I thought I could run forever. I thought my adrenaline would never bleed away and that my fear-fueled legs would never tire. I thought my vision would never blur and my lungs would never gasp for air, but they did, and I realized as I collapsed against one marble wall, that hot liquid was spilling from my eyes.
Angrily, I swiped at my tears with the back of my sleeve. Stupid Beast. Stupid Anna. Stupid castle. Stupid rose. Why did the Beast have to be so horrible? At least I'd remembered my knife this time. It was back in its sheath now, and with it I felt a little less helpless.
At least I still have my knife.
That was what I used to calm myself down until I could think rationally.
At least I still have my knife.
At least I still have my knife.
I let out a long breath and rubbed the last of my tears away.
Come on Anna. Get up. Got to get back to your room before you run into the Beast again.
I pushed myself to my feet and glanced behind me. No one was there, for which I was grateful.
I hurried on, craning my neck to look around corners before I dared to go down them. I spent so much time looking behind and ahead of me that my neck ached. I didn't think to look down either, so I was taken by surprise at the sudden crunch beneath my shoe. I looked down and found a startling, splintered reflection staring back at me. I jumped and covered my mouth to contain a shriek. When I had calmed my racing heart I took a cautious step forward.
Mirror shards. Bloodstained mirror shards. I bit my lip. This was fresh. I looked up and found the wall gouged away and a mutilated, metal frame hanging crookedly. When I looked I saw that the marble railings were cracked too, and an angel lay prostrate on the floor. Her neck had crumbled to white pebbles and an arm had broken off. Her features were badly scarred.
That could be me.
A shudder escaped me, chilling my spine.
I reached down and picked up a large splinter of the mirror. A droplet of dried blood stained it in the shape of a teardrop.
I glanced at the violently gouged out section of the wall. My thoughts flitted back to the look the Beast had given me at dinner, when I had said I didn't like the mirrors.
"You don't like them either," I murmured. I turned the splinter over in my fingers, then gently laid it back down on the floor. Then I began gingerly moving the mirror pieces aside to the base of the wall. And I made sure that every piece had it's reflective side down.
* * *
By the time I reached my room I was tired and sore. All I really wanted to do was resume the tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. I pushed open the elaborate door and resumed my place at the window where I had left my book. Quickly picking up where I had left off, I settled in and began to read.
When King Arthur had after long war rested, and held a royal feast and Table Round with his allies of kings, princes, and noble knights all of the Round Table, there came into his hall, he sitting in his throne royal, twelve ancient men, bearing each of them a branch of-
A gentle click and squeak made me jump. I lost my page and nearly dropped Le Morte D'Arthur trying to see who had opened the door.
But it wasn't the Beast. It was a maid in a simple brown dress and a white apron. She held a feather duster in her hand. Her sandy hair was swept up in a bun, but she was by no means old. Maybe only a year or two older than I. Her hazel eyes had a pretty shine to them too.
I could also see straight through her.
When she saw my startled expression she curtsied deeply, feather duster still in one hand.
"Apologies, Miss," she murmured and made to leave.
"Wait," I called as she walked back out the door. She stopped and turned.
"Are you a ghost?" I blurted out. Her entire body was half transparent, like she was a curtain made of thin fabric. She smiled and curtsied again.
"No, milady, I don't think so."
"Oh."
I hugged my knees to my chest, resting my chin atop them as I watched the sky turn coral, gold and lilac. I had expected that she would leave, so I was surprised to see the maid appear just beside me.
We watched in silence as the sun sank into the ground, marking the end of my first day in the castle.
"You miss them don't you?" she said softly. I could only assume that she was referring to those I had left behind. I nodded, not trusting myself enough to speak.
"I'm so sorry Miss," she said with genuine sympathy, "but that was a very brave thing you did, trading yourself for your father."
"I don't even know if he's still alive," I whispered as a tear escaped and slid down my cheek. She hesitated, then placed a gentle hand on my forearm and smiled kindly. Her touch felt light and warm, but not quite solid.
"He'll be all right, the Master's seen to that," the maid said gently.
"That's what I'm worried about," I said softly. She sighed and removed her hand.
"That man you mentioned, up in the tower, I think his name was Jean, he was your fiancé, wasn't he?"
I didn't take my eyes off the sunset.
"How did you know?"
"The walls have ears. And the Master doesn't have much volume control."
