The night of the argument, Beldon returned to is room, slamming the door behind him and throwing the beautiful coat to the floor.
Vanessa tried to speak to him, worry in her face, but he just walked past, out onto one of the small balconies – where there were no mirrors – and dropped into the chair out there, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his knuckles, his eyes dark as he looked out over the moonlit forest, in the direction he had come from which would lead him back home eventually. He sat there for most of the night, slowly becoming more and more aggravated as he ran the conversation with The Beast through his head again and again until he finally wound himself up so tight he went to bed, clamping the pillow over his head and forcing himself to concentrate solely on sleep.
The next morning, he waved Julius away when the servant came to fetch him for fencing – much to Vanessa, Julius and Iago's surprise. He explained it away by saying he wanted to practice alone for a bit for he was not in good spirits and would not be good company.
They accepted the explanation and Beldon took one the swords with him, locking it into place on his belt before making his way to one of the ballroom.
For the first hour or so, he really did practice, because he could feel eyes on him and he had to stop himself looking to where he knew the slots for this ballroom were. He could only assume that was why he felt eyes on him – though he didn't know who the watcher was.
Eventually the feeling went away and he stayed for another hour, in case it came back.
And then, once he was sure it wouldn't, he ran out of the ballroom, into the library – closing the main doors behind him – and rushed over to the tucked away corner where the fairytales were.
He examined the bookshelf for a moment – seemed it had closed behind him after all. He had opened it by just falling against it last time – was it just a matter of strength to push it open? But then the one that had led into his room had been operated by a switch.
Finding the best spot to push, he flattened his hands against the books and pushed, heaving all his weight and muscle into his palms.
The wall slid backwards silently and he stepped back. He looked at it for a second, then grinned, slipping through.
The torches flickered to life as he mounted the stairs and then that was how he spent the rest of his day.
Exploring the different passageways and slots. He had originally intended to just brush over the rooms in the East Wing – he knew them after all – and he did at the start, until he looked through a slot to get his bearings and saw servants he had never met before.
Two of the maids perhaps? They were cleaning, but they were just clouds of mist, floating around the room.
The only reason he knew they were women was because he could hear them talking to each other.
"The Master had every right to be mad though."
"Julius only mentioned it in passing I'm sure. And I reckon Beldon must be bored out of his mind if he wants to spend more time with The Master."
"Hush yourself, Talifa."
"He's not listening, and I heard what he said to Beldon, it was mean. Not that The Master is ever anything else."
"Talifa," the second maid hissed. "It's not your place to comment. And the boy held his own perfectly well; his comment inflicted an equal amount of damage on The Master."
"Never seen someone stand up to him like that before."
Beldon pulled back, closing the slot, biting his lip, thinking back to the night before. He had struck out with the intention of hurting The Beast when he said those words... but he felt bad for it. It seemed his words really had hurt, and it put him on the same level as The Beast.
He moved away, looking into the other rooms, seeing more servants going about their daily business, some like Iago, some like Julius, some like the maids. Some seemed to have turned into strange little animals, like cats and dogs but they could walk on just two legs or all four. Others blended right in the background so perfectly you didn't see them unless they moved – he wouldn't be surprised if he had walked past them in the halls. And that was just a few of the strange beings he found to live in the castle. He wished they didn't avoid him; he wanted to get to know them. But they all thought he was in the ballroom, so they knew where to avoid.
He made his way through the floors of the castle until he looped around onto the West Wing.
Once there he slowed right down, taking his time to look into the different rooms. At first he just peered through the spyholes, examining the rooms from behind a barrier, but eventually, he started feeling around for the hidden entrances and pushing open the doors, stepping into the rooms to really have a look around.
The rooms of the West Wing had long since stopped being used. The curtains were closed in almost every room he looked into. Furniture had wasted away, left and forgotten. When he examined the styles in closer detail he found that none of it was even from his era, they would be antiques now yet they had been abandoned. The gold and silver was covered in dust, the brilliant chandeliers covered in webs – a huge spider hanging from one chandelier, swinging towards him, sent Beldon hastening out of one particular parlour, slamming the wall closed behind him.
Deciding not to examine that room any longer, he continued onwards, glancing into the different sitting rooms he found until he finally opened a slot and his mouth dropped.
