Beauty’s Beast(53)
Author: Amanda Ashley

He washed quickly and stepped out of the tub, shaking the way a dog shakes when it emerges from water. He swore when he realized what he was doing. Reaching for a strip of toweling, he dried off, then dressed in the trousers and tunic that had been left for him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew on a pair of soft leather boots that were cut to accommodate his changed feet, as well as a pair of gloves, the left one tailored to fit over his disfigured hand. There was also a mask made of fine black silk.

He picked it up and slipped it on, grateful for the mage’s thoughtfulness. He had felt vulnerable, naked, without the mask.

Crossing the floor, he knocked softly on the connecting door. “Kristine?”

“Come in.”

She glanced over her shoulder as he stepped into the room. Erik’s gaze ran over her. The mauve gown complemented her skin and eyes. Her hair framed her face like a golden nimbus. She looked beautiful, radiant with the bloom of motherhood.

She smiled at him, and then she frowned.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“The mask. Where did it come from?”

“The wizard provided it.”

“It isn’t necessary, Erik. Your face does not frighten me.”

“It is not for you,” he replied quietly. “It is for me.”

She started to say something, but it was forgotten as a large covered tray appeared on the table.

“Oh, my,” she murmured. “Fires that burn without wood. Bathtubs that disappear. And now this.”

Erik glanced around the room, only now noticing that the bathtub was gone, that the fire did indeed burn without fuel of any kind. At least none that could be seen.

Kristine uncovered the tray, revealing two pewter plates heaped with food, and two goblets of sparkling red wine.

Erik stared at the meal provided—chicken and dumplings for Kristine, a slab of near-raw meat for him. The sight of it was a blatant reminder of what he was becoming.

Kristine said nothing, only looked up at him through eyes filled with sympathy and compassion and a quiet, desperate hope.

Erik turned away, his appetite gone. He knew his host had not meant to insult him, knew the venison, served very rare, was meant to be a token of hospitality. He did not stop to wonder how the mage knew his preference.

He paced the floor while Kristine ate her supper at his urging. He did not want or need her to refuse her meal because he refused his. She had the child to think of.

Kristine pushed away from the table, hiding a yawn behind her hand. She was often tired in the afternoon these days.

“You should rest,” Erik said, divining her thoughts.

“I could use a nap,” she agreed. Crossing the floor, she sat on the bed, patting the mattress beside her. “Will you not rest with me, my lord husband? You must be weary, as well.”

It was not exhaustion but the wish to be near her that propelled him to her side. She stretched out on the bed, and he lay beside her, drawing her against him. With a sigh, Kristine pillowed her head on his shoulder. Even now, when she had seen him without his mask, without covering of any kind, he was careful to keep her on his right, careful to keep his mask in place.

She gazed up at the ceiling, noticing the painting there for the first time. Clouds seemed to drift overhead. And there, amidst the clouds, was a full moon and countless bright stars. A moon that glowed with a silver light. Stars that twinkled.

“Erik, look.” She pointed upward. “’Tis the most amazing thing.”

He looked up, brow furrowed. It was, indeed, amazing. And as he watched, the sight grew even more astonishing. The moon and clouds drifted across the ceiling, the moon disappeared, to be replaced by a bright golden sun. After a time, the sun went down, and dark clouds scudded across the ceiling-sky, and then a rainbow stretched above them.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Kristine murmured.

Erik’s gaze moved slowly over Kristine’s face. Her deep green eyes were filled with wonder as she stared up at the ceiling. Her skin was soft and smooth, her cheeks the color of fresh peaches, her lips slightly parted.

“No,” Erik replied, his gaze still on her face. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely in my life.”

“Surely a wizard who can conjure such a wondrous thing will be able to help us.”

Erik grunted softly. He didn’t want to ruin her hopes, but there was a vast difference between creating an illusion and curing a spell cast by a vindictive witch.

It was an hour past sundown when the mage summoned them. Hand in hand, Erik and Kristine followed Fidella up the winding stairway that led to the mage’s private quarters.

With a smile, Fidella opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

Kristine clung to Erik’s hand as they stepped into the room. It was round and devoid of furnishings of any kind.

“Welcome.”

Kristine glanced around, but saw no one. She looked up at Erik, who was staring at the far side of the chamber.

“What do you see?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure.”

A low chuckle floated in the air. There was a shower of red sparks, and a man dressed in a flowing black robe materialized before them. He was tall and lean, with thick silver-gray hair, a short gray beard, and mild blue eyes beneath bushy black brows.

“I bid you welcome,” he said. A chair covered in red velvet appeared behind him and he sat down. A wave of his hand conjured a pair of similar chairs for his guests. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Kristine put one hand on the back of the chair, as if to ascertain its solidity before she sat down. Erik remained standing.

“Is it cold in here?” the mage asked. Before either of his guests could answer, a fireplace appeared, complete with a cozy fire. “Wine?”

Another wave of his hand produced a small white lacquer table and a silver tray bearing three crystal goblets. “Please,” the wizard said, “help yourselves.”

Erik picked up the goblet nearest him and took a drink. It was honey wine, warm and sweet.

“Now,” the mage said, sitting back in his chair, “what is it you wish of me?”

“Don’t you know?” Erik asked.

The wizard smiled. “But of course. However, tiresome as it might be, I cannot grant your boon until you ask it of me.”

“I want to know if you can break a curse cast by another.”

“Perhaps.” The wizard gestured at Erik’s mask. “Take that off, please.”

Erik hesitated; he took a step back so that Kristine could not see his face and then removed the mask, clutching it tightly in his right hand.