The leaves had begun to grow on the trees again giving the forest a more welcoming look, and soon flowers would have been blooming everywhere.
Occasionally, there would be a breeze that would nip at my skin as if the wind was reminding me that even though it might have turned spring the day before, winter was not quite done with us yet.
The dead plant life that was once hidden under blankets of snow, and had been revealed after the melt, now covered the ground, soggy from the rain showers and had already begun to be replaced with new life. The sticks and remaining dead leaves crunched and squished underfoot, followed by the smell of rot and wet soil, as I made my way along a narrow muddy path that arose after many reoccurring visits.
I had made several treks through those woods over the years to a place I held rather dear to my heart. It was a refuge, of some sort, from the world I had found myself living in at the time. A world anyone would have paid the handsome price of death to escape.
Just down the road from mine and Papa's little cottage on the edge of town, a few minutes inside the tree line but a very safe distance from the signs, stood a tree I spent most of my childhood in.
Only I and one other knew about this quiet haven, and that person was Bash. I had not always known Bash, nor had I not always lived in Du Ciel. I met the troublesome young man roughly a year after Papa and Mama agreed that we should leave England and move to France to start a new life in a small town just below where the young Prince, heir to the empire, was to settle after his castle was finished being built.
The sound of the birds singing in the distance, and the dewy smell left from the rain relieved the pressure in my head and soothed my ever-turning mind. Back then, nature was the only thing I needed to cure whatever ailed me, and it never failed to assist.
When I arrived at the tree, I took a moment and closed my eyes. I wanted to enjoy the peace of being away from town, from being cooped up in my small cottage repeating the same motions of daily life.
The sound of a twig snapping behind me broke me from my trace. My eyes sprang open at the feeling of hands gently grabbing hold my shoulders and I gasped.
I shook off the hands and turned quickly to find none other than Bash looming over me with a pleased look on his face. He always enjoyed seeing my shocked expression after startling me. In return I smacked him on the shoulder.
"Ouch, that wasn't polite." He grabbed his shoulder as he let out a chuckle. "I say, Isabelle, that might have been the greatest scare I have given you yet."
"How many times do I have to tell you to quit sneaking up on me?" I brushed off his words trying not to feed into his pride.
"Enough that you should be prepared for it each time." Bash gave a devilish grin, then something in his eyes shifted, "What took you so long to get here, I was about to come look for you."
"The Baker was fresh out of bread, so I had to wait on the next batch." I shook the basket at him, "Shall we head up to our perch so we can eat it while it is still warm."
"Of course." He tossed the rock he was fiddling with in his hands behind him, then started up the tree. As he grabbed my hand to assist me, he added, "Oh, I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you."
"You know I do not need anything Bash." I replied as he pulled me up, then I took my usual spot on his left.
"This," I watched as he pulled a jar of pickles from his satchel, "This is an early birthday gift."
"Rather early indeed. My birthday is not till weeks from now, could you not have waited until then?" For something so trivial to the upperclassmen, pickles among other things had become too costly for the lower class, such as the two of us, to afford. Which slightly angered me. "Bash, you don't have the money to buy things like this, it had to have costed you a weeks' worth of pay at least."
"Do not worry about how I got it and be thankful you'll finally be able to enjoy something you haven't had in years." He looked offended.
As he got older, Bash was not much for conversation. Which at times caused unwanted silence left for me to awkwardly disrupt. From what he had told me, he was alone with no family because his parents were out of town when the curse took hold. So, in a way it was quite understandable why he held little conversation, for he had not really had anyone other than me to converse with over these past seven years. In light of that however, I quite enjoyed his company; although, it had always felt like there were many questions surrounding him that never seemed to get answered, and, at times, I had started to believe that I might have not really known him at all.
At times it felt like he was insincere when he spoke about things, or that he was holding back. He worked at the Mill, which I was not allowed to visit him at, where he toted large sacks of grain during the week and on the weekends hunted game for the town's folk for extra money. He also did not allow me to visit him at his home, which I never questioned him on since it was socially looked down upon for a young woman to visit a man at home unaccompanied, if only he resided in it. However, it was rather concerning when he also refused Papa, though he supported his argument with stating he hardly had any furnishings because he lived alone, and it would be much easier for him to come to us, than us to him.
