by Katie M John
“Welcome, Neve,” he said. His words elicited a further shudder.
“Prince Vargar,” I replied civily. “I have brought with me one of the most beautiful books from your library.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you two young people to it,” Queen Morag said, moving out of the door and closing it behind her.
The room was barely lit by one small candle on the coffee table. We stood in silence before he eventually commanded me to, “Sit down and read.” His voice was devoid of softness and kindness.
I took my seat and waited for him to sit on the bed, but he didn’t. Instead, he remained standing. Power and threat exuded from him. Predatory. My mind wouldn’t focus, my heart wouldn’t still. I opened the covers, grateful at least that he couldn’t see my fear from behind his hood. The pages slipped from between my fingers. The candle guttered with a draft, drawing my attention to it.
The light. That was what he was frightened of. I stored the idea for later. Somehow it would save me. Fear was weakness. It could be used as a weapon. I searched the rest of the gloomy space seeking out any other potential weapons.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“No, I was just… sorry, I’ll begin.” I started to read, noting the smile that emerged on his lips when he recognised my story choice. By the second chapter, my nerves had begun to settle, and even though I wouldn’t make the same mistake of relaxing my guard, like I had done on the last visit, at least my mind had begun to think more lucidly.
“Thank you, Neve,” he said when we had come to the end of the first part. “Please blow out the candle.”
My anxiety piqued.
“I’ll make us some tea.” He dropped his arms to his side and relaxed, revealing that his hands were concealed in black leather gloves.
“Thank you, tea would be good,” I replied, keeping the conversation neutral and pleasant in the hope of keeping the prince as unexcitable as possible. It was like looking into a bomb and knowing that to pull the wrong cable would set everything off.
I blew the candle out and listened to the movements of him removing his hood and then making tea. The sound of china and metal, of water boiling and general movement did nothing to settle my worries; this is how it had been on my last visit; all pleasant until it wasn’t.
I sensed him approach, felt the soft leather of his gloves followed by the cold china handle of the cup as he handed me the tea.
“Steady, it’s a little full,” he warned, almost tenderly.
I rested it on my knee, regretting the idea. I was likely to get burned.
“What happens if you’re exposed to the light?” I asked.
“I die.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“For everything you’ve had to endure,” I said. “For what you have lost.”
He sniffed dismissively and I wondered just how bitter he had grown. We drank the rest of our tea in silence and when I had placed my cup down on the table, I waited. And waited.
“Was there anything else?” I asked.
“Please just sit still.”
“Just sit?”
“Yes.”
“I want to look at you.”
I sat in the dark wishing I was anywhere else. A weird energy was building. I could feel his eyes on me but had no idea where to orientate myself, where to look, what to do. I shifted through several small movements, trying to find a pose where I was both comfortable and looked less bothered by the situation than I was.
“I asked you to sit still,” he snarled.
I pulled myself up straight, brought my legs together and placed my palms onto my knees, fixing my eyes straight in front of me, where I believed he was sitting on the bed.
“That’s better.”
I stayed like this for several minutes before he commanded me to stand, which I did.
“Has my mother spoken with you?” he asked, closer than I had imagined him.
“About?”
“About the real reason you were brought to me?”
There was no point lying to him, he was clearly aware of her plan. “She thinks I can help break the curse.”
His gloved fingers traced my cheek and I flinched, disgusted by his touch and what it suggested—that I now belonged to him. ‘Monsieur Bernarde was instructed to come and remind me of my duties to my people. Of how I could act to break the curse that has not only befallen me but those I love.” His hot breath fell on my lips. He was so close. Instinctively I turned my head, but he grasped my chin and turned it towards him.
“It’s not ideal. I want you to understand that I’m sorry. In a fairy tale, I would still be a handsome prince and you’d be a smitten village girl, whose dreams came true when I chose you, above all others. But here we are, me, half a monster and you, here against your will purely because you’re not afflicted by the curse. I could wait for months, charm you, win you over—it could be like that fairy tale from your world, the one where the girl sees past the monster to the man, but real life isn’t like that, and time is running out.”
My stomach cramped. A series of events had been set in motion, and it wasn’t going to end well.
“Do you think you could ever grow to love me, down here in the dark?” he asked. “Because if you believed you might come to a point where you would not be horrified, where you might even want me to make love to you, we could wait. I would make them all wait.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting him to read me any more than he could already. There would never be that moment. I could never love him.
“No, I guessed not,” he said almost sweetly. “And so, my dear sweet Neve, that leaves us only one option—you suffer your fate, you bear my child and we rid me and the realm of our curse. Like saints facing the fires.”
Involuntarily I shook my head against the very idea.
“Saints! Seriously, you think that you can somehow turn this into a noble crusade?”
His fingers took hold of my face and I could feel him studying me. “You’re very beautiful. My wolf has been whispering his desire in my ear since the moment he first saw you. He’s up for the fight, and I warn you, he’s vicious. He’s not bound by the civilities of us humans. All I have to do is let him take over and it would be done.”
