Beaumont and the Beast // A Rose To Love

Chapter 8 // The Prince

Lumière made his way toward Beaumont's room. Along the way, he passed a window and quietly opened it. He checked all around him before dumping the tea outside.

This could be the only chance we have. I'm sorry, mon amie, but we must try.

He refilled it with a regular herbal tea he took from the kitchen.

Lumière knocked on Beaumont's door, "Excusez-moi Monsieur, may I come in?"

Beaumont was staring at the paintings, and jumped at the knock. He shook himself out of his hypnosis and cleared his throat before replying, "Yes, of course!"

He pushed open the door and placed the tea beside the queen-sized bed, "Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?"

Beaumont smiled and retrieved the tea, "You have done quite enough. Thank you, Lumière."

He exited. A victorious smile stretched across the Frenchman's face.

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

A couple hours pass, Lumière's plan was in full effect. Their guest was still awake and suited to explore the castle halls. Beaumont opened the door quietly, checking the corridor before walking out.

So... there are two staircases leading to an East and West Wing. I was placed in the East, and was told not to worry about the West Wing... West wing is exactly where I need to go.

Beaumont, by luck, found his way back to the main staircase. The castle was so humongous he almost forgot his way. He stared up at the West Wing staircase, making one last look around for any servants making their rounds. Beaumont smiled slyly and began his ascent to the forbidden part of the castle.

This side of the castle seemed a lot more... dark. Not only physically, but the mood as well. A chill enveloped Beaumont when we walked down each long, wrecked corridor. Smashed statues, ripped paintings, and the like were sprawled across the floor. He tried his best to avoid stepping on them, pushing away little shards of pottery and glass to the side, but it was so cluttered it was useless. Fear began to creep its way through Beaumont when he reached the last stretch of hallway. He looked down the very far end of it and shuttered at two huge wooden doors standing between him and the answers he craved.

I just know my answer is beyond that doorway.

Beaumont approached the doors. He noticed how hideous they were compared to the rest of the castle. The wood was scratched up and the stain around the handles were faded and worn.

Why is this wing of the castle so unkempt... I have to know what lies behind these doors... No matter how frightening this whole situation has become.

Beaumont shuddered as he pushed one of the doors open. He slowly peaked his head inside and scanned the perimeter. The room's stench hit Beaumont like a punch, making him cup his hand over his mouth. The musky odor overwhelmed him so much, he had to step out of the room. He took one last breath of fresher air before returning to the opening.

The stench subsided from Beaumont once his eyes adjusted. He was far too distracted by the state of the room now anyway. Furniture was smashed and thrown randomly around the room. Rugs were bunched up, as if something humongous had been sleeping on them. The paintings had more distinct gashes in them than any of the others: claw marks. One painting caught Beaumont's attention over the others. It portrayed a man, standing for a portrait most likely, with five distinct slashes across his face. Beaumont's heart began to race wildly at the sight. He was unable to conclude if he was afraid or excited. Probably both. A gust of wind sent shivers down Beaumont's whole body. He looked over towards a well lit area in the room. Shifting his gaze above it, he saw wide, gaping hole in the ceiling as snow fell through it. At the end of the invading light sat a table with a single rose in a bell jar.