Beautiful Beast

Chapter 1

KALISTA

Pebbles crunch forebodingly beneath a horse's hooves. The sound draws painfully nearer until it comes to rest somewhere below my window. There is a moment of silence before the rider's feet touch the ground, then a sword whispers from its sheath.

He is here.

I am not ready. I have known for two days that he was coming. The moment he entered the forest, I could feel his presence, but it was his anger that pierced me. His anger burned with the heat of a dragon's fire and filled me with the desire to hide in the darkest corner of my palace. But hiding will only put off the inevitable and besides, the servants would be incredibly put out if I played the coward. They have been fluttering to and fro ever since I told them, making sure not a single candelabra or drape or vase is out of place. Everything must be perfect. Because what if he is the one?

But they do not hear the whispers of the forest like I do. They do not hear the way he madly rushes forward, neither turning to the left nor to the right. He did not find himself on my doorstep because he is lost or because he is a foolish youth seeking adventure. No, he is here for revenge.

I suppose it is time; I can hear his footsteps cautiously ascend the front steps. If no one is in the atrium to greet him, it would only encourage him to go marching through my palace in search of the beast. And I will not allow that.

Disdainfully, I lay my brush next to the empty canvas. Usually, painting calms me, but ever since he stepped into the forest, not a drop of inspiration moistened my brush. It is almost like the white canvas is mocking me. It laughs at my furrowed brow and my puckered lips and my white-knuckle grip around the paintbrush. You are afraid. You are weak. It seems to chant at me.

I also attempted to distract myself by playing piano, but my fingers stumbled till one sour note after the other destroyed any trace of melody. The servants responded to my cacophony by encouraging me with hopeful words, but it did little to lighten my mood.

Silently, I glide from my art room and lock the door behind me. With a stranger in the castle, I will not be careless with my private life. I do not want him poking his nose where it does not belong.

The hall is dark, but I abstain from lighting it. Somehow the shadows are comforting; their embrace is familiar and reassuring. Perhaps I have become a beast, or at the very least, some shadowy phantom that goes through the motions of humanity.

The groan of the great doors echoes loudly through the sleeping halls like a monster opening its jaws. And he will walk into its maw without thinking twice. He will seal his fate without a second thought. Simply out of rage.

"Come out. I know you are there," he shouts and the sharp wrath in his voice could sever a diamond.

I take a deep breath and smooth the black lace of my gown. Not that he will notice any wrinkles; he will see me the way he wants to. To him, I am an evil sorceress.

Willing my magic to pull the great doors closed, I round the corner and move to the pinnacle of the stairs. The doors crash together and the sound reverberates throughout the entire palace. It surprises him and for a moment, he stands frozen in his battle stance. Is it the magic or the sorceress that startled him?

For one breath, I wonder if he will put away his blindness and see the truth. Perhaps his surprise at seeing a creature who lacks fur and fangs will change his mind.

But he shakes his amazement away and says, with daring dripping from every syllable, "I challenge you, sorceress. Fight me."

My throat clenches in nervousness and it deepens my voice. "I will not fight you. You are a guest here." His sword glints in a patch of weak sunlight that slips through a window. Again, I call on my magic and the sword deftly flies from his hand before disappearing. "You will have no need of that while you are here. The evening meal is at seven o'clock sharp. Do not be late." Swiftly, I turn on my heel and recede once again to the safety of the shadows.

"Coward. Come back and fight me. Or are you afraid of a weaponless human? Perhaps you feel guilty. How many lives weigh upon your soul? How much blood has touched your lips?" He yells furiously, but he does not chase after me. He is foolish enough to enter the forest, but apparently not so foolish that he would follow the beast into its own lair.

"My lady, are you in need of assistance?"

A gentle voice sounds beside me and I turn to it. "No, thank you, Cedric. Just see to it that our guest has everything he needs."

"Yes, my lady." A faint breeze lifts the ends of my hair as he passes by me. Ghosts. That is what people would call my servants. Perhaps that is the best term to describe them; after all, they cannot sleep or eat or feel. They are mere shadows of the human beings they once were. At times, I imagine I can see their features or feel a gentle hand on my arm, but I am not sure if it is reality or simply my mind playing tricks on me.

Using a back stairway, I descend to the first floor, then step outside. Sunlight kisses my cold skin and I turn my face toward it. No, I am still human. I can feel the sun and I love its tender touch. A phantom or a beast would not care for such things.

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