The next morning, I was still fuming and considered abandoning the ungrateful Beast to do himself whatever harm he wished. But the thought of ingratitude made me hesitate. While it was true that he had neither apologized for driving me from the castle with his temper, nor thanked me for saving his life and then spending my day nursing him, the same could be said of me.

The day before we had carefully avoided all discussion of the cause of his injuries, and I had neither apologized for trespassing in his room after I had assured him I would not, nor thanked him for coming to my rescue in the forest. If I truly believed that I had power over my own actions and choices, then my apologies and thanks couldn’t be conditional on his.

The thought made me squirm all the way through the morning meal, and I changed my mind about which gown I wished to wear so many times that I had to apologize to Lottie. The truth was that I did not want to do it. He may have saved me, but the Beast was still an arrogant, imperious, thoughtlessly cruel…

Princess Sophie?

I jumped. “I’m sorry, Lottie, I wasn’t paying attention.”

You have no need to apologize to me, Your Highness. I merely wished to know if you wanted your cloak.

I shook my head. “I won’t be going into the gardens this morning.” As painful as apologizing would be, it was still the right thing to do. And my family had taught me that it was the role of royalty to do the right thing regardless of how much it might cost.

You seem…distracted this morning, Princess Sophie.

The mild comment was the nosiest Lottie had yet been, so I tried to think of a way to not answer her question, but in an encouraging way. I might have admitted my struggle to Lily, but I didn’t wish anyone else to know about my internal tantrum.

Thankfully, before I could think of something, Tara burst into the room, already talking at full volume. You’ve won a friend for life in Doctor Henshaw, Princess Sophie. The servants are saying you kept the prince from the stables and got him to eat the broth the chef prepared. The poor man was terrified of sending it up. She giggled. I think he was afraid the prince might bring it back down himself and throw it in the chef’s face. But the doctor made him prepare it, anyway, assuring him confidently that the ‘plucky young princess’ would see he ate it.

I flushed at this evidence of the doctor’s belief in me. My remaining hesitation fell away. My gratitude for his rescue was not contingent on his gratitude for my rescuing him back. The Beast might not deserve my good attitude, but I did. I wanted to be a royal who earned respect, not one who demanded it.

When I arrived in the Beast’s chambers, however, a murmur of low voices greeted me.

“Good morning.” I walked into the room but stopped short when I saw the bed. The Beast lay against the pillow with his eyes closed and a sheen of sweat across his face. His body was rocked by spasmodic shivers, but he never opened his eyes. The murmurs stopped at my entrance.

Your Highness. The doctor’s greeting sounded polite but distracted. One of the white bandages began to unwrap itself and I saw a fresh splash of red across it.

“What happened?” My mind raced frantically through the previous day. Had I done something wrong?

I’m afraid the fever has taken hold. And his wounds have resumed bleeding.

“But he stayed in bed the whole day yesterday, I swear it.”

The bandages paused for a moment and then continued to move. And I have no doubt he would be in a much worse situation today if he had not done so. The situation now was unavoidable. I thought he meant to continue, but he fell silent.

Unavoidable? It didn’t seem like a natural progression of an illness to me. I frowned. “Does he have a weak constitution?” It would be surprising given his physical strength, but curses could work in strange ways.

Weak? No, indeed, he is exceedingly strong. And so we must hope he will recover from this setback.

I bit my lip. I had often daydreamed through Lily’s healing lessons, perhaps I was wrong about his illness. The doctor must surely know better than me.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

We have sufficient nursing staff at the castle to attend to his needs, there is no reason for us to trespass on your time, Your Highness.

I hesitated, and he moaned. Stepping forward without thinking, I dropped to my knees beside his bed. He moaned again, and I placed a hand on his forehead. “You must be strong, Beast,” I whispered.

He stilled instantly beneath my touch, and some of the tension seemed to leave his face. A soft whisper passed through the servants in the room that I did not try to decipher.

Well. It seems you have a soothing effect on the patient. Perhaps we could do with your services, after all, if you are willing. For a short time, at least.

“I am at your disposal for as long as you have need of me, doctor.” I had made the decision to help him live, and I didn’t intend to see him die now.

