"Well, well, well." I felt the entirety of my body stiffen. "Pray tell," the masculine voice murmured as his chin rested down onto my shoulder, "what has made them send such a fine lady such as yourself?"
A Beauty and the Beast Retelling in which Be...
A TENDRIL OF my hair was pulled and pinned into the cascading waves that fell along my back. I could not see the girl whose deft fingers made work of my hair, however, I was aware that she was the younger maid I had encountered earlier. As she wordlessly continued her task, I kept an eye on the mirror, waiting for the shadows to somehow betray her and make her visible. But no matter how long I stared, she remained bodiless—just a sensation along my nape.
Curiosity overcame me. "What is your name?"
Her fingers stilled.
"Your ladyship," a woman who I had learned to be the head of the maidservants said, breaking the silence. "You mustn't bother yourself with such irrelevant knowledge."
I ignored the fact that their voices seemed to spur out from the very air. "But I request it." My eyes fell to the spot where I imagined the girl to be standing. "So please, tell me."
"My lady," she mumbled, her voice meek and quiet, "my name is Aurore."
"Aurore," I repeated, letting the syllables linger on my tongue. I felt a throb in my chest. The shoe maker's wife had the same name—hearing it filled me with a yearning for the smell of leather boots. I used to take Joceline with me. "How old are you?"
Another silence fell over the room. It was Madame Dubois who broke it. "We are not able to disclose that information, your ladyship."
My brows lifted on their own accord. "Has my lord husband commanded that of you?" Lest I step closer to answering his question?
"His lordship is waiting," she said rather sharply, dismissing my question. "Aurore, go fetch an escort." A man shadowed the doorway. "Y—Yoann," she stammered suddenly, "I was about to send for someone."
"I am here, there is no need to fetch for an escort." The guard beckoned me towards him, unnerved by the silence that followed his words. "Come along now, his lordship is waiting."
Yoann. I felt a crease form in my brow at their exchange. Was there something between the two? "His lordship can wait for all I care."
He held out his hand, his scarred wrist staring back at me. "But I suspect the results could be more fruitful. Between you and me," he murmured, "I am certain his lordship would get down on his knees to hear you speaking like that."
I resisted the urge to squirm, knowing it was the reaction he wanted. "Like?"
A smile etched its way onto his lips. "Speaking with the intent to tether him to every syllable." He met my eyes and I noticed the playful glimmer in his gaze. "Deliver a death threat to him, on my behalf."
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"Who is the guard you sent to my doors last night?" I had asked my lord husband, when he arrived at the dinner table, by way of greeting. I cut into my venison and promptly stabbed into it with an elaborately decorated fork.
