Page 28 of The Beast & His Beauty

She smiled, slow and deadly. “What do you have to offer me? I have already taken your home and your power. I have driven away your people and could chase them even farther, if I chose.”

I knew at that moment that she was right and would take pleasure in terrorizing my people until they were too afraid to ever return to this countryside. She would have no qualms about destroying the village next just to hear the screams of the people who lived there. She was in control of my treasury and all my gold as well as my stores. She already had the power that surrounded such places, like royal castles, and allowed us to live in comfort, and she would take more until there was no more to take. The only thing she did not have at that point was me.

“I will trade myself,” I said.

I had almost expected her to refuse, to tell me that I was not worth the bargain, but instead the witch beamed as if I was offering her something truly rare. Indeed, I did not understand fully what she meant to do with me. I thought death. An ending to the pain. I was a fool.

The story that the villagers tell is that I was fed to the beast, but the truth is that it was the other way around. He was fed to me, forced into my body from one of my own goblets. The edge of the cup cut into my mouth. I did not want to drink the bitter liquid that she had made from wine from my own cellars, but I had no other choice if the village was to be saved.

“A sip,” she said, and I dared to believe it would end the misery. As if a soul like hers could have mercy.

The curse burned inside me. I remember the sound of the witch laughing wickedly, louder and louder. Her laughter blended in with the thunder and cracks of lightning from the clouds she had summoned. She was triumphant, and I thought for a few moments that it had all been a waste because as the curse took hold, I felt as if I was being torn in two. I was sickened by the magic itself and fell to the ground in a delirium.

When I awoke three days later, the witch’s reign had already ended. Her greed had been her undoing. The other witches, who would have stopped her from seizing the castle at all, had heard what their sister had done. I have a faint memory of her screams as they bound her in the courtyard and lit her aflame, extinguishing her evil soul.

The damage had already been done.

I was doomed to a life of madness and animal urges. In the beginning, the beast was stronger and I was less able to fight him. The magic would enforce the power of the rose.

So long ago, I did not think of what would happen when the last petal fell. I thought I would go mad long before then.

In time, I’ve realized I might live long enough to see the last petal fall from the rose. “If you do not find your fate before the last petal falls…you will become nothing but the beast inside of you.” The witch had warned.

Of course I did not give up so easily then. I raged through the castle destroying tapestries and paintings and vases for days until I could control the beast. When I finally trusted myself enough, I was covered in sweat and weaker than I had ever been, but with the last of my strength I dragged myself outside.

The wall had been built by magic while I was inside the castle. It was too large and too sturdy to have been built by human hands and had the scent of magic about it. I thought it had been built to keep the villagers away, to protect them from me, but once I passed through I began to reconsider. The magic was weaker outside the iron gates, and I felt weaker as I walked. By the time I reached the village I knew I had made a terrible mistake.

The villagers were terrified of me. They did not trust me and looked upon me as a dangerous animal who could not be allowed to live. There was not only terror, but there was anger and even hate. All they knew of the prince was that he had been fed to the beast, and when I spoke, my words did not fall on their ears as any language they could understand. They had begun to confuse the power of the witch with me, and stories had spread about how I could not be controlled. They had already imagined the worst and turned on me, trying to kill me. They beat me until I was almost senseless and when I ran, trying to get to safety, they chased after me.

Their betrayal was my undoing. Still now, I regret sacrificing myself for their souls.

The magic was too weak near the village to protect me, and I could not defend myself. I barely made it back to the castle, bloodied and terribly injured as I was. The magic inside the castle did its best to help me heal, but as it did, the villagers began storming the estate.

They brought planks and long nails with them, and their plan was to crucify me in my courtyard.

No, that is not true. Their plan was to crucify the beast, and they could not see that I was still part of him. The anger and pain still brew inside of me at the memory. I can still hear the thunder.

I was the only one in the castle by then. There was no one to defend me save myself. I did not want to kill them, but they could not understand me or did not want to. I still remember their screams as they died. I still remember their bravery, fighting to the last man. When the final man had fallen, the women fled to the village. I have no doubt they told the tale of what a vicious animal I was, though I was only trying to stay alive. I know they would not have told the stories in the way I remember it, because all they saw was a bloodthirsty beast.

In fairness, there are days when I am as bloodthirsty as he is because the nature of the beast is overpowering. There are times when I hardly remember my life as it was before I was cursed. Tendrils of darkness swirl through the mists of the forests to this day, and enough of the villagers are aware of them that they look upon those remnants as proof that evil still inhabits the castle.

I blink several times, returning from my memories. On the rose, the petal that had been quivering in that invisible breeze comes loose and floats to the floor of the cloche.

I release a heavy sigh, doing my best to come to terms with my thoughts.

The truth is that I no longer wish to stop the petals from falling. In the early days of the curse, I was so desperate to stop it that I would have held them onto the stem with both my hands, withering away in this tower room. I tossed and turned in bed, trying to find a way to free myself from the curse through the power of my will and finding nothing but dead ends.

Now, I no longer need to search for a way to keep the petals on the stem. It is no longer my most important consideration. I will no longer dwell on the days I have left, for there is no sense in it, and counting them will not change their number.

I will have this peace with Elle for as many days as I can. Numbing my pain. She helps me remember who I used to want to be. I will accept the peace I have with her for that long and no longer, because I will not be here when it is done.

I let out another sigh, stretching my stiff limbs. I cannot go to Elle and wake her without blindfolding her, and I do not want to disturb her pleasant sleep, so I will not. The days I have with her from now until the end will have to be good enough, for there is nothing else to be gained from this life. What’s strange, though, is that the magic allows her and no one else. It’s odd and I’ve been trying to understand why it offers her peace. Why it grants her welcome. Is it to further my pain in some way? I can’t imagine she is a gift although that’s what her presence feels like. I do not trust the magic. None of this feels as though it will stay. It is a trick, I’m sure.

There is only one final question that plagues me as I stand, looking at the cloche in the moonlight, preparing to leave it:

What does the magic want with Elle?

ELLE