Beast within the Beauty || A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

Chapter Twenty-Six || To Divert a Beast

AFTER LONG, I gathered the courage to return to my rooms and face the man I expected to be waiting in my chambers. But rather than be met with him, I was greeted by shadows and silence. No figure creased the velveted chairs nor dented the unmade bed...I set foot past the doorway. Wordlessly, I retrieved a brush as to unknot my hair, noting the drawn curtains and the fierce cackling of the fireplace. The scarce footsteps of my maids was all that indicated their presence.

I went on about my business, dressing myself and taming my hair. A certain man's fingers had left the locks and tendrils knotted—a fact that grated against me relentlessly. I shoved the thought from my mind and drew attention to the wavering shadows dancing along the room. The Flux was near, and with it, the disappearance of their lord.

What unnerved me beyond grasp as I proceeded to mind my self was the manner in which my maidservants acted in my presence. It was as though I had committed a grave sin that rendered me far too filthy to even be spoken to. Even Madame Dubois took to limiting her words and only speaking if I asked a question. I very well knew it was not fear that rendered them so quiet.

Once I could no longer ignore their skittish movements and scarce sounds, I asked, "Did Raoul put you to this?"

I thought I heard some muffled shriek escape one of the bodiless maids. Madame Dubois made some sound of dismay and then said, "No, my lady, his lordship did not order against anything but rather things have been put into perspective."

Before I could prod further, the door to my chambers burst open.

"She slept with him!" Aurore's voice shouted upon her entry. "She was there the whole night! Renee says he bed—" She choked, likely upon noticing my presence.

"Aurore!" her aunt scolded, breaking the silence of the other maids.

I crossed my arms over my chest and turned to face Aurore. "He bed me, hm?" My brow lifted.

"Y-your ladyship!" Her voice was strangled. "I mean no offense, please forgive me!"

"There is nothing to be forgiven," I forced out. The heat and tightness in my throat begged to differ. "Have you anything else to say?"

She misunderstood. "My lady, his lordship's maids have been speaking of the events that took place last night. They say that his lordship had been humming this morning."

I nearly pointed out that I had no care as to learn what he or his servants thought of last night. But instead, I neared the fireplace and leaned against the jagged stone, welcoming the harshness against my back. "On the contrary, his lordship likely spent the morning with his head in a bucket. One should not believe servants gossip, especially given that nothing happened."

"Either way," she went on, "he is quite taken by you—utterly besotted. Perhaps he will take you to his chambers tonight and keep you there until—"

"Do not be so lewd!" I cut in, my voice unnaturally tight.

"Who is being lewd?"

Upon hearing the voice, I turned and raised my eyes, spotting the man slinking in the shadowed corners of the room. He took a step forward, allowing the soft glow of the flames to light his features. Eager steps scurried from the room, blending into the stampede of the fleeing maids.

I nearly called for them.

I could not stop the flood—the flashes and memories—of his touch, his arms, his lips, his teeth along my being. My throat parched. "It does not matter who is being lewd, but rather the fact that you are acting more so."