Before Beauty

by Brittany Fichter

  He remembers me.

  So he hadn’t brought her to the Fortress for revenge. The surprise and loathing on his face was so intense that Isa would have wilted under it, had she not been already battling similar feelings of her own. They stood glowering at one another for a long moment before his expression became more controlled. When he spoke again, his voice was slow and deliberate.

  “Yes, you are my servant, but not the kind you think.”

  “Then, Your Highness,” Isa spat out, “what am I here for?”

  He watched her, a strange look on his face, for a minute longer before answering.

  “You are here to help me break the curse.”

  Isa nearly fell back a step. She had imagined many horrible endings to her time with the prince, but none of them had involved breaking a curse. She was both relieved and horrified.

  “I can do that?”

  “We will see. Now, I assume you’re tired from your journey. You will be served supper in your chambers tonight, but tomorrow, you will dine with me.” And with that, the prince turned slowly and began to limp away. Still in shock, Isa stared as he paused one more time.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” he said without turning around. “You are safe on the Fortress grounds by day, but you must never venture out after dark. I cannot protect you then.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Riddles

  Shock, anger, and confusion clouded Ever’s mind, making it hard to think, as he began the long trek up the tower steps. It couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t. And yet, the crippled woman who had stood before him was injured in all the right places.

  Even more telling, though, were her eyes. The eyes that had haunted him for so many years, large and midnight blue, had been staring right up at him. From the moment he’d recognized her, it had taken all of his combat training to chase the angst from his face.

  Of all the girls in the kingdom, why did she have to be the one? What kind of vengeful trick had that rat of a merchant played on him? He’d promised Ever a woman of strength, and had given him a cripple instead. Ever contented himself with plotting how he would get even with the merchant until he remembered the desperation in the man’s pleas when he’d asked to stay in his daughter’s stead. Besides, Ansel had boasted of Isabelle’s strength of heart; he’d said nothing of her body.

  Ever considered this as he continued the slow climb up the stone steps. Could this Isabelle’s heart have the strength the Fortress demanded? If so, it certainly wasn’t like his strength. She could barely get off the floor from her kneeling position, let alone fight a battle. And yet, there had been a spark in her dark eyes that had hinted at something fierce beneath the surface. There is nothing to lose, the voice of reason suggested to him, by allowing her to try.

  It wasn’t as if he had any better choices. In the months after the curse, he had very nearly gone mad, shuffling around the Fortress in his new prison of a body, raving at the stone walls like a lunatic. And yet, who could blame him?

  The great Fortress, which had been his constant companion and guardian since childhood, had abandoned him. He no longer felt the familiar presence pushing or pulling him in different directions. There was no gentle guiding company, no personal familiarity with all that surrounded him. The sorrow he felt at losing his courtiers and servants was nothing compared to this. Losing his parents was nothing.

  For weeks, all he had wanted was death. If the Fortress was so intent on forsaking him, he had cried out, then why couldn’t it simply let him die? Without the Fortress, Ever didn’t know where he belonged or what his purpose was. Without the Fortress, Ever was nothing.

  The servants, damned to existence as shadows, had kept him alive, somehow, but just barely. After days and nights of walking and screaming into the eternal night, he would awake to find himself wearing new clothes, and food in his belly. In time, he had eventually realized that if he focused, he could sense the servants’ emotions. That had made it a little less lonely. His real saving grace, however, had been the evening when he first heard Garin speak.

  The day had been much like the others, one filled with Ever’s rants at the Fortress, when the shadow that acted most like Gigi, had forced a bowl of thin soup into his hands. Ever had protested, but the shadow would not let him rest until he’d begun to eat.

  “How does it taste, Sire?”

  Ever had very nearly choked on his food when Garin’s calm voice first broke the silence. Once Ever had finally regained his composure, he demanded to know where the others were, hoping perhaps, that the curse was lifting on its own. But it wasn’t to be. As always, the unusual steward had either found a way around the rule of silence, or was exempt from it. As disappointed as he was about the others, Ever had been immensely grateful for even this small improvement.

  Still, life had seemed bleak and hopeless for a long time after that. The curse was a riddle, and he didn’t know how to interpret it.

  What has been broken must be remade.

  That he was broken was obvious. Ever had never felt as vulnerable in his life as the moment he’d awakened inside of a body that was no longer his. Every joint ached. He could no longer stand tall. His hands were those of an aged man, bent and claw-like in their pain. It was only with great difficulty that he could grasp objects, and the aching and swelling in his knees made it equally difficult to walk upright. The limbs that had subdued enemies and won battles had become frail and defenseless. He had become like the very people he despised. Weak. How could such a broken body ever be remade?

  The one who was strong must be willing to die.

