Free Beauty's Beast by Tara Brown Page B

died in the forest on the way home, like an animal. And I will never know. All for a deer—a stag? It’s ridiculous.”
    A tear slipped from my eye and I realized what I was truly afraid of.
    My father was completely alone. He was scared, sick, and no doubt as worried about me as I was him . But in my coward’s heart I didn't want to go back to the village because if I did, it meant Gaston would have me forever. And that was a fate worse than any I had before me.
    My sickly father wouldn't be able to fight that fate for me.
    Before I could open my mouth and say another thing the master spoke, “Your father is well. He is worried for you but that is all. He is home.”
    “How could you possibly know that?”
    He offered a large hand, but I just stared at it, uncertain of what would happen if I took it. He reached it forward and snatched my hand in his, still not revealing his face out from under the cloak or the shadows, and pulled me to him. He stepped back, revealing a birdbath there in the recess of the wall. He swirled a hand over it, making it calm and flat. “Tell the water the thing you wish to see.”
    I leaned forward, seeing nothing but my own reflection, even in the dim light. I glanced back at him to where he had sunk farther back into the shadows. “What do you mean?” He made me nervous to be so close to him and in such a dimly lit spot.
    “Speak to the water.” He said it as if I were daft.
    So I turned my face and whispered to the water, doubting his sanity more so than before, “I wish to see my father.”
    The water began to glow, from the bottom of the bath. I thought it might have been the sun coming back or something else, but the light was blue—pale blue.
    It was beautiful in fact and mesmerizing. I leaned in, closer and watched as it swirled and churned, like the open sea.
    It grew cloudy and dark and then stopped all at once. The water became flat and a vision appeared.
    It was my father.
    He was at home, soaking his feet and sipping a tea. Gaston was nowhere to be seen in the image. My father looked weak, not frail but sick. His eyes were red and tired. It made me sad to see. He ate some soup he must have made himself and sniffled into a handkerchief.
    He was still unwell but he was alive.
    As I lifted my face to say something to the master, I forgot my words the moment I saw his eyes.
    Here in the shadows he might have succeeded in hiding himself from me but with the glowing light of the bath and its magic, I saw him clearer than I might have in the sunlight.
    He was beautiful.
    Hard and fierce, and yet vulnerable and frightened. His blue eyes and heavy brow drew me in. I didn't know what to think of him, but I liked seeing his face. It made my captivity much more reasonable to bear. There was something about him I couldn't shake. It was like being in a book where the lovers meet for the first time and their eyes are stuck in each other’s gaze.
    I didn't see him as a master or a monster or a beast. He was suddenly something else.
    His eyes widened. “Are you satisfied?”
    I shook my head. “No, but thank you. I needed to see that.”
    “Come as often as you like, see him as often as you need.”
    I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
    “You are welcome.” His words were a whisper, “I am glad to see you found a dress more to your liking and less tempting for me.” His eyes trailed down the front of my baggy gown.
    “I did. It’s one of Mrs. Potts’ dresses but she didn't seem to mind.”
    He blinked and his eyes focused on my neck. He stepped back into the shadows and then I was alone. Because he moved so much faster than I did, when I hurried after him I realized he was already gone from the courtyard completely.
    The sun crested the forest, peeping out from behind the clouds one last time before setting completely.
    I shivered a little from the cold and hurried inside.
    When Mrs. Potts came to my room to call me to dinner and to offer more of Babette’s clothing, I turned her