Chapter 15
The Queen's masquerade was considered the grandest annual event in the history of the kingdom. Lords and ladies, princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses from all corners of the kingdom flocked to the castle for a night of dancing. Everyone who was anyone attended and it was considered an honor to receive an invitation.
"You will have a wonderful time, Piper!" Jeanine said, brushing her hair until it shone like glass. "I guarantee it."
Piper sat on the bed, staring listlessly out at the falling snow. January had brought no respite from the relentless snow, but still Piper loved it. She remembered walking through the castle grounds …
A silent sob choked her. Why did they not let her go? It had been a month already. Did they think she had forgotten him?
"Why do you keep me here?" Piper asked suddenly, looking at her sisters. "I must leave."
Jeanine glanced at Veronica. They had indeed thought she had forgotten him. And they had selfishly kept her here to watch Mr. Harris. He was progressing along nicely in his illness since Piper had come home.
"Surely you don't think he remembers you," Veronica said smoothly, while the maid laced her corset. "It has been almost a month."
"Either way, I must go to him. Please let me leave." Tears sparkled in Piper's eyes but her sisters did not see them—or if they did, they paid no mind to the fact that they were breaking their sister's heart. They were not that kind of people.
Veronica looked at her sister. "Are you sure you want to go back? I swear he does not remember you."
"He does remember me, I know he does." But her voice was less sure. She had been unable to find the mirror since she had come home and couldn't even watch Raoul anymore. Would he really forget her?
"Very well," Veronica said, sighing. "If you come to the masquerade tonight, we'll let you go to your beast."
"He is not a beast," said Piper angrily but her sister ignored her and went back to the mirror.
The illness tore through Raoul's body, making him so weak he could hardly stand. He was confined to the darkness of his chambers, to gazing out the window at the softly falling snow but not seeing any of the flakes. Mrs. Lamphrey brought him food and drink but when she came to collect the tray, the meals were always untouched. In the beginning he had eaten a little but now he refused to even take a sip of water.
It made the transformations harder, this refusal to eat. It weakened his body and made the usual pain increasingly harder to bear. But Raoul did not care. Day by day, night by night, he kept his silent vigil by the window, his eyes empty windows of inexplicable sadness.
"Why does she not come?" Mrs. Lamphrey whispered one night to Mrs. Thomas the dressmaker as they sat sipping tea. It must have looked interesting to watch the cups move up and down in invisible hands.
"Perhaps she wanted to get away. Perhaps the master frightened her."
"No." Mrs. Lamphrey shook her head. "I think she was beginning to love him."
There was a tinkle of china as Mrs. Thomas dropped her cup. "Love him?" she repeated. "Isn't that enough to break the curse?"
"No. It requires professed love on both sides."
"Well, there is no doubt the master will do such a thing as soon as she returns."
Mrs. Lamphrey hesitated. "There is another condition," she said slowly. She had not spoken of it to anyone since the day she had heard Tovu talking to himself in the hall.
"And?"
"The master must selflessly sacrifice something very dear and precious to him because it was his pride that condemned him in the first place."
"Hasn't he changed? Is that not enough?"
"It should be, but it is not. This wizard cursed the master forever."
The dance was unbearable. Nobleman after nobleman asked Piper to dance but she declined, praying for three o'clock when she could leave. She had tried slipping out more than once but one of her sisters had grabbed her and steered her back in, keeping a firm hold on her arm. The glittering couples and whirling dresses made Piper sick. She longed for the quiet comfort of the castle's library, to be reading or dancing through the snow. Yet she was here and she felt chilled and dizzy, as if she were ill.
"Enjoy yourself, Piper," Veronica had instructed. Piper could not enjoy herself. She glanced at the clock. A quarter to three. She glanced at her sisters and saw they were both engaged with handsome young men and their fifth or sixth glasses of champagne and not liable to see her leave. Quietly, she slipped out and in no time at all, she had disappeared into the whirling snow.
It was all going according to plan. The old man rubbed his hands gleefully. Soon Piper would arrive at the castle and then came the breaking of hearts, the crushing of lives.
His part in the plan. The really enjoyable part. The time when he ruined everything.
The servants heard the big door slam at six o'clock but thought it was the wind, not realizing that even the wind couldn't open the door. They went about their lives until, as if by magic, a woman's voice pierced through the gloom:
"Hello? Is anyone here? Raoul?"
