Beast Lord: (Beauty and the Beast) (Tangled Tales Book 3) (6 page)

Chapter 6

Bonnibel found herself in a fog, running from something evil that chased her through the forest. She held the hem of her skirt up high as she ran for her life. Her soft slippers did nothing to protect her feet from the rocky ground, and she stumbled and fell, sprawling out over the dirt.

The sound of a wolf howling in the distance made her heart beat faster, and when she looked up she saw her father in the distance, on horseback, tied and gagged, being led away by soldiers up a hill. Then she heard a growling noise and looked up to see the face of a wolf. She screamed, and just as it was about to attack her, Stefan stepped out of the shadows and scooped her up into his arms.

She was afraid at first, but when she looked up into his eyes, she saw him in a different light. There was a softness inside his bright blue orbs – a true caring feeling, and when she looked again, his hair was long, his scars were gone, and he was a handsome, chivalrous knight.

A scraping sound distracted her, and she looked over her shoulder, though she felt safe and comfortable in his embrace. Then the fog enshrouded her and she could no longer see Stefan.

The vision faded from her sight and her eyes drifted open, and she found herself lying upon her pallet in her own chamber. She sighed, realizing it was naught more than a dream.

“My lady? Are you awake?” It was the voice of Sibeal as she scurried out of the secret chamber with a basket over her arm and a lit candle in her hand. “I’ve brought you food and wine.” She put the basket on the bed and the candle on the table.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up and stretching. She yawned, and then stretched again. “Is it morning already?”

“You slept late and I didn’t want to wake you.” Sibeal walked over and pulled the tapestry away, and sunshine spilled into the room. Bonnibel scooted up higher on the bed and peered into the basket of food.

“Is it to your liking, my lady?”

She giggled. “Oh, yes. Everything you have brought me for the past two days in secret is to my liking. I can’t remember when I’ve eaten so much good food or had such fine wine. If Sir Stefan knew, he would probably explode with anger.”

“Why do you call him Sir instead of Lord?”

“Because he is not lord of this castle, my father is. I will never call him lord.”

“I saw Lord Stefan leaving his room early this morning with a book under his arm.”

“He did?” She took a bite of bread, looking up to the girl in interest. “That’s my book. Where did he take it?”

“I don’t know for sure, my lady, but he was seen heading toward the east tower.”

“The east tower,” she repeated in thought, taking another bite of bread. Then she slowly nodded her head. “That’s where I’ll go then.” She put the basket down and slipped off the bed. Her feet were bare and she’d slept in her shift. Walking over to the chair that held her clothes, she reached for her gown.

“Let me help you,” said Sibeal, acting as her handmaiden. “And if I may ask - why are you going after him?”

“Because, he has my book and I want it returned.”

“But he’s locked you in your chamber, my lady, or have you forgotten? You can’t go anywhere.”

“I haven’t forgotten. And this is my father’s castle and I’ll not let him hold me prisoner any longer. I’m going to go out through the tunnels.”

“Won’t he be angry?”

“Of course he will. Everything seems to make him angry. But did he really think I’d stay in my room for two days without food and water?”

“He did send a bit of bread and a flask of water with his squire,” Sibeal reminded her.

“Two days ago!” She donned her waist belt and dagger, and then wound her hair into a knot at the back of her head. “I never should have waited so long and don’t know why I did.”

“Let me brush your hair, Lady Bonnibel. I’m sure there must be a boar’s bristle brush somewhere in this chamber.”

“No time,” she said, picking up the leather flask of wine and taking a swig. The liquid slid down her throat and also went to her head. She liked that, and drank some more. If she were going to face the beast head-on, she needed to have something to relax her nerves.

“I’ll go with you,” said Sibeal, following Bonnibel to the secret passageway.

“Nay, you’ll go back to the kitchens and stay with the other servants. I will not endanger anyone’s life, now go.”

“Aye, my lady, but at least take the candle to guide your way. I know my way back in the dark without it.” Sibeal handed her the candle and then curtsied quickly and disappeared through the tunnel toward the kitchens. Bonnibel stepped through the hearth and stood up in the dark passageway. The air felt cool and very heavy. Immediately her heart started beating faster. Just what was it that frightened her so much about these passageways? If only she could remember.

She made her way through the tunnel, gliding her hand over the rough stone wall to guide her. The tunnel smelled like musty earth and there were spiderwebs everywhere. The path was dirt with some occasional stones, and wasn’t a level pathway at all. Every so often a root from a tree stuck up from the floor or poked its way through the stonework of the walls.

She headed toward the east wing, passing by the solar that was her father’s – where Stefan was staying. As a child, she’d never been tall enough to use the peepholes in the wall, but she could reach them easily now. She held up the candle and peered into one of the peepholes, able to see that Stefan was not in his room, just as Sibeal said.

She heard a scratching noise from behind her and turned so quickly the flame of the tallow candle nearly went out. The smell of the burning animal fat soured her stomach and the thought of rats in the passageway made her skin crawl. She headed down the hall quickly and stopped when she got to the stairs that led to the east tower. She’d never been in the east tower before, because her father had forbidden it. She wondered why, and slowly climbed the stairs, holding onto the wall since there was no guide rope or railing.

She got to the top and saw the trap door, and wondered where it led. She was about to push it open when she heard a loud growl from the other side of the door. There was a stream of light coming from a peephole in the hidden door. She raised up on her toes and pressed her eye to it to look into the room. Sir Stefan was pacing the floor, and had a rose in his hand. It was in the decanter that she’d used for the rose days ago when she’d sewed up his wounds.

He paced the floor back and forth, his head down and his face turned away from her. She could tell by his stance and body actions that he was angry. His shoulders were up around his neck and his free hand was balled up in a tight fist. He was angry or very aggravated about something. Perhaps this wouldn’t be a good time to confront him after all.

