The Beast
By Alianne Donnelly
Copyright 2012 Alianne Donnelly
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Don’t go past the anteroom, he warned me, claws worrying his tattered shirt. You cannot trust anything that comes out of his mouth. Promise me, Lysette, promise you’ll remember it’s not me.
I promised.
I remember my vow as I lay a shaky hand on the door’s handle. The guard is in the nook, in place of one of the armors. He nods to me in encouragement, but I know he is wary. He knows what is inside that room, and, like his master, he does not want me to see it.
But I must.
I worry, but not enough to turn back. I have seen this man, my Beast, in the midst of a rage, terrible fangs flashing as he roared to the skies. I have seen his vicious strength as he brought down wild animals in defense of me. I can look upon his monstrous visage now and see the gentle soul that dwells inside.
If I can do that, I need to do this, too.
I wish you would reconsider.
I didn’t. I cannot.
I have already accepted everything else about my Beast. Though his claws frightened me at first, they have never harmed me, nor have his fangs. Though he is giant, in height and strength, he takes such care when he moves that I no longer worry walking beside him. I have come to love everything he thought would scare me away.
Why should this be any different?
“My lady?” the guard says and I realize I haven’t moved.
“I am all right,” I tell him. He is here to keep me safe, and I can see by the look in his eyes that he is prepared to do his duty. He has orders to put my life above his master’s and, though it will pain him, he will do what he must if it should come to that.
It worries me far more than the monster waiting beyond this closed door.
I do not let it show.
The handle is rusty and sticks as I unlatch the door. It is heavy, but I manage to push it open enough to pass through. I should close it behind me, I know, but cannot seem to bring myself to do it; the anteroom is fully dark and I crave the light of the hallway to guide me.
I hear breathing farther in the chamber, by the window. My heart throbs and I am unsteady in the pitch black room. I pick my way carefully, move slowly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
I can see faint shadows of forms now. The windows I walk toward are giant, but covered with drapes. Even so I can make out the full moon’s glow.
A rustle of movement makes me hesitate.
Chains rattle, and I know. I know he senses me near. My palms are moist. I clutch my skirts tight and make myself move forward.
A sharp inhale. “Ah,” he breathes. “Company.” I scarcely recognize the voice.
The chains tumble to the floor and I hear him moving, dragging them behind, to one side of the room. The spark he makes to light a candle cracks like lightning in the room and makes me flinch. One candle lights another, and another, and still another, until the entire room is aglow. I am at the edge of the anteroom now. This is as far as I am to go.
His back is to me, a ragged shirt hanging on a frame that looks deceptively sparse in it. But where the neck gapes to his shoulder I can see muscle. The massive manacles encircling his wrists and ankles were each too heavy for me to lift when my Beast showed them to me yesterday. But this creature is not hindered by them in the least. Indeed, he adjusts them as I would a delicate bracelet.
My mouth is dry, I am far more nervous than I expected to be.
He stoops to the fireplace, flicks his arm sideways to move the heavy chains out of his way so he can light a fire. “So you finally got the courage,” he says.
“Y-you know who I am?”
He chuckles, more of a scoff. “Oh, I know.” He turns and I see his profile, backlit by the fire. He has long wooden stick in his hand to tend the fire; there are no iron pokers in this room. Nothing he could use to free himself. “You think I don’t hear your sniveling voice every month? You think I don’t smell that disgusting sewer water you call perfume all over my home?” He shoves to his feet and I flinch.
Worse, he notices. Though I cannot see his face clearly, I … sense his amusement.
“I hear the servants talk about you like some goddamned salvation. They all think you’re a saint come to do battle with the Devil himself. Well?” He snaps the chains like a silken train and comes around the massive bed, into the light. “What do you think of him?”
Dark golden strands of hair fall over the face of a fallen angel. Strong jaw, proud nose, dark brows and a hard, twisted mouth. But his eyes… They aren’t what I expected to see. They are empty. Cold. Eyes of a true monster.
Promise me.
I promised. And I can see it now. This is not my Beast.
He sneers. “You’re no savior. I know exactly what you are. You’re the bitch that thinks to banish me. From my own house, no less. Harridan,” he accuses, his fury rising with each word. My Beast could never be so cruel. “Trespasser. Interloper. Whore!” No, this is not my Beast.
But this was my Beast.
Before he became cursed.
Chapter Two
I ran. His roar followed me all the way to the opposite wing. I could still hear him when I locked myself in my room. Or perhaps I merely imagined that.
Now, in the harsh light of day, I stand before a mirror and behold a coward. My gown is blue today, to bring out my eyes, but all I see is the dark tinge beneath them and the sallow paleness of my skin. Sylvie did all she could to make my auburn curls shine, but none of it can hide the truth.
No matter how many times I pinch my cheeks, I cannot bring colour into them. My lips feel dry as dust. I am weary, and ashamed.
My Beast is no doubt waiting for me, but I cannot bear to face him.
Oh, Lysette, why are you here?
I make myself walk down the grand staircase, past the whispering servants with their pitying gazes, into the small solarium where I usually break fast with my host. Today, it is empty.
“Lady Lysette.”
I face Jacques, about to tell him yet again not to address me as a lady, but the look on his face stops me. “Where is he?” I ask.
“The master bid me to send his apologies,” Jacques says. “He regrets he will not be able to perform his duty as host today.”
