes to everything around you. There is nothing dark about wanting your child to be a key for those closest to her.” He smiled at her, a warm, genuine smile.

  Shocked, it took Bell several breaths to form a reply. “Thank you. I’ve only ever thought of my name as a curse.” Bell paused again, unsure if she wanted to say what she was thinking. “You have a beautiful smile. I wish you used it more.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her cheeks grew red again. Bell hadn’t gotten the chance to blush much in her life, but in Beast’s presence, it seemed like she was always red. She adverted her eyes, scared to see his reaction.

  He didn’t say anything, just turned back to his book. Neither party said any more until Beast rose from his chair and bid her goodnight.

  Chapter Five

  Bell kept her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold onto the last fragmented image of Papa and Flor Cottage. Ignoring the wetness of her tear-soaked pillow, she tried not to choke on the anguish flooding her chest.

  “Wake up.” The command was accompanied by a sharp rap on her forehead.

  Sitting bolt upright, Bell found Sidero lounging in a chair just as terrifying and beautiful as she had been at Bell’s sentencing.

  “You have not called for me, young one. I thought you would have by now.” Head tilted, the woman narrowed her eyes. “Why are you crying?”

  Bell didn’t know how to respond. It seemed childish to tell Sidero she was crying because of a dream, even if it was the truth. She stayed silent.

  Understanding brightened Sidero’s eyes. “Ahh, you miss your father? Is that it?”

  The girl nodded, drawing her knees up to her chest.

  “I had forgotten… absence is painful.”

  “Forgotten?”

  A smile curled Sidero’s lips – Bell noted this didn’t soften her features as Beast’s did. If anything, it made them sharper and less human. “I was human once, although it was so long ago, my memories have mostly faded. I chose to leave the human realm and join the King. As time passes, I grow less and less human, although I will never truly be Fae.”

  Bell had heard of people becoming so engrossed with magic they were lost, but she’d never heard of anyone willingly joining the Fae. Humans and Fae were simply too different.

  “I am not here to talk about myself. I am here for you; you have not called, and I am getting bored. If you allow me, I will use one of your requests and give you something I know will ease your suffering.”

  “I… I suppose…” Bell trailed off. Letting Sidero choose for her could be dangerous, but then again, Bell had no idea what she would even ask for.

  Sidero rose and grabbed the small mirror she had gifted Bell the last time they had met. Tapping the glass three times with her index finger, she handed the mirror to Bell. “Ask to see your father,” she instructed.

  Bell took the mirror and gazed into it, seeing her own tear-stained face looking back. “I would like to see my father. Please.” Before her eyes the mirror slowly fogged over and then cleared, giving a high view of the interior of Flor Cottage.

  Sitting at the small kitchen table was her father, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. When she had accepted the swap, she had accepted the Fae’s promise to look after her father, but she hadn’t known what that entailed. He seemed to be as healthy as he had been, if not a little older. Remembering Beast’s words about time not behaving here, she wondered how much had passed for her father in her absence. Outside the window of the cottage, snow swirled past in thick flurries. Bell drank in the sight of her father, inspecting every inch for mistreatment.

  The cup clinked on the wooden table as her father put it down. The sound had been tinny and echoed out of the mirror as if coming from a vast distance.

  A small figure rushed into the room, jumping on Papa and squealing, “Grandpapa!”. Three other small figures charged her father. All were ensconced in warm layers they were hastily shedding, eager to be the first to climb into her father’s lap. Poppy entered the room and closed the door behind her.

  “Kids, get off him! He is not a plaything; you need to behave!” Poppy admonished, shooing her kids away. “And don’t forget to hang up your things!”

  “Oh, dear, it’s okay. I love having you all here.” Papa smiled up at Poppy.

  Bending to kiss him on the cheek, Poppy continued ushering her children into disrobing their heavy winter attire. “I expect all of you to sit and do your homework. Leave Grandpapa and me be, please.” Bell’s nieces and nephew obeyed with mild grumbling, grabbing their rucksacks and plopping onto the floor close to the fire.

  With a sigh, Poppy sat next to her father, laying her head on her arms.

  “There, there, dear,” Papa said awkwardly, patting his daughter gently on her shoulder. “Things will get easier.”

  Poppy’s reply was muffled. “I know. I know. This is just so hard. We have some money set aside, and I’m happy to be here, Papa, but I never expected to be in this position. The kids have no father, and the way the property was entailed, we have nothing until Frank comes of age. Even then, he will only have a small residence in the city. I’m just so mad at Ashley for dying and leaving us in this mess.”

