Beauty
hummed gently along with the pattering rain as she sewed, pleased to be doing
something that wasn’t completely practical for once. Father had gotten well quickly and life had returned to normal at
last, although her family still looked at her askance every so often. She had tried to ask them about it once, but
father had gotten such a look of dismayed pain on his face that her question
died in her throat. She hadn’t asked
again. She’d heard her sisters talking
amongst themselves about her “trauma” and they’d decided not to bring it up,
much to Beauty’s frustration.
She
sighed… things were the same as she always remembered them… but certain little
things disturbed her peace of mind.
Even as she stitched some fancy embroidery for Mrs. Bounty’s new
tablecloth, she was aware that her choice of red roses, although common, was
strangely familiar. Romeo and Juliet
made her cry when it never had before.
Animals seemed to possess an intelligence and personality more common to
the minds of children than herself. Why
did her body ache for something she couldn’t describe and dared not mention
even to her sisters, whom she had always trusted implicitly before? Her simple life suddenly seemed… dull. But you couldn’t miss anything that you’d
never had, right?
She
looked up, her thoughts interrupted by a knock at the door and her father’s
call.
“Beauty! Open the door, could you, please?” he asked
from the rainy outside.
“Coming,
Papa!” she answered, running to the door and opening it to reveal not only her
father but a decidedly worn-looking traveler.
“Thank
you, dear.” Her father replied, helping the mysterious stranger inside, impeded
by a large pack. Beauty smiled
indulgently; her father always was the gentleman, offering to carry bags that
were close to too heavy for him.
“Again,
I thank ye for the offer of shelter.” The traveler sighed and Beauty was
startled by an astoundingly feminine voice from under the dripping cloak that
covered her. Where had she heard that
voice before?
“It’s
no trouble at all, madam.” Henry insisted, setting the pack down by the fire
and turning to indicate Beauty. “This
is my youngest daughter, Beauty.
Beauty, this is Nezra, a somewhat lost traveler and our guest for the
evening.”
“Pleased
to meet you, ma’am.” Beauty curtsied briefly.
“Might I take your cloak? If we
hang it by the fire now, it’ll be dry by morning.”
“Thank
ye, dear.” Nezra smiled, removing her tattered cloak to reveal an elderly face
that was somehow comforting and oddly memorable to Beauty. The voice, the accent, the clear eyes, and
the wizened face… where had she come to know them before?
“Elizabeth!
Alice! Set another place for supper!” Henry called into the kitchen where
Beauty’s sisters where busy preparing the evening meal.
“There’s
no need te feed me, dear… I’ll be in ye’re debt as ‘tis…” Nezra protested
amicably.
“Nonsense…
you’ll owe us nothing. All I ask is
that you tell us one of those stories you spoke of on the way here.” Henry
added with a friendly wink.
“Stories? What sort of stories?” Beauty asked, her
attention immediately caught.
“I’m
of a dyin’ breed of minstrel, dearie… a wanderer who makes her way by telling
fantastical tales at fairs and feasts.” Nezra explained, returning Henry’s
wink. “What shall I tell ye this
evenin’? Swashbucklin’ adventure? Amusin’ anecdote? Hopeless love?”
“Love.”
Beauty decided before father could say anything. “I like love stories.”
“Do
ye? And what about the ending?”
“The
ending?”
“Happy
or tragic? It’s up to ye, Beauty.”
“Supper!”
Alice called before Beauty could form an answer.
@>--------,-------------‘---------
“So,
what story are you going to enthrall us with?” Elizabeth asked cheerfully after
dinner, once the family was all settled around the fire. Beauty sat in the corner, trying to quiet to
suddenly strong beat of her heart.
Somehow, she found herself waiting with baited breath for this love
story. Mama pranced over and settled on
Beauty’s lap, eager for her early-evening-in-front-of-a-roaring-fire session of
petting.
“A
love story, one that has no ending yet.” Nezra answered cryptically, unnerving
Beauty slightly with her forthright gaze.
“No
ending? Where is this story from?”
Elizabeth wondered aloud.
“This
particular version is all the way from the Orient, one I learned a long time
ago. ‘Tis about a beautiful girl and
her prince.” Nezra smiled, leaning back in her chair comfortably.
“There
you go, Beauty… a handsome prince charming for you.” Alice teased gently.
“No,
no… I never said he was handsome. In
fact, our hero is rather… shall we say… beastly?” Nerza added pointedly.
Beauty’s
head jerked up in interest. A prince
that wasn’t handsome? Beastly? Intriguing!
