The New Terms

She didn't find him in the Great Hall. She didn't find him in the kitchen.

She found him in the Conservatory.

Bram was sitting on the floor, holding one of the grey wool socks she had knitted. He looked devastatingly small for a giant monster. His shoulders were shaking.

"Bram?"

He spun around, scrambling to hide the sock behind his back. "You left! You were gone!"

"I forgot my sourdough," Elsie said, marching into the room.

"You came back for yeast?" Bram roared, though his voice cracked.

"No!" Elsie shouted back. "I came back because you are an idiot!"

She stopped in front of him. She looked up at his horned face, his terrified gold eyes.

"You don't want me to leave," Elsie stated.

"I do!" Bram insisted. "I am a beast! I am a recluse!"

"You are a liar," Elsie said. "You think you're protecting me. You think you're too much of a monster for an ordinary woman. But you aren't listening to me."

She stepped closer, invading his personal space.

"I hate ordinary," Elsie said fiercely. "I tried it for twenty-nine years, and it was boring. I like the horns. I like the roaring. I like the way you look at me when I bake."

Bram stared at her. "You... like the horns?"

"They give you character. And they make excellent hat racks."

Bram let out a huff of laughter that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Elsie..."

"I didn't sign the papers," Elsie said. "But I'm not staying as your accidental prisoner-wife. That’s weird."

"It is," Bram agreed.

"So," Elsie crossed her arms. "I have a counter-proposal."

Bram leaned down. "What is it?"

"I would like to apply for a new position," Elsie said. "Not housekeeper. Not wife."

"What then?"

"Girlfriend," Elsie said. "Girlfriend who lives here, eats your food, yells at you when you’re being dramatic, and... maybe holds your hand in the conservatory."

Bram looked at her. The hope on his face was blinding.

"Is that a paid position?" he asked softly.

"The benefits are excellent," Elsie smiled. "Fresh bread. Warm socks. And me."

Bram reached out. He took her hand. He didn't pull away.

"That sounds," Bram said, bringing her knuckles to his lips, grazing them with his teeth, "like a very acceptable contract."

"Good," Elsie said. "Now put your socks back on. The floor is cold, and we have a lot of paperwork to ignore."

She led him out of the conservatory, back toward the warmth of the kitchen. The annulment papers lay forgotten in the hall, gathering dust—which was fine, because Elsie Pringle was done with dusting. She had a beast to keep warm.