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  Goldie no longer made any effort to hide her giggles. She keeled over laughing and grasped the mop to keep from falling over, but as soon as she touched the handle, the mop sprang into action. Instead of attacking her, it started to glide and spin Goldie like they were dancing at a ball. “Oh, my goodness, Red, this mop is romantic!” The mop hopped and twirled, and Goldie giggled with glee, completely lost in the moment. She even started talking to the mop.

  “Why, yes, I would love another dance, thank you.”

  “Oh, you are such a fine dancer.”

  “What’s that? Marry you? But what would my mummy say? She would not approve of a mop for a son-in-law!”

  While Goldie danced with her romantic mop, I wrestled with my fickle and obstinate broom. I chased it in circles, the bucket trailing at my heels so that I tripped over it at every turn. I finally held the broom down long enough to sweep up some of the mess; a moment later, it wrenched itself free and scattered my dirt pile.

  “Aaaargh!” I roared. I took an ax from a nearby suit of armor and pressed it against the broom handle like a blade to the throat. “Behave, or I’ll chop you up.”

  The broom functioned in the appropriate manner after that.

  Once we swept up the mess, the broom, mop, and bucket surrendered.

  “Phew!” said Goldie. “I’m quite fatigued.”

  I was likewise exhausted and hoped to find a quiet place to rest. No such luck. Beast was waiting for us right outside the doors, a few feathers stuck in his fur.

  “I’m such a clumsy-claws,” he said. “I had a run-in with the pillows in the sitting room.”

  The sitting room looked as though it had snowed inside.

  For three days, the beast ordered us about. We swept and mopped and scrubbed until it was dusk, and my knees were bruised and my arms were like melted wax.

  And the beast was not our only problem. The castle itself was a formidable foe, bursting with spells and enchantments. Whatever the beast ordered, the castle carried it out. The brooms, buckets, dishes, doors, and furniture all worked like taskmasters, until the third day.

  Goldie and I had just finished breakfast when the door opened. We walked through, expecting Beast to be there to give us another chore, but he wasn’t. So we were wandering through the corridor and down the stairs when we heard a faint thump.

  “What was that?” Goldie asked.

  “Our next chore, probably,” I said. Beast was probably knocking down a wall just so he could make us clean it up.

  We opened doors, peeking in various rooms, but they were all empty.

  We heard another thump, louder this time, like something had been dropped or thrown against a wall.

  “Perhaps someone is trapped,” said Goldie.

  “Maybe,” I said. Whatever it was, my curiosity had been piqued. We followed the sound to a set of tall doors. Muffled grunts and the occasional thump came from the other side. Slowly, I turned the knob, and the door opened.

  The room was an enormous library. The walls stretched higher than the tallest trees in The Woods. The ceiling was a dome of glass that flooded the room with light, illuminating thousands upon thousands of books. I never would have believed so many books existed in the entire world.

  Beast stood by a bookshelf, tearing through a volume with feverish passion, as though searching for something. When he did not find it, he growled and flung the book to the floor. The book floated up and placed itself on the shelf while the beast moved on to the next. This continued until he noticed Goldie and me.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled.

  “Look at all these books!” Goldie exclaimed. “I love books. Mummy once got me a book with lots of pictures. I looked at it so many times it fell apart.” She started to walk along the bookshelves, brushing the spines with her fingertips. “I wish I still had it. I wonder if there are any books with pictures in here, perhaps one with a handsome prince who kisses awake a beautiful princess— Oh!”

  A book lifted itself off the shelf and floated to Goldie. She opened it, and sure enough, the pages were full of colorful pictures. “How lovely!” She settled herself on a cushioned chair and engrossed herself in the book. This seemed to soften the beast somewhat.

  “And are you fond of reading, Red?” he asked. “Did your granny read you many books?”

  “Books are rare on The Mountain,” I said. “Granny mostly told me stories.” I had learned my letters and words by reading Granny’s spells and potion recipes.

