Authors: Alianne Donnelly
Tags: #romance, #fairy tale, #curse, #the beast, #beauty and the beast, #alianne donnelly
The Beast
The Beast
By Alianne Donnelly
Copyright 2012 Alianne Donnelly
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. The characters,
incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s
imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely
coincidental.
Contents
Don’t go past the anteroom
, he warned
me, claws worrying his tattered shirt.
You cannot trust anything
that comes out of his mouth. Promise me, Lysette, promise you’ll
remember it’s not me.
I promised.
I remember my vow as I lay a shaky hand on
the door’s handle. The guard is in the nook, in place of one of the
armors. He nods to me in encouragement, but I know he is wary. He
knows what is inside that room, and, like his master, he does not
want me to see it.
But I must.
I worry, but not enough to turn back. I have
seen this man, my Beast, in the midst of a rage, terrible fangs
flashing as he roared to the skies. I have seen his vicious
strength as he brought down wild animals in defense of me. I can
look upon his monstrous visage now and see the gentle soul that
dwells inside.
If I can do that, I need to do this, too.
I wish you would reconsider
.
I didn’t. I cannot.
I have already accepted everything else about
my Beast. Though his claws frightened me at first, they have never
harmed me, nor have his fangs. Though he is giant, in height and
strength, he takes such care when he moves that I no longer worry
walking beside him. I have come to love everything he thought would
scare me away.
Why should this be any different?
“My lady?” the guard says and I realize I
haven’t moved.
“I am all right,” I tell him. He is here to
keep me safe, and I can see by the look in his eyes that he is
prepared to do his duty. He has orders to put my life above his
master’s and, though it will pain him, he will do what he must if
it should come to that.
It worries me far more than the monster
waiting beyond this closed door.
I do not let it show.
The handle is rusty and sticks as I unlatch
the door. It is heavy, but I manage to push it open enough to pass
through. I should close it behind me, I know, but cannot seem to
bring myself to do it; the anteroom is fully dark and I crave the
light of the hallway to guide me.
I hear breathing farther in the chamber, by
the window. My heart throbs and I am unsteady in the pitch black
room. I pick my way carefully, move slowly, allowing my eyes to
adjust to the darkness.
I can see faint shadows of forms now. The
windows I walk toward are giant, but covered with drapes. Even so I
can make out the full moon’s glow.
A rustle of movement makes me hesitate.
Chains rattle, and I know. I know he senses
me near. My palms are moist. I clutch my skirts tight and make
myself move forward.
A sharp inhale. “Ah,” he breathes. “Company.”
I scarcely recognize the voice.
The chains tumble to the floor and I hear him
moving, dragging them behind, to one side of the room. The spark he
makes to light a candle cracks like lightning in the room and makes
me flinch. One candle lights another, and another, and still
another, until the entire room is aglow. I am at the edge of the
anteroom now. This is as far as I am to go.
His back is to me, a ragged shirt hanging on
a frame that looks deceptively sparse in it. But where the neck
gapes to his shoulder I can see muscle. The massive manacles
encircling his wrists and ankles were each too heavy for me to lift
when my Beast showed them to me yesterday. But this creature is not
hindered by them in the least. Indeed, he adjusts them as I would a
delicate bracelet.
My mouth is dry, I am far more nervous than I
expected to be.
He stoops to the fireplace, flicks his arm
sideways to move the heavy chains out of his way so he can light a
fire. “So you finally got the courage,” he says.
“Y-you know who I am?”
He chuckles, more of a scoff. “Oh, I know.”
He turns and I see his profile, backlit by the fire. He has long
wooden stick in his hand to tend the fire; there are no iron pokers
in this room. Nothing he could use to free himself. “You think I
don’t hear your sniveling voice every month? You think I don’t
smell that disgusting sewer water you call perfume all over my
home?” He shoves to his feet and I flinch.
Worse, he notices. Though I cannot see his
face clearly, I … sense his amusement.
“I hear the servants talk about you like some
goddamned salvation. They all think you’re a saint come to do
battle with the Devil himself. Well?” He snaps the chains like a
silken train and comes around the massive bed, into the light.
“What do you think of him?”
Dark golden strands of hair fall over the
face of a fallen angel. Strong jaw, proud nose, dark brows and a
hard, twisted mouth. But his eyes… They aren’t what I expected to
see. They are empty. Cold. Eyes of a true monster.
Promise me
.
I promised. And I can see it now. This is not
my Beast.
He sneers. “You’re no savior. I know exactly
what you are. You’re the bitch that thinks to banish me. From my
own house, no less. Harridan,” he accuses, his fury rising with
each word. My Beast could never be so cruel. “Trespasser.
Interloper.
Whore!
” No, this is not my Beast.
But this
was
my Beast.
Before he became cursed.
I ran. His roar followed me all the way to
the opposite wing. I could still hear him when I locked myself in
my room. Or perhaps I merely imagined that.