This wasn’t happening. I was trapped in a nightmare. Any minute I would wake up and find myself having fallen asleep curled up in my favourite reading chair.
“I don’t want him hurt you. I think it would be best for you to accept me and this situation so that the least possible distress is caused. You can go home when it’s done, Neve. Home.”
My eyes opened and I hoped he couldn’t see my tears.
His promise of home abridged a lot of the story to come in the next twelve months. He missed out the part about carrying a child, giving birth, and then knowing my baby was to be murdered and its body desecrated.
The light.
‘I die.’ His words echoed round and round like an echo chamber. Could I play along to a point I could light the candle—throw light into the room and watch him die.
Was I justified in killing him for the crimes he planned to do to me? Was my body worth more than his life? Before I could gather my thoughts, his lips were on mine, soft and gentle as if he were trying to entice me, seduce me. Revulsion overwhelmed me and I tried to break away, but he grew bolder, forcing his tongue into my mouth.
I thought about biting him, but I hesitated just a moment too long and he broke away as violently as he had progressed. “Neve,” he snarled. “You can choose to make this as easy or hard for yourself as you like.”
“Maybe with a little time,” I said, forcing softness into my voice when all I wanted to do was shout obscenities at him.
“No, Neve. There isn’t enough time. Don’t you understand? I can’t live like this anymore? I can’t stand the dark. I want to see the sun. I want to read. I want to paint, and eat and dri
nk with my friends. Yes, Neve, I used to have friends, and a life. Is it so wrong to want to live?
“At what cost? You know your mother is planning on murdering the baby? She’s going to feed it to the wolves. Your baby!” I said, appealing to his nobler side. “Surely you can’t live with that. Surely knowing the price you’ve paid will eclipse the sun, turn food to ash, make all stories meaningless. Do you think you will be able to live with the knowledge of your crimes? When the curse is lifted, you may look like Prince Vargar, but inside, the beast will exist stronger than before. You’ll never be free of it. What do you think Eleanor will think of you when she knows what horrors you have inflicted?”
“ENOUGH!” His shout was followed by a hard push and I found myself stumbling backwards over the coffee table. “As your prince, I command you to be silent and to endure your duty with some dignity and gratitude over the fact I’m trying to make this as easy for you as I can.”
“Gratitude! My duty! You are not my prince!”
I fumbled in my pocket for the match box I had slipped into it earlier and commanded my fingers to take charge and be dextrous. I had one chance. I couldn’t blow it.
“What are you doing!” the prince screamed as the small light grew. With him shielding his eyes and in panic, I lit the other candles on the table causing him to howl with pain.
“I’m sorry,” I cried, and I meant it. I didn’t really want him to die, but this was about survival.
“What have you done?” he said, flailing around the room, desperately searching for his hood, which I snatched before he could grasp it. I watched on in horror as he began to transform into the terrifying figure of a large wolf.
“Neve!” Stag shouted through the door. “Hang on, I’m coming for you.”
The room filled with the sound of heavy axe blows against the door.
“Now! Now, you arrive to rescue me!” I screamed, watching in horror as Prince Vargor continued to morph until he became a mass of fur and claw and teeth.
“I thought you said you’d die!” I shouted at the wolf, who stood with his legs braced and his ridge fur up. He wasn’t just hungry, he was angry.
The horrible realisation of Prince Vargar’s words hit me. Yes, Prince Vargar would die and the wolf would live. How could I have been so stupid?
I locked eyes with the wolf, remembering the tutorage Stag had given me in the woods on that first night. I needed to hold him for just a few more seconds and then Stag would have broken through the door and he could kill the monster.
“Hurry!” I urged. Another great blow sounded against the wood and relief swept over me as the door splintered free of its lock and sprang open.
The wolf turned and seeing the woodsman and his axe, repositioned himself for attack.
“Step behind me,” Stag instructed with a small furtive wave of his hand.
I didn’t need to be told twice. Behind him were the stairs and the way out. I slipped by him but just as my foot fell on the first step, activity erupted behind me and I couldn’t move any further, not until I knew Stag was alright and that Vargor, the wolf, was dead.
Stag cried out, and I saw with horror how the wolf had its jaw clamped around Stag’s axe hand. The weapon fell to the stone flags with a clang. There was nothing else to do but help him. Before I could formulate a plan, the axe was in my hand and I was hacking into firm wolf muscle, causing the creature to whelp with agony as it cowered to the floor.
The dying cries of the wolf were joined by those of Queen Morag who came flying into the room and threw herself on the floor to cradle its head in her lap.
“What have you done?” she said with vicious accusation before turning to Stag. “You! You betrayed us.”
Stag’s reply was interrupted by the light patter of Eleanor’s feet. Stag’s hand took mine and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I refused to stand by and let wickedness win,” Stag said. “You’d have been replacing one curse for another.”
“Vargor!” Eleanor cried, tears streaming down her face.
