Free Beauty and the Werewolf by Mercedes Lackey Page A

brackets,suspended at exactly the right height for reading in bed. There was a built-in bookcase, proving that the carpenter had put them there for that purpose. Bed curtains of embroidered velvet had been pulled back to show the matching counterpane, and when she stepped forward and tentatively patted it, she could tell that the counterpane covered a down comforter and a feather bed of unmatched height and softness. She was tempted to lie down on it right that moment.
    But the rose was moving onward, and she followed it into the final room— A bathroom.
    She had heard of bathrooms, but she had never seen one. Most households could not afford to dedicate a room just for bathing. All her life, she had taken her baths in a tin tub brought in, set before the fireplace and filled with hot water. This room had a tub three or four times that size, like an enormous porcelain basin on clawed lion feet, with stacks of soft towels and bottles full of jewel-colored liquids and powders on shelves around it. One look at it made her long for a leisurely hot soak.
    Later. She went back into the bedroom, and to the middle of the three long, narrow windows, and looked out.
    Instead of overlooking the woods, she found herself looking down into a snow-covered courtyard garden, surrounded on all four sides by Manor walls. Here, for the first time, she saw signs of neglect; the rosebushes and trees had not been trimmed back in some time. Obviously Sebastian cared nothing for the garden, so his servants had done nothing with it.
    More importantly for her purposes, there would be no escaping this way.
    Still, as captivity went, this was going to be very comfortable.
    She turned away from the window and to the closet. Now she discovered why there had been more trunks than she could accountfor. There was her clothing, all right—and a lot of unfamiliar clothing of the sort that would make the twins squeal with glee. Somehow she doubted that this was Sebastian’s idea; more than likely it was the King’s.
    Trying to distract me with dresses, hmm? She was torn between amusement and irritation; she decided to let amusement win. I suppose that just goes to show that Kings are only men. Well, just wait until he gets the list of my real demands. She was not going to go into exile quietly.
    Now she turned her attention to the floating rose.
    â€œI assume you are waiting for my orders?” she said.
    The rose bobbed up and down.
    â€œVery well, then,” she said, and thought for a moment. “Do you have something like arms?”
    Again the rose bobbed up and down.
    â€œThen my first order is that every one of you that comes into these rooms is to wear something like an armband, so that I know you are here and where you are.” Of course, any of these magical servants that wanted to gawk at her could just disobey and not do anything of the sort, but Sebastian had said they were not terribly bright, so perhaps that would not occur to them.
    The rose hung in the air for a moment, then it floated toward the closet. A moment later it emerged, but there was a scarf neatly wrapped about something invisible and knotted off. It was a bit unnerving, but no worse than a floating flower.
    â€œGood,” she said, nodding. “Now, can one of you tend to my ankle?”
    The rose bobbed, and the scarf and rose floated off into the next room. Only the scarf returned, and it paused, expectantly.
    She went over to the chair and sat down, sticking out her aching foot.
    The laces on her boot were undone swiftly and surely; shewatched in utter fascination. It did not look as if they were undoing themselves; there was something tugging on them, and the cord acted as a cord should, without any floating business. So two hands were involved, even if she couldn’t see them.
    The same hands grasped the boot and pulled it off, making her hiss a little in pain. There was no hesitation on the part of her attendant, however; the boot needed to