I turn to face him fully, and my throat feels impossibly tight. “Pierre…”
“Go.” He cups my face with one massive paw. “Take care of your father.”
“I’m coming back,” I repeat, more insistent this time. “A few days. Maybe a week at most. Just long enough to make sure he’s stable and…”
He kisses me. It’s desperate, claiming and feels entirely too much like a goodbye…
When he pulls away, his golden eyes are dark with something I can’t read.
“Go, Belle. Before I change my mind and keep you here.”
I want to argue. Want to make him understand that I’m not leaving him, not really, that this isn’t the end.
But my father’s face flashes in my mind…exhausted, struggling, alone…and I know I have to leave now.
“I love you,” I blurt out.
Pierre’s eyes widen, his breath catching. “Belle…”
But I’m already mounting my horse, because if I don’t leave now, I won’t be able to.
When I look back, Pierre’s standing in the doorway, massive, beautiful and mine. He raises a hand in farewell. Then the gates close, and he’s gone.
The forest seems darker on the way back, colder. The bond in my chest aches with every step my horse makes away from the castle. Away from my mate.
By the time I reach the village, the sun is setting. Our cottage looks smaller after days in a somewhat decrepit, but still grand castle.
I tie the horse and push open the door.
“Belle!” My father’s face lights up with relief. He’s sitting at the table, and he looks even more worn up close. Thinner. Grayer. “You’re back! I was so worried when you didn’t return. The Beast, did he hurt you?”
“No, Papa.” I hug him carefully, feeling how frail he’s become. “He didn’t hurt me. But what about you? Your health…”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just getting old.” But he’s avoiding my eyes.
“Papa.”
“I’m fine, Belle. Really.” He pats my hand, but I can see the exhaustion on his face. “I’m just so relieved you’re home safe.”
“Relieved?” Margot’s voice comes from the bedroom before she appears in the doorway. “Belle! Finally, someone competent to handle things around here. Papa burned dinner last night, and Claude hasn’t bothered going to the market.”
I blink. “I’ve been gone for days and no one went to the market?”
“We’ve been busy,” Margot says, waving a hand dismissively. She doesn’t look busy. She looks like she just woke up from a nap.
“Busy doing what?”
Claude wanders in, yawning. “Oh, good. You’re back. We’re out of bread.”
I look at my siblings. Both healthy, well-fed, and completely unbothered. When my father looks like he hasn’t slept properly in days.
Something hot rises in my chest.
“Starting tomorrow,” I say in a deadly quiet tone, “things are going to change around here.”
* * *
The next morning, I wake them both at dawn.
