A Rose for the Beast

Welcome Home?

The humid air wrapped around Rosalie as she trekked down the hill to her home. She noticed the chickens clucking loudly by the hen house, stirred up by something nearby. Ignoring the birds' odd activity, Rosalie approached her painted horse, Max. He bobbed his head and neighed at her.

She patted his neck lovingly, then walked up the steps to her front door. The sound of bickering from inside stopped her from entering.

"You're not making any sense, Bastien! Rosalie wouldn't have been foraging for herbs anywhere near the forest! What did you say attacked her?"

She recognized her father's voice. Forgetting that eavesdropping was considered rude, she pressed her ear against the wooden door to listen further.

"It was a huge bear! I tried to fight it off, but even my immense strength couldn't match its ferocity. Do you not see my leg?! If she hadn't been somewhere she shouldn't have, none of this would have happened!"

"I can't believe this is what I return home to. My sweet Rosalie," her father's voice broke for a moment, "I must go after her."

"No, Monsieur LaFleur. I have already gathered some adept hunters. We are ready to start searching for her, but I'll need something from you first."

Rosalie scrunched her brows, trying to figure out what Bastien was planning and why he would lie to her father.

"Whatever you need, please!," her father begged.

"You will give me her hand in marriage as soon as I return her safely," Bastien replied in a smug tone.

Anger boiled in her gut as Rosalie pulled her head away from the door. She'd heard enough. She snatched the door open, startling both men. Her father's mouth bobbed in shock while Bastien's morphed, outrage and slight confusion shifting his features.

"Rosalie--"

"Who the hell do you think you are?!," she said, cutting off her father's words while glaring at the hunter.

He had cleaned up since she last saw him, though it didn't make him any more appealing to her. Standing with a slight lean, a large bandage wrapped around his lower leg to cover his wound, Bastien wore deep green trousers with a tanned hide shirt and a brown fur cloak. Something about the attire unnerved her.

"Che...Chére! You...uh...you've made it back safely!," Bastien stammered, "And just in time; Victor has just promised you as my wife."

"No, he did not and you blatantly lied to him. I wasn't attacked by a bear. I was assaulted by you! And when I ran into the woods, some wolves stopped you from hurting me. That's why there are bites on your leg. If it hadn't been for me, you would have been eaten."

Victor's brows lowered as he turned his gaze toward the hunter.

"What is this? Why would you tell such a horrendous story and make me believe something dreadful had happened to my daughter?"

Bastien's eyes darted back and forth as if searching for a reasonable explanation. He finally stood up straight, anxious features turning back into a self-satisfied smile.

"I wanted to do this peacefully. I supposed I don't have to, since you're back now, Chére."

He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly. Several men wearing green cloaks immediately surrounded them, filtering in from the front and back doors. She recognized the clothing as the same garments the intruders wore at Castle BelleMontagne.

Rosalie moved in front of her father as they were backed into a corner. The clicking sound of heels pierced the thick silence. As the steps got close, Rosalie's heart sped up.

A tall, thin woman came into the house and instantly locked eyes with her. The strange woman wore a mantua gown, green velvet clinging to her skinny figure. The petticoat underneath flared around her hips, barely fitting through the doorway. Her blonde hair sat on top of her head, loose curls falling around a silver crown embellished with emeralds of various sizes. Matching jewelry hung from her ears and neck.

The woman exuded an aura of superiority and elegance, but Rosalie detected the underlying sense of malevolence. Despite the tight grip of fear squeezing her, she didn't look away from the woman's penetrating blue gaze.

Rosalie anticipated some form of aspersion from the woman she assumed to be Michel's ex-fiancé, but the female only addressed Bastien.

"Is this her?," she asked.

Bastien nodded, a smug grin spreading on his face, "Yes, Queen Magda."

Rosalie bared her teeth at him menacingly, then focused back on the woman, who smirked at her.

"Then, it's time to use this putain to teach my love a lesson in suffering."