“His duty?” The word chills me.
I can see in his eyes something is terribly amiss. “I believe,” he says, “the master feels rather the worse for wear after…”
Does he remember? Does he have any recollection at all of our meeting last night? “I understand,” I say. “Can you tell me where he is?”
“I’m afraid he does not wish to be disturbed. The master has instructed me to provide you with anything you wish. He has even made his carriage available to you, if that is what you desire.”
“Did he?” I feel my ire return some pink into my cheeks. The anger is a welcome spark of fire to the cold weight in my gut. “Does he expect me to leave? Is this some sort of fare well?”
Jacques looks away. In all my time here, I have never known him to do such a thing.
“H-has he given up, then?”
The loyal butler swings his head to look at me once more, his eyes wide. He smoothes his expression expertly, but his voice is unsteady when he speaks. “Please understand, my lady. The master has come a ways since his curse. We all see it, though he cannot.” There is deep emotion in his words. He is telling me something he ought not.
I listen.
“But with every rise of the full moon, he is transformed, reminded of what he used to be. He is not allowed to forget. It is part of his punishment to remember his sins, and it has become much more of a burden than…”
So he remembers. I tell Jacques, as bravely as I can, “Please inform your master that his guest is determined to stay. And that I shall see him again tonight.”
Jacques draws himself up, I see relief and joy in him, but though I notice his mouth quirk in a suppressed smile, he says, “Apologies, my lady, but the master has forbidden you to enter his chambers again. He fears it is not safe for you to do so at this time.”
“Because the moon peaks full tonight?”
Jasques inclines his head. “It has proven to be the most … trying in the past.”
“I see.” I smooth my skirts. I need that moment to collect my thoughts. “Then please tell him he has nothing to fear. I shall amuse myself reading this evening.”
“I shall inform the master.” He bows and leaves quietly.
I eat by myself, watching the gardeners tend the blooms outside the window. When I finish, I convey my thanks to the cook and remove myself to the library. It is stunning, filled with books large and small, stories of adventure and love, volumes on every subject known to man. I could spend eternity familiarizing myself with those printed words, though, on this day, I do not allow myself the luxury of exploration. As I have told Jacques, I will be reading tonight.
But I will not be alone.
I choose my book with care.
Chapter Three
Tonight I do not hesitate. I know what awaits me now. I smile at the guard. Louis seems nervous but he squares his shoulders and nods to me. Book in hand, I enter the beast’s lair.
Tonight there is light aplenty to see by. I see the torn rags, the shattered chairs. I see part of the table in the blazing fireplace. I do not let my reaction show.
The man who is my Beast is pacing, nearly snarling. He truly is like a restrained wild thing, snapping his chains, futilely fighting for his freedom. With all his strength and fury he cannot break free. I take heart in that.
“You again,” he snarls, baring his teeth.
I gather my courage and smile. “I have come to sit with you a while.”
The man rushes toward me, but the chains pull him up short. His fingers curl into claws, as though he wants to tear into me. His massive chest rises and falls; his entire body shudders, strains. He is livid. “Get out,” he hisses.
I take a step toward him, but not too close. “You do not frighten me,” I say in the face of his wrath.
Malice burns cold in his blue eyes. “You think you can pull the tiger’s tail while he is chained? I won’t be chained forever. You should fear me, little girl. When I am free, I will show you no mercy.”
“I am sure,” I tell him, pretending that it was the cold draft sending chills down my spine and not his words. “But until then, you are here, and I am not leaving.”
He grinds his teeth so much I can hear it. I’ve no doubt that if he was free, he would make good on his threats and tear me limb from limb.
But he is not free, and that makes me brave. Perhaps even a little reckless. My smile is more confident this time. “Now, will you be a gentleman and offer me a seat, or do I need to look for one myself?”
What he says next does not bear repeating. I swallow a shocked gasp and turn my burning cheeks away as I search for a chair. There isn’t one. I can discern bits and pieces, but not one survived his wrath.
He sneers. His chains drop loudly to the floor as he reaches down, never taking his eyes off me. The chair leg he grasps is still loosely attached to the rest of its body. The chained wild thing stomps on it viciously to sever the connection.
He looks at it, then at me, as though weighing his options. Clearly dissatisfied, he hurls the broken piece of wood onto the voracious flame.
Undaunted, I gather some cushions and make a nest of sorts where the light is bright enough to read by and settle in. “Now then—” I scream as a vase shatters a mere hand width from me. Shards explode all around me, I can feel them rain onto my hair.
“Get out!” he roars.
Louis rushes in, sword drawn, taking a stand between me and the crazed master of this castle.
The chained beast laughs, a sound full of hatred. The guard is no more a threat to him than I am, and he knows it.
“My lady, are you hurt?”
“My lady,” my host mimics cruelly. “Get her out of my sight,” he orders. “She is not to step foot in here again.” He turns to address me directly. “I may not be able to get rid of you, but I fucking well don’t have to look at you while you’re here.”
My heart is racing, but I will it to calm. “I am all right, thank you Louis.”
“Perhaps you should—”
“I am not going anywhere,” I tell him, hardly wincing at my sharp tone. “I have a book to read.”
“I ordered you to remove her!”
Louis lowers his sword, incensing his master beyond reason. “Then may I suggest moving out of the line of fire, my lady?”
