Beauty and the Werewolf Read online

  “Huh. And how many of the smart ones are my personal servants?” he asked. “I’ve noticed that the colors of the armbands in my workshop and room don’t change.”

  “All of them,” she replied.

  He fingered the bridge of his nose. “Huh.” Then he smiled wryly. “Well, I hope they don’t resent me for treating them like trained dogs.”

  She could only shrug. “I’ve only ‘spoken’ to Verte, Sapphire and Thyme. The rest can’t write.”

  “Now I am going to feel awfully self-conscious. You know, I liked it better when I thought they were all stupid.”

  “But they admire you and regard you with esteem,” she pointed out to him. “So you must be doing something right.”

  “Still.” He sighed. “Well, what kept you too busy for dinner and made you late for supper?”

  “Something that almost resembled the Labors of Hercules,” she replied, and began to describe the mess in the stillroom. He listened with every evidence of interest.

  “Does this mean that when you’re done you can supply me with botanic components?” he asked excitedly.

  “If I have the materials on hand, yes,” she said with pardonable pride. “There is nothing, from salve to tincture to compound, that I do not know how to make. Tell me what you need, and I will make it.” She smiled at him and he beamed back at her.

  “That’s going to make things ever so much easier!” he exclaimed, although to her brief disappointment he did not go into what the “things” were. “Until now I’ve had to make my own and that makes everything take twice as long.”

  “Well, as soon as things are set to rights, I am going to restock everything, so you will have very basic supplies very soon.”

  “That’s brilliant!” He grinned from ear to ear. “I am going to be ever so grateful if you do.”

  That turned the remainder of the conversation to the things he needed most commonly, as she made mental notes. Strangely, he seemed to require perfumes and essences quite a bit—he didn’t say why, though, and she didn’t ask.

  They sat up long after the Spirit Elemental grew tired of waiting for them and cleared everything away as they sat there. And when she finally did go up to bed, she suddenly discovered it was so late that she was yawning—and she was so tired she let Sapphire help her out of that pretty gown and take down her hair without a protest.

  And that night, at least, there were no nightmares.

  10

  THE STILLROOM WAS CLEAN, ORGANIZED AND ALL THE dried herbs either disposed of or properly stored and labeled. She had a list of things Sebastian wanted that she was slowly working through. She had her own list of things that were definitely needed, even if there were only three human beings living here, and another list of medications for horses, chickens, pigeons and rabbits. The stable cats were totally wild and absolutely uncatchable; she wasn’t even going to try to dose any of them for anything. Even half-dead they would probably lacerate her.

  She had thought it odd at first when she inventoried the living creatures here that there were no dogs. After all, Eric was the Gamekeeper and Sebastian’s stories indicated that he liked to hunt. But then she had realized her mistake; of course there were no dogs. Dogs would not abide a werewolf. It was amazing that the horses would still carry Sebastian in his human state.

  Now that she actually had something to do, she was able to keep up a relatively cheerful front. It was hard to look in on her father, easier to see that the servants continued to take assiduous care of him. She still had not dared to try to speak with the Godmother again. After all, the Godmother had several Kingdoms and a lot more pressing business to attend to other than whether or not one unimportant girl was feeling content or depressed. Finding out just what had caused Sebastian’s change in the first place, for instance.

  Eric did not appear at all; she was not sure if this meant he was simply avoiding company, or he was somewhere else.

  Sebastian’s researches were no further along, but she didn’t really expect them to be, now that she knew the complexity of the problem. Often enough he didn’t appear for dinner or supper; often when he did, he was absently polite, charming even, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere.

  But she had her herbs and her medicines, and she had Granny’s visit to look forward to. Granny had sent a scrawled message by means of Sebastian’s Air Elemental that she would come toward the full moon. That actually made Bella feel a bit better; it meant that Granny was probably working on her own answers to the problem, and was going to bring them in time for the first “moment of truth,” as it were.

  She had just finished decanting a rather nice horse liniment into the waiting jars to cool when a tugging at her sleeve alerted her to the presence of one of the Spirit Elementals. When she glanced behind her, the blue ribbon told her that it was Sapphire and the bit of slate thrust at her told her that Sapphire had something urgent to say.

  “Erk com,” the Elemental had written. Then the blue ribbon whisked out of the little room just as the sound of boots on stone warned that Eric was indeed coming.

  His footstep was very much like his personality. He made no effort to be quiet, and every step was taken as if he was conquering the hallway a pace at a time. She wondered what on earth was bringing him up here in search of her.

  He stopped at the doorway and looked around, his face blank with astonishment. “Well,” he said, after a moment. “You have been busy.”

  The shock on his face made her laugh. “I’m not the sort to sit idle,” she retorted.

  “But how—what—when I saw that the idiot servants were stuffing these rooms full of weeds, I was beginning to worry about a fire starting and I tried to get them to stop, but I couldn’t—” He was actually stammering a little, so great was his surprise. “And when I tried to get them to clear it out, they ignored me.”

