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Also, thank you to Baroness Orc for inspiring me to better writing/revising on this story. I greatly appreciate it!
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Chapter 11
Isabelle did not want to face the next morning, but she pulled herself out of bed, praying that Trestan would not leave without saying goodbye. Isabelle found the bear in the great hall, the place they had first met. Trestan paused, backpack in paw, when he saw her.
"I just wanted to tell you," Isabelle said stiffly. "Goodbye," she said. On impulse, she kicked the glass slippers off of her feet and thrust the glass slippers toward him. "Take these, you will need them more than I."
"Thank you," Trestan said brokenly, "but I cannot take them. They would not fit on my tiny, girlish feet. You should keep them," he said, paws clenched. "I have a gift for you."
Trestan opened one paw. On it sat a breathtaking ring set with rubies and diamonds. "Take this. Belonged to my grandmother, Christarina Conradi. If you show this to any of my subjects, it will guarantee you safe passage, food, and lodging. It is wrought in the sign of the royal family of Conradia." He slipped the ring onto her fingers with a dexterity Isabelle did not expect from his burly paws.
"I can never repay this," Isabelle sniffed, turning away to subtly dab at her eye. "My thanks. May all good things follow you." She curtseyed to Trestan. He took her by the hand and wiped her tears with the back of his paw.
"It is for the best," Trestan shrugged. "Farewell." With this he shouldered his pack and headed for the door.
"Wait," Isabelle shouted, running after him. Trestan turned back in front of the open door. Isabelle flung her arms around him, amazed at the softness of his fur and the strength of his arms. "I will miss you."
"As will I," Trestan pulled himself away, and with a look of regretful resolve, strode out the door and onto the path that led down the hill and to the village beyond.
Isabelle stood, rooted to the spot. She still did not believe that Trestan could be leaving. All she could do was watch him walk down the hill: her voice couldn't work, her feet would not move. Even if she could run after him, or shout to him, what would she do or say?
When Trestan disappeared from her view, Isabelle found her feet enough to fly to the room with the best view of the road to the village: the library. From the window there, Isabelle observed as Trestan became further and further away. He never looked back, or hesitated in mid-step. Soon enough, he was down on all fours, as if abandoning her as quickly as possible.
Once the bear was lost from view forever, Isabelle numbly left the window. She could not stay in the library, Trestan's favorite haunt. Isabelle wandered the rooms, wishing for Trestan to turn back and to say he was wrong, or at least for something to ease the pain of his leaving. Isabelle found nothing; besides, he was probably glad to get away from her and to finally find a way to solve his curse. Still, Isabelle half-expected to meet Trestan around a corner or through a door. The thought of spending the rest of the winter alone was unendurable.
Trestan would not turn back, Isabelle knew. He always could find a way to do what he put his mind to, like with moving the cabinet during her first days at the castle. The only way to get him back would be to go after him, Isabelle decided. She would follow him, dispose of her pride, and beg him to come back with her. If he would not return to the castle on Goble Hill, she would go with him, whether he wished it or no.
Isabelle changed into her gold kirtle, dark green overdress, and russet cloak, then packed a small bag with food, her pink gown, and the slim volume of The Iliad as a peace offering once she met up with Trestan. She couldn't bear to leave her pink dress behind.
Isabelle took a lace from her long-discarded pair of boots and tied the ring around her neck; it was too bright to wear upon her finger without attracting attention to it. Isabelle finally let herself examine the ring that Trestan had given her: a large heart-shaped ruby surrounded by a ring of small diamonds and five smaller rubies on a silver band. Isabelle loved it, but she would use it in any way necessary to get Trestan back.
It was three minutes to noon on the big clock in the great hall. Isabelle packed her glass slippers into the bag that she slung across her back.
As the clock struck eerily, the silver mist descended on Isabelle and she became a wolf. She bolted out the door and down the hill. She could faintly smell Trestan's trail with her wolf's nose; he always smelt faintly of wood smoke, she recalled. Funny how she did not remember this until he had left.
Isabelle ran for hours. Eventually, she stopped for a quick rest. Trestan was getting closer; Isabelle knew. She could not wait to see him again, even though they had only parted that morning. What would she say once she found him? Isabelle decided not to think about it—she would know when the time came. She had caught her breath and began to run once more.
Isabelle stopped when she reached the village; a fair amount of people were outside—the winter was not too cold today. Trestan was inside the village somewhere, she could smell him. Isabelle circled the outskirts of the village, picking her way between the heaps of garbage, trying to get a glimpse of Trestan. She found him at last, pint of ale and pastry in hand; he had always liked pastries, Isabelle mused. She had to think of a way to get his attention without the whole village noticing.
Before she could think of a plan, Isabelle noticed what Trestan was doing and halted in disbelief. Trestan was talking very animatedly to an extraordinarily pretty girl, who, Isabelle noticed with outrage, was wearing a trampy dress cut far too low in front to suit Isabelle's tastes.
Livid, Isabelle thought of the only thing she could do to distract him from the wench. Isabelle sauntered forward until she was standing by Trestan's leg. She sat down, every inch the well-mannered pet dog, watching her master. Isabelle cleared her throat, but it sounded more like a growl.
"Oh my," the girl gasped in her shrill voice, "It is a wolf, here in the village!"
"No," Trestan said. He raised an eyebrow at her, but his silver eyes sparkled. He was happy to see her. Isabelle was so overjoyed that the feeling took her breath away. "She is mine," he said with pride. "She will not hurt anything, although sometimes she is badly behaved," Trestan said, obviously directing the last part of the sentence at Isabelle.
The girl began to babble on again about her fear of wolves and beasts and wild things. Trestan's face was set in a smile, but his eyes were distant.
"Trestan," Isabelle muttered under her breath. He didn't notice.
"Trestan," Isabelle quietly tried again, but no answer.
"Trestan Conradi," Isabelle tried to whisper, but it came out as a very loud bark!
Trestan obviously got the hint. "Adieu, Mademoiselle," he interrupted the girl, set down his pint and walked briskly away. Isabelle nipped at the girl's legs for good measure, then followed Trestan. They strolled out of the village until it faded out of view.
Once out of eyesight from the village, Trestan abruptly knelt down beside Isabelle the wolf. "What were you doing, pulling a stunt like that," Trestan hissed.
"Trying to save you from that…" Isabelle paused, unwilling to say what she had really thought of that woman because it would have been very impolite.
"Ulgh, I agree with you. She was terrible," Trestan groaned. "But," he continued guiltily, "I owe you an explanation."
"Of course you do!" Isabelle steamed. "I come here to tell you…that I love you… and I find you talking to her. I thought that there was…that we—"
"Isabelle," Trestan said, placing a hand on her grey fur, "I cannot give you an explanation unless you are quiet."
"Oh," was all she said.
"But first, we should put a little distance between us and the village."