As I walked numbly back to my chamber, Gordon still chattering obliviously beside me, I fought to control my rebellious stomach. I could not accept the idea that I should have let the Beast die. No part of it felt right. Death was not the answer—surely the story of the Beast’s father demonstrated that.

As my mind continued to cartwheel furiously, further questions appeared. So much still hadn’t been explained. It seemed that King Nicolas’ monstrous acts had brought the godmothers back to Palinar earlier than they had returned to any of the other kingdoms. But they had come with wrath, not assistance.

And yet something had then changed. A godmother had helped Dominic. Another confirmation that my role here was not to bring about his death. But I had yet to hear even a hint of what had caused his beastly transformation. Or when. And the two stories were so hopelessly intermingled, that it was hard to make sense of one without the other. If the original curse had actually been to protect the people against their royals, then giving their prince fangs seemed rather counter-productive.

Or had the later godmother, the one who assisted him to see his people, also been the one to give him his own curse? Giving with one hand and taking away with the other.

I tried asking Gordon about the Beast’s transformation, but he had no idea. He forbade everyone from mentioning his family or from speaking of his curse.

“Then how have you overheard conversations about the king?”

Oh, that was before he returned. We had been cursed for two weeks before he appeared back at the castle.

“And you are not afraid to speak of it, then?”

It’s only the servants he forbade. You’re not a servant. My eyes widened at his strange logic, but I didn’t correct him. I had already benefited more than once from his strange misunderstanding.

Will you tell me about the wolves now? He sounded far too excited about my having been attacked by wild animals.

“Uhhh…” I tried to gather my thoughts together. “Well, I decided to go for a ride on my horse, and I ended up outside the castle grounds.” A less than complete version of events, but enough information for Gordon to possess.

As I told him the story, I lived it again, only this time I had a new perspective. I imagined the Beast not as the villain who had cursed his kingdom, but as a misguided boy, raised by an evil father, who had lost his entire family. Had King Nicolas also killed his own daughter? It was incomprehensible—but no more so than any of his other actions.

Could I wonder that a prince raised to power and privilege with only selfish ambition as his model had become arrogant and entitled? The real wonder was that any good instincts remained. I couldn’t imagine that King Nicolas had ever risked his own life to save another.

Some of the attitude of the servants made more sense now. Did they retain hope that their prince would grow to be more like his mother than his father? With Princess Adelaide gone, what other hope could they have?

When I returned to the Beast’s chambers that afternoon, I still hadn’t decided if I should mention my new knowledge to him. How would he respond if I asked him about it?

I had no idea what to expect on my arrival. I felt a pang of guilt that the servants might have left him alone as I had recommended. What if he had worked himself into such a rage that he set back his recovery? But I shook my head, rejecting the thought. Whatever his past, he was a grown adult who must take some responsibility for his own health.

I was listening extra hard as I approached, but I could hear no sounds at all. No one spoke to me in the corridor, and I wondered if that meant Henshaw was now stationed inside the room. Walking slowly in, I saw to my surprise that the Beast was in a light doze, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with his soft breaths. I stopped part way into the room, unsure if I should leave, and he opened his eyes.

For a long silent moment, we stared at each other. Could he read the conflicted emotions in mine? Was my new knowledge written across my face? I felt myself flush at the intensity of his gaze. I had never been looked at so intently in my life.

You came back.

I drew a deep breath, breaking the uncomfortable bond between us. “Of course.”

He frowned, and I felt a pang somewhere in the vicinity of my heart that he had been thinking I had truly left.

No one has ever said such things to me before. I opened my mouth to reply, but he held up his hand to silence me. No one has ever dared. And I have never apologized in my life. ‘A prince of Palinar doesn’t apologize to anyone.’ His words were slow, obviously causing him pain to say. But I have been thinking while you were gone. Perhaps…perhaps I have been wrong.

I waited for more, but he seemed to be finished. I wanted to roll my eyes. That was it? He didn’t intend to actually apologize? But I reminded myself of what I had just learned about his family. This was progress for him.

“We are all of us wrong sometimes,” I said gently. Hadn’t I just discovered I had been wrong about his role in the curse?

Sitting beside him, I picked up the book which still rested where I had dropped it earlier. I began to read. “Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom…”

* * *

The doctor insisted that the Beast remain in bed for another week. I suspected that he would have liked it to be longer, but he must have recognized that such a span was already a small miracle. My voice was hoarse from the hours I had spent reading aloud, and my mind strained from trying to think of ways to pacify a man who usually spent his days on horseback.