I want to argue, but my ungracious host is already reaching for another weapon. “Yes, that is a wonderful idea.”
Louis calls for a mirror, so that I may still see the beast from around the corner. He breaks it immediately, but it remains in place. When everything is ready, Louis leaves and I settle in once more.
“Now then,” I say. “The Little Red Riding Hood.”
I sit until my legs go numb. I read until my voice is hoarse. Through the bluster, the curses and threats, through the constant onslaught of anything and everything he can throw, I read to him.
He screams. Vows to kill me, tear me apart with his bare hands, and things far worse. I believe him. If not for the chains, I know he would cause me every pain a man can possibly inflict on a woman. This is the true beast of the castle.
And for the first time, I truly believe he deserved his curse. I want the monster to suffer, because I know that everything he threatens, he has done before. This… thing, the demon wearing a human mask is so different from the creature I have come to know and love that I can hardly believe they are one and the same.
Tears blur the words on the page. What am I to do?
I can think of nothing else, but to persevere. I cannot fight him on his terms. And so I must be patient and wait him out, somehow coax him to fight by my rules. For now, I have my book.
He has no more things to throw, but I can still hear him raging. I glance up and see dozens of his reflections in the broken mirror. He is tearing his bed apart, linens, mattress, everything to get to the wooden frame.
I duck my head and read on.
The frame shatters. I brace for another wave of attack.
It doesn’t come.
I hear him groan; look up to see him doubled over, clutching his head.
He screams in terrible pain and, before my very eyes, he begins to change.
I lose my breath, the book forgotten. The clock face is broken, it no longer ticks to tell the time. But I can see faint light vaguely outline the draperies.
Dawn.
The transformation is gruesome and brings me to my feet. My legs nearly buckle, but I stumble to the doorway, terrified for the man-beast in the destroyed room.
He screams and roars, shaking with pain, and grief, and such horrible shame. My heart bleeds, weeping for him. I fall to my knees, helpless to do anything but watch.
When it is finally, blessedly over, my Beast bows his head, looking utterly exhausted. His rumbling breaths are a comfort like nothing I’ve ever known.
I cannot give up on the monster of a man. For this gentle, tormented Beast, I must fight on. I must find a way to free him.
“I’m here,” I sob.
He stops breathing. His massive head raises, and blue eyes meet mine. He looks stunned, disbelieving.
I smile, try to offer what little comfort I can.
My Beast makes a sound like a mortally wounded animal. His leonine face drops into his claws and he turns away from me. “Leave me,” he says.
Utter, soul shattering defeat makes me obey.
Chapter Four
I stand before the gates of Hell for the third time. I cannot say what brings me here tonight. By all rights, I should be fleeing this place, never to look back. Last night inspired a new flare of despair among the castle’s residents. They look at me now, and I know they wonder the same thing I do.
Why is she still here?
Why do this?
Could it work?
They fear me now, and despise me. I give them reason to hope. So long as their master suffers his curse, they, too, are bound to this place. Never to leave, never to change, until he does. The curse is eternal. There is not one man, woman, or child in this place who will tell me how long it has already lasted. And if I build up their hopes for release and fail…
I should leave. Standing here before the closed portal, I want to leave.
The door seems far heavier than it did the night before last when I finally push it open.
Someone – Jacques, I believe – ordered the chambers to be cleaned. There is nothing in the anteroom now, aside from lit wall sconces and that broken mirror. It is covered now. I push the tattered velvet aside to expose the cracked surface. I have not yet dared to look into the main chamber. I want the reflection to lessen the impact of its appearance, but it does not.
The monster’s bedroom is empty as well. Save for a pallet on the floor and wood enough to last the night, there is nothing. It resembles a cave; a wounded animal’s den.
To my shock, he looks wounded. Curled on the pallet on the floor, swaddled in a torn blanket, he shivers. It seems he has not yet realized I am here. He looks so much like my Beast did this morning after the transformation, I feel compelled to go to him. I stop my feet from crossing the threshold. This might be precisely what he is waiting for.
“Are you ill?” I ask.
The man on the floor, looking utterly pathetic, opens one eye, just barely. He moans. “You again.” His voice seems weak. What is this? Some sort of elaborate trick? “Haven’t I run you out yet?” A massive shudder passes through him.
“What is the matter with you? Should I call for help?”
“Mind your own fucking business,” he snarls, but though his voice is cold as ice, I can see the effort it takes him to utter the words.
I trace my steps back to the door. Louis is standing guard in the hallway again. I ask him to have a chaise brought to the anteroom. Within moments, two footmen come bearing the heavy piece of furniture. The monster watches this with seething hatred, but does not utter a sound until they leave.
“Why are you still here?”
It is the same question I see in every face and every set of eyes in this castle. “Because I love the Beast, and so I must learn to love you, too. You and he are one and the same.”
He scoffs and it turns into a cough. “Is that what he told you?”
“That is not necessary. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“Horse shit,” he says. “You cannot possibly understand, unless you feel it on your own skin.”
I am becoming inured to his profanities. “Enlighten me, then.”
That one eye opens again, mocking me. “Come closer,” he says.
“No.”
He chuckles and his body shudders again. When he speaks, his teeth are clenched and his voice strained, as though he has no control over his movements. “There is another way to break the curse. I’d bet this castle he hasn’t told you that.”
He is toying with me. I know this, and yet I still strain forward to hear more. “How?”
