Beautiful Beast

Chapter 16

ARAWN

Bright rays of morning sun pierce my half-lidded eyes and coarsely demand awareness. Languidly, I drag a hand over my face, then squint at the stables where two horses wait patiently. One already has a rider, who sits primly atop her mount, and the other nickers in greeting at my approach.

"Why so early?" I drawl, reaching for Hector's reins.

"There is much to be done," she responds curtly and nudges Abraxas into a walk.

I hastily mount and follow her, fumbling with my stirrups as I do so. Finally settled, I push Hector's pace till he matches that of Abraxas. "I thought you did not approve of my ideas."

"I have changed my mind."

"Why?"

She throws me an irritated glance, but then says, "I am sick of sitting around waiting for the next petal to fall."

It is perhaps not the whole truth, but it is a viable answer, so I let the subject slide.

Kalista is certain that the wolves spend much of their time in the northern quarter. However, we are both hesitant to wander into that web of snow and ice; last time, we narrowly escaped. As a result, we ride along the border between the northern and western quarters. It is a tangled mess of frost bleeding onto golden leaves, but it is relatively safe.

We wander for many hours, sometimes stepping over into the northern quarter, sometimes roaming deeper into the western quarter. But despite all of our searching for some sort of clue, there is nothing. Finally, Kalista turns us in the direction of the palace. For some time, the forest thickens, and I wonder if this really is the way back, but then suddenly, I catch sight of the tip of the west tower. After this, it is not long before we are ambling up the pebble drive toward the palace.

To me, this exploration of the magical forest was an adventure, a journey through a beautiful and mystical place full of hidden treasures. It is still rather puzzling to me, but I am slowly becoming accustomed to its wiles. Kalista, though, clearly does not share my impression. She despondently gives the reins to Johnathan and treks toward the palace.

At supper, she still wears a cloak of gloom and a piece of me feels sorry for her. She wants to escape, to be free, yet her release seems to be entirely out of her control. Year after year, she waits in her crumbling palace with no one but invisible servants to keep her company. It is a wonder she has not gone mad. Anyone lesser than her would have.

First, I see it in her expression—her brows pull into a frown. Then I feel it in my feet—a low rumbling. It grows stronger and stronger until the whole room is trembling. Above us, the crystal chandeliers tinkle together in a threatening sonata and before us, the pyramid displays of fruits and cakes crumble, wine glasses crash against the silverware, and wine splashes over the edge of pitchers and bleeds onto the tablecloth.

But just as quickly as it began, it stops and once again, all is quiet.

"Another petal fell." Kalista softly answers my unspoken question.

Another petal fell. I have felt small earthquakes before, but nothing near the magnitude of this one. I want to ask her why it was so strong. I want to ask her how often a petal falls, but I don't. It hurts enough without me badgering her like a schoolboy.

I look down at my plate, but the overturned candelabra has cast it in shadows and next to it, a large circle of spilled wine darkens the tablecloth. It is the decision of a moment; I cannot very well eat in the dark and besides that, she needs comfort.

Pushing back my chair, I take hold of my plate. Then I rise and step cautiously across the room. A pair of dark eyes look up at me in confusion, but the servants already understand my intentions. They hurriedly clear a space near Kalista's right elbow and carry my chair over as well.