Beautiful Beast

Prologue

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound echoes throughout the atrium and tumbles into the ballroom. I am startled awake, and my abrupt movement of surprise causes the rose to slip off of my lap. Careful not to touch the thorns, I scoop it up and tuck it into my sash. It is a beautiful, delicate thing that I crafted with my own magic. Papa will be so proud. Whenever I accomplish something new, he smiles a broad, warm smile, and I know he is pleased with his youngest child.

Already, curious guests are wandering to the atrium where the sound originated. Such beautiful guests. Mama has been planning this ball for weeks now, so everything is perfect.

At first, she had insisted that I go to bed, but I begged and begged and finally, Papa convinced her to let me watch. Before the guests arrived, I was tucked away on a sofa in one of the many balconies in the ballroom. But this was a special balcony; for I could see the entire ballroom in all of its splendour and also look through a little window at the adjoining atrium.

Of course, if I was going to a ball, I needed to look the part—even if no one else was going to see me. So, the seamstress made me a beautiful white dress embroidered with pale pink roses.

While my two sisters danced on the arms of every eligible bachelor in the room, I pretended to dance with my own suitor, a prince. There were my three brothers too. Oh, how I giggled into my hand at their antics. They must have charmed every girl in the room with their easy smiles and witty behaviours.

And my mother. Well, she played the piano. It is a beautiful instrument set into an alcove on one side of the ballroom. Even I, who have heard her play every day of my life, was enchanted by the music. It is what you imagine the music of faeries to be like; it is ethereal, or like a thousand tiny bells played in melodies as intricate as the patterns of the starry skies. Yes, beautiful, but sometimes I hate it because it makes her forget us; sometimes she allows it to consume her.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound comes again, and although I tell myself I am being a silly pony, my heart trembles at the blows against the door.

Who could it be? All of Mama and Papa's guests have arrived already. A traveller who lost their way in the forest, perhaps? That happens often enough. The enchanted forest is not for the faint of heart. But for everyone else? It is a wonderful place full of sparkling streams, golden trees, and shimmering moss. It has its dangers, but if one is careful, they are hardly a hindrance.

I stretch up on my tiptoes and peek through the little window as our butler Cedric glances at his pocket watch, then pulls open the great doors. A flurry of cold air whips into the atrium, and with it comes a woman wrapped in a tattered cloak whose hood is pulled up to conceal her face. Despite Cedric's indignant protests, she shuffles toward the entrance of the ballroom.

Something about her seems amiss, and my protection spell tingles uncomfortably. I want to shout a warning, to tell my parents that this is not a trustworthy woman, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

"What is the meaning of this?" Papa insists, coming to meet the woman at the threshold of the ballroom.

"May I not join you? I am but a poor old woman looking for a little warmth. Just let me sit by your fire." Something that hints at contempt pollutes her words.

"Certainly not," Mama snaps. "Such audacity, to think you can simply waltz in here and join us."

"And who are you?"