Page 72 of The Beauty and the Griffin

In an instant, I sensed his presence. Profound relief nearly buckled my knees, and I clutched Chicky’s folded wing for support. “Gamekeeper, Win took Dodger and left to join the battle at Faraway Castle.”

“I know.” His quiet voice was chasm deep.

I could barely discern his outline, yet his eyes studied mine, and the sorrow and pain in them pierced my heart. “I . . . We . . . What is happening?” My voice sounded shrill. “Everything feels wrong today. Win told us some crazy story about how you are the Beast who killed the last King of Adelboden, and she took Dodger and flew to Faraway Castle through a rift in your magic.” I paused to consider. “I know that you are the guardian of Faraway Castle, not an evil monster, so her story makes no sense at all. I . . . I trust you. I certainly don’t trust Winifred to tell the truth about anything.”

Again there was a pause, and then: “I value your trust.”

The depth of gratitude in his voice made my eyes burn. “Of course. But . . . can you tell me what’s going on? I feel . . . lost.” My voice cracked.

Even his sigh was quiet and slow. “My magic is weakening, and the barrier around the Forbidden Palace can no longer repel our enemies. The creatures I once protected are now guarding my borders to protect you.”

I stepped toward him, reaching out. “Why is your magic weakening? What can we do to strengthen it?” As I approached him, he seemed to solidify, and my hand cupped his cheek. I glimpsed his form, dim yet humanoid, and I felt his silvery beard. My heart nearly stopped. He was aging before my eyes, and the fading hope in his sorrowful eyes shredded my heart.

His mouth opened, and his quiet voice seemed to shake the earth: “You already know what you can do.”

My hand recoiled as my heart jolted in shock and guilt.

And he was gone.

Arabella

My pride would have had me gloss over the stickier points of my personal history, but our situation—the world’s survival—depended on my forthright admissions. I briefly studied the beautiful, intent faces before me and braced myself before resuming my confession.

“Othniel revealed his True Love’s name to me long ago. Therefore, many years later, when one of my numerous relatives married a de Callen, I attended the wedding and befriended my great-grandniece Marguerite and her worthy husband, Armand. I correctly guessed that their daughter would grow into poor Niel’s beloved.”

“Beatrice!” Rosa exclaimed. “Oh, I should have guessed! I’ve often seen them talking in the gardens . . .”

“Princess Eddi’s companion?” Briar mused aloud, his brows knitted. “Yes. I can see that.”

“By the time Beatrice was born, her parents loved and trusted me enough to make me her godmother—never realizing that I was the child’sfairygodmother. Marguerite’s sudden death only a few months later broke my heart as well as Armand’s, and I gladly agreed to become Beatrice’s live-in nanny. Although I’ve never been the maternal type, I fell head-over-heels for her the first time Marguerite laid her in my arms.

“Beatrice calls me Auntie Bella to this day, and I couldn’t love the child more if she were mine. Her magic is . . . unusual. Subtle. I would even call itlatent. It manifests only when she needs it. Her father has an unreasoning fear of magic, and he still doesn’t know how I’ve protected his daughter from discovery.

“When Beatrice was seven, I convinced Armand to let me take her to Faraway Castle for a brief holiday. It required minimal arranging on my part for the child to stumble from Faraway Castle’s rose garden into Niel’s palace garden.”

From there, I related key details of Beatrice’s ongoing friendship with the Gamekeeper . . . but then Prince Briar interrupted: “Could you please skip ahead and explain the connection between the Gamekeeper and King Siegfried II?

24

BEATRICE

Throughout my life, adultsand peers had described me as mature, responsible, and wise, never guessing what went on behind my calm smiles and sage nods. They could have no idea how terrified I was that someone would glimpse the out-of-her-depth person behind my mask.

“I fly you to the palace?” Chicky offered eagerly.

I swallowed hard at the very idea. “Um, thank you, but I think I’ll just climb back up through the boulders.”

“Beeetrice afraid to fly?”

“No! Well, yes, I guess I am.”

“Ah.” She nodded sagely. “I not push you. Humans are slow to grow up. I meet you there!”

My mouth still hung open when she disappeared from my sight.

“Cheeky bird-kitty,” I grumbled while climbing. That griflet knew me too well.

Once I reached the passage between the cliffside and the palace, it seemed narrower and darker than before. The vines appeared distressed, and more ice lined the pond.

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