Page 62 of The Beauty and the Griffin

Everything suddenly stopped—all movement, all sound. Win’s eyes were wild with rage and terror, and Chicky’s sharp talons were outspread—quite intimidating when combined with her open beak and blazing eyes—but she and Win were both frozen in place. It wasn’t a spell: I could move freely, and my heart and breathing were still accelerated. I heaved a relieved sigh.

“That escalated quickly,” the Gamekeeper observed. For the first time this evening, I could see him, if only faintly. Were those silver streaks in his hair? I thought it must be the lighting.

“I’m so thankful you’re here!” My words sounded breathy with relief.

“Peace, Chicky,” the Gamekeeper said. “No one but you can break your bond with Beatrice. Reacting with fear will only cause trouble.”

The griflet dropped to all fours, clacked her sharp beak, and folded her wings. “No one?” she asked, eyes brightening.

“Only you.” He was silent for a few moments, and Chicky nodded, looking happier by the moment. I knew they were conversing silently, but I didn’t mind.

“We will discuss this further tomorrow,” the Gamekeeper promised, then turned to regard Win. “Return to your chambers, Winifred, and remember only that the griflets will receive outside training tomorrow.” I felt his magic, gentle and comforting. “Oh, and don’t forget your dessert.”

The girl snatched a bulky paper sack—presumably containing the rest of her cake—from the table and left the room with a smile of anticipation that, for a moment, made her look pretty.

Chicky spread her wings again and shook herself from head to tufted tail. “Now, ask question!” she squawked.

I sensed something like embarrassment, or even mortification, from the Gamekeeper before he said, “I do not require a reminder, Chicky.”

The griflet tucked her head and crouched slightly, like a repentant puppy. “I sorry!”

“What question?” I inquired and then realized. “Oh!”

“I love you dearly, sweet Beatrice.” His voice was low and gentle. It held no magic, yet a thrill ran through me as he asked, “Will you marry me?”

I knew my face must be scarlet. It wasn’t as if Chicky were a human who would judge me, but I couldn’t help wondering if every servant in the palace knew that the Gamekeeper kept proposing marriage. The thought irked me.

“Please,pleasestop asking me, Gamekeeper! I could never marry someone who isn’t human. How can you even think I would? You’re my best friend ever. Can’t you be content with that? Can’t you care enough to stop asking when I’ve already given you my answer?No!”

The silence following my tirade seemed to roar in my ears. I’d sounded cruel and unfeeling, and . . . my heart felt as if it were imploding.

There was no fixing this.

Shaking my head, I ran from the room, through the hall, and up the stairs so quickly that the lamps had trouble keeping up. I heard feathers rustle behind me, and claws scrabbled on the hard floors. My pace slowed as we approached the door to my suite, and Chicky lovingly rubbed her head on my arm. “Chicky happy. Beeetrice be happy.”

I didn’t bother to correct her, but “happy” was the exact opposite of my mood.

But when she curled up on the hearthrug while I prepared for bed, her presence was soothing. And distracting. I could talk to her instead of brooding about the pain I sensed from the Gamekeeper. Part of me wanted to sneak out, find him, and apologize. But I couldn’t even hug him without awkwardness. Nothing I could say or do would soothe his heartache.

“Happy dreams, my Beeetrice,” my griflet said, sounding smug.

“You’re so sweet.” I glanced toward the low-burning fire to see her lying on her back, wings outspread, talons and paws curled, and her head and shoulders twisted to one side. I’d seen dogs and cats sleep that way, but somehow the sight of a griffin in such a pose struck my funny bone. I didn’t dare laugh at her. I couldn’t even think too loud, or she might have picked up my amusement.

But as soon as my head touched the pillow, my thoughts flipped directly back to the Gamekeeper. Oh! My heart ached more every time I was forced to refuse his proposals. Why did he keep asking? It wasn’t as if he were rude or too stubborn to listen. Even when he’d corrected me that evening, he was so kind that I’d felt loved.

It was no good. I sat bolt upright in the bed, feeling smothered by my own wayward thoughts. I shoved aside the bed curtains. Chicky had rolled over, but she still looked blissful on that thick rug. Oh, why not?

Moments later, I snuggled against her side, using a wing for a blanket. I’d thought she was asleep, but she softly purred. Such a soothing sound . . .

Ugh! The fire was too bright. I struggled up to my elbows, blinking. But as soon as my eyes focused, I sat bolt upright and nearly fell off a strange little settee. The pair of long legs stretched before me, with silk stockings rolled down to just above the knees, weremylegs, and those were my feet in leather shoes with buckled straps.

I had to be dreaming again. But instead of a ballroom I’d dreamed up a library.

Arabella

“Look,” I began, “I can’t tell you everything I know, because . . . well, some of it hasn’t happened yet.”

“What do you mean?” Rosa asked.

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