The whimpers of Queen Morag drew my attention back to the mangled wolf carcass on the floor. Something impossible was happening and I blinked hard, testing that I was still awake. The wolf pelt and flesh were sliding away from the body, exposing bone and sinew and something else—the curled up form of Prince Vargar, contained perfectly inside the creature’s rib cage.
“What’s happening?” Queen Morag asked even though no one could possibly have an answer. She sprang to her knees, the bottom of her dress soaked heavy with wolf blood, and began to crack the ribs, prising them apart.
The prince had been sleeping but at the sound of the cracking bones, his eyes fluttered open, and Stag joined Queen Morag in snapping bone after bone until eventually there was enough space for the prince to be helped out of the body.
Whatever enchantment that had been cast enabled him to emerge, impeccably and perfectly dressed and groomed, as if he had simply stepped through the door at dinner.
“Mother?” he asked, turning to her.
“Oh, my darling son, my darling boy.”
My mind was in free-fall. Part of me felt compelled to join in the celebration, but just minutes earlier, her darling boy had been prepared to abuse me and be complicit in his own child’s murder. My stomach flipped as Eleanor charged towards him and threw her arms around him, much to Queen Morag and Stag’s surprise.
“Sweet Eleanor, my darling Eleanor,” the prince said, lowering his face to hers and placing his forehead to hers.
“Eleanor!” I exclaimed in horror.
“What?” she asked, her eyes wide with love and excitement.
“You can’t be serious. Prince Vargor was about to…”
“That wasn’t him, that was the curse! That was the wolf,” she said with passion. “He didn’t mean it. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
I coughed with incredulity. “Yes, he did! He was still as much prince as he was wolf, or have you conveniently forgotten that?”
Prince Vargor stepped towards me and I recoiled. Stag’s hand tightened on mine supportively.
“Neve, surely you’re not going to hold me accountable for my actions when I was under the curse?”
I turned wide-eyed to Queen Morag who was now standing with her pride restored. “And your mother?” I challenged, causing Queen Morag’s smile to slip. “What curse was she under when she kidnapped me for her own dastardly plan? She was going to feed a baby to the wolves! Surely you’re not stupid enough to think this can have a happy ever after; that everything can just be forgotten and everything explained away!”
Eleanor’s arm tightened around Prince Vargar’s. “Why are you being so horrid, Neve?”
I couldn’t find the words. She was love-struck—completely lost to the fantasy of her prince charming. There was nothing I could say to her. Sadly, she would have to learn the hard way that Prince Vargar may have shed the guise of a beast, but his soul had still considered committing terrible crimes for his own gain. Despite his pretty looks and his wonderland library, he was a selfish creature at heart.
“I need to get out of here,” I said, turning to Stag, who was still in shock. He nodded, before looking at his sister, swooning in Prince Vargar’s arms.
“Wait,” Queen Morag commanded. “How do we know the curse is broken for certain? What if the wolves still come?”
“They won’t,” Stag stated. “Place the pelt at the foot of the forest and they will know.”
Queen Morag nodded. “Until then, the girl remains with you. She is in your charge. Should she escape…” Queen Morag eyes slid to Eleanor, who was lost in conversation with Prince Vargar, making the threat perfectly clear. “When I am certain the curse is lifted, I will send her home. You have my word.”
I wanted to tell me that her word didn’t mean very much to me, but Stag, sensing my spirit rising, squeezed my hand tightly and nodded, before leading me out of the bloodied chamber.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I’m taking you to meet my mother.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
Even when we had left the castle, Stag continued to hold my hand. It felt good. When we we’re far enough away from the wickedness I still believed existed in the castle, I turned to him and smiled. “Thank you for coming to rescue me?”
He laughed. “I had no idea what I was doing.”
“I couldn’t tell,” I teased.
He knocked me playfully with his elbow and we laughed again before he turned serious. “You were brave in there, Neve. Without your courage, we would both have died. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“I had no idea what I was doing.” I smiled playfully.
The snow fell around us. Stag had stopped walking and had turned to me, his eyes bright with energy. He was going to kiss me, and I really wanted him to. I reached up on my tip-toes and his lips pressed against mine gently at first, until, with his great arms wrapped around me, he crushed his mouth into mine and kissed me so deeply that he stole my breath, sending me dizzy. When he released me, small gold stars danced amongst the snow as a result of the blood rush. The way my body responded to his was like a magic of its own.
“Wow,” I mouthed, reluctant to fall back onto my feet and and expand the distance between us.
“Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me,” he said blushing and smiling.
“Don’t be sorry; whatever it was, I hope it happens again.”
And with that, I was once more wrapped up in his arms, my feet lifted off the floor. His kisses were like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was the kiss of safety, and respect, and a quiet promise that he would always be a friend – maybe more than a friend.
We walked the rest of the way, flushed with the first stirrings of something beautiful between us.
“My sister…” he began. “I’d guessed there was something between her and the prince but I had no idea she’d fallen so hard.”
“The more you try to persuade her she’s making a bad choice, the more she’ll gravitate towards him.”
