The Subtle Beauty - A Celtic Beauty & the Beast retelling

CHAPTER 4: Beauty is a Beast

CHAPTER FOUR

Beauty is a Beast

Glory threw herself onto the bed in tears. How dare that… that… monster call her ugly! No one had ever called her ugly before. From the day she was born, she was the fairest in all the land. Even the sun worshipped her. Colin had said so.

Colin. Glory wailed. I’ll never see Colin again. She imagined him waiting by the gardens of Winterholme, wondering where she was, realizing she would never be coming, all thanks to her backstabbing sisters.

Her sisters. Those low, lying, unmuzzled dog-hearted strumpets! Glory punched the mattress and screamed into her pillow. Traitors! And where in the Twelve Kingdoms was this dark Blackthorn Keep? She hadn’t recognized the countryside they rode along. She had been too busy dreaming of a future that had now been robbed from her. That future most certainly did not include a gryphon. That hideous, stinking, talking beast. Glory wiped her eyes. I am not the ugly one!

She rolled off the bed, found some dry night clothes in the wardrobe to change into, and sat before a mirror in the corner. On the table beside her was a beautiful gold-plated brush, which she began to smooth over her dripping locks, counting each stroke. She stared into the mirror, transfixed on her image. Her glorious, perfect image.

It was soothing to her, her conviction in her beauty. The reflection did not lie about her fair, smooth skin, golden locks, and blue, blue eyes. Mirrors did not lie. That is, until, the one before her began to blur. Glory paused, mystified. The mirror was clear again. She resumed brushing her hair. Eighty-one… eighty-two…

The mirror’s surface seemed to ripple.

Glory rubbed her eyes. The mirror remained blurry. Glory blinked. I must be very tired. She finished her nightly ritual, extinguished the candles in the room and slipped into bed.

The rain had eased to a drizzle now, and moonlight cast its glow through wet, silvery veins on the window. Glory stared at the canopy above her. Faintly, over the soft patter of rain, she heard a song. There were no words, but the tune was clear. It was melodic, even flute-like, and so very, very sad, filled with longing and soft disappointment. Glory’s heart swelled and tears sprang to her eyes. Someone was singing, and she felt the very same way as the song. She turned her back to the window and the haunting tune and let the tears come freely until there were no more, and the world went dark as she answered the call of sleep.

Glory ran through the gardens of Winterholme. “Colin!” She called, “Colin!” She rounded the corner to see Colin standing in the sunlight.

“Where have you been?” Colin snapped, “I waited all night.”

Glory recoiled. “I am so sorry, Colin. I must have fallen asleep. I had this horrible dream…”

“Well, I had a dream, too,” Colin growled, a long tail whipping behind him. “I dreamt I ran away with a beautiful Princess.” His gray eyes turned amber and a black beak suddenly protruded from his face. “We were going to live happily ever after.” Colin’s blond hair grew into a head of golden feathers; his clothes turned into tawny fur. “Then I woke up and was stuck with a hideous, selfish girl.” Colin screeched, spread massive wings, and took to the sky.

Glory ran in his shadow, calling to him in desperation. “Colin!” She broke in to tears, “Colin…”

***

Doves flitted over Lucullia’s reception canopy. Colin brushed his hands against each other and raced toward the little thatched cottage on the hillside overlooking the kingdom. Colin visited from time to time after his father had passed away. He kept all of his most precious things hidden there. The cottage was well-guarded by the patrol that roamed the kingdom’s border nearby. Tonight he came for one thing. He shut the front door behind him and flinted a candle to life in which to see by. He pried a loose floorboard from the ground and reached in to retrieve a leather sack heavily pregnant with jingling coins. One spilled on to the floor beside his foot and oscillated with a metallic ring until it rattled to a stop. Colin stooped and picked it up, regarding the likeness of High King Balthazaar upon its shining face. A reminder how he had come by every cent. He had worked for it; taken what he’d learned from his father and applied it to his craft, honing it with what he learned on the job. When his father passed, he had become a natural choice as successor. His methods were a little unorthodox but they achieved the result the king desired. Colin launched the coin in to the air with his thumb and caught it. He kissed it mirthfully and returned it to its place with its numerous brothers and sisters. He had been saving for this night from the moment he had earned his first coin. Glory seemed proud of him for doing so. And by the gods, he vowed to provide her a life she would love.