Beauty and the Werewolf by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online Page B

worse.
    I just hope that there won’t be any more fuss, she thought as she drank down the vile-tasting potion. Fine, the wolf is vicious and dangerous. But I have no intention of putting myself in danger from it again.
    She had managed to fall deeply asleep despite the pain of her bitten ankle. She awoke to an incredible commotion downstairs.
    Dawn was not yet on the horizon and she blinked in the dim light of the fire, listening in confusion. Loud, rough male voices, heavy boots stomping all about…it sounded as if there was an entire troop of soldiers at the door—
    Why would there be soldiers here?
    Then came the sound of one man’s voice raised above all the others, barking orders.
    What—
    Then there was the unmistakable sound of boots on the stairs, and as she struggled to sit up and clear the fog of sleep from herhead, Marguerite opened her bedroom door, and was propelled inside on a veritable wave of tall, strong men in the King’s livery.
    â€œAre you Isabella Beauchamps?” the one with the most decorations on his cloak barked out. And before she could answer, continued, “Were you attacked by a wolf last night?”
    Marguerite squeaked. Bella paid no attention to her. How— What—
    â€œI—” she began.
    â€œDescribe the attack!” the man ordered, glowering at her so fiercely that she found herself stammering out her story without thinking twice about it—nor about the fact that her bedroom was filled with armed men, and she was huddled in the bedclothes in her nightgown.
    He questioned her closely about the wolf itself, color, size and, most especially, behavior. Then he turned to Marguerite. “You will get your mistress prepared for travel, pack her clothing enough for a month and present her and her belongings downstairs in fifteen minutes,” he commanded. “This is by order of the King.”
    WHAT?
    But she didn’t have any chance to ask for an explanation or even to protest. Marguerite was so terrified that she practically threw Bella’s clothing onto her. No sooner had Bella struggled into her gown than Mathew and two more of the menservants, and Jessamine, another maid, were crowding into her room and bundling things into trunks. She and her things were rushed downstairs and into the hands of the King’s men so quickly that she scarcely had time to catch her breath.
    The chief officer didn’t even let her limp her way out; he swept her up in his arms while more of his men dealt with the two trunks that the servants brought down, and carried her out the door, to bedropped unceremoniously into a carriage. The doors slammed shut, and when she tried them, she discovered that they were locked.
    She considered any number of actions, starting with screaming and kicking at the doors. But it was fairly obvious that neither would get her anywhere. This was—must be—on the King’s orders. Doctor Jonaton either had not known what his report would mean, or had known and considered the situation grave enough to withhold the information from her.
    So screaming and protesting would get her nowhere, and this carriage, while comfortable, was clearly built to confine whoever was in it quite securely.
    She had no idea what was going on—but she hadn’t broken any laws, and clearly, this wolf attack meant something important…
    And that was when the answer struck her, and she sat, frozen in horror, for the remainder of the journey.
    The carriage stopped. The door was opened from the outside. The King’s officer waited as she blinked in the sudden light. “Can you walk, Mistress Isabella?” he asked with gruff courtesy.
    â€œI think so,” she said in a small voice.
    He handed her down; she winced as she put her injured foot on the pavement.
    Pavement?
    Now she looked up. She was in the courtyard of what was clearly a fortified Manor; a high wall surrounded the building, and the King’s men were