Page 3 of Once Upon A Bear

Alexander’s jaw clenched, and he turned to look at his wife.

“I’m sorry to bring it up,” Guinevere said, “but I have my suspicions about who it might be, and I was wondering if you had any insight for me, since I know you’ve probably seen him more than I have.”

“Who?” Beatrice asked.

“Gideon Rendon,” Guinevere said.

The husband and wife turned to each other, speaking a silent language she would never understand before Alexander nodded.

“It’s possible,” he said. “I know Kellan was telling me how Gideon keeps disappearing, and how frustrating it was that he was unable to help his brother.”

“I know,” Guinevere said quietly. She’d heard the same rumors, that Gideon Rendon was too flighty and disappeared frequently. If it was founded, she could understand the frustration, but more than a small part of her was convinced it was because he was turning into a bear—and if she had to guess, it wasn’t voluntary.

“Sophia was telling me the same thing,” Beatrice said thoughtfully.

“So you think it’s possible?”

“I do,” Beatrice said. “I’m not sure what you’re going to do about it, though.”

Guinevere grinned as she got to her feet, leaving the parcel of pastries with Beatrice.

“I’m going to do what I do best: I’m going to meddle.”

Beatrice’s laughter followed her as she left the study. How exactly she was going to meddle, she wasn’t sure—but she had no doubt that it was going to be necessary.

Chapter two

Gideon

Gideon hummed softly to himself as he opened one of his hives to check on the bees and harvest it. A cool breeze ruffled the sheer veil draped over the hat perched on his head, hinting at the cold weather on the way, along with the urge to hibernate–—but he wouldn’t think about that now.

He had to harvest honey today, because he was bringing some to the café this afternoon.

Thea had recently started using his honey and said it was the best she’d ever found—much better than importing it from Riyel. She had placed a large order, so large he wasn’t sure he would be able to fulfill it at all.

But if that meant he had to get a few more hives, that wouldn’t be the end of the world. He loved the bees and had a way of finding new swarms that was almost magical.

He hummed a sour note, and the bees could tell. He quickly corrected himself. They loved it when he hummed, for some reason.

Of course, he wasn’t sure if they just loved him because he was in human form or not. They tended to be angry when he was in his bear form—something about him smelling like their honey, probably—but he was careful, even in his bear form, to not take more honey than the hive could afford. It would do him no good if he drove his hives to extinction, even if honey was the best food he could eat as a bear.

The smell of the honey nearly overwhelmed his senses, and the bear inside him was urging him to take it all back to his den to save for later, but he already had some stored away there.

He finished filling two jars of honey and closed up the hive, letting the bees be as he slowly backed away. With the honey he’d gathered in his arms, he made his way into the kitchen, throwing the fabric over his head to see better as he moved.

The hives were placed at the northern edge of his father’s estate, close to the forest and the road to town, almost as if they were guarding the estate. It was convenient for keeping his bees safe from humans…but far less convenient for bringing the honey back to the house.

He trudged through the courtyard and made his way toward the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen always felt like entering another world, because it was—it was Cook’s domain. And now that Cook and one of his father’s guards had fallen in love, it was a considerably lighter domain than it had been before.

And of course, he was here now.

“Good morning,” Hopkins said from where he stood next to Cook, smiling down at her as if she had hung the moon for him. Her son, Jacob, ran toward Gideon with a wooden sword in his hand, crouching into an exaggerated sparring pose. “Look what we made!”

Gideon reached down and ruffled the child’s dark hair, the same shade as his mother’s. “I love it,” he said. “Maybe you and I can practice together later.”

He spent so much time as a bear now that many of his human skills were becoming quite rusty, much to his mother’s discontent, and he could probably use a good sparring session.