Finding the switch, he opened the wall and stepped inside, looking around. He had found the portrait gallery. The light from the secret passageways didn't illuminate much of the hall though and when he pulled aside the curtains, he found the windows seals closed and the glass painted black. He frowned. Clearly someone didn't want to see what was in this room anymore.
He looked around. He would have to bring lights back with him tomorrow so he could see who was in here. Who knew, maybe it would tell him something about his host.
Walking back to the corridors, he gently closed the door and carried on his way.
The hidden corridors continued to entertain him right through the day into the evening. He knew it was drawing closer to dinner time, but he didn't want to go. Maybe he wouldn't go. Surely he could eat in his room for one night. Or maybe he would just get food from the dining room and take it back to his room.
He turned a corner, thinking about it, and almost walked into the wall at the end of the corridor. Blinking, quickly stopping, he looked around for the slot, and this time he couldn't find one. He turned his attention to the other walls, then the floor and ceiling. But there really wasn't a slot.
Had he found the only dead-end in the whole castle? Frowning, he turned away, and at the last moment he noticed the tiniest glimmer of light in a corner. Kneeling down, he looked at it, his fingers moving to touch the gap, only to have them collide with something.
His eyebrows rose and he looked up, pressing his hands to the surface. The wall was smooth. It wasn't a stone wall.
Moving to the edge, he pushed at it, then he moved to the other side and shoved his weight against that side.
The wall moved, making him jolt back. Looking up, he was still for a moment, then rammed his shoulder into the wall and it opened enough for him to slip out.
Squeezing through, he looked at it.
There was a curtain in front of the wall and when he pulled it aside, he found himself looking at his own reflection. It was a two-way mirror, he could see into the room from one side, but not see out; he'd never seen anything like it.
Amazed, he turned and stopped.
This room was lived in.
He wasn't sure how he knew, but he just knew it.
It was still coated in dust and darkness but there was something in the air. Could this be where some of the servants lived?
Or was it The Beast?
Slowly edging further into the room, he realised it was very much like his, with rooms branching off from it and huge arches dividing the main room up into sections – it was just bigger than his quarters.
A chill ran up his spine and he took a step back, he didn't like the room, there was something heavy in the air, a misery, or maybe a fury. Something was suffocating the atmosphere and he didn't want to spend time around it.
But as he turned to go, he noticed a soft glow from one of the joining rooms.
Curiosity instantly overrode his sense of foreboding and he walked towards it, his boots silent against the old carpet.
He peered in and a breath escaped him.
There was nothing much in the room, just a table off to the side. And a rose lay on the table. He slowly walked to it, staring. It was blue – a shade as bright as his eyes – and it glowed softly in the darkness.
It was beautiful.
In full bloom and healthy. It wasn't huge like the ones out in the gardens, but he hadn't seen any rose quite this shade before. And the glow... why did it glow?
A creak behind him made him whirl in fright and he staggered backwards, almost knocking the table over.
There was a sofa back against one wall, partially covered by a curtain that he hadn't noticed before.
And there was someone lying on it!
Stabling the table again, he took three steps forwards then stopped when he recognised at the cloak.
It was The Beast.
... And The Beast hadn't noticed him.
In fact when he listened, he heard soft, steady breathing, the sound of sleep. He stood there for a moment, a new idea forming in his mind.
And it was a very stupid idea.
The Beast hadn't noticed him... and he was asleep... what if this was the one chance Beldon ever got to see The Beast's face?
He just stood there, torn between being sensible and being curious.
And part of him wanted to rebel. The Beast hid his face away so completely, throwing up that faceless, nameless barrier between them. The Beast saw Beldon, knew his name, knew of his family, knew of his friends and his life.
And what did Beldon know?
The Beast was cursed, lacked friendship and sought Beauty.
... So why couldn't he see his face?
Slowly walking back to the table, he picked up the rose, the only light source in the room and then approached the shadowed corner.
The Beast was wrapped up in his cloak – as always – and his head was on the side covered by the curtain.
Silently drawing the curtain away, draping it over his shoulder, Beldon raised the rose up so the light fell across The Beast, then reached forwards.
His fingers paused for a moment, hovering in the air, the slightest of tremors shimmering through them, then he reached down and pulled the cloak away.
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