She saw a petal of the rose fall off to the floor and he stopped in his tracks and looked down as if it had frightened him. Then he put the rose down on a table and bent down to pick up the petal. His back had been toward her, but when he stood up, he turned around and she could see his face perfectly.

She gasped when she saw the stitches running down one side of his face, and then more stitches over his other cheek. Scars from battle were never pretty, and his were still so fresh and new that his face was not easy to gaze upon. She held a hand over her mouth as his head snapped up and he looked right toward her. Her eyes opened wide in horror as she realized that he might know she was there. She almost felt bad for the man after all he’d been through. She’d fixed his sutures so his scars wouldn’t be as wide as they would have been after his squire sewed him up, but pushing a needle though one’s face had its side effects. He was bruised and his face was multi-colored. He’d also grown a short beard on his face and a mustache. Then her gaze traveled up to his head. In retaliation, she’d chopped off all of his shoulder-length, beautiful tawny brown hair. The scant amount of hair left on his head was chopped and hacked and sticking out crazily in all directions. It was a shame because she felt as if at one time he was a very handsome man. Now – things were different. Now she almost regretted doing it out of spite.

“Who’s there?” asked Stefan, and his voice sounded lower and raspier than it had the other day. “Show yourself or I’ll sever your head from your body.” He dropped the rose petal and pulled the sword from his belt with the sound of scraping metal as he held it up in the air.

She noticed her book laying open on a chair behind him, but she wouldn’t get it today. Not while he was in the room. If she dared open the secret passageway now, he might very well kill her. She didn’t have time to take in the view of what else was in the room since he started walking right toward the secret door. She wasn’t sure if he knew of the secret passageways or not, but didn’t want to stay there to find out.

She turned and ran down the stairs. Tripping on her gown, she had to reach out and grab for the wall, dropping the candle in the process. When she went for the candle, the flame had gone out and she had no way to relight it. Her breathing labored as she heard what sounded like the shuffling of feet from somewhere down the corridor.

“Hello?” she called out, hoping it was a servant. “Is someone there who can help me?”

She heard more shuffling of shoes on the stones getting closer and closer. And then she felt a cold hand grab her around her wrist and heard someone say her name.

“Bonnibel,” the low voice whispered, and she screamed.  In the darkness she thought she saw the hollow, dark eyes of a monster beneath a hooded black robe. Now she remembered why she’d never come through the hidden passageway since she was a child. Because of the monster that hid in the walls. Her mind must have been so frightened that she’d blocked it out, but this is what happened so long ago as well.

“Let go of me,” she said, pulling out of the man’s grasp, and running through the dark as fast as she could, trying to find her way back to her room.

Stefan cocked his head and listened intently, sure he heard a woman’s muffled scream. He walked toward the far wall of the tower room, listening, but heard nothing more. Then he walked over to the window and yanked at the wooden shutters that was bolted closed, ripping one of them off the wall. It fell to the floor with a loud bang. He just stood and stared, then looked at his hand, wondering when he’d become so strong. He’d barely touched the shutter, and it was pulled from the hinges as if he forcefully tore it down.

Glancing out the window, he looked down at the courtyard wondering if a male servant were accosting a washwoman. He saw nothing. Ever since he’d told Trumble that he didn’t want the servants to look at him, they’d all stayed hidden somehow. And with no guards under his command, the courtyard was deserted.

A stray black cat ran across the crumbling cobbled stones toward the old well, and a shiver ran up Stefan’s spine. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then he heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching the castle. From up in the tower room he was high enough to see an entourage of men riding toward the drawbridge. At first he feared it was the same men who had attacked the castle and he cursed his temper and stupid decision to send every able-bodied soldier away.

But then he saw his brother, MacKay, sitting atop his horse, leading a dozen soldiers on horseback and what looked like another dozen mercenaries who travelled by foot. They headed over the drawbridge and into the courtyard of Castle Breckenridge.

Trumble appeared from the stables and greeted the men. Stefan knew he had to go down there. After replacing his sword in his sheath, he ran a hand over the side of his face, not wanting to appear before his brother or the mercenaries like this, but he realized he had no choice. If he wanted these mercenaries under his command and this castle to be his own, then he would have to show his face and hope for the best.

He stepped over the rose petal on the floor and looked back to the rose where another petal was already drooping. He thought about the witch’s warning. A few days had passed since she’d told him he would turn into a beast if he couldn’t learn to love and have someone love him in return. Two petals had already fallen. He felt different already, and the menacing feeling gnawing at his gut was getting stronger each day. Was he truly turning into a beast? Sure, he looked like one, but would he start acting like one as well? He hoped not. He had always been the calmest and most cautious of all his brothers. He didn’t know how to be anything else. These mood swigs were foreign to him and made him feel like he no longer knew who he was.

He headed out the door, feeling so miserable right now that love was the furthest thing from his mind. Making his way to the courtyard, he appeared before the men. They all gathered around and just stared.

“What are you all looking at?” he growled, feeling like taking off the head of any man who looked cross-eyed at him.

“Stefan, Brother, you look . . . different.” MacKay said from atop his horse, surveying his brother.

“Aye, Brother, you look even uglier than the last time I saw you,” came another voice.

Stefan’s eyes darted up to the man on horseback that rode through the gates right behind MacKay. He was surprised to see another of his brothers and didn’t expect to find him here.

“Kin, what are you doing here?” he asked his brother who was five and twenty years of age, had golden hair down past his shoulders, a dimple in his chin, and smooth skin on his chiseled face that hadn’t a scar on it. He was the golden child of the family, as he had the looks, the money, the power, and the confidence that Stefan had always longed for. Yes, it seemed anything Kin touched turned to gold.