  “I know Poppy. But you’re here now, and we will figure it out. You aren’t alone.”

  The tête-à-tête was interrupted by the wailing voice of Poppy’s youngest child, a girl of only four years. “Moooooooooooooommmmmm Frank stole my pen!”

  “Did not! Stop lying!”

  “I’m not lying! Give it back!”

  Raising her head from her arms, a weak smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “Give it back, Frank. You have your own.” Far from creating a resolution, her words only made the children squabble even louder.

  With slow movements, she stood to attend to her unruly brood. Poppy rested a hand on her father’s shoulder for just a moment. “Thank you, Papa. For everything.”

  Bell raised her eyes from the mirror and fog clouded the surface once again. Tears still trailed down her cheeks, but they were tinged less with sadness and more with relief. Whatever she was suffering, her father was okay. Poppy and the kids were staying with him, which meant he wasn’t alone.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to Sidero, trying to convey all her feelings in the two simple words.

  She nodded as serene as ever. “You have two more requests.” With that, Sidero rose and walked out the door, leaving Bell alone, cradling the mirror in her hands.

  That evening Bell could feel Beast’s eyes on her as they sat in the library. She turned another page in her book even though she had not absorbed a single word on the previous page.

  “What’s wrong, Belladonna?” Even without looking up, Bell could hear the slight frown in his voice. Beast and Fluffy had become her constant companions in this place over the recent weeks. She barely saw his horrific scarring anymore – his smile, though rare, made her forget. It was always tinged with a pang of deep sadness, but it still managed to light up his entire being. In their time together, they had developed a friendship that she treasured, both for his company and his quick wit.


  Avoiding his eyes, she murmured, “Nothing,” determined to end the conversation.

  “Stop lying.”

  Bell didn’t respond.

  A shuffling to her left made her look up and rest her book in her lap. Beast had risen and moved to crouch in front of her chair. He reached for her hand and grasped it with caution. Bell was shocked by the physical touch as Beast did his best to avoid touching her in any manner, even a simple brush of arms as they traversed the paths in the garden together. In the unlikely event he did touch her, he pulled away the instant their skin met as if he was scared he would burn her.

  Warmth radiated up her arm from their joined palms. He seemed to pour heat into her limb, and she stilled, wanting the sensation to continue.

  “What’s wrong? There is a sadness hovering around you today that hasn’t been dispelled.” He chuckled almost too low for her to hear before adding, “In fact, it seems you have stolen some of mine. Now tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

  His earnest gaze meeting hers was her undoing. During the day, Beast might glance at her when they spoke, and she had seen him staring out of the corner of her eye when he thought she wasn’t looking, but he had never looked at her so for so long.

  Bell managed to choke out a strangled, “I miss them,” before her eyes overflowed, blurring her vision.

  Warm, strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her up from the chair into a comforting embrace. Bell only cried harder, hating herself for being so weak. Beast had spent more time here than she could imagine, and he didn’t cry like this.

  With sure motions, Beast lifted her off her feet before sitting, settling her in his lap so she was curled up like a child. He didn’t say anything, only holding her while she sobbed, rubbing her back. Her crying wound down until she became aware of the beat of Beast’s hammering heart under her cheek. Sitting up slightly, she looked at his shirt where she had rested her head. “Oh, no. I’ve got tears and snot all over you.”

  “I’m sure the shirt will survive.” This close to him, his voice rumbled through her like thunder.

  “I’m sorry I cried on you,” Bell said, addressing the wet spot she’d created.

  Ever so gently, Beast grabbed her chin and raised it so their eyes met. “By all means, cry on me. Don’t apologize for how you feel, Belladonna. I’m here for you. All other circumstances aside, at least we have each other.” Something deep in his eyes flickered, and Bell could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks in response.

  The moment was broken by a concerned whine behind her. Toppling off his lap into a heap on the ground, she was greeted by Fluffy’s wet tongue.

  “He doesn’t like to see crying,” Beast said, rising behind her.

  She let Fluffy lick the remainder of her tears off her cheeks while she watched Beast stretch. He was such a large man, and yet he had held her so gently.

  “Do you want to hear about why my eldest sister is called Poppy?”

  Startled by the abrupt change of topic, Beast paused mid-stretch. “What?”

  Bell wiped at her eyes again. “My sister’s name is Poppy. As I told you, everyone in our family has a story that goes with their name.”

  Lowering his arms a fraction, Beast inspected Bell’s face. “Um. Okay. Right now?”

  “Yes.” Her sister’s defeated face was still burned in Belladonna’s mind.