  Ever had been strong. But had he also not been willing to die? Ever had fought in countless battles alongside his father and his men. He’d faced adversaries of great evil. Surely this part of the curse would be the easiest to break. If only he could be remade, then he could prove his willingness to die. But even solving that portion of the riddle left the most confusing requirement of all.

  A new strength must be found.

  This requirement had brought him countless nights of despair. Ever had always been filled with the strength of the Fortress. The light had burned brightly in his eyes since the day he was born, and it had filled the servants with hope. All of Ever’s forefathers had possessed the strength, but according to Garin, none had ever possessed it the way Ever did. The strength was a part of him, just as the Fortress had always been. He didn’t know how to live without it.

  The first time Ever had begun to understand what a power he possessed was when he was young, only six. He had informed the master of swords that he wanted to learn how to fight. Greatly amused, the master of swords had given him a small wooden training sword, and taught him a few blocks and thrusts. Ever had then proceeded to challenge the man to a duel. A few of the courtiers and servants came to watch, smiling with affection at their young, ambitious prince. The master had begun by giving him a few gentle, obvious attacks, when blue fire suddenly burst from Ever’s arm and down his sword. In the blink of an eye, the master of swords was on the ground, the breath knocked out of him as Ever stood over him with his little wooden weapon.

  After that, Rodrigue had had to be the one to train Ever, as no one else had the strength to withstand him. As Ever had gotten older he had eventually learned better how to restrain the natural fire that came from within him. The power touched more than his body, however. He was also very sensitive to other people. He could often tell when someone was lying, and his parents found early on that they could not leave or enter the Fortress without his knowledge.

  The strength that filled him had always inspired confusion, even fear in many. His father had approved of this and encouraged him to use it to his full advantage. He’d ended many battles before they were begun, simply by intimidating enemies in a face-to-face meeting.

  What kind of strength could exist that compared to what Ever had been gifted with? What new strength was there to appease this curse?

  It almost didn’t matter. Even Ever’s strength had a
ll but disappeared when the curse had taken effect. The blazing blue flames in his eyes had dulled until they were all but extinguished. Now he wasn’t just weak by his own standards. But by any man’s. Besides, he didn’t want a new strength. He wanted his old strength back.

  Still, he’d searched every piece of writing in the Fortress’s Tower of Annals, and nothing had suggested itself as a possible new strength. That was, until the day the merchant had arrived.

  It was the way Ansel had worded his description of his daughter that had suggested the idea to Ever. She has a strong heart and a quick mind like no other, Ansel had said. What if she could bring a new kind of strength, Ever had suddenly wondered. Perhaps the strength of her heart would be enough to satisfy the Fortress’s demands. Then her strength could mend his body, the thing that had been broken. And if his broken body was whole again, he could prove that he was willing to die by facing Nevina, whose men were now camped at the foot of his mountain.

  As Ever continued to slowly climb the tower steps, the memory of that night with the merchant filled him with shame, as it always did. Ansel’s pleas for mercy had nearly moved him. Aside from his one night of too much drink, Ever had never considered threatening to kill a whole family simply to get his way, particularly with a sickness. It was the coward’s way. But, he told himself, this was the only hope he’d found in the months of his searching. If it worked, it would be for the good of the whole kingdom.

  Of course, there was the question of whether the young woman would cooperate or not. It was obvious that she hated him. He couldn’t exactly blame her for that. His hasty, childish outburst had must have greatly altered her life. The rebellious defiance had been there in her eyes the entire time they had spoken.

  As much as he disliked her, Ever had to admit after the encounter was over, that she was indeed not weak of heart. And that observation watered the seed of hope her father’s words had planted within him. She has a strong heart.

  Perhaps, with time and attention, Isabelle could be moved past her hate for him. He would need to treat her kindly, make her feel wanted. And he would definitely need to change his usual direct, blunt way of addressing her. That had seemed to make her angrier than anything else he’d said in the short time they’d spoken. But with much of work and very carefully chosen words, perhaps there was a shred of hope that her strength was indeed what the curse demanded. A new strength.

  As Ever finally reached the top of the tower, and laid down on his pallet, he looked out the window at the north foot of the mountain. Doing so, he felt the dangerous beginnings of hope spark inside him once again. Nothing could be sure, however, until he saw whether or not the Fortress had truly chosen her for her strength. And that test would have to wait until the next night.

  With this thought, Ever attempted to settle himself and sleep, but sleep was nearly impossible as he looked down the mountain. And though its abstinence had something to do with his new arrival, so did the lights at the foot of the mountain.

  News of the darkened Fortress had spread fast, apparently. Nevina had made her camp just a month after the curse had fallen, and showed no sign of leaving.