“By the simple fact that he and I are not one and the same.” He pulls the blanket closer around him, curling more in on himself. “Only one can exist at any one time and that moping bastard somehow managed to get the full month, while I have to make do with three days of it. We are each other’s obstacle. Get rid of the obstacle and the possibilities are endless.”
“Get rid of… you mean kill? Kill one of you?”
“Why do you think they chain me? It can’t be done by someone affected by the curse. But accidents do happen.”
“You would kill yourself?”
His laugh is pure evil. “Stupid bitch. Why would I do that?”
I feel cold and put my feet up on the chaise like a little child frightened of the dark.
He sees. The monster struggles to sit up, mirroring my pose, but even in his condition he makes it look much more threatening than weak. His eyes reflect the fire’s golden glow, making them look almost green. “So tell me, Savior,” he says the word as an insult. “Would you kill me to forever free the beast? Or would you free the man to reclaim his home and his life?”
Chapter Five
I do not see my Beast the next day. Or the day after, or the day after that. Not a glimpse, not one word. It is as though he is not in the castle any longer. Life goes on as it always has: The maids clean, the chefs cook, the gardeners tend the blooms and orchards. I am presented with magnificent feasts at each meal, but I eat them alone. I stroll the beautiful grounds around this majestic structure, but my step is heavy with loneliness.
I have much on my mind, and I imagine my Beast does as well.
But I hear the servants whispering. They will not tell me directly, no doubt for fear of their master. Nevertheless, on the sixth day, I learn the reason for the monster’s weakened condition on that final, awful night, as well as the absence of my host now.
On my way to the library, resigned to yet another day without my Beast, I come upon two maids in the dining room. Their voices carry through the door and I quietly ease to it to better hear Jocelyn speaking to her aunt Aimee.
“Why would he do it?” the girl on the verge of becoming a woman asks. “He could have died!”
“The master is too clever for that,” Aimee replies, but I can hear uncertainty in her voice.
“He must have known the lady Lyssette could handle herself with him. She’s done it before. She’s seen him at his worst!”
“Child, it is not so simple a thing,” Aimee says patiently.
I cautiously peek through the key hole.
“Do not call me that,” Jocelyn says and stomps her foot. “I am not a child anymore. I haven’t been for a long time.”
Aimee’s hands pause while smoothing the linens they are folding. She looks as though Jocelyn’s words hurt her. “I know,” she says. “But there are things you can only understand when you fall in love. It is not the lady Lyssette the master doesn’t trust. It is himself. It is because she’s seen him at his worst that he wanted to protect her from it.”
“And so he poisoned himself to keep her safe?”
I gasp, and my hand flies to my mouth to muffle the sound. My heart races and I feel faint. Poison? The word… the idea that he would do such a thing for my sake makes me ill. No, it cannot be true. Surely, Jocelyn is mistaken.
“Leave be, Jocelyn,” Aimee says. She does not correct the girl. She does not offer another explanation.
I seek the wall for support as my legs go weak. It is true, then. He poisoned himself to keep the monster docile. Did he… could he have known that his words are as much a weapon as his powerful arms?
“But he could have died!” Jocelyn insists with so much feeling, it sounds as though she is on the verge of tears. She sounds the way I feel. Frantic, hurt, astonished that the Beast would do such a thing. She sounds as if she would race to his chambers at once to berate him for his recklessness, or perhaps to nurse him back to health.
Aimee hears the same thing I do. “Jocelyn!” she hisses sternly. “You must stop this wretched infatuation. You know you cannot break the curse for him. Remember your place, girl! You’re a maid in the master’s household. Nothing more.”
I wonder how long the girl has loved her master. Since the beginning? Did she love him before he became cursed? Did he make her believe he could love her back? Would he have loved her back, if I hadn’t come along?
Jocelyn was always kind to me, as all the others were. She would be my chamber maid, had I not insisted that I do not need one. She is a beautiful girl, with golden hair and eyes the clearest green, like jewels. Any man would be lucky to have her. Many young men here gaze at her with longing, but she has eyes for none.
None, apparently, except her master.
I feel pity for her. It is no easy thing to love the Beast. How much more difficult must it be to love him, and know he will never love her back?
I remove myself from the hallway; let my feet carry me wherever they will. My mind is in a daze, swirling with so many questions I know I might never get answers to. I think about every person here, and how long they must have waited for even a chance to break the spell. How many of them hated their master for being the cause of their misery? How many wished, even once, that he would die?
How many have loved him always, despite his flaws, choosing to see only the good in him, even when they had to imagine it to be there?
I find myself in front of his chambers. There are no guards on duty today and the hallway is dark and quiet. I enter without knocking. As I expected, it is empty. I walk across the anteroom, and for the first time enter the monster’s bedroom. The chains lie in a heap in one corner. I hesitate to touch them. They’re stained with blood from his struggles to free himself.
The fireplace is cold, a mound of ash and soot the only evidence of life. I pull the heavy drapes aside to reveal magnificent windows and a glass door leading out to a balcony. It overlooks the courtyard. From here, I can see the abandoned road for miles beyond the dark forest. I see my village in the distance. I think of my father, and my sisters. It has been months since I have seen them last. I pray that they are well.
As I turn away, my gaze snares on a portrait hanging on the wall. It is ruined, torn to pieces, many of them missing. What remains of the canvas hangs in strips along the sides, twisted to hide their subject.
