Dear Mlle Belle Gagnier,

First of all, I wish to apologize for my uncalled-for visit to your workplace last week. My intention was to offer you a job at my castle, one that I believed would be of interest to you based on stories I'd heard from your former townsfolk in Villeneuve. I now realize that I should have been more tactful in speaking with you, as I did not anticipate that you were still grieving for the loss of your father. Nor did I realize that I was directly responsible for his death through my own reckless behaviour.

I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, as I truly believe that your sharp wit and intellect would be a valuable asset to my castle staff. Furthermore, I think that you and I could…

Adam scrunched up the letter and tossed it into the fireplace to burn with the others. Oh, what's the use of trying? he thought, slouching in his chair despondently. He'd been going at it for an hour, and every letter he'd written only sounded worse and worse. Belle probably wouldn't even bother reading whatever apology note he sent her; only roll her eyes in disdain before ripping it to shreds. It was time to face the music: there was nothing he could do—no way of convincing Belle of his sincerity in asking her to work for him. Just as there was no way for him to go back in time and prevent Maurice's untimely death. He'd reached yet another stalemate in his time travelling ventures and could think of no way of fixing it.

A knock on the bureau door startled him from his thoughts. It was Chapeau, standing in the open doorway with a nervous expression. "Bonjour Master. I'm sorry for interrupting, but Marquis Vincent is here to see you. He's waiting for you in the salon."

"Marquis… Vincent?" Adam repeated slowly.

"Yes, Master. Marquis Vincent de Breil de Pontbriand. Your cousin?" Chapeau emphasized, seemingly accustomed to his master's sporadic lapses in memory by now.

"Oh, that Vincent," Adam replied. "Right! Well then, I'll be straight down."

Of course, the Prince wouldn't admit that he actually knew very little about his cousin in this universe. He hadn't seen him since his mother's funeral; no thanks to his heartless father, who'd deliberately cut him off from anyone who would distract him from becoming his vision of a perfect prince. All Adam knew about the Vincent in this universe was that they'd gone to university together and visited each other's castles several times in the past few years. Vincent also seemed to have a reputation for being a notorious troublemaker based on what Adam had learned about him from LeFou and the Enchantress's book. Knowing this latter detail, he wasn't sure if he was going to enjoy this surprise visit from him or not.

It was a strange experience for Adam to see Vincent ten minutes later, sitting in the salon in a dark blue jacket and breeches. He was no longer the gangly, freckled-face boy Adam remembered from childhood, but a grown man of twenty-four years of age, with broad shoulders, long brown hair and grey-blue eyes. He verbally greeted his cousin before sitting across from him, so they could speak face-to-face.

"I hope you don't mind if I camp out here for a little," Vincent began, helping himself to a plate of custard tarts the servants had left out on the table. "Père and I had another row yesterday. You know how it is. He said I'm tarnishing the family name, embarrassing him with my excessive drinking and gambling habits." He rolled his eyes and made a face. "As if he was any better when he was my age! He just won't admit it. Anyway, to add more salt to the wound, he's now asking me to go with him to the Emperor's birthday party next month to pick out a potential bride. He thinks it will 'man' me up somehow, having a wife to look after who can continue the family legacy." He sneered. "If he thinks that a marriage is going to change anything, he's even more of a fool than I thought."

"Well… do you at least have someone special in mind?" Adam asked, unsure of whether he was supposed to sympathize with his cousin or support his search for an "eligible fiancée."

The Marquis laughed. "Of course not. I've already been to all the parties in Paris, coz. I know who's available, and quite frankly, there's no one available who interests me. Take the Comtesse de Bruc for example. Her complexion is fair enough, but her eyes are far too bright. The Vicomtesse de Nompère de Champagny has no curves to speak of. And the Baroness de Vassal de La Barde has enough pimples on her face to look like her skin is made of porridge, especially when she tries to cover it up with all that powder. It's positively ghastly."

Still, I bet courting someone with a face that looks like breakfast is easier than courting a beast, Adam wanted to say. But he kept his thoughts to himself. After all, he was no saint when it came to judging women for their outward appearances. In fact, were it not for the Enchantress, he would probably still see them the way his cousin did; superficial objects whose sole purpose was to make men happy. He had a horrible feeling that the Adam of this universe continued to think of women that way, based on the way his cousin was speaking to him right now.