When we would walk through, what was considered by the middle and upper class, the poor side of town all the girls would giggle and wave to him. Which he proceeded to quicken is pace like he was trying to avoid them. I always figured it had something to do with him not liking attention being drawn to himself, but then he never seemed interested in any of the girls in town and would get mad if I teased him about it or if I insisted he go speak to one of them.
In a way, Bash was odd. Most of the time he came across as if he was trying too hard or that he was better than everyone else, and some days it was more apparent than others. Like today he seemed off, whereas the day before he was normal, or at least for him. At times it felt as if he was being quite secretive and despite the fact that he always promised he was being fully transparent, I still had the smallest notion he was lying.
In truth I do not think I fully trusted Bash, there was so much I did not know about him, and what little I did know did not feel like the full truth. Yet, no matter how much doubt I had at times I never confronted him about it. Perhaps I was afraid of it being true or maybe him just being in my life was good enough? Still, all of it continued to linger in the back of my mind.
The more I studied him the more the dead look on his face was apparent. There was no spark of playfulness, no life behind those blue eyes. Even after a while the tone in his voice became dull and his body language shifted to more taught, as if he was bracing himself for something. This was not the first time I had seen him act like that. Truth be told, I was thankful it was visibly written all over his face, right before he said something I was not going to enjoy hearing. It gave me a chance to ready myself.
"I am going to be extremely busy in the weeks to come with work and I will not be able to visit you on the weeks leading up to and on your birthday." His words nearly knocked me from the branch I sat on. I looked at him waiting for an explanation but the look on his face told me he was not going to give one, nor had he ever intended to. "However, I will not be too busy for a fortnight, so, I will make it up to you I promise."
I could not understand what exactly could have made him so busy as to not even come visit me, let alone make me endure my eighteenth birthday alone with my brooding father. Any other birthday would have been fine, but this one was not just simply a birthday; it was the day that marked me for offering.
From that day on my life was to not be my own until either my name was pulled making me the next sacrifice to the beast, I was to marry, or, like many others, take my own life. I was upset, angry, and a bit confused to be honest, but there was nothing to be done about it.
I listened as the church bells rang in the distance, echoing through the forest in its attempt to rescue me from the unpleasant conversation that I had found myself in by signaling him to return to work.
"Tomorrow you can explain further, if that is fine with you." I tried to smile but I watched his jaw clench in return. Bash had never enjoyed being told what to do, which was an off-putting quality of his. "You must go before you end up angering Monsieur Philippe again."
"I will make no promises to give an explanation. However, you are not wrong. I cannot be late again this week, and if I am Monsieur Philippe might let me go." He offered his hand to help me climb out of the tree, and even though I had not the intentions of leaving as of yet I unwillingly took his hand and followed him down. "Tomorrow then, same time as usual, that is, if you do not mind."
"Have I ever minded spending time with you?" I tried to not let my annoyance seep into my tone, but I had grown tired of him always making it seem as if I was bothered by him.
"No, I cannot say you have." His jaw clenched as he balled his hands into a fist.
"See, then why do you always doubt me? It is starting to be quite exhausting having to explain myself to you all the time and constantly bolster you." He was not looking at me at the moment, but I knew he rolled his eyes.
"Now hurry along before you are late." I picked a leaf off of his shirt then pushed him towards town. "Au revoir, Bash."
"Lunch shall be my treat tomorrow, yes? I think I shall surprise you rather than tell you outright. I'll let you wonder all night as you try to figure it out." He turned to leave, and I caught the change in his expression just barely. It was quite stern, maybe annoyed, or perhaps just stark. Still, it was not something I had seen come from him before. "Au revoir, Isabelle."
I remained for a few moments longer, collecting my thoughts, for they had jumbled up creating a mess of my mind. I did not want to think anything was wrong with him because if there was, he did not want to discuss it with me and that was hard to swallow due to the fact he was supposed to tell me everything. But then again, I myself did not tell him every little thing that bothered me, so why should he not have been able to do the same?