We shared a small chuckle.
"Yes," I said. "He was my betrothed. He was very dear to me. One of the only people who really cared, besides Father and Mother, but she's-,"
Why am I spilling everything to this girl?
"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't be burdening you with my problems."
"No, it's- it's okay. I kind of know how you feel. I had someone too, before all this."
I looked away from the sunset to her hazel eyes.
"Oh? Who?"
Maybe listening to her would help distract me a little.
"Oh, well, it wouldn't have worked anyway. We both knew it, so we kept it quiet. No one knew about the two of us. He was much higher in status than me. A lord in fact. He had a way of being simultaneously flattering and sincere." She fiddled with the corner of her apron and blushed. A little smile turned up the corners of her lips. "He always called me the fairest of them all."
I smiled.
"That was sweet of him."
"Yes. But he'd had a bit of a falling out with my old mistress, Princess Jayla. It's not really my place to say what over, but it made it hard for us to see each other. Up until she died at least."
I nodded. The princess's death during a carriage trip six years ago was common knowledge.
"So we were happy for a while, but after the Beast..."
She sighed.
"He fled the castle and I remained trapped here. I don't know what happened to him. He may not have even made it out of the woods. Not many of them did."
There was a moment of silence. Knowing an, 'I'm sorry' would be useless, I said,
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
She shook her head sadly.
"Not while we're both stuck in the castle I'm afraid."
She straightened and put on an optimistic look that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Who knows, maybe I'll see him again someday soon. Ring if you need me, Miss," she said. She pointed to a bell-pull on the wall next to the bed. She made to leave but I said,
"Annalise."
She stopped and turned back to me.
"Sorry, what?"
"Annalise," I said again. "It's my name. Or you could just call me Anna if you prefer."
She gave a small smile in return.
"Rowena. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss."
She left quietly, with a click of the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I looked down at my book. There wasn't enough light for it now. Oddly enough, after the first conversation with a human I'd had all day, I didn't really want to read anymore. For tonight at least.
So instead of reading I wandered off to my bed as the first stars began the peep out of the blackness, happy to exchange this world for the land of sleep.
* * *
My dream was in a box. It wasn't a crate, but more like a doorless, windowless room. The entire thing was devoid of any furniture and the walls were made entirely of black marble.
There was one thing in the room - a man with a red cloak draped over his shoulders. He wore a loose white shirt and beige pants. He was taller than I, with gold hair shot with sandy streaks. Perhaps a few years older than me, twenty years old to my eighteen if I had to guess. He was a striking figure, with less muscle than Avoln, but enough for me to think of him as strong, and he wore it well. It was more his posture that made me think of him as powerful, and perhaps a bit imposing. He held himself with the authority of a King, and a King he was.
I'm dreaming of a dead man.
I observed quietly from the shadows as he slammed his fist against one wall. It didn't give. His features twisted in something raw and hateful, but only for a moment. The next second I looked there was pain and despair written across the tight twists of his brow. And then the hate returned and he lifted his fist again.
Before I realized what I was doing I strode forward and caught his wrist in midair. Startled, he looked down at me with eyes like emeralds.
"What did the wall ever do to you?" I murmured. He held my gaze for a long while, and neither of us spoke. Eventually I let his wrist go and it fell slowly back to his side.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"This is my dream."
"Your- Ah." His eyes wandered away from me me and through the halls.
"If you don't mind me asking Your Highness, why am I dreaming of you? You're- well..."
"I'm dead. I know," he spat. His jaw clenched and he looked about ready to take another swing at the wall. "I can't do anything about it. I'm stuck."
Stuck. He was stuck on earth. The ghost of King Adam. And now he was in my dreams.
I figured that it must have been because this was where he died. Mother used to tell us stories about spirits who had left unfinished business on earth and couldn't leave. Or maybe it was because there was no King anymore and he had to stay until there was a new ruler.
The dead King slammed his fist into the wall again.
Now he was in my dreams. Wasn't there something about that in the tales? If a spirit tried to communicate it was because they needed your help crossing over the the next life, right?
His fist hit the wall again and I saw the blaze of anger in his eyes.
He bellowed in frustration and threw himself against it, kicking the wall and hurling punches.
"Hey! Calm down!" I said. I actually had to step in front of him, grab his arm and pull him away from the wall this time. He wrenched his arm from my grip and glared. His chest was heaving from the exertion.