I have seen similar paintings around the castle, set aside to be disposed of. Portraits of my Beast, and the man he used to be, each torn as though one part of him could not stand to look at the other. I can imagine him stalking through the castle, seeking them out to tear them apart. As man, and as beast, each refusing to abide any hint of the other’s existence.
This one is different, I know. It has not been put away. It hangs in its proper place, a place of honor in the middle of the wall, where sunlight from the windows shines directly upon it. Why keep this one? What significance does it have?
Curiosity compels me closer. If I move the pieces back together, will I see the Beast, or the man?
With careful fingertips, I grasp each strip and uncoil it. The canvas is warped and does not straighten completely. If I force it, the paint will crack and peel. I see evidence that someone has tried to repair the canvas; by the looks of it, again and again. There are layers of glue on the underside, and some miniscule pieces of canvas still stuck to the backing. Whoever repaired this, only to have it destroyed again, took great care to restore it. With humble respect for such devotion, I hold each piece in place as I add new ones, so absorbed in my task I do not even look at the subject until all the pieces are back in place.
I cannot believe what I am seeing.
Neither Beast, nor man.
It is me.
Chapter Six
A festival is taking place in my village today. Like so many times in the past, there will be colorful banners and ribbons streaming from every post. The baker will have his wares laid out on a table in the middle of the square to tempt passers by, and the musicians will stroll through the streets, collecting an eager crowd in their wake.
My father and sisters will be there.
I miss them.
I wonder if they think of me. Do they worry? Have they already forgotten about me? Amalia and Marguerite are of marriageable age now. Have they found suitors yet, or does my absence darken their prospects. As the eldest, I know Marguerite must marry first. But Amalia was always the kinder one.
I worry for my father. Though all of us love him very much, neither Marguerite nor Amalia have ever shown the slightest bit of concern over him.
They do not see the way he sinks into his chair at the close of each day. They do not hear his weary sigh as he hangs his head for a moment before he tugs his boots off his aching feet. My sisters, so concerned about their own looks, do not notice the many wrinkles creasing their beloved father’s face, or the gray of his hair.
Monsieur Lafarge gave me his word when I left that he would look after my family in my absence. I can only pray that it is so. The thought that there is no one to care for my father, to cook him stew and make his bed weighs heavily on me. I look around this castle, and guilt falls on my shoulders for being here alone.
They should live in such luxury, not I. I’ve done nothing to deserve it.
And today, it makes me feel so awfully alone.
The moon is new tonight, and still my Beast has not returned. The servants tell me he has recovered from the poison, but have no answer as to why he still keeps away.
I dream of him nightly. Sometimes I see him as a man, screaming his rage, fighting his bonds like a maddened animal. In those dreams, I feel that if I could just get close to him, if he would just let me, I could calm his fury. I could make him happy.
Other times I see him as my Beast, staring at a picture I cannot see. The look in his eyes is despairing. He is surrounded by beautiful things, and people who love him and wish only the best for him, but he will look at none of them. Only that picture. He looks at it as though he yearns for it desperately, but knows he can never possess it.
That is a strange vision. My Beast is the master of all in this place. It is all his. He has but to ask for something, and it is brought to him on a silver platter. So much wealth and bounty… Why can he not be content?
I sit on the edge of the fountain. The sun shines down brightly, making the water sparkle like diamonds as it falls into the pool. Stone angels stand tall in the middle, other, playful ones sitting and leaning all around them. My gaze turns to the row of trees far in the distance. Beyond it, the road to my village. My home.
I look back at the castle, my new home. I seek out a window high above. The drapes flutter closed and I sigh. He watches me, I know. I will him to come to me, but he does not.
A thought occurs to me; one so horrible I push to my feet and run back inside. Jacques calls after me as I pass him, but I do not slow. My skirts make me trip on the staircase, but though I bruise my knee, I get up and keep going. My heart races and the stays of my corset feel too tight to take a breath.
The corridor to the Beast’s chamber is dark again. I race to the grand portal of his chambers and bang on it with both fists. “Let me in!”
The last time I was here, the man told me I can free one version of him by killing the other. I hit the door harder, and finally kick it. “Is it true?” I demand. “Is that why you’re hiding?”
There is no answer.
Tears burn my eyes. I look around for something, anything. The wall sconces are shaped like metal torches. I have to rise up on my toes to wrestle one out of its brace. It is heavy, but makes a satisfyingly loud noise when I bash it against that door. Like the creature behind it, it is immovable. But I cannot stop. “You monster! How dare you be afraid of me!”
The door opens and there stands my Beast. He towers over me, his paws as big as my head and claws almost as long as my fingers. Still, he says nothing.
I clutch the torch tighter, though my fingers are cramping. “How could you,” I sob, “for even an instant, think I would deliberately do you harm?” How could you think me such a beast?
The Beast drops his gaze; it seems he has nothing to say. We stand at an impasse, on either side of the door that can be closed at any moment. We can each pass through and join the other. But we are both rooted in place, some invisible barrier keeping us apart. I want him to meet my gaze and tell me it was a lie. I need him to just look at me and acknowledge my presence. I cannot see inside his mind; have no way of knowing what thoughts swirl behind that fathomless, lost gaze.
And he will not tell me.
I can almost hear the man he turns into, laughing cruelly at his own jest. He has scored a tremendous victory.