  “I did it myself. I wouldn’t trust them with anything like this,” she told him, hands on her hips. “All I can guess is that when Sebastian ordered these creatures to continue to serve the Manor as the human servants had, it somehow told the ones that were supposed to tend to this part of the place that they should keep the stillroom stocked. But since they didn’t have the instructions to make anything, all they could do was to continue to dry and store the raw materials, the herbs and barks and roots and so forth. Some of those are dangerous, and I wouldn’t trust them with disposing of it.”

  He scratched his head. “I guess I’m lucky they didn’t. For all I know, they would have put it on the fire in the kitchen and poisoned the food—”

  “Or left it with the fodder in the stable and poisoned the horses, yes,” she agreed. “But once they saw that I knew what I was doing, they left me alone. Now I can trust them to take what I’ve finished and put it in the proper place in the storeroom.”

  He ventured into the stillroom and picked up a jar. “Liniment?” he said, reading her label. “Have you been reading my mind?” Then, unexpectedly, he grinned at her. “And don’t say, no, there’s not much there to read. I’ve heard that one before.”

  Oh, I would like very much to read your mind, Master Gamekeeper, she thought, but what she said aloud was “It is winter. Horses fall, people fall, the cold makes you ache. No one has made anything in this stillroom in years. It’s logical to think that one of the first things you would run out of would be liniment.”

  He nodded, and sniffed the jar. “Wintergreen, peppermint, juniper, lavender. Balsam?”

  “You have a keen nose.”

  “Can you make a batch without the lavender?” he asked.

  In answer, she handed him a jar from a previous batch, already labeled and waiting.

  “Thanks.” He put the jar in a bag he had slung on his shoulder. “What I really came for was to ask if you were ready for a ride this afternoon. I found you that riding mule, and the sooner you get used to each other, the better.”

  She stared at him in surprise. She had completely forgotten that he had said he was going to fi
nd her a riding mule. “I— Well, there is nothing pressing—” she began.

  “Good,” he said, cutting her off. “Right after dinner. Which is now. Are you done here?”

  In somewhat of a daze, she stoppered up the liniment jars and followed him out to the dining hall, where—for a change—Sebastian was there without a book. “Oh, good, Eric found you!” he said cheerfully as they came in. “Did you want me along on this ride?”

  Eric didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Not now. Wait till the mule gets a chance to get used to you. You can go feed it apples in the stable until it stops trying to run from you.” Eric also didn’t wait for the Spirit Elemental to serve him food; he took a dish, heaped it with stew and bread, and sat down to stoke himself methodically. “I want to see how well she rides, and how well the mule behaves, and we don’t have a lot of sunlight.”

  Bella thought Sebastian looked more than a little crestfallen, but he agreed readily enough. “Early supper?” he suggested.

  “Definitely. It’s cold enough to freeze a bear’s balls out there, and we’ll need it when we get in.” Eric seemed blithely unaware that his language was exceptionally inappropriate in front of a lady, but Sebastian flushed.

  Then again…Eric probably hasn’t spent any time being taught what’s appropriate around a lady….

  “I’m hoping this beast is going to be as good as promised,” Eric continued. “I couldn’t ride it. I’m too heavy for it. You know mules, load them heavier than they are prepared to carry, and they won’t stir a step. Went sweetly enough for the wench I hired to try it out, but that was in a city. So…we’ll see.”

  Seeing how fast Eric was eating, Bella made haste with her own food. She was afraid when he finished his plateful, he was going to get up and demand she leave her half-finished meal, but instead he got a second helping. That gave her just enough time. Sebastian was barely a third done when Eric got up and finally looked at her to see if she was finished.

  “Good, you don’t dawdle.” He eyed her gown dubiously. “I don’t suppose—”

  “Give me the time it takes to saddle both beasts and I will meet you at the stable in something more practical,” she said firmly. “Sidesaddle or astride?”

  “You can ride astride?” He raised an eyebrow. “Not that it matters. Sidesaddle. That’s what the beast was sold with, and I don’t think we have another saddle in the stable that will fit it.”

  With that, he stalked out the door. She cast a glance at Sebastian, who shrugged a little and gave her a wry smile, as if to say, “At least now he is treating you normally.”

  She ran to her room and to Sapphire’s dismay, pulled out a pair of flannel trews, a heavy woolen skirt that was short enough to show her ankles, stout well-worn boots with chunky wooden heels, a flannel chemise with a high neck and a knitted woolen tunic of un-dyed, raw sheep’s wool. This was her “coldest weather” clothing, which she wore when she had to trek out to Granny’s in weather that no “lady” would venture into. Poor Sapphire! This was all gear she could get into unassisted, which meant it was so unfashionable the Spirit Elemental was probably near fainting.

  But at least while she was dressing, Sapphire recovered enough presence of mind to get out deerskin gloves, her old woolen scarf and sheepskin hat, and her heavy cloak. Murmuring thanks, Bella seized all of these things and hurried out the door and down to the stables. The less she irritated Eric, the better this day was going to go.

