“Did you still respect them?” His simple answers provoked so many more questions! How could the parents of a beast-man-creature have no magic? Such beings must be inherently magical.

Or must they?

He sighed, long and low. “My parents loved me, I’m sure, but I never measured up to their expectations. As a young adult, I was self-absorbed. I fulfilled my role in public, but otherwise I did my own thing.”

“What did they expect from you?”

“Nothing too unusual. I tried to be an obedient, noble, honest, competent, and responsible son. To please them, I put on a good public show. But after my father’s premature death, I worked out my frustrations through perilous pursuits, which frightened my mother.” His voice held profound regret. “Later, I became so obsessed with having my way that I turned to unlawful and dangerous magic.”

Still only halfway to the door, I shook my head, frowning. “I can’t imagine that. You’re a highly responsible person, caring for magical beasts and protecting Faraway Castle the way you do. And you’ve always been very good to me.”

“Your friendship is a treasured gift. But in truth, any wisdom or virtue I may possess was acquired far too late.”

“Better late than never.” Since he was being open and honest, I admitted, “I know my father cares about me, but as a diplomat he travels a lot and always seems stressed. When I was little, he encouraged me to help him with practical things like gardening and carpentry—teaching me life skills, really—and that time together was precious to me. I realize now that we were never very close, but over the years we’ve grown far apart. When I get back home, I want to . . . I don’t know. Try to get to know who he really is. Appreciate and hug him more. I guess I always took what he offered me for granted.”

He sighed heavily. “Children seldom truly honor or value their parents until they’ve experienced the trials and disillusionments of life for themselves. And I expect parents seldom realize how brief is their opportunity to offer guidance and affection before their children are grown and gone.”

I wanted to ask more about his family, but I’d already kept him talking too long. In the doorway, I turned back. “Thank you for today. For all you’re doing for me and Win and the griflets.”

“Beatrice, I love you dearly. Will you marry me?”

I couldn’t help shuddering. “Oh,pleasedon’t ask me that anymore! You’re good. A g-good beast. My dear friend. But I . . . I cannotmarryyou!” How could he even imagine such a thing?

He heaved a ragged sigh. “And I cannot stop asking.”

Like a frightened child, I ran to my room as if pursued by harpies and flung myself into bed without bathing or even changing.

Beeetrice!

I sat upright in bed, feeling for my egg.Chicky?

Beeetrice, I need you! Why you leave me?

Oh! Right. She’d hatched. How was she calling me all the way from the music room? I flung off my coverlet, but as I staggered toward my bathroom, I realized that she sounded demanding, not desperate. My pace slowed, and I paused for a huge yawn. My face felt stiff and puffy, and when I squinted at my reflection in the mirror over the washstand, a groan escaped. Pathetic. I looked as if I’d cried myself to sleep.

Most likely because I did.

I did not want to think about it. This day would be all about Chicky. She was calling for me.

Even so, I took time for a bath and washed my hair. My invisible maids kindly provided practical clothing—corduroy trousers, a red-flannel shirt, a faux-fleece jacket, and sturdy boots. On a whim, I asked if someone might braid my hair?

Voila!I ended up with beautiful braids that merged into one thick woven rope of hair down my back. “You are the best! Have I mentioned that? Thank you so much!” I felt a bit guilty about leaving the maids to straighten my messy suite, but Chicky’s calls sounded needier by the moment.

I found her standing on her back paws in her nestbox, her eagle claws gripping its edge. Her huge golden eyes fixed on my face as I entered.Chicky called and called! My voice was like thunder!

“Yes, darling, and I came as soon as I could.”

Chicky was still larger than her brother, but both had markedly grown overnight in size and strength. Dodger squawked his own protests and demands, and I ended up helping each of them into a litter box. That duty done, I sat on the floor and let them climb into my lap—and soon regretted it. “Ouch! Watch your claws, you two! My skin and clothing are fragile.”

While I was wondering if I should feed both griflets, Win entered the music room, groggy and frazzled but fully clothed. “You’re right on time,” I greeted her. “Their food just arrived.”

Win’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she snapped. “You stole my gold egg, but that bond won’t last. I’m their nanny, and in the end, they’ll both stay with me.” The griflets went very still, huddled against me.

I slowly, deliberately stood upright, holding a griflet in each arm. It took a lot to rile me, but Win had just exceeded my patience quota for the year. She backpedaled a few steps, her eyes widening as I approached and loomed over her.

“Look, Miss Winifred, if you want to blame someone for this situation, you might take a look at yourself. Ifyouhadn’ttwiceattempted to ditch me in a cave,wewouldn’t be in this situation. Chicky and I are bonded. Done deal. Either you start accepting reality, or you’re going to have an extremely rough time of it in the future.”

Arabella