I drop the torch and walk away.
Chapter Seven
I can see the carriage emerge from the woods. Though I am smiling, my hands twist in my skirt nervously. That carriage holds everything I cherish in this world – my family.
Jacques announces himself with a knock on the door and, “My lady—”
I rush past him before he can finish. “They’re here!”
The servants gawk as I run down to the grand entry hall, but they smile also. It is the first smile I see on their faces since the last full moon. Louis opens the front doors wide and I run outside to greet my father and sisters on the drive, just as they are emerging from the posh carriage.
My father weeps with joy at the sight of me. My sisters embrace me warmly, but their eyes are on the castle and its grounds. They’ve never seen such grandeur before. I take them inside and show them where I’ve been spending my days. I give each of them the same warning the Beast first gave me: Do not enter the west wing. They nod, but when I turn my back, I can see in the great mirror in front of me my sisters exchanging a conspiratorial look.
Jacques sees it also. He inclines his head to me in a silent message. He will keep my sisters away from where they ought not be. I am grateful for his vigilance.
When at last I have shown them all there is to see, I leave my family in the capable hands of the maids. They will show my father and sisters to their rooms and make certain they have everything they need.
“A successful welcome, if I may say so,” Jacques says. He is courteous and obliging as always, but I can sense he is happy for me. These last few days have not been easy on me. Having been shunned by the very man I am meant to save, I thought about running away. So many times I came to the doorway with my cloak about my shoulders, only to stop. I am the greatest of fools. Even after everything, I still cannot abandon him.
But that does not mean I will tolerate his treatment of me in silence. I smile, and it feels genuine. “It was, indeed. I take it as a good sign that they’ve not run screaming yet.”
“Well, perhaps that will come later.”
Despite myself, I laugh. “Do not dare jest about such things.”
Jacques bows to hide his smile. “My apologies, Lady Lyssette. I am sure the master will be on his best behavior.”
I hope so. My father has already seen the master of this castle, and it speaks highly of his bravery, and his love for me that he came back here. My sisters, on the other hand, have no prior knowledge of the Beast. And I fear their curiosity will lead to their ruin. “See that he does,” I tell Jacques playfully. “Or he and I shall have to have words about it.”
Jacques chuckles on his way out. As he opens the door, Marguerite straightens guiltily. I can tell from the blush staining her cheeks that she was eavesdropping. Jacques prudently says nothing; pretends he does not see her.
“Come in, please.”
Marguerite drags her feet into the parlor, looking around. “So this is where you were. And to think Father was so terribly worried about his little girl Lyssette.”
There is bitterness in her voice. It should have been Marguerite, not me. That was the agreement struck between my father and the Beast. A single rose cut from his gardens, my father’s life and freedom, in exchange for his eldest daughter. Marguerite would be living here now, had I not run away to take her place instead.
“Looks can be deceiving. Perhaps Father was right to worry.”
Marguerite picks up a candlestick. It is made of solid gold. “I am sure,” she says.
Perhaps before emerging onto the beautifully tended grounds, Marguerite worried also. Perhaps she even felt a little gratitude to me, for having spared her the horrid fate of being a Beast’s prisoner. What must she think of me now? And of our father! Does she think him deluded? Senile in his old age, to have said he saw a great and terrible beast within this castle?
I try not to think too much about that. “Tell me of home. Has Monsieur Lafarge offered his patronage?”
“Oh, of course he has. He comes by every week to see if we’ve everything we need. And he never forgets to ask about you. And how is Lyssette? When is she expected back? He expects you to marry him, you know.”
Surprise makes me startle. Marry him?
“He’s made no secret of it. The entire village is talking about it. The great wedding of Monsieur Lafarge and the pauper Lyssette. The children are all dutifully on the lookout for Cinderlyssette’s lost glass slipper.”
My heart races and my cheeks flush. I feel overheated. Somehow I make it to the plush seat by the window and lower myself into it. Monsieur Lafarge is three times my age, if not more. He is also the richest man in our village, though compared to the master of this castle, he himself might be called a pauper.
When I asked him to look after my family, I never intended for his help to be in coin. And I certainly never imagined this was how he would want that debt repaid. My God, what have I gotten myself into now? What would Monsieur Lafarge do if I refused him? He could ruin us.
Marguerite smiles acidly. “Did you really think you’d find your happy ending by running away from the life you were meant for?”
Chapter Eight
“You’re not marrying him.”
I’ve no idea when or how the Beast appeared in the parlor, but he is here now, glaring at the door Marguerite just closed behind her. “Finally, you decide to come out of hiding.”
His mouth pulls away from his big, sharp teeth. “There are… people in my home,” he says. “I don’t like it. And you’re not marrying him.”
I never intended to, but I do not feel merciful enough to tell him that now. “I might not have a choice. You heard my sister, Monsieur Lafarge has gone to great lengths to take care of my family in my absence and—”
“Lafarge is a bilious, tight fisted wretch. He was a bastard fifty years ago, and he is still a bastard now. You are not marrying him.”
How does he know that? My heart squeezes at the reminder of his curse. Now I have a sense of how long it must have lasted. He must have known the man in his youth. The Lafarge family has always been rich. Ever since they laid claim to the largest fields. They now own the majority of farmland and employ the villagers to do the work, selling them back the fruits of the land. Because most of the food come from his farms, Monsieur Jean Lafarge, as the last surviving heir now holds the village in the palm of his hand.
