A Rose for the Beast

When Tempers Flare

Rosalie started to retreat and head back downstairs when a glimmer caught her eye. At the end of the hall, large wooden doors sat nearly closed, a beam of light sifting through the small opening.

The strange luminescent aura drew her closer, past the ripped carpet, torn portraits, and shattered vases. Her feet crunched on the broken pieces as she slowly moved toward the doors. She reached for the brass knobs, curiosity spurring her on.

"Mon Dieu, chére! Are you out of your mind!?"

The rabbit from her closet hopped quickly to stand at her feet, blocking her path. It used its paws to push Rosalie back. She let it lead her away just a few steps.

"What is that in there?," she asked, eyes still glued to the thin seam of the doors.

"That is Master Michel's chambers. If he finds you here, we will both be in a heap of trouble," the rabbit said anxiously while continually scanning the hallway.

Rosalie desired nothing more than finding out what was in that room, but she couldn't risk getting anyone in trouble on her behalf. Promising herself that she would continue her exploration later, she reluctantly agreed to leave. She spun and headed back down to the landing in the foyer where the stork waited. When the bird saw where Rosalie and the rabbit had come from, she squeaked in a panic.

"Monsieur Carrote, where are your senses? Master Michel will have your head if he finds out you took our guest into the West Wing!," she whispered furiously.

Rosalie scowled at that. How could a man so desperate for social interaction be so cruel to his staff?

"Why would you work for someone who would be so terrible at the slightest infraction?," she asked before Monsieur Carrote had a chance to defend himself.

Ms. Plume's expression softened. She lowered her gaze and sighed.

"We are all he has," she said before descending to the ground floor.

Rosalie followed, unsure what to make of the situation she found herself in. They walked under the stairway through a door that led to the dining room. Red blanketed the walls with glittering gold lining the baseboards. An extravagant chandelier cascaded down from the cieling, overlooking a decadent feast. The vast array of food had her salivating  as if starved.

Her focus pivoted when she noticed Michel at the end of the large oak table. He stood when she approached and she realized he'd changed his outfit into more formal wear. The black suede jacket and dress pants gave him an entirely different appearance compared to the rags he'd been wearing in the forest.

He looked...incredibly handsome.

"What took you so long?"

And there goes the mood, she thought.

Crossing her arms, she glared at him from the other end of the table. After he had rudely given her an ultimatum and basically kidnapping her, he had locked her in a room all night, forgetting to mention to her about the talking animals in his castle. And now, he wanted to chastise her for being a little late. She used that to deflect his inquiry of her whereabouts.

"I thought I was a guest? You're treating me more like a prisoner."

He shrugged, "That's a more suitable term for you."

She huffed and stomped her foot indignantly, not caring how childish the gesture was.

"I am not your prisoner, we had a deal," she said, voice rising with her anger.

Michel growled, scowling at her.

"You're in my home and you'll do as I say; there are no other options," he said through clenched teeth.

Rosalie raised a brow, "I think you misunderstand me. I don't take orders from anyone. Least of all, from a stubborn, isolated ruffian like you!"

His fist slammed down on the table, breaking the wood straight through and shaking every object on top of it. Rosalie's eyes widened at the outburst. Then, he shoved several glasses and platters dull of food to the floor, shattering the dishes in a loud crash. Rosalie didn't wait to see what else he would do, frightened by his sudden savagery.

She turned, running out of the room and straight to the front door, desperate to escape. Rosalie thought about the village and the safety of her home, away from the dark forest and Michel's violent tantrum. She had no sense of where she was, but she'd travel for days if she needed to. She pulled the door open and nearly barreled into a group of men.

They were covered in dark green cloaks with scarves masking their lower faces. Their eyes seethed with aggression, forcing her to take a couple of steps backward. She wondered briefly if they might be friends of Michel's. That hope was dashed with three simple words.

"Kill them all."