Page 75 of The Beauty and the Griffin

Desolate, I dropped my face into my hands and prayed, “Help me to see the truth!”

I blinked tears away, paused, and then blinked faster at the mirror before me. Instead of my reflection, I saw booklined walls on either side of an open door. Between my position and that door stood a desk piled with a jumble of books and parchments. I knew this room; I’d stood in that doorway before. But instead of the Gamekeeper’s shadowy form, I saw a man drop into the swivel chair and slump over the chaos on the desk, his face in his hands. Fascinated, I stepped closer to my wardrobe, closer to his chair.

Could it be?

Muscle had filled out his tall frame, yet even from mostly behind I recognized Niel. I might almost have reached through the glass and touched his golden-brown hair, which was longer than I remembered it, almost shaggy. He rubbed his forehead with all ten fingers, slid them down to rub his eyes, then dragged both palms over the stubble on his jaw while slumping back in his chair. The chair turned with a squeak, giving me a knee-melting-good look at him.

Spying on Niel through my mirror should have felt no more awkward than my unexpected visits to his world, yet this seemed . . . sneaky. “How are your plans going?” I asked.

He jolted to his feet, overturning a mug on his desk, which spewed pencils that rolled and clattered, one by one, onto the floor while he looked me up and down. Shadows underlined his eyes, but his expression brightened like a sunrise. “Beatrice!” His hands lifted, then clenched and fell to his sides.

“Are you working through the night?” I inquired.

“How . . .? What is this?” He briefly studied the mirror’s frame, shook his head as though to clear it, tripped over his chair leg, nearly fell, and then stood directly before me, his gaze never leaving mine. “My darling, are you here? In my time, I mean?”

“I don’t think so.” I glanced back at my bed, then past it to meet Chicky’s gaze. She blinked, appearing all innocence, but I recognized her magic. Hesitantly, I placed my hand flat on the mirror glass. “I’m looking at you through my wardrobe’s mirror. It must be another dream.”

But when he pressed his palm to mine, I felt its warmth. Suddenly bold, I linked my fingers with his and tugged gently. His hand followed mine. I was still gaping in surprise when he turned sideways to squeeze through the mirror’s frame and stepped into my room, into my time.

One moment, we stared into each other’s eyes; the next moment, we were in a clinch. “You’re here!” I gasped, half sobbing into his shoulder. His eager kisses on my forehead, my temple, my cheek . . . even the roughness of his day-old whiskers against my skin stole my breath. He was so solid, so warm and real and familiar that it ached somewhere deep in my soul. “How? How are you here?”

“I don’t know, and just now I don’t care.” Breathless, he pressed my head to his chest, where I heard his rapid heartbeat. “How much time has passed for you?”

“It’s hard to tell here. Maybe a month? And for you?”

“Nearly three years. I’m twenty-seven now, and you’re still twenty-four?”

“I’ll turn twenty-five on . . .” I paused. “No, wait. Maybe I already did?”

He chuckled softly. “Time can be difficult to pin down. It’s a good thing we’re ready to act before I’m too old for you.” His voice was as rich as ever, with an added edge of confidence.

“Ready to act?” I moved my hands to his chest and pushed away just far enough to look up at his face. I could not imagine a more attractive man—all hard muscle and latent energy. He’d obviously been spending time out of doors: he was tanned, and his hair was bleached in streaks. His fathomless eyes enchanted me more than ever, glowing like amber in sunlight.

“Yes, everything at this end is ready to prepare for takeoff, so to speak.” White teeth gleamed when he smiled, and he shifted his hands to gently grasp my arms. “Oh, how I long to kiss you,” he groaned, “but I don’t dare. Not yet. We must talk.”

Those doubts I’d had about him?

Gone. I was head over heels for that man.

It wasn’t safe. He wasn’t a safe person to love. I knew that. I’d always known.

But I loved him anyway.

“What exactly are you preparing?” I managed to ask despite my distraction.

“We have the spells ready. Tomorrow is the day. Arabella—my cousin, you know—has figured out how to stop my aging process for one century. Pukai will handle everything else.”

Pukai? The name sounded familiar, but just then I couldn’t place it. Remembering our most recent conversation, I asked, “Who will take over as King of Adelboden?”

I glimpsed a brief flare of impatience in his eyes before his gaze lowered to my lips . . . “No need to worry about that,” he stated. “Not for a long time anyway.”

Even though I felt like putty in his grasp, I shook my head. “But . . . your subjects are sure to notice when their king never ages.”

He heaved a patient sigh. His hands slowly, gently sliding down my arms to grasp my hands made it difficult to think. “Maybe I’ll use stage makeup?” He grinned, but then his voice tightened: “I don’t know. I’ll find a way to make it work. Imagine the governmental stability of a hundred-year rule! My subjects love me; I’ve done great things for Adelboden. Everyone thinks so.”

His words only increased my concern. “I’m sure you’re a good king, but using magic to extend your rule seems like, well, an unfair advantage. Are your subjects aware that you’re a mage yet?”

“No.” He huffed, shifting his gaze from mine. “But it’s hardly an unfair advantage. My real life will be in limbo until you and I meet in your time. My mother unexpectedly passed away not long after our last meeting, and . . . I just . . . I can’t bear the thought of losing you too! Beatrice, for you it’s been just a few days, but for me it’s been years.Yearsof utter devotion, and I’m prepared to continue living like a monk for longer than a natural lifetime just so you and I can meet in your time and marry! How could that be considered an advantage?” His gaze was intense, compelling. “Please understand,” he pleaded, suddenly sounding like a child.

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