  “I will tell you a story, then,” said Beast, “one your granny surely never told you.” I fiddled with my dress, trying to seem uninterested, but I had a queasy feeling in my stomach that whatever story the beast was about to tell was significant.

  “There once was a princess,” Beast began, “who had everything she could ever wish for. Gold and silver, land and loyal subjects. She was lively and intelligent. She played instruments and sang sonnets, but above all, she was beautiful, and the fame of her beauty spread throughout the land. Brave knights and handsome princes came from far and wide to win her hand in marriage, and yet the princess was unhappy, for she knew that one day it would all come to an end. She would grow old, and her beauty would fade. Eventually she would die. Oh, the thought was unbearable, that she should grow old and become nothing but bones and dirt in the ground.”

  I grumbled a little. I didn’t need another lecture from a nonhuman about the foolishness of humans despising death. I was sure beasts lived for a thousand years, like dwarves.

  The beast continued. “The princess knew of an enchantress rumored to wield powerful magic. The enchantress healed the sick. She gave barren women children and caused failed crops to grow again. The princess summoned the enchantress to her castle and commanded that she make her immortal. She offered her riches. Gold, silver, jewels, half her kingdom, if only she would help her stay young forever. The enchantress refused. It was a foolish idea, she said, and she would have no part in it.

  “The princess was not accustomed to being denied, especially in such an insulting manner, so she threatened the enchantress with dungeons and torture and death if she did not obey her command.

  “The enchantress laughed. She did not fear such a threat.

  “Then the princess did something she had never done in her life. She begged. She got down on her knees and pleaded with the enchantress. She would do anything, anything at all, if only she could live on, forever young and beautiful.

  “The enchantress gave a final warning: ‘No human should live forever. It goes against human nature.’

  “ ‘Then I don’t want to be human!’ declared the princess. ‘I am more than human! I am royal! Take death away from me!’

  “ ‘If you truly wish it,’ said the enchantress. ‘I gave you fair warning, but because you are such a determined fool, perhaps you deserve to get your wish.’

  “The enchantress spoke an incantation, causing roses to grow in the palace garden. She covered the entire grounds with roses. They crawled over the gates and the statues, overtook the shrubs and trees, and in the center of it all was an enchanted rosebush. Red roses. Magic roses.

  “ ‘Pick one,’ said the enchantress. ‘Prick your finger on a thorn. Give your blood to the earth, and you shall never die.’

  “In eager haste, the princess plucked a rose and pricked her finger. She allowed a drop of her blood to soak into the earth. She felt the magic rush into her body like fire, making her strong, powerful, unbreakable. She was immortal! She danced among the roses until she frightened the gardener, who had been trying vigorously to trim them back. When he saw the princess, he screamed and ran away.

  “He is stunned by my immortal beauty, the princess thought.

  “She walked through the castle and everyone who saw her fled. The cook, the butler, her ladies-in-waiting. Even soldiers with spears and swords shouted in fear and fled the castle grounds.

  “The princess went to her chambers to observe her new immortal state in the mirror, and when
she saw herself, she wished to die. She was immortal indeed, but she was no longer human. She was…”

  “A beast,” I whispered. Beast fell quiet. “You’re the princess.”

  “Was,” said the beast.

  “Wait, you’re a princess?” said Goldie, dropping her book. “But you’re so…so…you’re so…”

  “Furry? Smelly? Hideous?” snarled the beast.

  “I was going to say ‘tall,’ ” said Goldie. “You’re very tall for a girl. That’s all.”

  I was still taking this all in. The Red Roses had turned the princess into a beast. A beast that could live forever. I pressed my face into my hands. I could have turned Granny into a beast. If it weren’t for the gargoyles, I could have turned myself into a beast. And now I could see all the regret in the eyes of this princess-beast—regret that she had ever wished for immortality.