Now, in the harsh light of day, I stand
before a mirror and behold a coward. My gown is blue today, to
bring out my eyes, but all I see is the dark tinge beneath them and
the sallow paleness of my skin. Sylvie did all she could to make my
auburn curls shine, but none of it can hide the truth.
No matter how many times I pinch my cheeks, I
cannot bring colour into them. My lips feel dry as dust. I am
weary, and ashamed.
My Beast is no doubt waiting for me, but I
cannot bear to face him.
Oh, Lysette, why are you here?
I make myself walk down the grand staircase,
past the whispering servants with their pitying gazes, into the
small solarium where I usually break fast with my host. Today, it
is empty.
“Lady Lysette.”
I face Jacques, about to tell him yet again
not to address me as a lady, but the look on his face stops me.
“Where is he?” I ask.
“The master bid me to send his apologies,”
Jacques says. “He regrets he will not be able to perform his duty
as host today.”
“His duty?” The word chills me.
I can see in his eyes something is terribly
amiss. “I believe,” he says, “the master feels rather the worse for
wear after…”
Does he remember? Does he have any
recollection at all of our meeting last night? “I understand,” I
say. “Can you tell me where he is?”
“I’m afraid he does not wish to be disturbed.
The master has instructed me to provide you with anything you wish.
He has even made his carriage available to you, if that is what you
desire.”
“Did he?” I feel my ire return some pink into
my cheeks. The anger is a welcome spark of fire to the cold weight
in my gut. “Does he expect me to leave? Is this some sort of fare
well?”
Jacques looks away. In all my time here, I
have never known him to do such a thing.
“H-has he given up, then?”
The loyal butler swings his head to look at
me once more, his eyes wide. He smoothes his expression expertly,
but his voice is unsteady when he speaks. “Please understand, my
lady. The master has come a ways since his curse. We all see it,
though he cannot.” There is deep emotion in his words. He is
telling me something he ought not.
I listen.
“But with every rise of the full moon, he is
transformed, reminded of what he used to be. He is not allowed to
forget. It is part of his punishment to remember his sins, and it
has become much more of a burden than…”
So he remembers. I tell Jacques, as bravely
as I can, “Please inform your master that his guest is determined
to stay. And that I shall see him again tonight.”
Jacques draws himself up, I see relief and
joy in him, but though I notice his mouth quirk in a suppressed
smile, he says, “Apologies, my lady, but the master has forbidden
you to enter his chambers again. He fears it is not safe for you to
do so at this time.”
“Because the moon peaks full tonight?”
Jasques inclines his head. “It has proven to
be the most … trying in the past.”
“I see.” I smooth my skirts. I need that
moment to collect my thoughts. “Then please tell him he has nothing
to fear. I shall amuse myself reading this evening.”
“I shall inform the master.” He bows and
leaves quietly.
I eat by myself, watching the gardeners tend
the blooms outside the window. When I finish, I convey my thanks to
the cook and remove myself to the library. It is stunning, filled
with books large and small, stories of adventure and love, volumes
on every subject known to man. I could spend eternity familiarizing
myself with those printed words, though, on this day, I do not
allow myself the luxury of exploration. As I have told Jacques, I
will be reading tonight.
But I will not be alone.
I choose my book with care.
Three
Tonight I do not hesitate. I know what awaits
me now. I smile at the guard. Louis seems nervous but he squares
his shoulders and nods to me. Book in hand, I enter the beast’s
lair.
Tonight there is light aplenty to see by. I
see the torn rags, the shattered chairs. I see part of the table in
the blazing fireplace. I do not let my reaction show.
The man who is my Beast is pacing, nearly
snarling. He truly is like a restrained wild thing, snapping his
chains, futilely fighting for his freedom. With all his strength
and fury he cannot break free. I take heart in that.
“You again,” he snarls, baring his teeth.
I gather my courage and smile. “I have come
to sit with you a while.”
The man rushes toward me, but the chains pull
him up short. His fingers curl into claws, as though he wants to
tear into me. His massive chest rises and falls; his entire body
shudders, strains. He is livid. “Get out,” he hisses.
I take a step toward him, but not too close.
“You do not frighten me,” I say in the face of his wrath.
Malice burns cold in his blue eyes. “You
think you can pull the tiger’s tail while he is chained? I won’t be
chained forever. You
should
fear me, little girl. When I am
free, I will show you no mercy.”
“I am sure,” I tell him, pretending that it
was the cold draft sending chills down my spine and not his words.
“But until then, you are here, and I am not leaving.”
He grinds his teeth so much I can hear it.
I’ve no doubt that if he was free, he would make good on his
threats and tear me limb from limb.
But he is not free, and that makes me brave.
Perhaps even a little reckless. My smile is more confident this
time. “Now, will you be a gentleman and offer me a seat, or do I
need to look for one myself?”
What he says next does not bear repeating. I
swallow a shocked gasp and turn my burning cheeks away as I search
for a chair. There isn’t one. I can discern bits and pieces, but
not one survived his wrath.