"Maybe if you engaged one in conversation, you'd have more to judge her on than her physical appearance," he suggested, unsure of what else to say.

"Oh, coz. We'd all like to think that, wouldn't we?" The Marquis smirked. "The truth of the matter is that the ladies of court have nothing of value to talk about. Believe me, I know. Père's made me dance with them every year, and the subject of their conversations is always the same: either a boring joke, a scripted social remark, empty compliments, something about the weather, the food, the music, the ballroom. It's terribly dull. Dull enough to make a man drink himself senseless all night; not that you haven't tried that before."

He flashed the Prince a knowing smile, to which Adam ducked his head self-consciously. "Well then, what should a woman talk about?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know." Vincent shook his head. "How about... anything? Their likes, their dislikes, their interests! Something that drives them crazy. Something that they can build a real conversation from. Something that will make them stand out in my mind as more than a painted face in a gigantic dress." He paused, lips lowering into a frown. "But what are the chances of finding a girl like that, eh? We both know that today's noblewomen are far too demure and fragile to ever dare speaking their minds. I'd be better off letting Père choose an empty-headed bride for me while taking a mistress or two on the side. Speaking of which, is Babette—?"

"No," Adam cut in, eager to shut down whatever his cousin was trying to say on the subject of his ex-courtesan.

His cousin tilted his head curiously. "Oho, keeping her for yourself now, are you? Is this l'amour I'm sensing?"

"No, no. It's not that." Adam shook his head flusteredly. "I've... given Babette a special job to do. She's busy nursing a former servant of mine."

"Oh." Vincent frowned. "Well that's a pity. I was looking forward to having some fun with her while I was here. But no matter." He shrugged. "I suppose I'll settle for taking my horse out for a ride in the woods instead. Or... we could see that opera performing in Lorraine on Saturday. It's called Alceste. Have you heard of it?"

"You know I don't like the opera, Vincent," Adam replied in disinterest.

"I know." His cousin grinned. "But that doesn't mean I won't stop persuading you to go."

They sat in silence for a minute, Vincent helping himself to some more tarts while Adam let his mind wander. His conversation with his cousin had reminded him of something Belle had said to him in the tavern: "As we were passing through the woods near your castle, one of our trunks fell out of the wagon. My father walked onto the road to retrieve it. And who should have shown up but you. You and that... ruddy cousin of yours, Marquis something-or-other. You were both riding your horses at breakneck speeds, right into my father's path."

"Vincent," said Adam, "refresh my memory for me. Did we ever do any horse racing when you visited me last summer?"

"Did we ever!" Vincent confirmed. "You're quite a show-off on that Arabian horse, you are. Why? You're not thinking of going again, are you? Because I can assure you that I've got a lot of practice in since then."

"Not... exactly." Adam bit his lip. "Vincent, when we went racing… was there ever a moment where we saw an old man in the woods with curly hair and glasses? And did I ever… run into him with my horse?"

"Certainement." Vincent nodded. "We got a good laugh out of it too. I mean, what kind of fool stumbles onto the road, right into the oncoming path of two noblemen on horses? He had to have either been blind or daft to pull off a silly stunt like that."

Adam winced, sickened by the casual manner of his cousin's words. "I found out last week that he died because of me," he confessed. "And... he left a daughter behind."

Vincent stared at his cousin in shock. Then, he laughed. "Goodness coz, is this why you're acting so serious? So what if you killed an old man? You're a prince—it's not like the authorities can arrest you for murder! Besides, it was his fault for being on the road when he wasn't supposed to be. He was already asking for a death wish! And maybe you killing him was better for him in the long run. You might have stopped him from suffering from a slow and painful death."

He flashed him a chilling smile, one that did little to lift Adam's spirits. This was Belle's father Vincent was talking about after all. Maurice may have made a mistake, but he was a good man and a talented artist, one who'd spent years protecting his daughter from the harsh realities of the world. He didn't deserve to die the senseless way that he did. But why would I care? Adam pondered. Like Belle had said, all he was in this universe was a spoiled and selfish beast. And a spoiled and selfish beast would think of Maurice as nothing more than a disposable piece of waste. He never thought he could hate himself any more until that moment.

