Winter's Rose ~A Beauty and the Beast Retelling~

The Truth

Rosalind woke the next morning to Cassandra's soft voice calling her name from the other side of the door. She rolled over in bed, moaning as the door creaked as Cassandra entered. She felt Cassandra's hand appear on her shoulder, shaking her slightly.

"Rosalind," she said with a melodic tone. "You need to wake up."

Rosalind's stomach rumbled with hunger giving her wakeful state away. She rolled onto her back, pushing herself up with her elbows. The wool cloak slipping off her shoulders. So it had not been a dream, she had indeed met William last night. Cassandra seemed to notice the cloak too.

"Where did you get that?" Cassandra asked.

"William," Rosalind told her softly.

"William--How did you know his name?" Cassandra seemed perplexed.

"He told me his name."

"Last night?" Cassandra questioned. "He came to you last night? In your room--how brazen is he?" Cassandra seemed abhorred by her interaction with William.

"Not in my room, I went wandering last night and met him." She explained. She knew the rules of propriety and how a man and young woman should never be unaccompanied. William was the master of the house; he would never have such an interest in her any way. She wanted to tell that to Cassandra, but she feared it may make Cassandra have a fit.

"Well, you must have made quite the impression then," Cassandra said with a cynical tone. "He has invited you to take breakfast with him this morning. Which is strange, he rarely dines away from his quarters. Selene has been bustling around the kitchen all morning." Rosalind's heart stopped for a moment. She had just met the strange man.

William, was an enigma, that seemed to switch between a gentleman and a raging lunatic. Cassandra helped her out of the warm bed, and out into the cold of the room. She walked on her toes in attempt to avoid the cold stone floor. Rosalind wrapped the cloak tighter around her.

"I brought you another dress." Cassandra told her, taking away William's cloak. She folded it and placed it on the vanity. She lifted Rosalind's chemise over her head, replacing it with a fresh dress. Rosalind braced her hands on the corner of the vanity as Cassandra pulled the laces tight.

"Cassandra?" Rosalind began. "What does William look like?"

"He looks like a man." Cassandra said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Does William have scars on his face?"

Cassandra stopped mid-lace. Her touch instantly leaving. "How would you know that?"

Rosalind's face flushed with embarrassment. "I felt it."

"You what?" Cassandra asked in disbelief. "He let you touch him?"

"Yes--well, no-- only for a second." She stuttered. Cassandra began tying the dress again in silence. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Most things are better left unsaid," Cassandra mumbled. "I will advise you not to ask that question again...to anyone."

Rosalind was quiet. Cassandra sat her down, and brushed her hair. She did not mean to overstep; she was just curious. She could feel Cassandra loosely braid her hair down her back, tying it with a small ribbon. Rosalind now dreaded going to breakfast for the fear that she might say the wrong thing.

Once she was done being made up, Cassandra handed her the folded cloak and led her down the same series of hallways that they had travelled down yesterday. This tension between the two of them made Rosalind uncomfortable. She heard the wooden doors of the dining room creak open.