I tried to keep him talking about the systems of governance in Palinar, and I surprised myself at my interest in the differences between his kingdom and my own Arcadia. He often seemed impatient with me, but I kept reminding him that I had not been raised to rule Arcadia as he had Palinar. And if there were gaps in my education, I couldn’t blame my family. I had been the one sneaking fairy tales into my lessons to read instead.

At Dominic’s insistence, I visited Chestnut and his stallion, who turned out to be called Spitfire. His love for his horse seemed like the least beastly thing about him and, as I entered the stable, thoughts of him filled my mind. Perhaps I could gain some insight into him here.

I took the animals handfuls of treats, pleased when Matthew emerged not long after I arrived and settled in for a long conversation.

I hear you’ve got things well in hand up there in the big house, he said at one point, a hint of humor behind his placid words.

“I’m doing my best.” I sighed. “But it isn’t easy.”

No, he said. The young master has never been what I would call easy.

“It must have been difficult for him,” I said, as I brushed Chestnut’s mane, “with a father like that.”

Matthew remained silent for a long time, and I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t silenced him.

I used to be a senior groom in the capital stables, he said at last. I was tasked with teaching the young prince to ride. When he first started spending time out here at his own castle, he brought me with him and installed me as the stable master.

He was silent for another moment, and I kept quiet, as well.

When the prince is with the horses, I see a true ruler in him. Firm but gentle, authoritative but loving. I have been waiting many years to see him learn to view other people in such a manner. But perhaps such a day will never come. Still…we cannot live without hope.

“No,” I murmured. “We all of us need hope.”

I put down the brush with a sigh. “I should be returning. The prince will be anxious to hear news of Spitfire.”

One day you must return and tell me how he looked in action. He is one of the most magnificent stallions I have ever had the care of.

I agreed, hiding a smile. I hadn’t expected to hear the calm old stable master sound so much like Gordon. Apparently, the boy never quite disappeared, no matter how many years passed.

But as I left the stables, my smile dropped away. The smell of horses reminded me so forcefully of Lily, it felt like an actual pain in my chest. We had spent so many hours with our ponies and then our horses over the years. I couldn’t even see one without thinking of her. And my new-found independence didn’t change how much I missed her, both in person and in my head. She would have kept me laughing throughout the trying hours of the Beast’s recuperation.

On the first day that Henshaw permitted him to leave his bed, the prince insisted that he visit the gardens. Henshaw hemmed and hawed but eventually agreed. I could tell he would have preferred the prince restrict himself to his sitting room, but I could understand his desire for fresh air. I felt it myself.

When I went to leave the room so that Henshaw could get him up and help him dress, the prince held out a hand to stop me. I looked at him inquiringly, noticing that he looked a little pained.

Would you…would you like to come to the gardens with me?

“Is that a request, Beast, rather than an order? I’m shocked.”

I can rephrase it if you’d prefer. He glared at me, and I laughed.

“No, indeed. It suits you better than I would have supposed.”

He growled deep in his throat as I chuckled my way out of the room, but I decided to overlook it. I couldn’t expect miracles, after all.

We met half an hour later in the entrance hall, and the prince offered me his arm. I accepted it, remembering the only other time we had walked that way. So much had changed between us since then. I had spent so many hours gazing at him on his sick bed that his features no longer shocked me, for one. And for another, I had discovered that we unexpectedly shared some interests—I would never have predicted he could love gardens as I did.

But some things had not changed. He still asked me every evening if I would marry him the next morning, a question that had started to seem more ridiculous than insulting while he lay ill in bed.

The Beast walked slowly, his breath more labored than usual, but he did not lean on me. I marveled at the strength that had allowed such a quick recovery after such significant wounds and such a prolonged illness.

He led the way, and I followed silently, both of us apparently happy just to be free from the sick room. When we turned the corner of a tall hedge, I gasped. He looked down at me with a look of satisfaction. It is beautiful is it not? I thought you might like to see it, since you mentioned that you love roses.

I dropped his arm and ran forward, both hands pressed against my heart. The rose garden, which I had previously only glimpsed from afar, was unlike any I had seen before. Snow covered the ground, as it did everywhere in the castle grounds, and the deep colors of the roses stood out against the stark white. The bushes had been arranged in two concentric spirals, twisting around each other without touching, leading me deeper and deeper into the roses until they entwined in the center. On one of the spirals, the roses darkened as it coiled inward, on the other they lightened, so that in the center, brilliant crimson blossoms coiled around pure white ones.

I stood staring at them, overwhelmed by the beauty of the design and the color of the roses, complimented by the dark green of the leaves and stems and set against such a pristine backdrop. I heard the Beast approach more slowly behind me.

So, you like them?

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Truly.”