  “Did the enchantress tell you how you might break the curse?” I asked.

  The beast shook her head. “It’s impossible,” she said bitterly.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Every curse has a means of escape, even if you don’t know it. I have a friend who was cursed since birth, and he had no idea how to break it, but he still did.”

  “I never said I didn’t know the way. I said it was impossible.”

  “If there’s a way to break it, then it is possible,” I said.

  “Oh! Oh!” shouted Goldie, waving her arms around like a lunatic. “I know what it is! True love’s kiss! Mummy told me a story once of a princess under a spell, but the spell was broken by true love’s kiss!”

  “That’s a lovely story,” said Beast, “but this spell will not be broken by true love’s kiss.”

  “If you were a prince, I’d kiss you right now,” said Goldie. “Then I’d be a princess and Mummy would love me for certain.” Goldie puckered up as though she truly thought to kiss the beast.

  “But she’s not a prince,” I said, restraining Goldie. “She’s a princess. Or was.”

  Beast had backed up against a bookshelf, as if she thought the threat of Goldie’s kiss was real.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said the beast. “I can’t break the spell, and I’ll be a beast forever.”

  I drummed my fingers on a stack of books, thinking. If Granny were here, she’d know what to do. I’d seen her help others in similar predicaments, though perhaps nothing quite so extreme. Obviously the roses didn’t interest me anymore, but perhaps I could barter with Beast, convince her to release us in exchange for Granny’s magical advice.

  “I think I know someone who might be able to help you,” I said.

  “Yes,” said the beast. “I know. In fact, that is precisely why you are here.”

  I nodded, my suspicions now confirmed. Granny wouldn’t be able to break the curse for Beast, or change her back to a princess, but she could tell her if she would ever break the spell, and perhaps give her a few clues as to how. It might be my only chance of escape.

  “My granny knows a lot about magic,” I said. “If you release us, I can take you to her. She’s very ill, but she’d still help you find a way to break your curse.”

  The beast stared at me for a moment, something like laughter in her eyes, though I couldn’t see what was so funny. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’ve already sent word to your granny.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  The beast turned away from me and brushed her claws along the books, leaving scratch marks on the spines. I could almost feel the books cringing in pain. “Enchantress…,” said Beast. “It’s just a nice name for a witch, you know. A witch did this to me, and now I hold the key to making her change me back—her one and only grandchild.”

  I gaped at Beast. The realization crept over me, cold and slow, like frost on a windowpane. “You mean…”

  The beast nodded. “Rose Red the Enchantress, or as people now call her, The Witch of The Woods.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Beastly Destiny

  Granny. Rose Red. The enchantress who transformed a princess into a beast. She had never told me this story before. I guess I could see why. It wasn’t something to be proud of, transforming a princess into a beast, even if the princess had demanded it. It was a cruel fate and I understood why the beast had made us her prisoners, but she obviously didn’t understand that kidnapping me was a useless ploy.

  “She won’t undo the curse,” I said.

  “She will if she wants to see her only grandchild.”

  “You can’t keep us here forever!” said Goldie.

  “Has your affection for me died so soon?”

  Goldie cowered, clutching her book of handsome princes and fair princesses to her chest.

  “You don’t understand,” I said. “She can’t undo the curse, even if she were well enough. She doesn’t have the power. Curses can’t be reversed or undone, only broken, according to whatever rules were set forth at the time of the cursing, so the only way—”

  The beast roared, causing books to tumble from shelves. “I know the rules! Now I’m setting my rules! Your granny will turn me back into a princess or she will die knowing that you are in my power.”

  “And at the end of it all, you’ll still be a beast!” I shouted.

  The beast’s hairy brow furrowed ever so slightly. I thought she was about to cry, her sapphire-blue eyes glistened so, but then she roared and raked her claws over another row of books so that they crashed to the floor. She burst through the doors and ran away on all fours.

  The library busied itself, picking up the books the beast had displaced, stacking them neatly on the shelves.