“This
is called The Dragon Prince.” Nezra announced, her voice more melodious than
before, the mark of a gifted story-teller.
She expertly wove a tale of a poor farmer who had seven daughters; the
youngest of which was the kindest and most beautiful girl who ever lived. She told of how a golden snake scared her
sisters in the fields and how this youngest child had saved it from her
father’s hoe. That snake changed into a
ferocious dragon who later rescued the farmer from danger and housed him in a
fabulous palace. The farmer however, wanted
to bring a memento home to the youngest daughter, and so picked a lotus blossom
for her, the sacred flower of China.
Enraged at the theft, the dragon demanded that the farmer pay with his
life or the life of the daughter he so loved.
Beauty
noticed her father stiffen more and more throughout, his eyes wide with wonder
and… fear. But Beauty was too
captivated to dwell on it too much now.
“What happened? Did she go with
the dragon?”
“Aye,
that she did.” Nezra nodded with a smile. “Her love for her father and her
hidden love of adventure made her run away in the dead of night to pay her
father’s debt to this fearsome dragon.
He had sharp teeth and claws, a terrifying roar, and a alarming voice…
but the young girl found that she did not fear him; that as vicious as he
looked, he was as equally lonely.”
Nezra
continued, telling how the two unlikely creatures eventually became friends and
the young woman eventually found herself to be in love with her tragic
captor. However, the girl missed her
family despite being happy with her newfound friend. Before she even had a chance to tell the dragon of her feelings,
he sent her away, knowing that her absence would kill him.
“How? How could her being away harm him?” Beauty
asked.
“Ah,
ye see… the dragon was under a terrible spell, one that bound him to his love
to the death. Without her near, he
would slowly wilt and die, like a flower denied sunlight.” Nezra explained, and
for a moment Beauty thought she saw a strange light around the edges of her
vision, clearing her mind of the cloudiness that had plagued her so recently.
“A
spell… a stolen flower… a beastly captor…” she whispered to herself, slowly
rising from her seated position, barely noticing that Mama fell off of her lap
with un-feline clumsiness.
Beauty… a voice called in her
head, masculine and deep, deeper than her father’s had ever been. Beauty, my love…you can still say no to
me… you can change your mind, the gravelly voice whispered, breathless and
harsh. Beauty could feel satin sheets against
her skin and a hard body pressing her down.
A face appeared in her mind’s eye; like that of a lion, with sharp fangs
and dark fur. But his eyes, his
emerald-green eyes were so plaintive, so sad that her breath caught in her
throat.
Goodbye, Beauty… I will love you
to my last breath…the voice breathed as gently as its coarse tones would
allow.
Rayven? What do you mean goodbye?
I’m coming back to you… how could I not? Beauty called in her mind,
reaching out for him desperately as his image flickered and faded slowly, like
a dying flame.
Beauty… his voice lingered in
her heart, making her tremble.
“Rayven!” she screamed out loud,
startling her family from their chairs and mats. “Rayven! Oh my god, how
could I-? I remember now! He sent me away and somehow made me forget!”
“Beauty, child…” her father held her
shoulders steadily. “What is this
you’re saying? Who’s Rayven?”
She managed to focus on her father’s weathered and
familiar face. “Rayven is my love,
father… He’s the beast the you encountered
and the man that I’ve come to love.”
He backed away a step, stricken by
her admission. “You… your love?”
“Father, please try to understand.”
Beauty clasped her hands tightly to keep them from shaking. “I have to go back… he’ll die without me. I don’t remember how much time he had left…
it can’t be too late, it just can’t be.”
“Beauty!” Alice cried out. “What are you saying? You’re leaving us again?”
“Yes… I promised I’d go back to
him. He needs me… to break the spell.”
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
“Oh god… I hope it’s not too late… it can’t be too late!”
“Too late for what?” Elizabeth
demanded, her voice rising along with Beauty’s returning memory. “Beauty, please… sit down and tell us what
in God’s name you’re talking about.”
Beauty sat shakily despite the
adrenaline suddenly pumping through her, the desire to run. “Rayven is the beast… I’ve been living with
him for the past few months because of the rose Father took from the garden. Those flowers represent the time that he has
left to break the spell that he’s under.
When you plucked that rose, father, you in effect stole ten years from
him.”
Her father paled slightly. “An enchantment? With a time limit? That’s
evil sorcery if ever I heard of it…”
“Exactly. But aside from that… father… Rayven and I… we… we’ve fallen in
love. I know, I know he looks
ferocious… but…” her tone softened, tears finally spilling. “But he needs me… to break this curse. He’ll die if I don’t in time. Please, I have to go back to him… please.”
