Wake the Beast

Prologue

Every story starts with a beginning, but only the very best begin with a misunderstanding.

I don't know about you, but, personally, I enjoy a little bit of drama. Not a lot, mind you, but just enough to make things interesting. Gemma, one of many minor witches in the magical land of Tyree, loathed drama. She avoided it at all costs. When you're a witch, bad first impressions tend to follow you around, usually caused by a bit of drama.

I mean, come on, who actually thinks of witches as generous and sweet in nature? But that's what Gemma was. She was the nicest witch you'd ever meet! And she was about to go to the most drama-filled place in the entire land of Tyree: Hawk's Hill, the king and queen's castle.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking something along the lines of Why in the world would a witch who hates drama go to the royal palace? The answer to that is quite simple: the royal couple had issued invitations to just about everyone in the kingdom, asking them come and celebrate the coming birth of their third child. They already had two princesses, three-year-old twins, and now they were having another baby.

How was Gemma supposed to reject an offer like that? I'm sure there were many, many people who didn't attend, but if you were a witch and you wanted to make a lasting good impression, it would be to attend that party. If she had the chance to give the unborn child a magical blessing, she'd be thanked and maybe even applauded! That would be the ultimate reward: the king and queen's approval.

So you see, she didn't have much of a choice. The options were 1) to stay at home and think about the party as she tried to read a book or something, and 2) to go to the party and bless the child for good luck. Of course, it was probably more complicated than that, but that's what it really boiled down to. So she left her extensive garden and lovely cats in the care of her parents and traveled into the center of Tyree, where the royals resided.

When she arrived, light and laughter spilled from the castle's interior, illuminating the outer courtyards and gardens and paths. It was stunning, and so much more joyful than she'd expected from a palace; she was pleasantly surprised. Instead of what one might expect from extravagant parties, such as a bunch of snooty nobles (though those were there as well), huge dragons lounged all over the gardens, tiny fairies fluttered about on wisps of wind, and wizards mixed with witches amid werecreatures and humans. What a party!

The King's Guard kept a close watch over the guests, but otherwise left everyone alone. They were there to supervise and to keep the order, but not to spoil the fun. Gemma slipped past them, nodding nervously in greeting, to squeeze herself into the crowded confines of the castle's ballroom. She wanted to find the queen, lay her hand on Her Majesty's rounded stomach, place a blessing, and leave. Crowds were not her type.

I've heard it said that crowds could be reimagined as a forest: the bodies were moving tree trunks, and the overwhelming heat was just the humidity. But Gemma knew better. She much preferred real forests.

She wove between the party guests, hoping to avoid pushing and shoving as much as possible. Of course, in a crowd, that's something that's never possible. So she stepped on toes, cried out hasty apologies, and searched in vain for the pregnant queen of Tyree. How hard was it to find the hostess of a party?! Considering the guest count, though, she shouldn't have been as surprised as she was.

Some werecreature over to her right threw back his head in laughter, startling her, and she wished more than ever that witches didn't always have to have such bad reputations. If they were considered good, she wouldn't have to be here to prove herself!

You would think the queen would be easier to spot, wouldn't you? I mean, she's the freaking queen! Poor Gemma was lost and confused amidst the light and laughter of the partygoers. And then she saw it—the banner proclaiming in bold letters: WELCOME TO TYREE, LITTLE ONE.

The baby wasn't born yet, but the people of Tyree were welcoming this new royal with open arms. Who doesn't love a baby? Gemma was rather fond of them, actually, which added yet another pro to her list for coming. She pushed and shoved a little more freely now, desperate to reach the queen and then leave, though the apologies that sprang to her lips were no less frequent and no less heartfelt.

As I'm sure you well know, traveling in a straight line through a tight mob of people (especially one that includes dragon limbs flopping around) is near impossible. Gemma, the sweet little green-eyed witch, was pushed and shoved right back. She eventually popped out next to one of the many refreshment tables, which sat quite a ways away from where the banner hung. Letting a sigh of despair slip out out of her, she leaned against the wall for a rest. There was only so much of this she could take!

She was just beginning to eye a slice of spice cake when she caught a whisk of movement off to the side.

Is it the queen?! she thought hopefully, whirling around. Her emerald dress swished over her legs, cooling them with a slight brush of air and momentarily distracting her. That feels so nice! Oh, right, the queen. That couldn't have been her, could it? Why would the queen rush around a dark corner?

Curious now, as well as suspicious, the witch creeped along the wall warily before peeking around the corner. Her heart beating quickly and her breathing not coming quickly enough, she sucked in a mouthful of air at the sight she beheld. Honestly, I would feel the same, because it's not every day you find your monarch beating her daughters.

Queen Lucille, with her painted face flushed a brilliant red and her hair coming undone from its elaborate do, held tightly to one princess as she whacked the other with a vicious smack. Gemma stifled a scream of horror, glancing around quickly for the King's Guard. Unfortunately, this was one of the very few untouched corners of the ballroom, and no one was close enough to grab. If she called for someone, the queen would have enough time to stop what she was doing and turn the blame on the witch. If she ran to grab someone, the same scenario would play out. The only person in range to save the princesses was herself.

Drawing her wits together into a half-formed plan, she wasted no more time. Gemma, the generous and sweet-natured witch, plunged into this royal drama headfirst. She darted around the corner she'd been hiding behind, snatched a princess from the startled queen, and yanked the other one from the abuser's grasp. Just as swift as she'd dived in, she backed up until there was enough room between them and the queen to be considered safe.

All was done within a matter of moments, leaving the witch to shove the girls behind her protectively while eyeing the stunned woman in front of her. Her Majesty was shocked, then terrified, then livid.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" the queen sputtered. "You have no right-"

"I don't care what rights I have!" Gemma hissed, tightening her grip on the quivering twins ever slightly. She was shaking, too, but she would not allow this monster to find any weakness in her. "You don't deserve the ones you were given!"

"What does that even mean?" Lucille demanded. Her hand rested possessively over her bulging stomach, as if the witch were capable of snatching her unborn child from the womb. "What are you implying? Release my children at once!"

"I will do no such thing, Your Majesty," she spat. "I will not allow you to harm them any longer!"

"What are-"

"As for your new baby, you won't be able to hurt him, either. I say he grows armor every night, that he may be able to protect himself against you until gentler hands come to claim him. I say that, during the day, emotion will make him stronger than ever, until the one who soothes comes to save him."

With her piece said, her spell locked firmly into place, Gemma did something she'd done only twice before: she shimmered, taking the princesses with her. (A shimmer, I must inform you briefly, is a spell a witch (or wizard) can cast to teleport herself and anyone she wishes to another place, commonly used as escape routes.) Once gone, she was able to feel relieved the royal children were safe, and she could only hope the rest of Tyree wouldn't suffer because of it.

Queen Lucille could only stare numbly at the place where her daughters had stood, their thumbs tucked into their mouths and their tears rolling down their cheeks. Any and all protests she might have had died on her dry lips, crumbling to dust and falling to the floor.

Why, Lord?