Luckily, Vincent soon changed the subject, sharing a story about his sister Léa and his recent visit to his new brother-in-law's estate in Vertemuraille. While it was interesting to hear that Léa was married now, Maurice's death continued to weigh on Adam's mind for the rest of their conversation.

Later that day, Adam went to visit Lumière in his temporary bedchamber in the East Wing. He was awake now, and the sickly pallor from his face was gone, replaced by a healthy flush to his cheeks. Adam greeted him warmly before taking a seat next to his bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," Lumière replied with a smile. "I haven't felt this well-rested, since… well, I can't remember to be honest."

"I'm glad to hear. I presume that Babette has done a good job taking care of you?"

"Oh, she is a perfect ange, Master," Lumière agreed fondly. "I must have thrown up almost a dozen times by now, and she's never complained once. She carries herself with such poise and grace, like... a swan about to take flight against a stormy wind. I've never seen that much beauty and conviction in a woman before."

"Why, Lumière," Adam said, cocking his head in feigned surprise. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that you're starting to have feelings for my maid. Is that true?"

A dull blush crept onto Lumière's face. "O-Of course not!" he insisted. "I simply think she is… an admirable nurse is all." He lowered his head and sighed. "Fine. You've caught me. But what does it matter? A beau bijou like her could do far better than a disappointment like me."

"Oh, you mustn't give up hope, old friend," the Prince said encouragingly. "For all we know, she could already be interested in you."

Lumière perked up his head hopefully. "You really think so?"

"Well, not for certain, no. But surely it wouldn't hurt to talk to her and find out?"

"You're right." He nodded. "My name isn't Jean-Eugène Lumière for nothing after all. I charmed plenty of women in my younger years. I'm sure I still have some of that old 'spark' in me." He placed his hands over his chest, face alight with newfound confidence. "Yes. Once I've regained my strength, I will show Mademoiselle Babette who I truly am. I will find out what it will take to win her affections or die trying!"

The Prince chuckled. "Now you're starting to sound like your old self."

"Grâce à vous, Maître. By the way, I want to apologize for whatever I said to you back in Courbecour. I didn't mean any of it, really. After all that ale I drank, I just... wasn't myself."

"I understand." Adam nodded. "Believe me, I know a thing or two about what it's like to be on the wrong end of the bottle. But what happened to you exactly? I tried to find you at the Prince de Mailly-Nesle's household, and all they said was that you'd been fired for failing to perform your work duties."

Lumière lowered his eyes in shame. "I'm afraid it's true," he admitted. "But you must understand, Master. I wasn't in a good place there, not for a long time. Just imagine it: I'd spent years serving your family's household, building a home, community, and title for myself. Then, with one word from your father, I lost everything. I had to pack my things, find a new job, start all over again. And the new workplace that hired me was nothing like the one I left behind.

"The Prince de Mailly-Nesle wasn't a terrible employer," he went on. "But there was no room for me to be myself in his household. His majordomo must have changed my job position so many times, I eventually stopped caring. There were a lot of foolish things I did in my last few months of employment there that I regret doing now." His eyes looked off into space for a moment, haunted by old memories. Adam hated to see him look that way.

"Well… I'm glad I found you when I did," he said in an effort to cheer him up. "I—We could really use you here."

It worked. Lumière focused his gaze back on the Master and smiled. "Thank you, my prince. Rest assured, I am more than willing to serve you again if you'll have me. Call me an old sap, but this place has been more of a home to me than any other place I've lived in or worked in before. If you didn't bring me back here, I fear I may have lost my wits completely." He stopped for a moment to wipe some emotion-stricken tears from his eyes. When he finished, he changed the subject asking, "Master... forgive my curiosity, but I've been hearing rumours from the others—well, whispers really that you haven't been acting yourself lately."

Adam raised an eyebrow, pretending to look shocked. "Really?"

"Oui. They say that you seem unsettled about something, but they don't know what. I would never pry into your personal affairs without your permission of course, but is there anything I can do to help?"

