Author's Note: Again, another chappie. I've been trying to go for quality over quanity, though I don't have much time for either. I recently suffered a Jackernackey attack (see my profile, if you don't know what a Jackernackey is...) which caused the story to go in an altogether different direction than planned, so I had to scrap most of my original ending. Thank you to 3DG and Baroness Orc for their lovely reviews. Have fun, good luck, and, as always, review!
Chapter 15
The next morning, Isabelle woke a little groggily, not opening her eyes until she was well awake. Friar Justin and Peabo were playing chess—there was nothing unusual about that. Isabelle opened her eyes and slowly sat up. Absorbed in their game, Friar Justin and Peabo did not notice.
Trestan burst into the room, arms of wood, and a draft of cold air sweeping inside with him. His eyes were as bright as the snowflakes that were melting in his hair; there was something different, almost boyish, about him. His eyes met Isabelle and he froze for a moment. A grin crept across his face and shone there for a moment. Abruptly, Trestan turned and stacked the wood near the fireplace.
Isabelle could not place what exactly about Trestan was different: he was carefree, like a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Still, she wondered what about him had changed. Trestan bounded across the room towards Isabelle's bed.
"Good morning, milady," Trestan said cheerfully.
"You were absent when I awoke," Isabelle pouted. "I shall never forgive you."
"My most humble of apologies," Trestan countered. "Shall we kiss and make up, then?"
"Oh, if you insist," Isabelle huffed.
"I do insist," Trestan smirked. He leaned down and kissed her on the nose.
"That's not a proper kiss," Isabelle said coyly, hoping for another.
"We can argue about that later," Trestan said.
Isabelle noticed Peabo turning bright red where he sat, still pretending to play chess with Friar Justin.
"Your turn, Peabo," Friar Justin urged.
"Oh, is it? I'm sorry, I was just, erm, and I think I'll move…this one," Peabo finished lamely, coloring even more.
"Your king's in check," Friar Justin said. "Are you paying attention?"
At this, Trestan whispered to Isabelle, "Now see what you've done to him?"
"No," Isabelle replied quietly. "You were the one who did it. You kissed me, if I remember correctly."
"Poor boy," Trestan muttered.
"Checkmate," Friar Justin said, removing Peabo's last piece from the board.
"Let me see, what should I move next?" the boy said absently.
"The game is over," Friar Justin prompted.
"Oh," Peabo said, staring at the ground.
"Good morning Friar, good morning Peabo," Isabelle chirped. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is, daughter," Friar Justin said placidly. "Are you hungry?" He handed Isabelle a bowl of venison stew, not waiting for her to answer.
"How are you this morning, Peabo," Isabelle asked.
Peabo blushed a little. "Well, lady, thank you," Peabo said, politely. "I'm getting weary of the cold, but we've cut lots of wood, so it isn't such a bad thing. Still, I'm excited for spring, even with the mud and all."
"Merci, father," Isabelle said, after she had wolfed down the stew. The hot food made her feel alert, instead of the grogginess that had been plaguing her for the past few days.
"How badly was I hurt?" Isabelle asked.
"Badly," Trestan admitted. "How do you feel now?"
"I think I'm dying," Isabelle said, wincing dramatically. She had breathed too deeply, making her side burn where she had been hurt.
Trestan laughed; Isabelle was glad to see it. He had been so anxious for so long.
"Don't laugh at someone on their deathbed," Isabelle scolded. "How long was I ill for?" she added more seriously.
"Eight days," Trestan said automatically. A shadow clouded his face for an instant, but was soon chased away with a sigh of relief.
"Eight days," Isabelle echoed distantly. She had broken Trestan's curse by a narrow margin indeed. The curse. Trestan was always a bear in the mornings, until this morning. Trestan's curse was broken, Isabelle reminded herself. That is what was different about him, why he was so light and free. For the first morning of his life, Trestan was a man instead of a bear.
"Happy now?" Isabelle murmured to Trestan, who was sitting near her bedside.
"Indomitably," Trestan replied. "Thank you."
Was Isabelle still a wolf-maiden, then? She waited impatiently until after lunch, then shoed the men out, asking for a moment of privacy. The glass slippers had stayed on her feet all through her illness; Isabelle pried them off of her feet.
Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a gasp of despair. The silver mist descended upon her; Isabelle became a wolf again. Isabelle's stomach clenched and tears rushed to her eyes as she put her paws back into the glass slippers and transformed back into a girl again.
Isabelle allowed herself the luxury of spitting out a single choice word. She wanted to break down crying, or to strangle something or to run far away. Why was she still a wolf? Isabelle sat back down on her bed in shock. How was she supposed to break a curse that she did not know how to break? Wasn't her curse the mirror of Trestan's? Shouldn't their kiss have broken her curse too?
Isabelle's reverie was interrupted by the sound of the men coming into the lean-to, Peabo chattering incessantly. She was going to have to let them inside soon, before they realized that something was wrong. After drying her eyes, Isabelle opened the door to the lean-to and wordlessly went back to her bed.
Friar Justin, Peabo, and Trestan came piling into the too-small hut, talking about the lack of bear-tracks outside. Isabelle flinched; she could hardly stand being reminded of the curse. It was bittersweet that Trestan's curse was broken, but why couldn't hers be too? Why couldn't Isabelle throw a tantrum and be done with it; she was more than willing to pitch a fit. She wished that she could give that demented old crone a piece of her mind—that would teach her.
Contentedly, Trestan sat next to Isabelle's bedside; he looked so happy—Isabelle knew that he would feel guilty once he found out about her curse. Blast that curse! Isabelle wanted to scream, on the verge of tears.
"What do you think, cara?" Trestan said, obviously speaking to her.
"About what?" Isabelle snapped.
"The fact that there aren't any more bears prowling around here—they, or it, seem to have gone," Trestan explained oblivious to Isabelle's troubles.
"I am glad of it," Isabelle said grudgingly. Yes, she was jealous of Trestan, of being curse free. She loathed herself for hating him, but it was the truth. He was so good and she was…She did not want to think about that.
Friar Justin gave Isabelle a long, knowing look and then he and Peabo began to loudly make their supper, giving Isabelle and Trestan time to have a whispered conversation.
"What's wrong, love?" Trestan asked, bewildered at Isabelle's emotional state.
"Nothing," Isabelle growled. In wolf form, she would have bared her teeth.
"Do not give me that excuse," Trestan said, gently but firmly.
"Fine, if you truly wish to know," Isabelle harrumphed quietly. "I have to keep my glass slippers on."
Trestan was confused. "I know that you are…rather attached to your shoes, but you really shouldn't need to wear them all the time, now…"
"I'm still a wolf-maiden," Isabelle said bluntly.
Trestan stared at her wordlessly. "Oh, cara," he finally whispered, slipping an arm around her, lovingly pressing her to his chest. "Oh, I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," Isabelle glowered. "The question is, what do I do now? Why am I being punished more? Wasn't leaving my home, becoming a wolf, almost dying?"
"I don't know, but you have been through your share of hardships. Then again, so have I…I'll have to think about it," Trestan said, kissing her on the forehead. Isabelle pulled away, even though she normally enjoyed it. "It will all work in the end."
Somehow, Trestan's words were not a comfort. Having kept her composure fairly well for the rest of the afternoon and evening, Isabelle felt perfectly justified sobbing herself to sleep that night.