“Whom should I marry instead?” I ask softly.
His feral gaze turns on me, blue eyes blazing with jealous fury. But he does not offer an alternative. He takes a deep breath and exhales it on a growl of annoyance. “Why did you not tell me your family needed help?”
“And what would you have done, if I had?” The Beast was – and still is – a solitary creature. He tolerates the servants, because they are just as bound by the curse as he. And he tolerates my presence because… because I am the only hope he has left. But he cannot risk allowing others into his demesne. Even the presence of my family could be dangerous. Should they decide to run screaming back to the village, the Beast would have an army of scared, angry villagers at his door, carrying pitch forks and torches.
No, he and I both know that he would not have done anything. Because he cannot expose himself.
“I would have found a way,” he says.
That is more than I expected. But too late, nonetheless. “Thank you.”
He lowers his great frame to the floor, sits at my feet and lays his great head in my lap. “I missed you,” he says.
“You did not have to.”
“Lyssette, are you happy here with me?”
“Now that my father and sisters are here, I am. I pretend that this is all there is, and that we can all stay here forever, and everything will turn out well.”
He raises his head to look at me. “Why pretend?”
“Because I am coming to realize that I am not here to save you. All I can do is help you save yourself.”
“Even if that were true, it doesn’t make me need you any less.”
There is that desperate look in his eyes again, like a lost child looking for his mother. Without him telling me, I know he fears I will leave. I want to reassure him, but the truth is I do not know what will happen. When the curse is broken, and all the world is his to explore again, he won’t need me anymore. Will he even notice if I leave then? Will he miss me, even a little?
My heart says yes. But my head doubts. I have seen the Beast at his absolute worst now. I’ve felt like I was fighting a lost battle. He is holding back from me; even after all these months he still does not trust me completely.
“I am not going anywhere,” I say. And for now, at least, it is the truth.
Chapter Nine
Tonight is the first night of the full moon. The Beast and I both dread it. Though I have not told him, my father senses the danger. He does not worry only for me. As my sisters get used to their new surroundings they grow bolder each day.
Marguerite already took to ordering the servants around. She works her lady’s maid like a slave and I pity the poor girl for having been dealt that cruel hand. I know Jacqueline will never tell me, but I suspect Marguerite has struck her a time or two.
Amalia is the curious one. She already found one of the ruined portraits of the Beast and ran screaming from the castle. She was not frightened, merely starved for attention. I worry that she will wander where she ought not. The Beast will not take kindly to such a trespass.
And tonight, of all nights, Marguerite requested a family feast. Naturally she expects our host to join us. I was never so ashamed of my own sister as I was yesterday, when in a lofty tone she told Jacques that his master’s presence was welcome at his own dinner table, where his own food would be served.
Now I look at my own reflection, and a lovely woman draped in a beautiful gown looks back at me worriedly wringing her hands. I know this night will end in some sort of disaster. Marguerite is not kind to those who spurn her.
Jacques enters after a polite knock. “My lady, your family awaits you in the grand dining room.”
“Tell me truthfully, Jacques, do you regret letting them in the front door?”
“My lady, I am merely grateful that I let you in,” he says with a perfect bow.
Despite my worry, I smile. “Thank you, Jacques. For every kindness you have shown me and my family.”
A few moments more of fussing and I am ready as I shall ever be to face Marguerite’s wrath. The sun has gone down. At this very moment, the man she is so eager to meet is chained to the floor of his empty chamber. He will know of our presence and I’ve no doubt he will be maddened. And tomorrow night I shall have to go face him.
I take a bracing breath and step out of the safety of my room into the hallway.
No!
The shock of what I see stops me in my tracks.
He’s here!
Not chained in his chamber. Certainly not raging impotently at another intrusion into his home. The monster of a man the gentle Beast turns into is coming down the hallway, dressed for a party and adjusting his cravat!
I feel my heart racing in my throat and cannot take a breath. My face feels cold, leeched of all blood at the sight of him. How can this be? How could he have possibly broken free?
He sees me and a malicious grin spreads across his handsome, cold face. I back away as he advances, but not fast enough. He reaches me before I can escape and catches my arm in a painful grip. “Hello, little bird,” he says at my ear.
“W-what are you doing here?” Despite my best efforts, my voice quivers. I cannot be strong when fear courses through me like Death’s whisper.
“Isn’t it obvious? I have been invited to dinner, and that is precisely where I intend to be tonight.” He tugs on my arm to make me turn. It hurts enough that I am forced to obey. “Come, let me look at what I must wear on my arm.”
I hold still while his gaze moves over me in a disgusting appraisal.
“I suppose you’ll have to do,” he says. Judgment passed. “Now come, we don’t want to keep our guests waiting, do we?”
I gasp. “No!” He is already pulling me toward the staircase. I dig in my heels to slow him down. “Don’t, please! Stop!”
“You will address me as ‘My lord.’ I suppose you’ll have to use my name if we’re to pretend we know each other.” His tone implies a very intimate sort of knowledge. I have no time to be offended. “Call me ‘My Lord Bastien,’ then.”
“Please—”
He stops and whirls about so quickly I slam into him. His chest is hard and unyielding as rock and I know the heart that beats within is cold as ice when he looks into my wide eyes and says, “Please, what?”
