“You have a library?” She bounced a bit on the balls of her feet in excitement, but stopped herself. She wanted to behave like a lady, not a schoolgirl.
The Beast led her down the long corridor to the West wing, and pushed open a large, imposing mahogany door.
“Close your eyes,” the Beast said playfully, and pulled her by the hand into the library.
Belle obeyed, but she couldn’t help but to breath in the scent of books—that incredible aroma of old paper, glue, ink, and leather, combined with a hint of the magic that made the words come alive on the page.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Belle blinked at the vision before her and inhaled sharply. Books! Books everywhere. The enormous room was two stories tall, with a spiraling stairway on each side leading up to the upper level. Leather-bound volumes filled the shelves from floor to ceiling on both floors, and the upper level looked down upon them with an open loft area surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron railing.
Several rolling ladders were in front of the bookcases to allow easy access to even the highest-placed books. And best of all were the chairs and couches around the floor, and the pillows piled high by the windows, perfect for getting comfortable with a story. The library was filled with sunlight during the day, as well as having numerous lamps available for cozy nighttime reading.
“Does it please you?” the Beast asked.
He sounded worried, and Belle realized she hadn’t said a word since he brought her inside. She’d simply been standing there, looking around with her mouth hanging open.
“I’ve always wished that this might be what the Kingdom of Heaven looks like,” she said. “It’s amazing. It’s…it’s perfect. Thank you, Beast.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I hope it can be some comfort to you during your time here.”
“Can I look around a bit?” She picked one thick volume off the nearest shelf and ran her hands lovingly over the binding.
“Certainly,” the Beast said. “I have other things to attend to. But I’ll see you this afternoon, at which point I will mark you.”
Belle was so entranced with the idea of having hours of leisure time to spend perusing the library that she almost didn’t catch what he said.
Her reply caught in her throat, and she coughed fitfully. “Sorry, Sir,” she said, finally taking in a full breath. “What had seemed like a good idea in the middle of the night when I was chained to your dungeon wall, unsure if I was going insane or not…no longer seems like such a good idea after all.”
The Beast shook his head as he walked toward the exit. “You were right, Belle. You need a physical reminder, something you can look at and be reminded of why I am keeping you here.”
“Why are you keeping me?” she asked immediately.
But he only growled in response. She winced and turned away.
His heavy hand on her shoulder gave her a start, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Beauty. Sometimes I can’t say what needs to be said. But later, perhaps I can show you.”
Belle’s grip tightened on the book in her hand.
What would the Beast do to mark her?
And most pressing of all, why, oh why, had she asked for this?
7: Marked by the Beast
Belle watched silently as the Beast left the library, closing the heavy mahogany door behind him.
Part of her wanted to find a good book and lose herself in the story, to mentally leave this place behind as she soared through an adventure of written words. But the more rational—albeit frightened—part of her wanted to know what she could expect to happen that afternoon when the Beast summoned her once more.
If only Frederick were there with her, perhaps he could suggest what the Beast might do to mark her. After all, both Frederick and the Beast seemed to share the same sexual proclivities.
Frederick only seemed to appear when she was dreaming, however, and there was no way she could take a nap right now, not when her nerves were frayed with worry.
She set the book in her hand back onto the bookshelf near her, and remembered. The diary! If she could read Frederick’s diary, perhaps she could find a story in which he had marked one of his mistresses, or fantasized about it.
“I wish for Frederick’s diary, fairies, if you please.”
The old diary appeared, opened to the last page she’d read, laying on an overstuffed cushion by the windowsill.
Belle rushed over to it and sat, her gown settling around her like a shimmery blue pool, and picked up the forbidden diary.
~~~
For my seventeenth birthday, the King is holding a grand ball. It’s less a celebration for me, than a chance to please his Queen. My Stepmother loves to show off in front of the court like a peacock.