Beautiful Beast

Chapter 19

KALISTA

Arawn was right; I do feel better after resting, and part of me resents this, but I did not have the energy to contend with him and now it is time to work. He is not in the tower where I asked him to meet me but in the library hunched over my father's oak desk.

When I enter, he glances up from a piece of paper. "I think I might have something that will work to capture the wolves."

It is a relief that he does not comment on my latter appearance or fatigue. While I feel better, my disposition still bears a hint of grey.

"Are you sure capturing one of them is a wise idea?"

"No, but you said yourself, they might help us break her connection to the curse." He holds out a paper for me. "Do you think you could build something like this with your magic?"

I take the paper and examine the lines and words that are scribbled across it. There are various depictions of a cage. It has a hinge plate a foot after the entrance that when stepped on, will cause the door to fall shut. I could weave vines together to make the walls but connecting the hinge plate with the door may prove tricky.

"I'll help you with the measurements and assembling it. It's just that if I were to build this from scratch, it would take more time than we have," Arawn explains.

I nod. "Of course. Is there anything else?"

"Well...yes. Weapons. There must be something in this palace. Simply a crossbow would be helpful."

A frown tugs at my lips. I have not opened that door in years, but I suppose I need to use every resource I have. I cannot say that I completely trust Arawn, but I think I can trust him enough not to use my weapons against me. "I might be able to find something. Come along."

This time, we descend. A door hidden behind a tapestry of a hunting scene reveals a staircase leading downward. Arawn seems skeptical and asks me if it leads to the dungeon. I raise a brow and tell him he can stay if he is afraid, but he laughs at this and urges me onward. He was being sarcastic, trying to lighten the atmosphere. I have not the slightest idea how to react to this, so I simply fall into the safety of my expressionless mask. Mother always said that this was the best approach—it is safer when your emotions are not blatantly evident.

I open my palm and my magic slips a candelabra into it. The little flames from the candles light the stone staircase and its carpeted steps and keep us from tumbling down and breaking our necks.

We reach the bottom and I blow gently upon the candles. The flames dance and tiny sparks flit throughout the room, lighting two large fireplaces and a chandelier made of antlers. In the center of the room, a long oak table is situated with its once-shining surface coated with dust. Upon the walls to our left and right are various hunting trophies that range from simple deer antlers to exotic dragon scales. Each one holds a story. There was never a time when I came into this room and Papa did not tell me a new story. He told of the foolishness of young men, of the bravery of strong knights, and of the wisdom of kings. From each story, he said, there was a lesson to be learned. My mother called it rubbish. Hunting was a frivolous pursuit that always ended in blood; either that of the prey or that of the predator, no matter how much noble blood he possessed. It is why the hunting room is located beneath the palace. Mother could not abide having it visible.

Yet, it is not the trophies, or the stories, or the opinions of my parents that drew me here today. It is the far wall. Upon it hang weapons of all shapes and sizes—longbows, crossbows, spears, daggers, swords.

Arawn's eyes widen at the display before him. "You choose to show me this now?"

I shrug and run a finger along the edge of the table. It comes away dark from dust and I wrinkle my nose at it. "I have no need of these things."