"Just tell me what's going on. I can't help you when you're like this."
That was something Mother used to say.
He kept his glare for a while until he seemed to give up on it. The tension smoothed from his shoulders and the mask of anger melted away. What was left was something downcast, almost on the brink of giving up.
"Hey, you okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine," he snapped. The anger was back. I sighed.
"Look Your Majesty, I might be able to help you but only if you tell me what's going on."
"I don't need help from a peasant."
I exhaled through my nose.
It's like dealing with Ilsa and Blair.
"Well, I'm all you've got," I said.
He looked me up and down.
"How?" he said. It was almost a whisper. He shook his head. "How could you help me? It's impossible." His jaw clenched. "Absolutely impossible."
"To do what?"
"To break the curse. The conditions can't be fulfilled."
"But that's what the Beast told me to do. There has to be a way, otherwise I can't go home," I said.
"You think he would have been honest with you? He knows it's a lost cause. That's why he made that deal. And even if you did break the curse, I doubt he'd let you leave," the King spat. He was looking at the wall again, sizing it up for another punch.
"I don't care. Just tell me the conditions. I'll do whatever it takes, I swear. I just want to go home."
The King's mouth thinned into a tense line. He looked me up and down and I tried my best to look determined.
"Fine," he said. "I suppose things might be different in a dream. In order to break the curse you have t- Ahhh!"
He doubled over, clutching at his chest, features screwed in agony. I gasped as he collapsed to his knees and clawed at his shirt. I dropped to the ground and grabbed his shoulder. His panicked eyes snapped up to my gaze and locked on, his chest heaving.
My thoughts jumped irrationally. Was he having a heart attack? Could that even happen to a ghost? Could he die twice?
"Your Highness? What's wrong? What happened?" I asked frantically. I received no answer, only an agonized groan.
But then as quickly as, well, whatever it was, had come on, it began to recede. His breathing began to slow until it had shifted from shallow to deep and heavy. He let out a moan.
"What happened?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"The curse prohibits anyone it is cast over from voicing how it can be lifted. I'd thought a dream might be different, but..."
"So it punishes you?"
"You could say that. It feels like a white hot iron being pressed against your chest."
I inhaled sharply.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-,"
"Don't be. I hate pity."
"That's not what I meant," I said.
He pushed himself to his feet and I followed.
"Is there anything you can tell me?" I asked hesitantly. "You know, without-,"
"If it's any incentive," he said, purposely interrupting, "if the curse is broken then the Beast is gone and I come back to life."
"And you could restore order to Fabel?"
"Yes."
The three years of anarchy, over just like that. Well, maybe it wouldn't be that simple but still, if we had a King again there would be someone to unite the kingdom. We'd managed to keep relative order in our little village, since no one really wanted to raid or occupy something so close to the castle, but the other places in Fabel would be safe again. And then maybe everyone could stop being weighed down by the weapons at their hips.
Excitement began to throb tentatively in my chest, but dampened itself when I realized I still had to figure out how to break the curse. Still, the first seeds of hope were there.
"I'll figure it out," I murmurred.
I should wake up. I can start working things out right away. It's probably around morning anyway.
A wind from nowhere picked up and the King shouted,
"Wait! Don't go yet!"
The wind lessened.
"Don't leave me here alone."
I nodded. I couldn't simply refuse the King, even if he was dead.
"What's your name?"
"Annalise."
"If you do intend to break the curse Annalise, go carefully. Please. The Beast is dangerous, even if he doesn't mean to be."
He looked down.
"Your Majesty, if there is anything I have said or done-,"
He held up a hand to stay my words.
"No, you've done nothing. Nothing but raise my hopes too high. I just have to learn to keep them low. I can't afford them to be anywhere else."
I took a hesitant step forward.
"Go," he said. "Break the curse. Or try at the least."
I curtsied.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And Annalise?"
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
He lifted his emerald eyes to meet my own. The wind began to pick up again, buffeting my brown hair into my vision and blurring my view of the King.
"You may call me Adam."
* * *
Avoln scraped his knife against a sharpening stone with a screech to rival a banshee's scream. He held it up for inspection by moonlight, catching it's glint and letting the shadows bleed against its razor edge.
He glared out across the undergrowth and the living ranks of column like trees and ground his teeth together.
