Steel Roses

Jasper

The next morning, Beldon sat in the middle of the library floor, crossed legged, elbow on thigh, chin on knuckles, about fifteen books spread around him – all of which had tried to catch his attention and none had succeeded.

Why had The Beast’s wounds on his face not healed yet? Beldon’s had – they still throbbed from time to time but in looks they had healed over. Surely, as Master of the castle, The Beast would have been given even better treatment then him, and yet he had four nasty scratches through his face.

Where was this Jasper when Beldon needed him? The physician – Beldon could only assume that was what he was – only ever attended to Beldon at night, when he was asleep. Beldon couldn’t understand why he never woke up but that was how it was.

He wanted to speak to him, to ask him why The Beast was still suffering; heavens knew he didn’t need any more damage to that face. Sighing and falling back, throwing his arms out to the sides, he looked at the ceiling high above, soaking up the sunlight that fell through the arching windows.

What to do with himself? He wasn’t going to find Jasper lying here that was for sure – all the staff were still hiding from him and the castle felt even emptier then before.

He raised his legs and swung them down again, using the momentum to roll up onto one knee and rise to his feet, stepping over the books and striding out of the library. Maybe he would go to one of the music rooms, get in some practice – seemed rather pointless now with no one to perform to. He had used to perform the violin at receptions, accompanying young women at the piano or providing the music during the dances he didn’t participate in.

He smiled slightly as he thought of the receptions. His family had always hosted some of the grandest parties. After his mother’s passing, Antoinette had taken on the roll and she had adored it as much as their mother had, sparing no expense to ensure they were the talk of town. How his poor sister had missed her organising when they had fallen from grace.

How glad he was that the lack of balls meant avoiding Miss Macy – and any of the young ladies his sister had pushed on him. He had always eventually stolen away from those parties with Raoul, going into the gardens to get away from it all, laughing about the different guests, complaining about their families, discussing themselves, discussing each other.

“Jasper, you are irritating me now, why not just speak to him yourself?”

Beldon was yanked out of his thoughts – which were wandering into uncomfortable and dangerous territory as it was – very suddenly by the sound of Iago’s voice and Jasper’s name.

He paused mid-step by a half open door that led into a sitting room and leant back, peering through the opening.

There were about six servants in the room, that he could see at least. Iago was one. The one he was speaking to was one of those strange cat-creatures that could walk on two legs – that had to be Jasper. There were also two of those mist figures and two other servants who looked like Julius, though somehow he knew neither of them were Julius.

“I could not possibly,” Jasper was saying, his tabby-cat tail swishing irritably.

“The young master is perfectly pleasant to speak to when he is not annoyed. I cannot understand your resistance in meeting him. I understand that he is a surprising addition to the mix that none of us anticipated but he is a most welcome one.”

“Welcome!? Now really!” Jasper started when Iago looked up as Beldon opened the door, looking in.

“Ah, good morning sir,” he said.

“Excuse me for interrupting,” Beldon started, before there was an explosion of activity as every other servant in the room panicked. “Oh please wait!” Beldon shouted as they all bolted for the adjoining doors that opened into other rooms. Jasper, his fur on end in fright, launched himself towards one of the open doors and Beldon pounced on him, catching him around the waist and flattening him.