  “Red, do you think we’ll ever go home?” Goldie asked.

  I closed my eyes. It was my fault Goldie was here. I had gotten her into this mess. “We’ll find a way out, Goldie,” I said. “I promise.”

  A book suddenly lifted off a shelf and dropped onto my head.

  “Ouch! What was that for?” I picked up the book and read the title.

  The Broken Promise.

  I hurled it across the room, but it simply floated back up to the shelf and slid itself neatly into place. Magic books. They won’t even let you get properly enraged.

  Why hadn’t Granny told me about the beast? Was she ashamed? Had she truly meant to turn the princess into a beast, or had it been a disastrous magical mistake? I had never imagined Granny made any mistakes with magic, but clearly I didn’t know everything about Granny.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t get one of The Red Roses,” said Goldie. “Otherwise, you might have turned your granny into a beast!”

  “I suppose so,” I said, though I wondered if the spell might work differently if you didn’t want it for yourself, but for someone else. Granny said that selfishness was one of the reasons magic always went wrong. But I didn’t want eternal life for myself. I wanted it for Granny. That wasn’t selfish, was it?

  “What about that other magic…?” Goldie mused while turning the pages of another book. “The Magic Hearts. I told you to try that from the beginning. It sounds nice.”

  I had pushed it out of mind because the dwarves knew so little of it. “I don’t even know what a Magic Heart is or where to find one,” I said.

  “Maybe it’s something you find in your own heart?” guessed Goldie.

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” I said. “I need to figure out how the magic works.”

  I knew The Magic Hearts existed. The dwarves said so. I just needed more information. Granny always says the best way to gain knowledge is through your own experience. The second-best way is to learn from others. Stories. Lessons. Books.

  Books! Here I was in a place full of information, and all I had to do was ask.

  “Goldie,” I said. “We can ask the library about Magic Hearts!”

  “Goodness, why didn’t I think of that? Here, let me ask.” She closed her book and stood up. “Oh, library, wilt thou give us a book about The Magic Hearts?”

  Nothing happened at first, and t
hen a book removed itself from a low shelf and floated toward us. I took it and eagerly read the pages, with Goldie peering over my shoulder, but I was disappointed in the story. It was a tale about a girl who gave her heart to a boy, but he threw it away. Where her heart lay there grew a willow tree called The Wishing Willow, and anyone who wished for true love beneath that tree would find it.

  “That was the saddest, most beautiful story in the world!” Goldie sniffled.

  “But it’s not helpful.” I shut the book and pushed it back toward the shelf. “I need a book that will tell me how to stop death.”

  The library brought down another book full of remedies for common illnesses, but nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Oh, gross,” said Goldie. “There’s the recipe for the tonic Mummy always makes me drink!” She made a gagging noise and tossed the book back to the shelf.

  “We might have more luck if we search separately,” I said.

  “Good idea,” said Goldie. “I’ll go ask the other side of the library. You stay here and keep asking this side. We’ll find something!”

  I asked about Magic Hearts in a dozen different ways, and the library brought down book after book. I read stories and histories and remedies, each having something to do with hearts, magic, or forever, but none brought me any closer to knowing how I might save Granny.

  Across the library, I could hear Goldie’s requests and then her subsequent reactions to whatever book the library had given her. She giggled, gasped, and sobbed, while I grumbled and growled at my fruitless search. In a library with this many books, there had to be something useful.

  “Can’t you find any book that mentions Magic Hearts? Just Magic Hearts so a person will never die.” The words came out a little snippety, so I added, “Please.”

  The library was still for a minute, like it was thinking or searching for the right book. Finally another book came down to me from the very tallest shelf. It was old and worn. It looked promising. I settled into a big chair and opened the pages. At first glance, I thought it was a spell book and my heart leapt, but it turned out to be nothing more than nursery rhymes, all rather silly and nonsensical.