They couldn't believe it. They raced to the main hall and found a young woman standing in the hall, cold and frozen, her auburn hair a pile of tangles, grey eyes shining with worry.
"Piper!"
Mrs. Lamphrey rushed forward and enveloped the shivering girl in her arms. Piper looked up, her face pained.
"Where is Raoul?"
Instantly, the great hall was quiet. Mrs. Lamphrey was grateful for the invisibility that hid the look on her face. Slowly, carefully, she replied:
"He is very ill, child. Your absence has—has made the desire to live—"
"He is almost dead."
The new voice shattered the silence. Mrs. Lamphrey recognized Tovu's voice and whirled around in the direction she heard him speak, anger written on every line of her face. Even though one could not see her, everyone felt the fury permeating from her figure.
"Tovu, I thank you to—"
"I must go to him," Piper said, her face white, lips trembling. "Where is he?"
Silently, Mrs. Lamphrey led Piper to the Great Tower. She knocked softly on the door, but expected no answer. When none came, she quietly opened the door.
"Master?" she whispered, looking towards the master's chair and shivering. It was unbearably cold in here. But the master was not in the chair. With dread in her heart, Mrs. Lamphrey's eyes turned to the balcony. Raoul was standing there, a figure of pain and torment, the transformation to man complete for today. He was staring out at the snow, leaning against the glass with the finality of death.
Mrs. Lamphrey heard a sharp intake of breath as Piper choked back a sob deep in her throat. The girl's face was as pale as the snow and one could see the deep pain in her eyes.
"Have I done this?" she whispered and Mrs. Lamphrey saw Raoul's back stiffen. Slowly, painfully, he turned around and his dark eyes met Piper's.
She was standing there. He could not believe it. The illness was making him hallucinate; seeing Piper was merely an illusion. It could not be.
But yet he could not tear his eyes from her. How could he? Illusion or not, it still looked exactly like his Piper. And she looked beautiful. She was wearing some sort of ball gown but he paid no mind. His eyes never left hers.
"Oh Raoul!" she said and suddenly she was running toward him, tears streaming down her cheeks, slender hands outstretched.
It all happened in slow motion. Her fingertips had nearly touched his when the castle seemed to shake on its foundation and he was knocked to his knees. Piper landed beside him and the warmth of her hand sent a shock through his emaciated body. It was his Piper. The darkness of his gaze met the soft grey orbs.
"My, isn't this sweet!"
The voice … he had heard it before, laughing as he had transformed into the wolf, a voice that would haunt his dreams forever.
Slowly, pain travelling up his body, he turned to see the enchanter standing the open window, grinning gleefully at the sight of another's torment.
Illness forgotten, he was on his feet in an instant, leaping toward the enchanter. A low growl formed deep in his throat; he wanted to taste the man's blood on his lips, feel his life slowly oozing out from under Raoul's fingers. He had not remembered, though, that the man was an enchanter.
It was easy for the old man to fling the prince to the side. A simple flick of the fingers and Raoul's body crashed against the pillars and slumped motionless to the floor.
He turned to Piper who spared him hardly a glance before running to Raoul's side and cradling the prince's broken body in her arms. He smiled, even when she gave him a look of the utmost loathing.
"You are a monster," she said.
He smiled.
"Perhaps."
He walked around the room, taking in the surroundings. The servants clustered near the door, watching him in fear, their eyes glancing to Piper and the still form of the master.
"I was under the impression you thought no one a monster, my dear," he said suddenly, turning to the girl on the floor.
"I hadn't met you," she said, her voice cool—but the servants could see the fear in her grey eyes.
The enchanter smiled again. "Harsh words."
"Then you deserve them."
The smile deepened unpleasantly. He turned to where the servants stood, his still-smiling eyes glancing across the huddle as if he could see past the invisibility they wore like a shield. There was a collective shudder; Piper could feel it across the room.
"Go."
One word, and the servants dispersed as if by magic, their feet taking them out of Raoul's room, down the stairs. Though some struggled, it was futile. Magic held them by the hands.
The enchanter turned to Piper. The fear in her eyes was very real, but she glared stubbornly at him, calling upon the deepest recesses of her courage to not look away from the enchanter's eyes.
The old man grinned, teeth bared like a bear—like a beast. Piper shuddered. When he spoke, his words fell like quiet thunder.
"I have a proposition for you."