"Come on, where are you?" he growled. For a moment he thought he glimpsed a flash of luminous, green eyes, but all he could see was thick darkness.
"For a hunter I can't say you're especially observant."
Avoln leapt to his feet. In one fluid motion he turned and struck, thrusting his blade up against a woman's white throat. He found his eyes caught in a soft, hypnotic gaze that lingered on the line between dull blue and stormy grey. A smile spread across her soft, pink lips, exposing teeth like a witch's moon. She gave a short, low chuckle.
"Jumpy, are we?"
A grating bark and a snarl came from his feet. Avoln looked down to see the threatening green eyes of a dun furred wolf. It's lips were curled back to bare its flesh ripping teeth.
He slowly took his knife away and sheathed it in his belt.
The woman reached down a slender fingered hand and stroked the wolf behind his ears.
"Shh, Denver, shh," she cooed. She gave a slow, satisfied smile when the wolf calmed. Behind her Avoln saw more wolves emerging silently from the shadowy night. Most were varying hues of brown, but some were russet colored, others inky black, and one or two were silver or white furred. There were at least twelve wolves in all, far larger than any normal pack.
The woman herself had creamy skin and thick lashes like vulture feathers. Her nose was straight but elegant and her eyes captivating. She had a slim figure but her regal bearing gave the impression that it wouldn't be easy to take her down, especially with the small army of wolves at her side. Her hair was thick and honey blonde, cascading over her shoulders in a molten waterfall. She wore a dress the color of a starless sky with long sleeves, fitted tightly to her upper body and hips, after which it frothed out in waves of fabric to form a short train behind her. From her neck on a silver chain hung a pendant. It was forged in the shape of a dragon with its wings flared. It's eye was a stormy blue jewel.
"Well, hunter, what do you think?" she said, straightening. A poisonous smile curled up the corners of her lips.
"I think I want you to deliver," he growled. "I don't care for your theatrics."
The dun colored wolf snarled. The woman's smile dissipated.
"I can do this just as easily without you. There are plenty of other hunters in the forest," she said. The wolf barked.
"Alright, I get it. Get to the point. I came here to see how you could help me, not to freeze half the night away on small talk."
The woman glared but proceeded.
"The castle is not easily found," the woman said. "And I wouldn't recommend a direct attack on it anyway. Too many hiding places. Catching either of them out in the woods would be best."
"No one is crazy enough to take on the Beast alone, especially not in the woods. Even when it attacks the village we can't kill it."
"Because you're using the wrong tactics," she snapped. "Attacking in a huge group like that is useless. You only get in each other's way. And if you're really so weak then kill her."
Avoln paused.
"She's been far more trouble than she's worth. I don't know. I still want her but..." he said, trailing off. His face hardened.
"If Jean had done what he was supposed to-"
"Well that doesn't matter now, does it?"
Avoln glared.
"Regardless, you promised your help. If your wolves-"
"My wolves are not expendable."
"I'm failing to see what this partnership has to offer me. If you are as powerful as you claim, why can you not kill the Beast yourself?"
"Because I messed up the curse when I cast it!" she snapped. "If it had been done right it would have summoned a beast demon to kill everyone in the castle. Well, I got my beast, but things...got messy. It's beyond my power to kill the Beast now. Besides, magic can't directly kill anything."
Avoln paused and blew out a frustrated breath.
"Alright. Then what do you have in mind?"
"I can't assist you magically, but as I understand you're tab at the tavern is fairly high. Not going to be paid off any time soon either."
Avoln stiffened.
"Therefore my aid is more of a financial matter. I'll provide you with any resources you require. Arrows, a new bow, traps, whatever, and as long as you succeed in killing the Beast or the village girl, they'll be yours to keep free of charge."
Avoln put on a look of consideration.
"Oh, and I'll pay off your tab," the woman added.
He grinned.
"The Beast is as good as dead."
------------------------------------------
So, lots going on in this chapter. The plot thickens as Avoln has reappeared and we have a couple of minor characters entering the story (my definition of a "minor character" is yet to be seen).
Any predictions, guesses, or reactions you'd like to share are welcome in the comments. Also, please remember to vote if you liked this chapter.
On another note, Red as Roses is almost to the 2K mark! Only about 100 views to go and I appreciate every one!
Thanks guys!