Bound: A Merged Fairy Tale of Beauty and the Beast & Sleeping Beauty (The Enchanted Rose Trilogy: Book 2) by R.M. ArceJaeger

Author:R.M. ArceJaeger [ArceJaeger, R.M.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Platypus Press
Published: 2015-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Rose awoke to crimson drapes and sheets as soft as dandelion fuzz. For a moment, she thought she was still in a dream, before all at once remembering that her surroundings belonged to the Beast’s forest lodge, and that her presence there meant she would never see her family or her home again.

Tears trickled out of the corner of her eyes, soddening the pillow underneath her head. Rose found she had to struggle to breathe, as though an invisible hand were squeezing her lungs. Desperately, she tried to concentrate on the knowledge that her father was safe at home, but misery and panic were not so easily put aside. All she wanted to do was bury her face in her pillow and sob, but she feared that if she did, she might never stop.

Seeking a diversion, Rose tried to sit up and let out a gasp of pain—the motion had sent bolts of fiery agony shooting through her back and legs. She sank back down against the pillows and her discomfort eased a little, but her body still throbbed from the unaccustomed strain having ridden a horse. Rose shifted a little and flinched; a tender touch to her backside told her she had saddle sores as well.

Gritting her teeth, Rose managed to force herself out of bed. The light in the room was brighter than it had been when she had fallen asleep, and Rose realized with a shock that she had slept not only all night, but all morning as well. She had never been allowed to stay in bed past dawn her whole life—to have done so now just reminded her further how much her life had changed.

Uncertain what to do, Rose cast a helpless glance around the room, only to have her attention recaptured by the window. Yesterday, she had been too overwhelmed to pay much attention to it, but now she saw that it was not simply a peasant’s hole in the wall which could be shuttered closed, nor was it a pane of translucent animal horn such as only the rich could afford. Instead, the window was made of glass so clear, it was hard to believe it was there at all.

Fascinated, Rose drew nearer to the window, intent on a closer examination. As she approached it, however, the comb on the dressing table in front perked up in anticipation.

“In a minute,” Rose instructed, her mouth quirking a little at how quickly she was becoming accustomed to objects that moved about on their own.

With the tips of her fingers, she gently touched the window pane. The glass was cool and smooth, with crafting so perfect she could find no bubble, no flaw in its construction.

The view it framed was just as impressive. Verdant grass stretched out to the tree line an acre away. Between the forest’s edge and the lodge shone the waters of a small pond, and to its right, Rose could see a garden all abloom. Suddenly, she shivered and drew back from the window as she realized what species of flower that must be.

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