The Beast's Ward

Chapter Seven: The Taste of Wine and Tears

            The days went by quickly. Days became weeks. Weeks bled into months. Before I knew it, over two months had passed and fall had given way to winter’s deadly chill. Just as Christopher had said, the roses continued to bloom brilliantly, even while snow fell heavily over the garden and covered the ground they drew their magic from. Every morning there was a new rose by my bedside and every night there was a proposal letter outside my door. I continued to reject him, yet Christopher never failed to be in good spirits each and every morning.

            “Good morning.” I greeted him as I trudged out to the garden. The snow was piled thickly on the ground and dusted the roses and statues in a brilliant glitter of white.

            He smiled in his own strange way and waved at me from where he was working, brushing snow off of each individual flower. “Morning, Isabel.” His lips tweaked slightly in their corners, as they still so often did when he said my first name. He still hadn’t gotten quite used to the privilege.

            “What are you doing?” I asked, sniffling as I stood stiffly in the snow. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter around my frame to fend off the bone freezing wind. Christopher still wore his usual gardener’s uniform with the trousers that were too short and shirt that was nearly all patches. He had at least begun to wear his boots, but he wore no cloak or coat. The benefits of being covered in fur, I supposed.

            “Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. “You don’t look well. You’re very pale.”

            “It is just a little cold.” I assured him. “I’ll be perfectly fine in a few days.”

            “Go back in and drink some hot tea. You don’t want to make it worse. I can handle things here.” He encouraged me.

            “I will.” I assured him, smiling warmly, although my mind was foggy from a growing temperature. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. You snuck out before I awoke. We didn’t get to have breakfast together.” In the recent weeks, we had begun to spend more and more time together. We met at the dining table for every meal and often shared tea in the garden on the prettiest days.

I had grown to like him more than I ever thought I would. He’d long since ceased being simply my guardian, but had become a dear friend. I had yet to tell him this, but I hoped that he knew my feelings without me having to say a word.

“I’m fine, Isabel. You needn’t concern yourself with me.,” said Christopher, as he continued to busy his hands with removing the snow from his precious roses’ delicate petals.

“There’s something worrying you, isn’t there?” I asked, studying his face. He kept up a weak smile, but his eyes seemed distant, as if he were seeing a far different scene than the one before him. I had come to know that look well. He was thinking of the curse and the evil woman who placed it upon him. “When something is bothering you, you can scarcely drag yourself away from the garden. What is it?” I laid a reassuring hand over one of his much larger ones, stilling it and keeping it from its work. “You know you can tell me.”

“Yes…I know.” He breathed softly. He patted my hand and turned away from the rose bushes. His smile reverted into a deep scowl. “I’ve received word that the…witch…” He growled the word in distaste “is coming to visit me for Christmas.”

“Christmas? It’s nearly Christmas time already?” I gasped in shock. “In this place, it’s so difficult to judge time. I hadn’t realized.”

“Yes.” He muttered as he began to pace around with a miserable expression on his face. “It’s only three days away now. Not that it really matters anymore. I had hoped to spend this Christmas peacefully with you, but of course the witch has to make an appearance so she can give me my usual gift.”