My mother designed it many years ago, when my grandfather was still alive, and my father was the crown prince. She was fascinated by the tower staircases.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. So, the roses reminded him of his mother, then. Did he have the same feeling of comfort and security here in the garden that I felt inside a library?

“They are very beautiful,” I repeated, not knowing how to put my feelings into words.

We strolled slowly from bush to bush, and the Beast told me the names of the different species, many of them ones I had never encountered before. My head gardener here is very skilled. He has adapted remarkably well to the…unusual conditions.

I snorted. Unusual conditions, indeed.

Rather than growing more tired, the Beast seemed to be energized by the walk and the cold air. His stride grew surer and his breathing easier. He looked incongruous amid the beauty of the garden. A monster who had wandered from his territory.

Looking at him standing there among the roses, I had a sudden flashback to my time in the carriage traveling here. I had been unable to imagine the Beast surrounded by flowers, and yet here he was. What would I have thought if I had known then what I knew now?

He looked back at me quizzically, and I shrugged at him.

We can come again tomorrow, if you’d like.

“I would like that, very much,” I said, surprising myself by the truth of my words.

* * *

We went to the rose garden every day for two weeks, and every day the Beast gained strength. He still had not thanked me for nursing him, or keeping him company, but sometimes I thought I could read gratitude in his eyes. He had become almost mellow as a patient, although the servants reported that he was more restless whenever I was gone. I was merely relieved that he had stopped haranguing them constantly.

By the end of the second week he seemed back to full health, and I marveled at his recuperative powers. Lily would have found him a fascinating patient, I was sure. I mentioned it to Henshaw, but he said the prince had always been like that, even as a young boy. Hearing that made me even more impressed since I had assumed it was a side effect of the curse.

We can all be glad of it, Henshaw had said. He might well not have made it if not for his strong constitution.

I longed to ask him why that would be such a terrible thing for the servants, but couldn’t think of a way to phrase it that didn’t sound awful.

As the Beast regained his physical strength, I had been afraid he would also resume the full force of his arrogance, but on the day that Henshaw declared him able to return to regular activity, he seemed unusually genial.

Eventually I couldn’t resist commenting on it. “Should I ask Henshaw to give you another examination?”

What do you mean?

“I think that was your second joke. Have you ever joked before…in your life? Maybe your fever has returned.”

The Beast growled, somehow turning the sound playful, and bent over a rose bush.

“What are you doing?” I asked, warily.

He glanced up at me, and I realized he had pulled the bush back and was about to release it, catapulting the snow covering it in my direction.

“Oh no. Oh no, you don’t.” I backed up, almost tripping in my hurry.

He grinned at me, exposing his fangs, as he took time to draw it even further back. I squealed and ran for it, my skirts tangling around my legs in my hurry. I didn’t quite make it around one of the bushes when icy shards exploded across my back, some of them managing to slip down the back of my neck.

I groaned and whipped the rest of the way out of sight in case he had a second bush already prepared.

You can’t hide forever, he taunted, a laugh sounding in his voice. You’re surrounded by snow covered bushes on every side.

“But I can hide a pretty long time,” I called back, before creeping behind a different bush. I peered through the leaves, and when he strode over to where I had disappeared, I quickly wove through another two bushes, keeping myself out of sight.

He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and after watching him for a moment from behind yet another bush, I realized he was following my footprints. I grabbed a whole armful of snow and began to run, crouched low so as to stay out of sight. I used the spirals of the garden to curve back around and come up behind him.

I must have made enough noise to give myself away because he began to turn. But before he could get fully around, I flung my snow into the air, dumping it over his head. He growled and shook himself, ice flying in all directions, but enough of it stuck to his hair to start dripping down his neck. I crowed in triumph.

He looked over at me, his eyes narrowing. Oh ho! You think you just won, don’t you?

I saw his intentions in his eyes a moment too late. Scooping up a handful of snow, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. Taking his time, he placed the ice on my head and began to crush it into my hair.

I squealed again. “Dominic!”

He froze, a look of shock crossing his face, and then he dropped his hand, allowing most of the snow to fall away. A single icy trickle down my back made me shiver, and he grabbed my other arm and pulled me closer to him, as if to warm me.

You’ve never used my name before.

I flushed and wished I could tear my eyes away from his. But something in their blue depths seemed to hold me in a different sort of captivity. I remembered the way his mere presence used to unsettle me when I first arrived—the raw power and intensity so different from anything I had encountered before.

And then, suddenly, he was the one to break away, striding away from me without a word. I watched him disappear between two hedges and took a deep breath. Because my heart was pounding as if I had just run through the garden, and I couldn’t quite convince myself it was from fear.