Having said that, maybe I found him odd because he seemed too perfect, save for today where he was more human than I had ever seen him before. Which made me question his character in a way. It was, at times, as if he himself had been the epitome of everything I liked in a collective. Though, that may just have been a coincidence and I had looked too far into the matter, making something out of nothing, but then why did I feel as if there were more to it than that.
Before returning home, I made my way to the market to pick up meat and vegetables for dinner. I had started to dread going there because my birthday, at the time, was only a few weeks away, which made me the brunt of all conversations once they laid eyes on me. The other women looked at me with mixed emotions, some had already lost their girls, and others were yet to lose them. Many of the people in town had started to believe if they sent someone with beauty beyond compare it would end our suffering. They had become frantic, grasping at straws for answers, something everyone wanted but there were none to be had. At the same time the more I heard them say it the more I had started to believe in the possibility that they were right.
For one of the requirements of the offering was the girl be handsome, and that being so caused one to wonder if the girls sent previously had not amounted to one of the many requirements, or maybe The Beast just needed a lot of girls. Many feared the curse was permanent, others still had hope it was going to end soon. Though as soon continued to turn into years that hope started to fade and people began to give into the crazy ideas.
It was hard to have a social life with such a full schedule every day, other than the occasional lunch with Bash, I had no real interactions with any of the other people around my age. Most of the week was spent assisting papa with repairing carriages, and other items for the townsfolk. On a very rare occasion we would receive a work order from a noble middle-class family, which allowed us to eat better for a week or more but also Papa would allot that money towards purchasing a new tool or very needed parts. In truth, we were teetering on the line that stood between the poor and the middle class. However, if we could have secured several noble clients, we would have been able to purchase a home near the market, which would have helped us make a real name for ourselves. I also took care of the household, as well, ever since mother disappeared.
The bells just above the door jingled as I entered the workshop that was built on to the side of our cottage. Papa hung them so when his view of the door was obstructed, he still knew when someone entered the room. A very smart man he was, always thinking ahead, always trying to plan just in case.
"Isabelle is that you?" He called from under the wooden carriage that neared the back of the large work area. After all these years he still knew it was me when I walked through the door, and I had never figured out how he did it. "How was your lunch with Bash?"
"Oh, it was alright. Have you been outside? It is a rather lovely day." I tried dodging the topic even though I knew he would just press until I told him. I sighed as I walked over to where he laid on the floor checking the underneath of the carriage he had been working on since that morning. "He was not like himself today."
"It seems to me I'll only need to replace one of the back spokes of the left wheel, and three on the front right." He mumbled. I watched as he got up, walked over to his work desk and jotted his findings into his ledger. "What did he do or say to make you feel like he was not like himself?"
"He seemed, distracted." I paused, "He told me he was going to be too busy to come see me during the weeks leading up to my birthday. That he will most likely not even be able to see me on my birthday as well. However, he did say we would continue the conversation tomorrow, so, we shall see."
I saw his jaw clench when the word birthday left my lips. "I do not know much of his situation at the moment, like you, and advise you let him explain more tomorrow before jumping to conclusions and allowing yourself to become too upset."
The past few months any mention of my birthday would cause him to either shut down or become anxious. Which was something I could understand. After losing Mamma he was not the same and it had been a gradual downward spiral for him. When the offerings first started four years ago, I saw a bit of life leave him. He stopped eating as much and the conversations he held became shorter and less frequent. His dark brown hair had lost much of its color, his beard had become peppery from stress, and I was sure his heart was becoming weak as well.
He never told me what happened to her, even so I do not think it was him protecting me from the truth, but because he could not bring himself to say it. To this very day I remember the heartbroken look on his face when some men from town showed up that night instead of her. She went out to grab things to make for dinner, and deep down I think Papa blamed himself for what happened to her, for he asked her to make a specific dish that night. It was the night before the curse began.
After a moment of silence passed, I heard him mumble under his breath. "Elizabeth and I should have never left England. If there was only a way to leave this God forsaken place." He rubbed his face in frustration.