I know he is not asking what I want from him. I swallow my pride for the sake of my family and answer, “Please, my Lord Bastien.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
“What,” I say before I can stop myself, “the sound of your own name?”
“The sound of you begging.”
“You cannot go down there.” No matter what my condition, if he enters the same room as my father and sisters, there will be a fight. I cannot allow that.
He laughs at me. “And what’s to stop me? You?” The laughter dies away. “You…” With another appraising look he releases my arm and circles me. “You wish me to abstain from the company of your dear father and delightful sisters?”
“Yes,” I say, enduring his perusal.
“And what would you give me in return?”
“What do you want?”
“Ah-ah.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. “What do you want, my Lord Bastien?”
“Better.” He stops behind me and there is silence. If it were not for his breath on my shoulder, I would think he left. “You will come to my chambers tomorrow night.”
“Why?”
“Do you wish your family to dine in peace tonight?”
“Yes,” I hiss.
“Then you’ll do as I say. Your brooding monster of a hero cannot save you this time, little bird. I am free and he’ll not restrain me again. I am your master now, and you will do what I say when I say. Is that clear?”
I hesitate just long enough.
“Or perhaps we should join the others. It’s quite unseemly to be so dreadfully late to diner.”
Helpless tears fill my eyes. “I will do as you say… my Lord Bastien.”
“Now there’s a good pet. Run along now, your guests are waiting.”
“What will you do?”
He does not answer. When I turn around, he is gone.
Chapter Ten
There are no guards in front of the door. But the hallway is, for the first time, lit with a dozen wall sconces. It is bright enough to be day, though it is close to midnight. I lick my lips nervously. Just as on that night months ago, I feel like a sacrifice willingly walking to her demise. My palms are moist and my limbs tremble. I know there will be no chains to hold him back tonight. A spurned master, he will want to take his revenge.
He warned me this day would come. But I’ve grown so complacent, so trusting that my Beast would never harm me that I chose not to believe him. More fool I.
I raise my hand to knock but the door opens before I can rap even once. “You kept me waiting,” he drawls as his gaze sweeps over me in a thorough perusal.
“I—”
“I don’t care.” He grasps my wrist and pulls me inside, closing the door behind me. But he remains in place, trapping me between him and the portal at my back. I shrink back from the terrible light in his eyes. He is not wearing the Beast’s tattered remains of clothing, nor is he clad in a crisp suit like last night. Tonight he is shirtless, and infinitely more intimidating because of it. He has no shame; his intent is to humiliate me.
“What do you want from me?”
He sneers. “What do you think I want?”
I lick my dry lips. His gaze snares on them. “I’m sure I have no idea.”
He shoves away and turns his back on me. The candlelight makes his muscles stand out even more. Such strength and power. So much energy and life. So much rage and cruelty imprisoned in that body. “You will stay the whole night,” he says.
“But—”
“Too late to turn back now, my pretty. You and I have a deal.”
“And how can I be sure you will honor your part of it?”
He looks back at me, his blue eyes mocking. “I suppose you will have to take it on faith. And what have I told you about using my name?”
“I’ll make a bargain with you.”
In the blink of an eye he is upon me. His hands dig into my arms as he hauls me deeper into his lair and shoves me against the wall. “You are in no position to bargain,” he snarls.
“I disagree,” I say. I cannot tell where the courage to do so comes from but the words do not stop until I have said my peace. “You need me. I have something you want. I am the only one who can set you free.”
He bares his teeth, livid and quivering. His fingers dig in more and I stifle a wince.
“So you and I will bargain. Or I walk out of here forever and leave you to enjoy the rest of eternity. Three nights at a time.”
“I will skin you alive, you little bitch.”
“What you will do is release me. Now.”
To my utter shock, he does. With a final shove that bruises my back, he lets go of me and steps back, glaring as though he would like nothing better than to follow through on his threat. And I realize that I am not completely powerless in this exchange. I’ve allowed my fear to rule me, blind me to everything I should have been paying attention to.
This man before me is a clever, calculating monster. But he is also crazed by his confinement and so desperate to escape it any way he can that, like me, he is blinded to what is right in front of him.
I draw a cautious breath and square my shoulders. I am finished with him tonight. I turn toward the door.
“Not so fast,” he says. Then he is at my back, leaning in to me. He does not touch me, but his mouth is right at my ear when he speaks again, and his hot breath tickles. “You might be a necessary bane… but your family is not.” He moves to speak in my other ear. “So our bargain still holds, mistress. You will do as I say tonight. Everything I say. Or I pay them a long overdue visit.”
My heart sinks. The proud set of my shoulders slumps a little and my head bows in defeat. “What do you intend for me to do… my Lord Bastien?”
His arm comes around me and there is a book in his hand. “I intend for you to read,” he says mockingly.
I take the book from him and he retreats. The light is not bright enough in here. I will have to enter his bed chamber to see well enough to read. When I face it, he is already lounging insolently on the grand bed someone has brought in. He reminds me of a spoiled sheikh in a long ago story. One so sure of himself and his claim to rule that he does not care for anything or anyone.
He watches me come into the room, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Over there,” he says, indicating a chaise near the brightest light. It is the same one I used a month ago to read to him, when he would hear none of it. Now he demands the written words. And the chaise is not as I remember it. It is draped with silks and there are pillows placed on it.
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