Page 19 of The Beauty and the Griffin

“Quite a lot,” I grumbled. “We call him the Beast for a reason. For all we know, he’s in a towering temper.”

“He hasn’t thrown a tantrum in decades,” Pukai observed. “You know, I’ve always suspected his parents must have either spoiled him rotten or been tyrants for him to turn out so wild.”

I shrugged. Not being a parent, I felt ill-qualified to judge. “They did the best they knew, just as our parents did. In retrospect, I don’t think it’s fair to condemn him forever for one selfish impulse. The shock and loss changed him for the better.”

Pukai looked pensive. “We’d better stop speculating and find him.”

Easier said than done. Even using our combined sahira magic, we could approach the palace only as near as the estate’s magnificent brass gates, which looked completely out of place in their wilderness setting.

“Now what?” Pukai asked.

Before I could answer, the gates opened. And as soon as we stepped through, two glossy-black winged horses stepped forward, ready to carry us to the palace. Now, physically flying is not on my list of approved travel options, but the driveway was ridiculously long, and we couldn’t bear to insult the considerate creatures.

Once my mount’s wing-flapping climb leveled out, I rather enjoyed viewing the property from above. Looming mountain peaks dwarfed the huge estate, and the enchanted palace itself, set against a mountainside, looked like a child’s toy bristling with too many towers and pinnacles for good taste. Its vast gardens bloomed in all seasons, and its glacier-fed lakes reflected the blue summer sky.

Locals who knew about it called the Gamekeeper’s home the Forbidden Palace, which sounded ominous. But it was basically the same oversized royal estate I remembered from long ago—although much quieter now—dropped into a verdant mountain meadow. The fterotá—the proper name for winged horses—carried us to the palace’s front doors, where the Beast prowled on the marble steps.

Here, at his home, he didn’t bother with cloaks or disguises. “I’ve been expecting you,” he growled without meeting our eyes. “I proposed marriage, and Beatrice declined.”

“And then she ran away, we know. But she spent the entire evening trying to contact you again,” Pukai informed him without a trace of empathy. “Why did you tuck your tail and run?”

He turned away, and I saw a tremor run through his powerful body. “What more could she say after ‘No’? I was an utter fool to hope she could ever love and choose to marry an evil monster in a beastly form.”

“If she had no feelings for you, she wouldn’t have cared how you felt,” I observed.

Pukai added, “Much less attempted to meet with you again.”

Gazing toward a distant hillside dotted with grazing unicorns and winged horses, he said, “She cares for me, but as a magical mentor or father-figure, and the very idea of marrying a Beast horrifies her, as it should. I don’t want her pity.”

“You must not give up.” Pukai spoke with the authority of a queen. “You are essential to this world until you can train up a replacement. Although that prince from Auvers seems promising, he is very young and rather wild, I’ve heard. You are the mentor he needs.”

“Prince Briar is much like I was but wiser and more responsible. He’s brilliant, and so is Rosa. She accomplishes more with her carovna magic than most sahirae I know. Between them, and with your help, they could protect the world from ambitious mages or magical invasions.” I heard desperate hope in his voice.

“They’ve both accomplished great things, but they have no political experience whatsoever,” Pukai pointed out. “As Trollkarl, you’ve dealt with human mages along with the magical peoples and creatures in this crazy world for many decades, all without ever leaving these mountains. They need the benefit of your experience. My responsibility to my kingdom takes precedence, and Bella is too flighty to be of much use to even the most talented novices.”

Ouch. Why hold back your real opinions, girlfriend?But I could hardly object—she was right.

He faced Pukai directly. “Briar is learning to speak into other minds from across continents and to listen in on distant conversations. He is immensely talented, powerful, and honest. And unlike me, he and Rosa can leave these mountains. With you two veterans to share your experience and wisdom, they”—he gave me a nod—“along with Bella’s former pupil, Ellie, could handle almost any crisis. They will learn on the job as I did.”

His optimistic tone somehow sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine. “Hmm. Time will tell,” I said. “Until the younger generation is ready to take over, we’re still responsible. This is no time to give up. Go ask her again.”

He lowered his head. “I cannot. She has already left Faraway Castle.”

“What?” Pukai and I exclaimed in unison.

9

BEATRICE

Back home at CastleIker, I spent most of my time bawling, fuming, and moping. Most of the servants gave me a wide berth, and even our old cook resorted to feeding me chocolate from a safe distance rather than risk causing another meltdown. My father was out of the country and still unaware of my downfall. What would I tell him? Anger about the unfairness of it all blended with my desperation.

What did the Gamekeeper think of me now? If he’d received my message and tried to meet me as requested, I could now add standing him up to my offences.

How could I ever mend the rift I’d caused between us? I certainly wouldn’t be returning to Faraway Castle as a guest—I couldn’t afford even a weekend at the place now that I’d lost my income. My mind shuffled through useless ideas. I could call the resort’s front desk, which had a landline telephone, but how does one leave a message for an invisible magical entity? Maybe I should ask Sten to explain things for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone.

In the end, I made possibly the worst decision, which was to waffle, argue with myself, and finally do nothing.

Auntie Bella dropped in for a stay a week later, after news of my downfall caught up with her. Her reaction was an old-fashioned tongue-lashing that undoubtedly did me more good than the commiseration I’d craved.

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