The Eye of the Beholder (4 page)

During my first visits to my only window to the outside world, I simply allowed the pool to show me what it would. Over time, I learned that I could control it if I wished. I had only to gaze upon the surface and fix my thoughts on whatever I wished to see and it would appear.

I only wished that the pool also allowed me to hear what was happening in the scenes I witnessed, but this was not to be. I had to content myself with the silent visions, for it seemed that silence was to be my lot. There were many other beasts in the forest, but they soon learned of my presence and ceased to come anywhere near my castle, robbing me of the normal sounds of the forest. Aside from the sounds I made, I heard only wind, rain, and snow blowing through the trees.

The hope for the end of the silence was yet one more hope that hinged upon a maiden finding me. It was absurd, but what else did I have? Learning to live as a beast was not an option. It might have been possible had I never known what it was to be a man, but no matter how many years passed, the thought of what I had once been prevented me from ever feeling that I could be content as a beast. I despised everything about myself. The hatred would never stop unless I was able to break the curse and transform back into a human.

Though the terms of the curse disturbed me, I tried to pretend that they were nothing more than bothersome details. I had always been able to get what I wanted, and I worked to convince myself that this situation would not be an exception to the rule. If it was necessary for me to love a maiden and to make her love me, I told myself that is what I would do. But no matter how I tried, I could not fully dismiss my concerns. I did not know the first thing about love and had no interest in it whatsoever. What was love but weakness? Had it not always been love that had provoked the pathetic, sniveling displays to which I had borne witness so many times during my reign? In light of this, how was one such as myself to break a curse that could not be broken without love?

Arrogant as I was, I scoffed at what the enchantress had told me. Surely power or riches would suffice to cause a maiden to fall in love with me, no matter how hideous I and my servants were. Once I met this requirement, it would be simple enough for me to feign my own love, fully breaking the curse. When the curse was broken, I would dispose of the maiden as I saw fit, secure in my victory against the enchantress.

The flaw in my brilliant plan was the absolute lack of a maiden in my life, and the unlikelihood that any maiden would stumble upon me unwittingly. My castle was situated in the midst of a dark and forbidding forest, which would surely deter even the most foolhardy of maidens. The growth was so thick that it would be difficult at best to find it, even if one did manage to evade the wolves and bears that prowled the edges of the forest.

It seemed the enchantress had placed an unbreakable curse upon me. I wondered if she watched me from wherever she was, laughing at me and my misfortune. I was a mad fool to cling to the hope that I might one day again be man.

Chapter 4: The Fateful Journey

Though they weighed upon me heavily, I tried to put Papa's words out of my mind. I knew it was wishful thinking to believe that nothing would ever change, but the simple truth was I was so comfortable with my world as it was that I actively rebelled against the idea of change. My life had been full of so many uncertainties that I did not relish the idea of embracing yet more of them, and it frightened me to think of actively trying to seek out a husband who might suit me. Papa and I were devoted to one another, we were of like mind, and we were comfortable in one another's company; that was more than enough for me. He was correct that Thomasina and Rowena required only some small measure of wealth so that they could surround themselves with objects, but objects would never satisfy me. No, I longed for something far more precious: I longed for freedom, and I did not imagine I would ever find that as someone's wife.

Papa's woodworking shed was normally a haven in which I felt comfortable sharing my every thought with him, but this one was the exception. I feared he might either think me unnatural or even scoff at my having such thoughts. Were I a man, I could have talked openly about such desires. As a woman, I must attempt to navigate the waters as best I could. It would have been far easier to simply settle for a decent marriage to a boring man, but I wanted none of that. There was something about a marriage of convenience that struck me as terribly mercenary.

"You look especially pensive today," Papa said, pulling me from my thoughts.

"I was simply trying to determine if we have enough flour to last us the month," I replied, making an effort to smile naturally. Papa studied me with a dubious expression, but apparently decided to let the matter be.

"What do you think?" He rubbed a soft cloth over the back of the chair he had just finished. I walked around it in a circle, inspecting it from all angles. The distraction was welcome, but I was even more gratified by the opportunity to admire his artistry.

"It is wonderful." My voice was soft with pride. "It is even better than your sketch. May I?" I reached a hand out toward the chair and Papa beamed.

"Of course, my Mira." He took a step back, allowing me to move closer and run my hand over the chair's smooth, flawless surface.

It had shamed and frustrated Papa how long it took for him to learn some menial tasks, so I had watched with a great deal of trepidation the day he had gone for his first carpentry lesson. Several items in our home had been badly in need of repair, and Papa had resolved to fix them himself for we could not spare the money to hire someone. In exchange for Papa's assistance with some menial tasks, the local carpenter had consented to teach my father some of the basics.

It was almost as if Papa had always possessed an innate ability, one of which he knew nothing and, in the space of a mere few months, his skill exceeded that of his teacher. Under Papa's hands, ordinary wood was transformed into the most beautiful objects. He had not only mended our broken furniture, he had also added several beautiful pieces to our cottage before deciding to try his hand at selling his wares. Several of the villagers had purchased his pieces, providing us with a little extra money. A few days ago, the blacksmith had ordered a bed, which would be his son's wedding gift.

