Beautiful Beast

Chapter 22

Without warning, Arawn spews his wine out and curses. Startled, my eyes fly open and I jump from my seat.

"What is the matter with you?" I demand, glaring at Arawn.

"What is the matter with me?" He exclaims. "What is the matter with the wine? It has gone sour. Here." He holds out my wine glass. "Try it."

Tentatively, I take the glass from him and stare at the liquid within. It is dark red with perhaps a hint of brown. Leaning closer, I inhale the scent—it is definitely off.

"It has gone bad." I set the glass upon the tray and suddenly my appetite disappears. Yes, we defeated Galinda this once, but the curse is still running toward its end.

Frustrated, Arawn stands and runs a hand over his eyes. "Let's first sleep. We're both exhausted. Then we'll take a look at the rest of the food." He pauses, then asks, "Is that how the curse is to end? By starving you?"

I wrap my arms about my torso. "No, that's not how it ends." Even to the end, there will be a few crumbs left, but that does not mean the food situation will be pleasant. No, she meant this to be as miserable as possible.

Arawn leaves it at that and moves to stand next to me. "Come, let's find our beds."

I nod numbly and we leave the library, then go our separate ways. Although I am sure that after all the tumult of the past few days sleep will evade me, as soon as I lay my head on the pillow, sweet slumber falls upon me.

ARAWN

When I wake, I first visit Hector and Abraxas. It has been a few days since I have done more than bring them a few carrots and give their forelocks a quick scratch. It is strange, I used to think simply of visiting Hector, but somehow it feels as if I have adopted Abraxas as well. They are brothers now. When they are out in the pasture together, they rarely leave each other's side. They will be devastated if they are ever separated.

After taking them for a walk through the gardens, I return to the palace to find Kalista. She is in a small sitting room—compared to the immensity of the other rooms—in the west wing. A breakfast tray is at her elbow, but it is untouched, and she stares fixedly out the window.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, moving to stand behind her. Today her gown has a faint pattern upon its fabric in dark purple, not black. This must be the first time I have not seen her wearing an entirely black gown. Is it a coincidence or did she do it intentionally?

"The world beyond. It has been so long; I wonder if I will recognize it."

"Perhaps clothing and language and customs have changed, but in a way, the people are still the same. They still feel love and hate, joy and sadness; there is still new life and death."

A soft, small smile lifts her lips and she looks up at me.

I hold out my hand to her. "Come, we have food stores to investigate."

She slips her hand in mine and we descend to the kitchen. It is a cavernous room with stone walls, a brick oven so large I could stand up within it, and a long oak table in its center. Pots and pans faded from age hang upon one wall and another wall sports shelves lined with all sorts of jars and containers.

"Janine? Janine, where are you?" Kalista calls. Her voice echoes off the stone, but there is no reply. She frowns and motions to a doorway on our right. "The pantry is through here."

We are about to enter when a woman's voice approaches. "My lady? Oh, greatest apologies. I must have fallen asleep. I was just..." a yawn interrupts her "...so tired."

I expect Kalista to respond with indignant silence, but instead, her voice is gentle. "It is alright, Janine. We have only come to look at the food stores."