A Tale of Beauty and Beast: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (Beyond the Four Kingdoms #2)(8)

I examined the room again in daylight. The curtains were flung wide since I hadn't stopped to close them before diving into bed. I walked over to the windows to peer out. From the view, I guessed my room to be on the third floor and vaguely remembered fleeing up stairs the night before. The room had an incredible vista looking out over extensive gardens.

They had clearly been carefully sculpted and appeared well cared for, although I could see no sign of any gardeners at work. No footsteps showed up in the glistening carpet of snow, either. My eyes stung from the brightness of the white, so incongruous against the green leaves and vivid petals. I couldn’t imagine wandering through such a strange landscape.

A small glimpse of a stone building off to one side looked like stables. My shame from the night before flooded me again, and I immediately decided to make the building my first goal.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten yet, but I resolutely ignored it. I had failed in my responsibility to my mount the night before: I wouldn't fail again.

Pushing aside the chest of drawers, I stepped out into the stone corridor and looked up and down, hoping to see something familiar. But both directions looked the same, an expanse of cold gray, broken by regular sconces. The stable-like building had been to my right when I stood at the window, so I turned left, heading in that direction. I would look for stairs to take me down and then any door to the outside I could find.

As I walked, I pretended to myself that I felt calm and confident—the new mistress of the castle, exploring my domain. But my ears strained for the sound of footfalls behind me, and my eyes flickered toward every shadow, looking for a looming shape.

I saw nothing, but soft noises reached my ears. I twitched and looked behind me, but the passageway remained empty. I walked on, descending a set of stairs that took me all the way to ground level. Again, I heard the sound, like a faint rustling or whispering, and spun around. Still nothing.

I picked up my pace, looking for any promising door, anxious to be free from the stifling walls that hedged me in. The sound, like a breeze through leaves, sounded again, and I broke into a run resolutely keeping my eyes ahead.

A door appeared, and I rushed to it, hoping to find it unlocked. A desperate surge of disappointment washed over me as the door resisted me, and then it seemed to fling itself open, almost tumbling me into the snow outside.

I staggered and regained my balance, striding quickly into the garden. The cold air hit me just as the first sensation of damp penetrated my thin slippers. I should have taken the time to dress in boots and a jacket. I glanced back at the door to find it had mysteriously closed behind me.

I wrapped my arms around myself and hurried on, unwilling to backtrack and unsure I could even find my way back to my room. As I got closer, it became obvious that the building I had seen was indeed a stable. The familiar smell of horses overwhelmed the exotic aroma of the unnatural flowers, and I heard a nicker emanating from inside.

My heart surged with hope. If the castle had horses, it must have someone to tend them. And surely whoever was responsible for that task would have cared for Chestnut after I abandoned her. I moved quickly, almost running into the warm aisle between the rows of stalls.

A couple of horses nickered a welcome, while another one snorted loudly, stomping one hoof. My gaze flickered over them, traveling down the row until I found a familiar head hanging over a stall door. I ran over and flung my arms around Chestnut’s neck. We had made it this far together, and I still hated how close I had come to failing her.

She huffed a soft greeting and began nosing at my dress, clearly hoping for a treat of some kind. I laughed shakily and stepped back, apologizing for coming empty handed. Her coat had felt smooth and soft. Clearly, she had been groomed since our trek through the wilderness. I would need to offer my thanks to the stable master—if he ever made an appearance.

A soft sound behind me, like the shifting of weight, informed me that I had company. “Greetings,” I said as I started to turn, “I had begun to wonder…” My words fell away as my eyes absorbed my company.

Somehow Prince Dominic looked even more terrifying in the otherwise familiar setting of a stable, his unnatural features obvious in the daylight. I quelled a strong desire to flee back out into the gardens. The Beast towered over me: if he wanted to catch me, I couldn’t possibly escape him. Running would only make me look foolish.

He looked as frozen as me, obviously surprised to be disturbed. I followed his outstretched arm to where his hairy hand rested on the neck of a large jet-black stallion who eyed me warily. The stance surprised me; my mental image of him hadn’t included an affinity with animals. Perhaps it should have, though, since he seemed part animal himself.

The large horse looked aggressive, and I had to admit that I would be nervous to mount him. And yet I didn’t doubt that Prince Dominic could easily control him. Something about the quiet moment between them suggested both power and something softer. For an unthinking moment, I thought that I would like to join him on a ride, to see him galloping across a field on the black horse.

And then my eyes focused on the strange shape of his mouth and the way his shoulders bulged unnaturally under his jacket, his misshapen body a constant reminder of his curse. I remembered who he was and everything I had already suffered at his instigation. My anger flared, but a decent night’s sleep and the reassurance of daylight helped me to repress the fear. Like it or not, I was stuck here, at least for now. I needed to find a way to make this work.