Page 67 of The Beauty and the Griffin

In recent years, I’d conversed and even danced with several attractive and flirtatious men at Faraway Castle. Not once, while watching them walk away, had I felt so much as a twinge of hurt or regret.

But Niel . . . His charm captivated me in a way I’d never experienced with any other man. Even his imperfections, troubling though they were, failed to dim this attraction—it surpassed physical or even emotional bonds, as if he might somehow have been a missing part of me. Was it possible for a subconscious mind to produce something it could not comprehend?

Could this be . . . real?

“You aren’t using magic on me, are you?” I interrupted whatever he’d been saying and fixed my gaze on his face.

The hurt in his eyes answered my question before he spoke. “I am not. I will never use magic on you without your express permission . . . except maybe to save your life in an emergency. But don’t feel guilty for suspecting my motives.” He sounded subdued. “You are wise to question a person you’ve met only three times in magical circumstances. This is a most . . . unusual situation.”

“To say the least! I . . . don’t know what to think.” Did this man truly exist somewhere back in time? My mind boggled . . .

“You still believe this is only a dream.”

My gaze flashed to meet his. “Yes. Mostly.”

As he drew and exhaled a long breath, I couldn’t help observing the slope of his shoulders, and . . . well . . . I seemed to be shockingly shallow in my dreams.

“In your place,” he said, “I would be equally skeptical. But someday—very soon in your time—I shall remind you of this conversation, and we’ll smile at our doubts. At least,” he hesitated, then tried again, “that is,ifall goes according to plan.” His curled forefinger lifted my chin until our eyes met. “If I don’t meet you soon, you will know that I died trying to reach you. I will never give up, Beatrice.”

The intensity of his eyes, his voice . . . It was too much to take in. My mind wanted to reject it all. I gave him a short nod and turned my face away. Any distraction would do.

I’d been so focused on Niel that I scarcely knew what the garden looked like. Truthfully, I didn’t care. Nevertheless, I stopped on the path in a gap between flowering trees to focus on the palace itself, taking in towers, turrets, and terraces enough to satisfy even the most romantic of hearts. But I was still aware of Niel. Of his troubled gaze on my face. How could a dream affect me this way? I inwardly shook myself.Focus, girl!

“Where are we?” I asked. “I mean, where is this palace located?”

“In Bludenz, the capital, but it has magic of its own.”

“The Palace of Bludenz has magic? Is that why I keep coming here?” Before he could answer, I shook my head, suddenly angry. “This entire situation is impossible! How can I be holding hands with a king who lived long before I was born?” I lifted our clasped hands. “Am I here, or is this only a dream? And if I am here . . .”

I completed the thought in silence:Can I truly be in love with a man I might never meet outside my dreams?

“Beatrice?”

Blinking quickly, I met his worried gaze. How impossibly gorgeous he was! My fingers touched his face, feeling the warmth of his smooth skin, then the slight scratch of whiskers. I’ve never been good at identifying scents, but I knew he smelled good—outdoorsy and clean, like a pine forest but better.

In return, he brushed his slightly rough fingertips across my cheek, and when he met my gaze with a tentative, hopeful look, I amazed even myself by rising on tiptoe and leaning in to press my lips to his.

But the instant before our lips touched, I blinked at a huge yellow beak and fierce yellow eyes. “Dream end now,” Chicky stated, purring in satisfaction with herself. “Beeetrice need sleep.” Her tone was exactly the one I’d used while putting the griflets to bed, way back . . . last week? Two weeks ago? . . . when they were little.

I found it most annoying.

The fire had burned low, and I shivered without my feathery blanket. “Fine. I’ll get back in bed.” I was halfway there before I turned back. “Can you see my dreams?”

“I see my Beeetrice with king who loves her.” Her smug tone was insufferable.

“Why didn’t you let me kiss him?” I mumbled.

“Sleep now, Beeetrice!”

Great. I had a griflet for a mother.

Arabella

“Mind you,” my story continued, “I make no excuse for my choices or theirs. But I knew my cousin well, and our impossible endeavor was real for him. I mean, he was a passionate, persuasive, and scary-powerful young man whose True Love seemed forever out of his reach—and both Pukai and I were coming off heartbreaking loss and disappointment—and, well, we made some serious mistakes.”

“Such as?” Briar asked abruptly. “Please get to the point.”

I wanted to challenge his demand, but I didn’t have the right. Instead, I wilted back in my chair. I had no choice but to lay out my failings and Pukai’s for all to see . . . and Niel’s, most of all.

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