The Subtle Beauty - A Celtic Beauty & the Beast retelling

CHAPTER 3: The Midnight Run of Princess Glory

CHAPTER THREE

The Midnight Run of Princess Glory

The world was spinning. No, Glory thought desperately, No, no! Her lungs were tight, no air would come. I am marrying Colin. This must be a dream. Wake up, Glory. She pinched herself hard. Wake up!

But this wasn’t a dream. It was all too real. The guests were either stunned now, that she was being married to a mystery prince, or applauding the announcement, but Glory heard none of the clamor, for the roar in her ears was too loud. She ran.

Glory cut her way through the darkness to her father’s quarters. She wilted into the soft chair near his desk, her face pressing onto the desk top. She swallowed. Her lungs burned from running through the cool night air. She wanted to scream. She wanted to weep. Neither would come. She pounded the desk. Her head lifted when she heard the door creak open. Servants preceded her father and his jolly laughter. Balthazaar paused in the doorway. “Is that you, Glory?”

Servants lit lamps in the room, chasing out the shadows.

Balthazaar crossed to the desk. “You left in an awful hurry. Is everything alright, my dear?”

He reached out to stroke Glory’s hair, but she pushed his hand away and rose from the chair. “No, Father, everything is not all right.”

Balthazaar lowered his creaky bones into his chair with an achy groan. “It is about your betrothal, isn’t it? Come on, let’s hear it then.”

Glory pressed her palms into the front of the desk, glaring at the king. “How could you do this to me?”

“It is time you take a husband, Glory. You are nearly fourteen.”

“Fifteen,” growled Glory.

“Oh,” Balthazaar shook his head, “I am more behind on your betrothal than I thought. You shall marry at sixteen.”

“You can not make me love another!”

Balthazaar’s fingers wove together, his old joints rounded like snubbed tree branches, knobby and ashen. He rubbed his white beard over the top of his hands, most likely wondering what had gotten into his young daughter. He was quiet a long time, then simply asked, “What’s love got to do with anything?”

Glory straightened. “Everything.”

Balthazaar sat back against his chair and chuckled. “My dear child, do you honestly think I loved your revered mother the day we wed?”

Glory’s brow furrowed.

“Love is a splendid thing, Glory, but true love is forged and tempered over time. It is a thing we learn to do. I grew to love your mother more than anything, and miss her every day now that she is gone, but I would not trade some frivolous young love for what I came to feel for her.”

“I love Colin!” Glory blurted. The words left a dry taste in her mouth the instant they fled her lips.

Balthazaar did not seem nearly as shocked or enraged as she was sure he would be. He was as placid as a mountain lake. “No, Glory. You do not.”

“I love Colin, and you can not make me love any other. Who are you to say who I can and can not love?”

“I am your father and, more importantly, your king. I have every say on this matter. You will marry the suitor I choose for you, as I have done with your sisters. Lord Regent Barwn Xander and I signed the pre-nuptial papers at Council’s Realm. It is already done. He is on his way to collect you.”