The day after Mamma had disappeared, and the day the curse took hold, was the same day we found out how dangerous the outer woods had become. One step passed the town limits, and you would find yourself set upon by a pack of ravenous wolves. Many of the first bodies remained out of reach, perhaps left as a warning because their bones, and what was left of their clothes after all those years, were still laying in the same spot that the people had been mutilated. However, after the warning was laid clear and our boundaries marked by bodies, the rest who willingly crossed were returned to us. Their bodies were found on our side of the wood, still mangled but, nevertheless, returned for some unknown reason.
"I would be content here if I could find someone to marry you, even if none of these young men are worthy." He sighed.
"Papa, you know no one wants my hand, nor do I want theirs. Marriage is just not an option for me." I knew where this conversation was going and was not in the mood to argue.
His voice was stern, "If you want to live, you will marry any agreeable man I find. We are beggars at this point, Isabelle, and we no longer have time for you to choose."
It broke my heart to see him like that. He desperately grabbed at any chance there was in the world to keep from losing me, because I was the only thing left that he lived for.
It was assumed, after the number of girls who had returned from the castle remained at zero, that the girls were being killed. Nothing truly made sense when it came down to it. The curse started seven years ago, yet the offerings only began after four. They started off being five months apart but then became more frequent and the next one was going to happen not even three full months after the last.
The rules were to send a singular girl, healthy, with average or above looks, and must be the age requested at the beginning of the new year, which had remained eighteen. Many rumors spread through the village after the curse began saying that the Dauphin sold his soul to the Devil for power and was turned into a monster. Others said he made a deal with a witch to sacrifice girls in return for immortality. These rumors had passed from person to person so much so that the two had become one and the entire town believed the Dauphin sold his soul to a witch and was turned into beast who had to consume girls every few months in return for immortality.
Not a single person had honestly set eyes on the beast, so in truth no one knew if the thing we feared was nothing more than a young man cursed like the rest of us. Many had attempted to storm the castle, but none had ever made it to the front gate before they were set upon by the beasts of the woods. Though, one man swore he saw a pair of amber eyes glowing in the woods just as the beasts began their assault.
I feared the day my name was to be called, not because of what would have happened to me or the vagueness that accompanied it, but because I feared what would happen to Papa. My dreams began to fill with images unknown to me in the previous months leading up to my birthday. They flashed so quickly I could hardly retain any of the details, save for one. The castle.
"You are right, Papa, I know you mean well. I just wish, hope really, that I could marry for love one day. Like you and Mama." As the years passed, the few memories that I had left of my mother had started to erode, losing almost all color and sound. I knew there was not much time before I would never again be able to recall her voice, let alone her image.
"Perhaps you shall get lucky, you will never know if we do not try." He had begun to raise his voice.
There were times where he would not look past his own beliefs and selfish reasons to consider my side of the situation. If he had attempted to, he would have found I believed pledging myself to a man who never loved me, nor thought of me in any way prior to the arrangement, was far worse than being sent to the castle itself.
"Perhaps, I will not." He knew as well as I, no man sought after me and I did not blame them either. There was a high chance many of them did not even know I existed at the time. He just preferred to remain ignorant to the truth.
"Do not talk like that Isabelle, there is hope yet." He placed a hand over his chest and his breathing deepened. "I think that is enough talk about that today, you should go start dinner before it gets too late."
An uncertain fate, most likely death, seemed better than a life of servitude in a marriage without love. I understood I was being rather obstinate, but so was he and it only frustrated me further. I believed out of all the things I could selfishly want, experiencing love was not that much to ask for, considering freedom to explore, having an opinion, and an education were things I would much rather have had.
Dinner was quiet that evening, and the awkward static left over from the previous conversation continued to linger. Something shifted that day, there was no doubt, but it felt like an ominous omen that from that point on everything was going to change.
I slept ill that night and refrained from conversation the next morning. I left a few moments earlier than usual to meet Bash for lunch in hopes to ease my mind before he arrived to keep from taking out my frustrations on him. I walked slower than usual, not really paying any mind to the world around me, which was nice. I felt light as air, and relaxed. Hoping that today was going to be better, I needed it to be better.
This time I had already climbed and settled in the tree with no sign of Bash. He was never late, never, nor I ever early. Having said that I did leave sooner, but at the pace I walked I should have still been a few moments late like usual. About fifteen minutes had past and I had grown tired of waiting. Again, this only fed the terrible mood I was in. The longer I sat there the more frustrated and angrier I became.