Father looked as though he couldn’t
decide whether to be infuriated or ashamed, his eyes flickering away from
Beauty as he tried to sort the shocking revelations in his mind. “Beauty… he’s a beast… a monster.”
“No!” she was quick to counter, taking
her father’s face in her hands. “He
merely looks like an animal, father… before the enchantment, he was a man same
as you. In his heart, he is still a
man… and he is the man that I’ve given my heart to.” She peered closely into her father’s familiar, weathered face
just as she had when she was a child.
“Please father… if you ever trusted me, if you ever felt that my
impressions of others were correct… trust me in this choice. I love Rayven… and I want to go to him.”
She felt his jaw tighten briefly
under her fingertips as his warm, brown eyes met hers. “Very well, Beauty. Go to him… and don’t delay. If he is man enough to win your heart… then
he must be an extraordinary man indeed.”
Beauty kissed his cheek gratefully,
hugging him tight. “Thank you, papa…
thank you.”
She turned to speak to the old
woman, to briefly explain her hasty departure to their guest… but her gaze met
nothing but thin air where she had sat.
Alice gasped, her hand straying to her heart.
“My god… where did she-?”
“Vanished!”
“Maybe… maybe she was sent… to
remind me..” Beauty thought aloud suddenly.
“I have to hurry…”
Another hour and she was on Apple’s
wide back, one step away from a true gallop and heading breakneck into the
forest. Her heart pounded wildly in her
chest, her eyes searching the darkness for the right turns. Apple sensed her urgency and was keyed up as
a result, pawing anxiously at the ground whenever they stopped to get their
bearings. The normally placid horse was
all but trembling under Beauty’s hands, his coat soon soggy with sweat.
Beauty’s mind barely registered the
journey, her mind beset with images of Rayven pining away for her. She almost didn’t notice the large owl that
swooped ahead of them, hooting riotously.
It was the same owl from the other times, a great tawny creature with a
ghostly white face and solemn eyes of gold.
Beauty breathed a sigh of relief and kicked Apple into a fast canter
after it. Canter soon gave way to an
almost gallop. Soon, although not soon
enough for Beauty’s tastes, the winking silver gates of the castle were within
sight.
Before Apple even bothered to slow
down and without pausing for breath, Beauty leapt down from the saddle and
broke into a run, pushing through the heavy gates with a grunt of exertion and
tearing into the garden beyond like a madwoman, her hood dislodging in the
process. Her heavy skirts slowed her
down in her headlong flight into the castle, but she hardly noticed. She struggled her way up the many staircases
to Rayven’s chambers… to the massive doors of dark mahogany that she remembered
hiding behind. Had it been so long
ago? She didn’t bother to knock, but
pushed the door inwards.
The room was empty… the neatly made
bed bearing the telltale dullness of dust on the velvet quilt. He hadn’t slept in it since she left, she
was sure of it.
Dear god…
She turned and ran down more
corridors, seeking out her own room.
Maybe, just maybe, he was there… immersing his acute senses in her scent
and lingering presence. The practical
side of her mind chided her for being foolishly romantic at that idea… but she
ran nonetheless. The twin doors gave
way easily under her touch and she stumbled into the room, the finely woven
carpet burning her hands as she tried to catch herself and slid. Things were dusty in here as well, not a
single thing out of place… but for the open bay window, the incoming breeze
tousling the lacy curtains that flanked the cushioned seats.
Lacking any further ideas as to
where Rayven could be, her legs aching, her face tear-streaked, and her hands
stinging… she wandered clumsily to the window seat, falling upon it
heavily. Where could he be? Was he angry at her for forgetting him? But he had placed the spell on her in the
first place. Was he already dead? She couldn’t remember how much time he’d had
left… hadn’t counted the roses… Her
heart trembled at the idea, her eyes swelling shut with tears as she bowed her
head to the sill and held back a sob.
She sat there, panting with cries
for what seemed like both forever and an instant. Until finally, she lifted her head to gaze out the window, her
eyes instinctively searching for the rose garden, half-afraid of finding only
green in its blurry leaves.
The fountain was not cheerily
sparkling as it usually was… and on its finely polished marble surface rested a
dark shadow. He laid perfectly still,
his only movement the breeze tugging gently at his loose hair.
“Rayven!” she screamed before
bolting out of her room.
On to Chapter Fifteen (not yet
available)