  In fact, when she arrived, a little out of breath from running, Eric was checking the girths and rump-bands on both beasts. Eric’s mount was a powerful dark bay gelding with a wicked eye that promised no end of mischief if you didn’t keep him firmly under control. Which, she knew, she couldn’t. She had seen this horse, and the other three like him, in the stable when she had gone exploring. They were mannerly enough when they were in their stalls. When turned loose in their paddock, the amount of energy they had was daunting. And she could tell by their behavior that they needed expert riders because, given a beginner, it was they who would be in control, not the rider.

  But Bella’s new mount was at least four hands smaller, and was such a pretty little thing that it was all she could do not to clap her hands with glee.

  Someone must have bred a very fine palfrey to the jack-donkey to produce this little beast. She was a creamy gray, as dainty as a china statue, with neat little hooves, alert ears and a mild eye.

  “Good God, you are here!” Eric exclaimed ungallantly. He eyed her costume with approval. “Have the idiots sew you up a coat for next time, but otherwise, that’s perfect for riding in. And the cloak won’t matter much today. We’ll be trying out the beast’s paces and temper slowly.”

  He took the mule’s reins and led her to the mounting block. Bella scrambled into the saddle as best she could, and while Eric was busy mounting his horse, got her legs and skirt arranged in the peculiar configuration demanded by the sidesaddle.

  The mule stood with perfect patience while she did so. As soon as she got herself arranged, Eric put heel to his horse and rode out of the stable without looking back to see if she was going to follow.

  Well, she wasn’t a good rider, as were people who lived out in the middle of nowhere, or nobles who could afford to keep horses in stables in the city were, but she wasn’t a novice. She lifted the reins a little, gave her mule an encouraging chirrup and touched her with the heel of the leg that wasn’t wrapped around the high pommel.

  The mule stepped out neatly and obediently, her head bobbing a little with each step as she stretched her legs to keep up with the taller horse. Her gait was easy and comfortable, and rather than moving into a trot to keep up, she merely sped into a faster walk.

  “How is she?” Eric called back, looking over his shoulder as they moved out of the forecourt and through the gates in the wall. The forecourt, paved with bricks, had been swept completely clean of snow—though it wasn’t very big, just large enough for a carriage or two. Nothing like the grand forecourt of the Royal Palace.

  “I like her!” she called forward, excited now. They passed beneath the walls and came out into the snow and sunshine, and for the first time she saw what the Manor looked like from the outside.

  The wall only enclosed the forecourt, and it looked like a later addition. Still later was a stout gatehouse of two stories built up against the wall. This must be where Eric lived. From the outside, at least, it looked to be about twice the size of her suite of rooms. The gatehouse looked like a little fortress itself, although she suspected that was more to make it blend in with the Manor than to be defensible. The wall, too, looked as if it had been built more to keep the worst of the weather off the forecourt than to provide any real defense.

  Once they were outside the wall, Eric reined in his impatient horse to ride along beside her. He eyed her with some disapproval, and she wondered what she was doing wrong when he spoke.

  “I really cannot imagine how you women keep your balance, riding aside like that,” he said. “Your weight is all on one side of the beast, and you are in danger of falling off at any moment.”

  “Well, I told you I am not a very good rider,” she reminded him, as the mule’s ears swiveled to catch what both of them were saying. “My father isn’t the sort to waste money keeping horses in the city. The twins are better, but that is because Genevieve paid for lessons so they can ride with the people she thinks they should see.”

  Eric’s brows furrowed a moment, but one corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not ‘their friends’?” he asked. “I thought your father was wealthy. Why didn’t you get lessons, too?”

  “Because I’m not Genevieve’s daughter. I suppose I could have had lessons if I wanted them, but riding didn’t really interest me when I was little, and after my mother died, I was too busy.”

  “Sounds complicated.” Eric dismissed her entire family situation with a shrug that said he really wasn’t interested in hearing more. “Have you any objections to riding astride?”

  “None
,” she said firmly. She was truly enjoying riding, much to her surprise. The mule’s gait was quite smooth enough for conversation, and she wasn’t jouncing in the saddle as if the beast was trying to ram her spine up through the top of her head.

  “I’ll see about getting a real saddle for you, then. I got this beast from an old bird in the Beauville market who swore she had been owned by some sort of pious old woman who only rode her out to do good deeds twice a week.” He chuckled at Bella’s snort of disbelief. “That was my reaction, too, but I checked to make sure there were no records of any such mule being stolen, and otherwise she seemed to measure up, so I bought her. Maybe for once the story was true.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” she agreed. The mule’s ears swiveled back to catch her voice again. “I think she likes me.”

  “That’s not important. What is important is that you like her.” Eric’s horse shook its head restively, and he reined it in with a hard hand. “Settle, you. We’re not going for a gallop today.”

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “Seeing how this beast goes for you, and checking where poachers usually set traps, for another,” he replied. “I haven’t made my rounds for a few days. They’ve probably gotten bold.”

  He sent his horse a little ahead of her mule, and turned down what looked like a game trail worn into the snow. The mule followed the gelding without a qualm.

  They rode in silence for some time; Eric’s horse was slowed to a walk by the snow, and the mule was perfectly content to follow in its wake. Eric glanced back at her now and again to be sure she was keeping up, but otherwise ignored her. He was definitely looking for something, though she couldn’t tell what.