I started down the tree when I heard him call out from below. "Are you just going to leave without lunch?" Bash looked completely drained, as if he had been up all night. His eyes begged for sleep, and he was sluggish, which instantly made me regret getting upset.
"No, I was just about to come look for you. Are you alright? You look quite ill; did you not sleep last night?" The guilt from jumping to conclusions had started to seep in.
"I am fine. I do apologize, I had something that needed taking care of before I made my way here and it took longer than expected." I watched him climb up to me, his white ruffled shirt untied at the top revealing his collarbones and smooth chest.
He was a tall, muscular man, two years older than myself. His black hair was always pulled back, allowing his blue eyes to stand out and his face shaven. He was undeniably handsome, but just not attractive to me. Though, Bash knew exactly how good-looking he was and often gloated, and whenever he started talking about himself, I had a tendency to quit listening.
"Although I do want to pry into your private dealings, I will not do so out of respect." I joked trying to lighten the obviously tense mood as I watched him get settled.
"Thank you because I had no intentions on telling. How about we eat before it gets cold?" He spoke through his teeth as he handed me the wrapped mystery lunch.
I quite enjoyed being surprised with his mystery foods every once in a while. It was fun, and there was very little fun to be had in such a place that we lived in. Bash paid me no mind and continuously looked off into the distance which started to make me feel like he had not wanted to be there in the first place.
He had never acted like that in all of the seven years I had known him, and even so he could have sent me a letter canceling today if he was just not feeling up to it. I was not good at confronting someone when something was visibly wrong, nor was I very skilled in the craft of comforting people emotionally, so, I decided to let him be.
The mystery food was indeed cured dear meat. Something Bash rarely brought unless he had hunted in the past week or so. "Why have you not touched the food? You always eat more than your fair share, are you ill?" I looked at him worried.
"I ate some on the way here, so I thought I would let you indulge yourself, since I brought just for you." Despite his words the amount of food in the basket suggested otherwise.
He broke the silence after I had finished eating, "If you recall, we have a conversation to continue." The tone of his voice was something I had never heard come from him before. It was even and severe.
"Yes, I do. Please proceed." I flashed him an eager grin in hopes it would lighten the mood.
"The offering is coming up and I-"
I stopped him mid-sentence, "If I would have known that this is what the conversation was going to pertain to, I would have allowed you to leave it be."
"I understand that but there is something I have to say about the matter, I feel a certain way about-"
"Frankly, I do not care about your feelings on the matter and truth be told I don't care about anyone's feelings about it. Not once has anyone asked me how I was doing, nor how I felt about it all." I started to get choked up, "If I am not allowed to have a say in the choices that will dictate my own future, then I simply refuse to allow anyone else to."
He looked at me, well more or less looked through me because his eyes had glazed over. Which told me he was, once again, not listening to me at all.
I watched as he rolled his eyes after I had finished. "Are you done?"
"Pardon me?" I was at a loss for words.
"I asked if you had finished expressing your thoughts which you felt needed to be said and so much so that you rudely interrupted me, not once but twice." The harsh look on his face made me uneasy.
"Leave." Even I could hear the hurt in my own voice.
"I shall not." He huffed. "I have not said what I came here to say, and I have no intentions on leaving until the matter is finished."
"Fine, then I shall leave in your place." I began to descend from the tree then called back with an icy tone, "You can talk to the idea of me being here since you dare not look me in the eye anyway. Good day Bash."
"Isabelle come back. There is no need for such theatrics, you are being needlessly obstinate."
"Theatrics?" I repeated to myself. It took everything I had not to lose my composure. "I said good day, and I meant it."
I proceeded to leave him there. There was no way I was about to beg someone for their understanding, nor was I going to let someone scold me like a child for having an opinion. I understood interrupting him was wrong, but there was no need to speak to me in such a condescending tone.
There had never been a moment during our friendship that had made me want to walk away from Bash, nor feel uneasy until that day. I did not understand what was going on with him, and perhaps I was partially to blame. However, I had never seen so much life behind those icy blue eyes of his until that day he scolded me.