"Papa, it is so wonderful," I said, my eyes roaming over the delicately carved animals that looked as though they might leap out of the wood. I ran a fingertip over the pert squirrel peering out at me from the trunk of the tree that formed the chair's back.

"Do you truly think so?" Papa asked, his voice sounding somewhat anxious.

I turned to him with a smile. "I truly do. I cannot believe how talented you are."

"I can hardly believe it myself." The sound of Papa's rumbling laugh made me smile even more broadly. For a very long time, it was a sound I had all too rarely heard.

"But I thought your only order was for the bed. Who will be the fortunate recipient of this chair?"

Papa smiled rather mysteriously and tapped the side of his nose. "Ah, but you shall have to be patient and wait for that explanation."

I knew better than to try to cajole the information out of him; Papa's ability to keep a secret was legendary. Instead, I moved over to his workbench, pausing for a moment to admire the sketch he had made for the chair. I was correct; the finished product was far more breathtaking than the sketch, lovely as that had been. I flipped the sheet over and examined the one beneath.

"What do you think?" Papa came up behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders as he peered down.

He had sketched five prospective motifs for the bed, and I examined each carefully. "Not this one," I said, pointing. "It seems better suited to a dining table."

Papa took up a pencil and drew an x over the design I had rejected. "I believe I may be partial to that one. What say you?" He pointed to one of the other designs and I studied it intently, trying to picture how it would look when my father brought it to life.

"I do like it, but I think perhaps this lily should be replaced with a rose." I indicated a rather showy lily at the crest of the headboard. Looking up, I could see Papa stroking his chin as he considered my words.

"Like so?" He took the sheet from my hand and, with a few quick strokes of the pencil, he altered the design as I had suggested.

"Yes! Just so! Every bride in town will covet it."

Papa dropped a kiss on the top of my head before leaning over and scrawling a few notes around the sketch. Though his work often seemed magical to me, I knew it was also the product of a great deal of time spent measuring and calculating proportions. His years as a merchant had given him a head for numbers, and I suspected it was the combination of artistry and mathematics that made his pieces so extraordinary.

"Do you have the wood?"

"The woodcutter will deliver it three days hence." Papa's voice was distracted, and he scrawled a few numbers next to his notes.

"I shall leave you to it, then." I was unable to suppress a smile at his vague good-bye. He never failed to be enthralled by one of his projects, and it made me happy to see him so pleasantly engaged.

For once, Thomasina and Rowena were at home. They sat by the fire, chatting idly, both of them bent over their embroidery hoops. My sisters spent hours stitching endless sheets and cushions that they then folded carefully and placed inside the exquisite chests Papa had carved for their trousseaux. Papa had carved a chest for me as well, but mine was filled with journals, scraps of parchment, and quill fragments.

"Have you been minding the pot?" I asked, lifting the lid and stirring the slightly scorched contents.

"The pot! I knew there was something I was supposed to remember. Thomasina, did I not tell you to remind me?" Rowena scolded languidly. She did not bother to lift her eyes from her handiwork.

"You did, dearest, but you know I am hopeless at remembering such details," Thomasina sighed.

"I imagine you would be more concerned about such details if this burned and you were forced to go with an empty belly," I accused, waving the spoon at them irritably.

"Have a care, you clumsy oaf!" Rowena cried, as a bit of broth dripped from the end of the spoon, narrowly missing her hoop.

"At any rate, you confuse us with yourself, as neither of us worry overly much about missing a meal," Thomasina sniffed.

My cheeks flamed, and I turned abruptly, lest I give them the satisfaction of seeing that Thomasina's words had hit their mark. It was too little too late, for I heard them snickering. Clutching the spoon until my knuckles turned white, I did my best to master the combination of hurt and anger.

"Hello, my darlings," Papa said, entering the cottage and hanging his cloak. He kissed each of us.

"Dinner is nearly ready," I said.

"Very good." He rubbed his hands together. "I am famished."

I smiled. "Judging by that chair, you have earned your appetite."

"Chair? Did you get another order?" Rowena asked, finally deigning to look up from her needlework.

"No, I did not. This has to do with an entirely different scheme. Rowena, Thomasina, help your sister while I wash up."

As soon as his back was turned, my sisters pulled aggrieved faces, taking their time rising from their chairs and moving to help me set the table. I could have done it alone in half the time, but I was gratified by a savage glee that Papa had forced them to work.

"What is this scheme then, Papa?" I asked, once we had all been served and settled in our seats at the table.

"I shall travel to the Swan Hollow market. I have heard it attracts a substantial crowd, and I thought I might try my luck there. The chair you saw, Mira, along with a few other items, is for the market."

"May we come?" Rowena asked eagerly, making eyes at Papa.

"No, my love. I will need you to stay here and assist Mira."

"But Papa! I long to purchase satin ribbons for trimmings there," Thomasina said, pouting.

"If I am successful in this venture, I shall take you with me the next time I go and I shall buy you three ribbons each," Papa said, tweaking her nose. She continued to pout, but Papa looked at her sternly and she sighed, dropping her eyes to her bowl.

"I must depart on the morrow," Papa continued, eating his dinner with obvious relish.

"So soon?" I asked.

"Yes indeed, for it will take me two days to travel to the town and I will only just arrive in time for the market."

"How will you get there?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"The forest route," he said.