Adam reluctantly crossed his arms. While he could easily dismiss Lumière's question, he felt that he could trust him with the truth; more than he could with LeFou and the servants anyway. Lately, they'd all been treating him like an explosive, set to go off at any minute. He didn't like it one bit. "It's difficult to explain, Lumière," he began. "Recently, I learned that I… wronged someone in one of the worst ways imaginable. I've apologized and compensated them for what I did, but they still won't forgive me. I don't know what else I can do to make things right."

"Ah, if only we could all forgive and forget as easily as the saints do," Lumière said in warm understanding. "But I suppose it's only human nature for some to hold on to grudges longer than others. Take Cogsworth, for example. He still hasn't forgiven me for staining red wine on the dining room carpet, and that happened over ten years ago!" He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "All I can say is that if you've already apologized to this person and given them compensation for it, then there's nothing more you can do, except forgive yourself and move on."

"But what if I can't?" Adam questioned. He'd changed time so he could have a fresh start with Belle. He couldn't sit here now, knowing that door had already shut before he'd had a chance to see what was on the other side.

"You are my prince, Master. I know you can," Lumière reassured. "Oh… you've always been so down on yourself, even when you were a little boy. Do you remember when your father took you out into the woods to shoot your first buck? It couldn't have been a cleaner shot, but you were too scared to pull the trigger. You returned to the castle in tears, and your father was furious."

"My memory isn't that terrible, Lumière," Adam said pointedly. "Also… it was a doe, not a buck."

"My mistake." He shrugged his shoulders. "So then, do you remember what your mother said to you after?"

The Prince rested his chin on his hand, thinking. "She said… not to be discouraged," he recalled. "And that maybe I wasn't meant to be a hunter, but I would find my own special talent one day. And when I did, it would make the kingdom a better place."

"Exactly." Lumière smiled. "You still have that potential, Master. I believe in it, and I know the others do too."

"It's not that I disagree with you, Mr. Potts," Adam overheard Cogsworth saying as he was passing through the atrium later that day. "But you know how the Master feels about having uninvited guests at his castle. Lumière is one thing, but he hasn't even met this girl before! We have to think of a way to ease him into the situation, or else he might—"

The majordomo cut himself off as the Prince turned the corner. His eyes grew wide with alarm. "Ahem. Good afternoon, Your Highness," he said in a fast and uncharacteristically high-sounding voice. "I must say... you're looking exceptionally dapper today."

He flimsily tried to shield the Prince from the display behind him, but it was no use—Adam had already seen everything. Mr. Potts stood in the foyer with a cluster of servants, most likely bystanders to the conversation that had passed between him and Cogsworth. In Mr. Potts's arms was what Adam first assumed to be a pile of large, dirty rags, but upon closer inspection, realized was an actual person. And not just any person. It was a sickly and malnourished Belle. She lifted her head a fraction and smiled at the Prince in weak recognition. "Hello, Your Highness," she greeted, her voice as raspy as dry leaves. "It's not too late to ask you for a job... is it?"

Adam's heart skipped a beat. He felt as though Belle had become the center of the universe, and all he could do was gape at her, unable to believe that she was here, and appalled at how quickly her health had deteriorated in the short time that had passed since he'd seen her in the tavern. "Take her to one of my guest suites," he commanded, "and find the physician."

"Right away, Master!" Mr. Potts affirmed. He adjusted his hold on Belle and gave her a reassuring smile. "Come now, Belle. We're going to get you some help."

They were out of the Prince's sight in an instant, accompanied by a reluctant Cogsworth and an entourage of worried servants, eager to do whatever they could to help the poor newcomer.

It had to be one of the longest waits of Adam's life. He stood anxiously outside of Belle's temporary bedchamber as the castle physician and a handful of female servants tended to her inside. His only company was Mr. Potts, LeFou, and Cogsworth, who waited attentively by the bedchamber doors. Whether this was out of concern for their Master or concern for Belle, Adam couldn't discern.

"Master, I'm sorry for bringing the girl into the castle without your permission," rambled Mr. Potts, removing his hat and twisting it in his hands nervously. "It's just… she had nowhere else to go. Her name is Belle Gagnier, and she used to live in my village. I went to Rabelais this morning to pick up a shipment for the castle when I saw her wandering the streets, begging for money and coughing something dreadful. She said she'd been fired from her job at the local tavern for not satisfying enough customers or summat." He slouched his shoulders sadly. "It broke my heart to see her in such a state. I knew I couldn't leave her like that. So, I took her to the only place I could think of where she'd be safe."