For the next three days, I spent most of my waking hours in the Beast’s chambers with the doctor and nurses. He was delirious, moaning and growling and writhing in his bed. Sometimes he had to be forcibly restrained so that he didn’t hurt himself. Only my touch and voice seemed able to calm him, so I hated to leave the staff to cope without me. Even when the doctor ordered me to my bed for some rest, I hurried back after only the smallest amount of sleep possible to allow me to keep functioning.

Their care and concern for their master never abated, and it both impressed me and piqued my curiosity. It was almost as if I wasn’t the only with reason to be grateful to him, and yet I had only seen him treat them with brusque disregard or outright anger.

If there was any part of them that felt, like I had done in the woods, that his death would be a freedom of sorts, neither their actions nor their words ever even hinted at it. They seemed, instead, truly concerned about his condition.

Occasionally I would be left alone with him while they rested or fetched new supplies, and when that happened, I would sit there and stare at his disturbed face. What was going on in his fevered dreams? Without audible words, he didn’t murmur or cry out.

On the third evening, during one such occasion, it occurred to me that he might not survive, and that I had never given my apologies or thanks.

It felt foolish, speaking to an unconscious person, but it also might be the only opportunity I had. Perhaps some part of my words might penetrate into his dreams.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for entering your room without your knowledge after telling you I would not.” He stilled as he often did at the sound of my voice. “And I never took the chance to thank you for saving my life from the wolves. You put yourself at risk for me, and I appreciate it.”

He stirred and for a moment I thought his eyes would open, but they did not. When I left his room that night, it was with a heavy heart.

But the next morning, when I rushed back in, I could sense a change in mood, even without listening for the exact words. I hurried to the side of the bed and saw that the Beast slept peacefully, his face calm and no longer coated in sweat.

Good news, said Doctor Henshaw, a smile evident in his tone. The fever has broken and the wounds have stopped seeping. I believe we are now on our way to recovery.

I smiled and sank into a nearby chair. A tension in my chest that I hadn’t realized was there eased. A blissful vision of my own bed flashed through my mind. Next time I lay down, I intended to sleep for twelve hours.

You should go and get some more rest, Princess Sophie, said Henshaw. You deserve it, and I don’t want to find you getting sick next.

“Are you sure?” I joked, having become comfortable with him over the last few days. “You might need me more than ever if he’s going to wake up at any second.”

Henshaw chuckled. Even the prince is not strong enough to get out of bed today. So you should take your rest while you can.

I grinned. “I’ve been warned, hey?”

I stood up to leave, but a hand gripped my wrist, holding me in place, and a weak voice said, Sophie. I looked down into clear blue eyes, free from the sheen of fever. I thought I heard you in my dreams, but I wasn’t sure if…

She has hardly left your side, Your Highness, said Henshaw. She has been truly tireless.

He frowned as if confused by his doctor’s words, and I pulled away, stung. Was it really so unbelievable that I would assist in a dangerous illness?

“You must excuse me, I was just on my way out.”

He said nothing further, but his eyes followed me as I moved to the door, and when I looked back from the doorway, I saw a hint of the pleading I had seen in them the first few times we met, before we could communicate.

But I had given everything I had to help him through his illness, barely sleeping for days. What more did he want of me now? My relief from earlier gave way to a deep weariness. He had been unconscious for days, I didn’t know why I had thought he would wake up with a different attitude. I left without speaking. I should have known better than to expect gratitude.

It felt good to do nothing for the day, other than take a short stroll through the garden. I considered resuming my search of the castle but couldn’t muster the energy. Tara and Lottie took it in turns to keep me company, and I found Lottie’s quiet presence and Tara’s constant chatter equally welcome. I invited them both to stay while I ate my evening meal, though they both refused to actually eat with me.

In retribution, I made them entertain me instead with accounts of each other’s physical appearances.

Tara volunteered to go first. Lottie is tall, and…um…willowy.

Skinny, you mean, said Lottie with a depressed tone. Without a single curve.

Willowy, said Tara firmly, sounding more supportive of Lottie than I had yet heard her. The trick to beauty is having confidence in yourself. Start thinking of yourself as willowy, and you’ll soon find everyone else does, too.

Only if I announce it loudly at every opportunity, muttered Lottie.

See! said Tara. You think you’re wounding me, but I take ownership of my outrageous statements—I’m refreshing and fun.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “And I’m forming a tall and willowy impression of you as we speak, Lottie.”

She has pale blonde hair, continued Tara. And gray eyes. And very long, elegant fingers.

