A Rose for the Beast

Forbidden Places

Rosalie awoke to the sound of morning birds chirping happily. She stretched her arms out and yawned before snuggling deeper into the bed, ignoring the light of dawn seeping into the room.

"Good Morning, Madame. Could I offer you some tea before breakfast?," a kind, feminine voice interrupted Rosalie's sleepy bliss.

Her eyes shot open immediately and she leaned forward, pulling the sheets up to her chin. Peeking through her messy locks of brown hair, she spotted a large crane standing by a rolling tray. Steam rose from the teapot beside a lone cup on the small table. Rosalie stared at the animal for a bit before speaking.

"You just talked, like the wolf....and the rabbit and turtle," she stated.

"Ah, yes," the crane said, "He is actually a tortoise. Turtles are aquatic. But they are easily confused. Here," she used her beak to pick up the teapot and pour tea into the cup, skillfully placing it back onto the tray without spilling a drop.

When the bird pushed the table over to her bed, Rosalie took the teacup. She drank a small sip and moaned at the delectable taste. Then, she gazed around the room.

"How did I get into bed?"

"The master came as soon as he heard that you fell ill. He refused to let you lay in the floor all night. Seems he is quite taken with you," the crane said with a wink.

Rosalie blushed and sipped her tea again, avoiding eye contact. She didn't know what to think of Michel's actions or the strangely polite bird. She wondered how many other animals were around the castle and how many of them were capable of speech. The crane disappeared into the closet, returning with a beautiful blue dress draped over her extended wings.

"Can all of the animals in the forest speak?," Rosalie asked.

The crane giggled and shook her head.

"No, dearie. Only the staff of the castle must deal with the curse."

Rosalie's brows drew together and she frowned.

"Curse? What--"

"Come, child. You must get dressed. Master awaits in the dining room," the crane said quickly as she placed the dress at the foot of the bed. She made a swift exit, effectively avoiding Rosalie's questions.

She finished her cup of tea and set it on the tray. After fixing her hair into a tight bun, she pulled the dress on and peered at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Rosalie hadn't ever worn such fine fabric. The blue accentuated her green eyes and pale complexion. It flared slightly at her hips and draped in layers around her legs, stopping just above her feet.

The crane came back into the room carrying a pair of silver toned heels that looked more expensive than the entirety of her wardrobe back home.

"My, what a beauty you are!," the crane gasped, drawing a smile out of Rosalie.

She graciously took the shoes and turned back toward the vanity. The crane tied her corset in the back easily, despite her feathered fingers. Rosalie placed the shoes on the ground, then slipped into them. They weren't the perfect fit, pinching her toes and squeezing her heel tightly. But they completed the ensemble. Beauty was bred through pain, as her mother used to say.

The crane backed away, bringing her arms forward and folding her feathered fingers together over of her long beak. A sheen of tears appeared in her beady eyes.

"This has to work," she whispered.

"What?"

The crane shook her head and waved her wing at Rosalie, using the other to wipe her face off.

"Never you mind, deary. I'll let you finish and wait in the foyer for you," she said as her lengthy legs took a few long steps to the door.

"Wait," Rosalie said, stopping the bird before she left, "I'm Rosalie LaFleur. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

The crane's beak seemed to lift into a smile when she replied, "I'm Avila Plume, head housekeeper for Master Michel. Pleased to meet you," she said with a courteous nod, then she left the room.

Rosalie composed herself, taking one last look in the mirror, then opened the door. The empty hall remained quiet as she moved toward the stairs. She took her time going down, eyes roaming toward the other length of stairway leading to the West Wing. She wondered what secrets Michel hid beyond the darkened hallway at the top of the steps.

She glanced down at the foyer to see Madame Plume speaking to a pair of smaller cranes. She froze and shrank below the banister to eavesdrop, hoping she'd hear more information about the castle and its owner. As she listened, she heard the motherly bird reprimanding the two young ones like they were her children.

"What have I told you about flying in the ballroom? It's off-limits to staff and that includes you," she chided.

"Yes, Mama," the young cranes drew the words out, confirming her assumption that Ms. Plume was their mother.

Rosalie shifted her gaze back to the West Wing, a mystery beckoning to be revealed. She moved slowly down to the landing, glancing back to the crane with its back turned to her. She quickly slid across the flat surface to the other side of the stairway and carefully climbed up the stairs on her hands and knees.

As she snuck around the corner into the West Wing hallway, excitement thrumming through her veins. She heaved a sigh of relief. Rosalie closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, relaxing slightly. When she looked down the hall, expecting to find similar decor to the East Wing, she sucked in a startled breath.

As she surveyed the destruction, Rosalie had just a single thought,

I shouldn't have come here...