"You did the right thing, Mr. Potts," the Prince said encouragingly. In fact, I ought to thank you for finding her, or else I may have never got another chance to make amends with her.

The doors to Belle's room opened. Out came the physician, Docteur Pomme, with a tired and defeated look on his face.

"How is she?" Adam asked anxiously.

"Not good, Master," Docteur Pomme replied wearily. "The girl appears to be in an advanced stage of consumption. It's a miracle she's managed to last this long without seeing a doctor. All I can suggest is that we let her rest while I read up on some possible remedies."

Adam gulped nervously. If Belle had consumption, then she was even sicker than he thought. He knew how serious that condition could be, having seen it take his mother's life back when he was twelve years ago. "You have my permission to provide her with whatever she needs to be comfortable," he told the physician, vowing not to lose Belle the same way he'd lost Henriette. "If there are any medicines she needs, I'll cover all the expenses for them."

"Master, forgive my intrusiveness, but are you suggesting that you would spend your resources on a common girl you've never met before?" Cogsworth asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"I'm… trying to be a Good Samaritan," he explained. "Besides, it sounds like she's been through quite a lot already."

Adam would have gladly waited outside Belle's bedchambers until she was well enough to see him, but royal duties took priority. He spent the rest of the day reading and signing some papers in his study, before having dinner with Vincent and joining him in a game of chess.

It wasn't until the next morning that Docteur Pomme deemed Belle well enough to see visitors. Adam made his way to her room without a moment's hesitation, briefly stopping at the doorway to watch her sleep.

She looked so fragile and tiny, even from a human perspective. Her hair, which she'd always braided or pinned behind her head, now lay loose and lifelessly around her shoulders. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was as pale as the white pillows she was sleeping against. Whatever fullness she used to have in her face was gone; replaced by sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones. Adam didn't want to believe that this was the same Belle he'd once danced with in another reality, but in his heart, he knew that it was.

Belle slowly stirred and opened her dark brown eyes. "Your Highness?" she said hoarsely.

"Uh, good morning Mademoiselle Gagnier," Adam responded, forcing himself back into the present. "I hope that everything is to your liking?"

"Well of course it is," she replied, furrowing her brows as though she found something strange about his question. "Thank you for letting me stay at your castle. I've never slept in a more beautiful room before. I reckon that it's even larger than my old house in Villeneuve."

The Prince had to force himself not to laugh. He didn't have the heart to tell Belle that his own bedchamber was twice the size of this one and that he could easily move her into a larger room if she wished. "I... wanted to apologize again," he said, stepping closer to her, "for what I did to your father. I truly never meant for it to happen. In fact, I've been regretting it every day since you told me."

"What's done is done, Your Highness," Belle replied, her voice full of unexpected warmth and compassion. "I forgive you now."

He tilted his head, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. "You… do?"

"Well, there's nothing for it, really," she admitted. "At my last confession in Rabelais, the priest told me I have to let go of personal grudges I have against people. Under the circumstances… I suppose it's only right that I start with you."

"You still went to church," he noted with surprise.

"Just because I was a prostitute doesn't mean I stopped believing. My life at the tavern was another job, one I had to do to survive." She suddenly let out a shuddering cough, which shook her body to the core and drained whatever colour was left on her youthful face. She quickly grabbed the handkerchief next to her pillow and placed it to her mouth to muffle the sound.

When the coughing subsided, Belle withdrew the cloth. It was now covered in fresh bloodstains, much to Adam's horror.

"Oh, your servants have been so kind to me," she continued, tossing the bloody handkerchief aside like it was nothing. "They gave me all these wonderful books to read, but I'm not sure I have enough strength to keep my eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time." She gestured to a pile of fiction books on the bedside table, which the servants had brought from the library as per their master's request.

"I could read something to you if you wish," he offered.

"You could?" She quirked an eyebrow. "But you're a prince. Don't you have more important things to do?"

"I do. But not for another hour at least." Technically, Adam wasn't lying. He had promised to go horseback riding with Vincent after lunch, though he'd much prefer to stay here and talk with Belle. He hadn't had a conversation with her in ages and hadn't known how much he missed sharing these quiet moments with her until now.

