Page 17 of The Beauty and the Griffin

“This isn’t only about you! You know what will happen if you fail. Are you willing to risk everything for your pride’s sake?”

“No.” His reply, though muted, shook the ground I stood upon. “I will ask her.” He heaved a deep sigh. “As many times as it takes . . . until I die.”

“You can’t die. Not until we’ve righted this wrong. We’re in this together, we three.”

He nodded, his shaggy head lowered. “I won’t let you down.”

“Or her,” I emphasized.

“Beatrice doesn’t need me.” His voice sounded choked.

“We all need you, lunkhead.”

8

BEATRICE

Eddi shocked me bytaking off somewhere with friends Friday morning. As crazy as she was about flying-horse races, why would she deliberately miss the first day of races for a jaunt in the city? Her cheery scribbled note advised me not to worry—she would be back by nightfall. Although we weren’t scheduled to leave until Sunday, I sent out our clothing to be laundered, then packed my own trunk and Eddi’s with all but the next two days’ necessities, all the while stewing about what King Koldo would have to say if he ever found out that his sneaky daughter had ditched me for a full day.

She returned that evening, sunburned and exhausted, promised to explain everything once we were back home in Bilbao, then hopped into the shower.

Afterwards, while combing out her wet curls, she assured me, “If my father finds out, I’ll just tell him I kept you in the dark. I don’t intend to be trapped in a limousine or airplane, unable to escape hisscoldings and lectures for a full day. He’ll get over it soon enough.” But a certain gleam in her eyes set my teeth on edge. Everything about the situation felt hazardous, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

I didn’t sleep well that night. Partly from worrying about what Eddi wasn’t telling me, and partly from happy anticipation of a full day with the Gamekeeper.

The sun wasn’t yet fully up, yet the first race fans were already trickling through the resort’s gates when I sneaked out to meet the Gamekeeper in the rose garden. This time I reached out to him as I approached, both thrilled and freaked when his shadowy hands engulfed mine.

“Beatrice,” he said, and his voice seemed to echo through my soul as he drew me so close that I felt the heat of his body. My heart pounded, and the rush of adrenaline shortened my breath.

Even though I wanted him to wrap me in his arms, I hesitated to initiate our first embrace. Some warning in the back of my mind kept holding me back. I loved him dearly, and yet I knew almost nothing about him. Even the idea of asking him a basic question like “Are you human?” had always seemed invasive or disrespectful.

Or maybe I feared the answer. It was easiest to simply go on the way we were. I vastly preferred ignorance to discovering the worst.

“Gamekeeper,” I spoke his name with warmth. “It’s our last day together for a time. I want to make it our best ever.”

“Yes.” He sounded tentative.

Determined to cheer him, I asked, “Shall we walk here or extend our horizons into other gardens? Few people will be around at this hour.”

His voice warmed. “Particularly not on fête days.”

“Good. Then we’ll start here, then maybe have lunch in the Vetrician gardens.” My heart lightened at the thought. I could sneak out into the crowds long enough to purchase food and drinks to share.

I heard him draw and release a long, deep breath. “Beatrice . . .”

Did I imagine it, or were his gloved hands trembling? “Is something wrong? Are you all right?” I asked in a rush of concern, gently squeezing hands that could probably crush mine without effort.

Could he be a giant? A troll? Such creatures might be disguised with a glamour. The unwelcome suspicion made me shiver.

“I . . .” His deep voice cracked. “Beatrice, I intended to walk with you today and visit as we always do, but I . . . I can’t.”

“You can’t?” My heart took a plunge, and every nerve went taut. Was he no longer interested in me? Had I bored him with rambling stories about my childhood and people he didn’t even know, or— “Why?” I blurted.

“Because everything depends on your answer to my question.”

His emphasis on “everything” alarmed me further. I didn’t want to ask, but at the same time I wanted nothing more than to know. “What question?”

I both heard and felt him draw an endless breath before he spoke. “I love you, Beatrice, more than anything and anyone I’ve ever known on this earth. Will you marry me?”

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