  “Alright.” Beast dropped to the ground in front of her, sitting cross-legged. “Go ahead.”

  Once upon a time, Death came to a little town. It didn’t come in magnificent billowing robes or carrying a scythe; instead, it came in the form of a small barefoot girl who did not speak. Stumbling into the center of town, she approached the first house and knocked. The resident opened the door to find the little girl’s arms overflowing with poppies.

  “Yes?” the hurried woman inquired.

  The girl didn’t respond.

  “What do you want?” the woman snapped, fully looking at the girl. Her bare feet stuck out from her too-short dress.

  The girl only held out her wares.

  “Oh. Are you all alone?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Alright,” softening her tone at the girl’s obvious poverty she added, “I’ll take one.”

  Down the row of houses, the little girl walked, each resident eventually buying one poppy from her arms. At the very last home, a small boy answered the door. He saw Death for who It was, standing cloaked in magic.

  “We don’t want it,” the little boy said, shoving the flower back at the girl when offered. “Go away.”

  Cocking her head, the girl sized up the boy. Seeing that he recognized her, she tucked the last poppy behind her ear and turned to leave, walking the same way she had come.

  The boy closed the door tight and said a quick prayer.

  The next day the small boy was sent next door to get an egg for his mother. He knocked and knocked on the door, but no one came to answer. A poppy lay on the doormat. Backing up, he ran to the next house where he also found a poppy and no one to answer the door.

  At every house, a poppy lay, and no one came to the door.

  “Why would a father curse his daughter with a name that brings death?” Bell whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Beast admitted, biting his lip. “But from where I sit, a peaceful death sounds like a nice way to go. And maybe your father meant for your sister to take after the little boy who truly saw, instead of dying.”

  “I just… I miss them. All I have left of my sister is this stupid story I don’t even like.”

  Rising Beast reached for her hand again. “Come with me,” he suddenly commanded. Surprised at his sudden willingness to touch her, she let him twine his fingers through hers, her heartbeat in her ears. Beast didn’t look at her but began to tug her towards the door. Once again, she felt a blush staining her cheeks and was soothed to see one staining his as well.

  “Where are we going?” she asked after several minutes spent winding their way through the endless corridors.

  “I want to show you something.” He didn’t speak again until they were standing at the base of one of the towers Bell had yet to investigate. “Let’s go,” Beast said, stepping onto the bottom stair. He dragged her behind him faster than she was accustomed to, her dress tangling up her legs more than once. At the upper landing, they stopped in front of a heavy door to allow Bell a chance to catch her breath. She was a tad chagrinned to find that while she had started struggling for air a quarter of the way up, Beast showed no sign he had done anything other than go on a slow stroll.

  “Come.” Beast opened the door and pushed her inside.

  Bell stepped into an often-used art studio. Paintings covered every available surface. On every canvas there was a portrait of a different person that was so realistic it felt like she could reach out and run her fingers through their hair. Some seemed to be more traditional, but candid paintings of everyday life were mixed in. Every painting was stunning in its accuracy – looking at one was like looking through a window.

  “Their eyes…” she murmured, approaching a large portrait. “Their eyes are so real. It's incredible.”

  “Eyes haunt me the most.”

  Something clicked in Bell’s brain. “You painted these?” she gaped, gesturing around her. “But they’re beautiful!”

  He shook his head. “Why are you so surprised, Belladonna? These maimed hands of mine can still paint.” Beast made a fist, the scars standing out in stark contrast.

  “No? What? I didn’t mean – your hands -” she stammered. “What are you working on now?” she blurted, trying to change the topic from his obvious insecurity.

  “I’m not working on anything else. This is it.”

  “But you’re so talented! Look at these! Why would you stop?”

  Lost in thought, Beast began to walk around. He brushed several paintings with his fingertips. “I ran out of people to paint.”

  “People to paint? But can’t you just… Oh. Oh, Beast.” Looking ar
ound, she saw what he had meant for her to see. “You know these people. These are your people, the ones that you miss.”

  Stopping in front of a laughing woman lounging on a manicured lawn, he nodded. “Yes, they’re my people. I had always been good at painting and when I got here… I was going mad with loneliness. One day I found this room and started painting.” He turned to meet her eyes. A thousand years of sadness looked back at her, a loss so profound that few could ever understand.

  “I painted everything I could think of, spending days at a time stuck up here. I was scared that their faces would start to fade, and the rest of my memories of them would go as well. So I painted everyone I had ever known, everyone I had ever met in a bid to keep them from blurring and vanishing. I painted everyone, and then I stopped.”