"Well"—she bit her lip pensively—"if it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all." He moved to the bedside table to look at the selections. "What shall I read to you? Something with a bit of romance maybe? Heartache? Pining?" He smirked at his own joke.

Belle coughed again. "Anything is fine with me, Your Highness."

In the end, he chose the book on the top of the pile: an illustrated collection of fairy tales by Charles Perrault. He took a seat next to Belle's bed and turned to the first page, which contained a drawing of Cinderella in rags with a broomstick in hand. He looked up at Belle, who was waiting patiently for him to start reading. Except this wasn't the story he wanted to tell her. Not now, anyway.

So instead, he told her a new story. One about a beauty and a beast.

He had to change a few details, of course. Belle's name was now Judith, and instead of living with her father, she lived with her father, five sisters and six brothers in a derelict part of the French countryside. Her father wasn't an artist, but a merchant, who'd been forced into poverty after losing all his wealth at sea. He'd met the nameless Beast at his enchanted castle, while en route to pick up a surviving shipment at a distant city.

After that, the tale very much paralleled the one they had lived through in their original timeline. Adam recounted how Judith had boldly taken her father's place as the Beast's prisoner, and how she and the Beast had initially regarded each other with disdain, which changed to mutual respect after they'd saved each other from a pack of wolves in the forest. Not long after, they discovered their common interest in literature, and spent hours in the Beast's library, sorting through old books and reading passages aloud to one another. It was at this point the Beast began to develop feelings for the unconventional, yet beautiful peasant girl who'd traded her freedom for her father's. He found excuses to spend more time with her, joining her for meals and accompanying her on long walks in the castle grounds. He even organized a private dance for the two of them, one that he hoped would end with them confessing their love, so he could break the spell that had held him and his servants captive for so many years.

But the moment never came. After the dance, Judith admitted how terribly she missed her father, and out of pity, the Beast allowed her to use his magic mirror to see him. The mirror showed them a sick, dying old man calling out for his beloved daughter. It broke Judith's heart to see her father in such a state, just as it broke the Beast's heart to see Judith in so much pain. And so, he made one of the most painful decisions of his life. He let her return to her father with no strings attached. She was his prisoner no longer.

By the time he'd reached the end of the story, Belle had fallen asleep again. Adam softly closed the book, wiping a tear from his eye as he returned it to the table. He'd never known that recalling the past could take such an emotional toll on him. Just as he'd never known that giving up Belle could leave him so heartbroken and empty. He nearly jumped as he heard her cough and speak again.

"Wait. That's all?"

He turned back to her with a start. "What?"

"The Beast let Judith go back to her father, and that's it?"

"Well… of course." He nodded. "That's how the story ends."

Belle narrowed her eyes in confusion. "But what about the spell? I thought the Beast needed to earn Judith's love to become a prince again."

"He did," he confirmed. "But in the end, he decided that it didn't matter anymore. It was never really about becoming human again, you see. It was about learning to let go. All his life, the Beast thought only of himself. When he was a human, he cared only about outward appearances, collecting beautiful things and spending his company with the most beautiful people. Even when he was a beast, he continued to run his household with the same self-entitlement he had as a prince. But that night was the first night he realized that someone's needs were more important than his own. He let Judith go, understanding that even though he'd never have that chance to be human again, she'd be happy and free. That was his real transformation."

Belle pursed her lips, thinking. "I still think she would have come back."

"Really?" He looked at her in surprise.

"Well, not immediately, but after a certain amount of time, yes. The Beast was kind to her, and they seemed to have a lot in common once they got over their initial differences. Maybe she just needed some time away from the castle to sort out her feelings. I mean, she went to the castle to find her father first of all. I doubt she expected to fall in love with his captor, much less a talking beast. Maybe in time, she'd realize that she did feel something for him and go back to..." Her voice trailed off, and her expression suddenly grew sad. "Oh, what am I saying? I'm no love expert. I've never even been in love before. And now… I never will be."

There was an extra measure of remorse in her last sentence that pulled at Adam's heartstrings in a way he didn't know possible. He felt a strong urge to take her hand and comfort her but realized how improper that would be and stopped himself. "There's still time for you, mademoiselle," he said instead.