Oh! Thank you, said Lottie, and I instantly wondered if the tall, shy girl had always been secretly proud of her elegant fingers. My heart warmed to Tara for noticing.

Now it’s your turn to describe me, said Tara.

Well…Tara is short, much shorter than me. And slim, but with a large…bosom.

I could almost hear her blush in the word, and Tara and I both burst into laughter.

“She’s blushing, isn’t she?” I asked.

I think she’s heating the whole room.

You would, too, if you had this horrid pale skin that turns red at the least emotion, said Lottie, roused almost to defiance. She ran the rest of her description together in her rush to get it out. She has golden-chestnut hair, brown eyes and toffee colored skin—lucky thing—which only seems to blush when she wants to look coquettish.

Coquettish? exclaimed Tara. What an excellent word!

By the time I had finished eating, I considered my efforts a great success, because Lottie had warmed up considerably and had actually entered into a conversation about Tara’s latest beau, a good-looking groom.

But doesn’t he always smell like horses? I imagined Lottie’s nose wrinkling in disgust, though her tone was mild enough. It amused me to picture outrageous expressions on the faces I had crafted for each of the servants I had come to know. Just one of the ways in which I kept myself from going crazy while trying to interact with a large number of invisible people. I longed for an ordinary conversation, without the extra strain that came from communicating without body language.

He does sometimes, admitted Tara. But he’s so perfectly delicious to look at, that I’m willing to overlook it. She giggled.

I think I would prefer a footman or, or a gardener, or something.

Oooh. Tara almost dropped the blanket she was busy folding. A particular footman or gardener perhaps?

No! Lottie rushed to deny the suggestion, but Tara laughed triumphantly.

She’s blushing again, she informed me. I think there is someone. Come on, Lottie, tell us. We promise we won’t breathe a word to anyone, will we, Princess Sophie?

“Oh, absolutely not.” I shook my head. “Who would I tell anyway? It’s not as if I would even know if I bumped into him in the corridor.”

Or the gardens, said Tara. Although I think he’s a footman. I’ve never seen Lottie lingering around the roses in her time off.

I don’t linger anywhere, said Lottie with dignity, but Tara ignored her.

I’m trying to think where I’ve seen you when you’re not here. Wait! I’ve seen you around the entrance hall a few times.

“What does that mean?” I found her flow of logic rather fascinating.

The footmen all have different areas of service. She sounded distracted. Three of the footmen in that section of the castle are already married, so that leaves… She trailed off, presumably to run through the remaining footmen in her mind. Connor and Robert are the best looking. I know several serving girls who are sweet on them, but Robert is so loud, it’s hard to imagine our Lottie being interested in him.

Goodness, no, interjected Lottie. He’s obnoxious.

“Well, that’s definitive. What about Connor?” I frowned. “And why does that name sound familiar?”

I think he was in the kitchens that first night, said Tara. Probably acting surly and suspicious of you.

“Oh yes, I remember now. Surely he’s not the one, Lottie.”

I think it’s Samuel, announced Tara. He’s cute but not too good-looking, if you know what I mean. Sort of friendly-looking and really sweet.

“He sounds perfect!”

Stop it, you two, Lottie mumbled. He’s not perfect.

I laughed. “Just perfect for you?”

Maybe. Her whisper was so quiet I could barely hear it.

Tara laughed again. She’s blushing even harder now. I think you’d make a wonderful couple. Is he sweet on you back?

Lottie sighed. I don’t think he even knows I exist.

Well, we definitely need to change that!

Lottie gasped. Don’t you dare!

You’re too shy to speak two words to him, aren’t you? But if he could just get to know the real you, underneath, I’m sure he would like you.

They began bickering light-heartedly, and I smiled to see how Tara had managed to break through Lottie’s reserve. It occurred to me how easy I found it to listen to them, and to separate their voices. I no longer had to strain to make my mind receptive. With practice, and possibly trauma and stress, my mind had adjusted to this new form of communication. Now all I wished was that I could see them. And that Lily could be here to share in the fun.

Eventually they both insisted I go to bed and, sure enough, I slept for a solid twelve hours. When I awoke the sun was shining, and I knew my first stop of the day would be the Beast’s chambers. It had been strange to spend an entire day so disconnected from his recovery after being so absorbed in it previously.