"No." She coughed again. "I don't think there is. I've heard Docteur Pomme talking about me and how far my infection has spread. It will be a miracle if I last the week."

"You're… not afraid?"

"To die?" She snorted. "Everyone dies at some point, Your Highness. It won't be that bad. At least I'll see my Papa again. And my Maman. I never knew who she was, you know. She died when I was a baby. My Papa used to paint all these portraits of her and tell me all these wonderful stories about her, but the one story he refused to tell me was how she died. When I'm in heaven, maybe I'll finally learn the truth."

But you did know, Belle, Adam wanted to say. Your mother died of the plague back in Paris. We travelled back to your old home together and saw everything: your cradle, your baby rattle, the doctor's mask. You were so upset, and you asked me to bring you home... But once again, he realized how inappropriate that would be, and kept his mouth shut.

"Maybe this is God's way of punishing me," Belle went on. "Maybe I should have accepted Gaston's marriage proposal when I still had the chance."

"I have to respectfully disagree, mademoiselle," Adam replied. "I've met this Gaston fellow before, and he's quite the brute. He has no sense of personal boundaries and has an ego big enough to rival that of Narcissus." He grimaced. "There are so many better suitors to choose from."

Belle stared at him intriguingly. "Did you just reference a character from Greek mythology, Your Highness?"

"Well, I did have an expensive education."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It came from Père Robert, who peered through the doorway with a bible in hand. "Oh, good morning, Your Highness," he said with a bow. "Forgive my interruption, but I'm here to deliver Belle's last rites and confession."

The Prince lifted his brows in confusion. "Why are you doing that? She's just a little sick, that's all. She's going to get better."

"It never hurts to be cautious, Your Highness," the priest replied with a sad smile.

Adam reluctantly saw his point. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew that it wasn't right to deny Belle her personal time with the Lord. "Very well." He turned back to Belle. "It was nice talking with you, Mademoiselle Gagnier."

"Likewise, Your Highness." She smiled. "Thank you for the nice story. I've actually never heard of that one before. Did you say what it was called?"

"I didn't. It's called, um… Beauty and the Beast."

He stood up and left the room to give Belle and Père Robert their privacy.

Adam spent the afternoon racing his horse through the forest with Vincent, letting him win a couple of times to make him happy. Along the way, they passed by the old game trail Adam had taken with his father fifteen years ago to shoot his first deer. It was such a peculiar memory for Lumière to bring up, and Adam couldn't help but wonder how he still remembered it after all these years.

There was one major piece of the story that the old maître d' was missing of course, and it was a part that Adam had never disclosed to anyone before. The truth was, he hadn't been scared to shoot that doe because of the way it looked at him, but because of what it looked like.

The doe had shimmering golden eyes. The more the Prince stared at it, the more he sensed that there was something powerful and mystical about it; that something bad would happen if he tried to kill it. He turned to his father to voice his fears, but he curtly dismissed him. He said he was making excuses and to "shoot the damn thing already." In his eyes, there was nothing wrong with the animal at all.

The Prince had never told a soul what he'd seen ever since.

Adam and Vincent returned to the castle after sundown, moving their horses into the stables before entering the atrium. A shaken-looking Cogsworth was there to greet them.

"Ahem. Good evening Your Highness. Your Lordship," he said, addressing the two nobles with an odd sniffle. "Mrs. Potts has informed me that your dinner is about forty-five minutes behind schedule. The girl, Mademoiselle Gagnier, she…"

His next few words sent a terrible chill down Adam's spine. No. It's not true. It can't be!

But it was.

He sprinted to Belle's room, to find her lying in bed with the same unnatural stillness he'd seen in his mother thirteen years ago. Her hands were clasped over her chest, her face was as white as pearls and her lips were tainted blue.

He could only silence his internal screaming long enough to hear Docteur Pomme explain that she'd stopped breathing a couple of hours ago and fallen unconscious. He'd tried his best to resuscitate her but gave up after her heart had stopped beating.

"It was a peaceful death, Master," he said, trying to reassure him. "Quick and painless. Not like the other patients I've treated."

But Adam didn't care. He wasn't sure if he could care about anything anymore. The Lord had taken Belle away from him, leaving only an empty vessel of the woman he loved and would never have.