  The rogue Tumenian forces were still hurting from their last defeat. From the number of fires that burned, Nevina was still out gathering men, and would be for some time. If nothing else, Ever comforted himself, their last battle had produced a bit of fear in their northern enemies, one that would make them think long and hard before attacking hastily again. It would buy him some time. He just hoped it would be enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lonely Dancer

  Isa tossed yet again in a vain attempt to sleep, but the musty smell of the bed and the revelation of the prince’s purpose for summoning her kept her awake. What had possessed him to think she could unlock the secrets of the realm’s oldest source of power?

  Isa had heard the stories growing up, tales of the monarchs’ strength, great feats of cunning and bravery that were only possible because of the Light of the Fortress, strength that was conceived in the Fortress itself. Those were legends that parents told to their children at bedtime, but no one knew much beyond those legends.

  The true nature of the Fortress was unfamiliar to the people, something that wasn’t paid too much unnecessary attention. Tradition dictated that only the monarchs truly understood their own power, and if the commoners were wise, they would leave it that way.

  But Isa’s childhood brush with the prince’s power had long ago stirred something inside of her. She wanted to know, and despite all her desire to return home and be rid of this devilish place, she found a small piece of her heart yearning to unravel this knot of mystery.

  Not that such a desire mitigated her fear at all, for she also found herself completely terrified. How was she supposed to address the power that had ruined her limbs? More importantly, how was she to even begin breaking the curse? And what would he do to her if she failed?

  Isa rose early while the sky was still gray and listless. It was a morning typical of mid-autumn. Still, she noticed that perhaps for the light of the day, the smell of dust wasn’t quite as strong as it had been when she had laid down the night before. The morning is meant for deep breaths and new beginnings, Isa, Deline would always say. And it felt this morning that she was right.

  As Isa managed to swallow the dry biscuit and old apple left on her bedside table by invisible hands, she realized her own clothes had been returned to her during the night. After getting dressed, Isa decided the first thing to do would be to find the Fortress library. In the millennium since the Fortress had come into being, someone must have written made records about the great power it wielded.

  “Please take me to the Fortress library,” Isa addressed the shadows. Instead of the familiar pushes and pulls she had grown somewhat accustomed to, however, she felt all of the shadows disappear. Surprised and irritated, Isa shook her head and begrudgingly wandered out of her room on her own.

  She wasn’t quite brave enough to look for the room all alone just yet. So, heading to the front of the stronghold instead, Isa saw the grand entrance for the first time.

  Covered in dust and cobwebs, giant columns soared above her, supporting monstrous arches that were loftier than any church steeple in the city. The ceiling was so high and so dark that Isa couldn’t make out any of its details at the very top. In fact, the interior was nearly as dark as it had been the night before, as all the tapestries were closed. She was again glad that she had arrived by the back entrance. For coming in through this grand hall would surely have intimidated her.

  As she cautiously approached the towering doors, they opened for her without a sound, revealing the relief of the outdoors. Most of the snow from the storm two days earlier had melted, making Isa’s walk to the stable much easier.

  Isa spent as long as she could out in the stable, feeding and brushing her animal. It was comforting to breathe in his familiar scent. She talked to him as she worked, telling him what a good horse he was, and how he wouldn’t believe the things she had seen the night before. They went for a quick outing around the grounds, but Isa was too nervous to take him very far. As much as she enjoyed it, however, eventually there was no more she could do for her friend, so she put him back in the stables and returned to the winding outdoor paths to explore the front lawn.

  The Fortress lawn had at one point been the most spectacular arrangement of gardens and statues one could ever hope to see. But now, beneath the melting snow, the flowers lay brown and brittle, as did the trees. Everything was overgrown or wasting away. Isa wandered through the ivy covered statues of wolves and the dying shrubs that were wrapped around them, without knowing where she was headed.

  No birds sang and no chipmunks twittered. There weren’t even the sounds of bugs as she moved through the gardens. Isa thought back to her childhood visits of the Fortress, trying to remember if the gardens had always been this quiet, or if the curse had made them that way. After wandering through several of the smaller gardens witho
ut finding respite though, she had nearly turned back to the stables, when one garden in particular caught her eye. It was a rose garden.

  The bushes had been allowed to grow tall, and had been planted in such a way as to provide walls of privacy for those who would walk the paths laid in stone between them. Isa walked about the entire circular garden, and found that there were four paths that wound towards the center, one stretching inward from each direction. Despite the vines being brown and dry without a flower to be seen, Isa found herself drawn to their beauty. She cautiously started down the path on the north side towards the middle.

  The garden itself was made of rosebushes that stood at least three feet higher than Isa’s head. Once Isa had followed the winding path in, she found a small courtyard in the center of the garden, large enough it could have fit her new bed inside of it. A bench made of multicolored stones sat along the edge of the tall, once pruned bushes, where it would have been hidden from the sun had the sun been shining.

  Instead of a floor of cobblestone, as the garden paths had, there lay the most beautiful stone mosaic Isa had ever seen. A rose larger than Isa was tall had been carefully laid out with colorful stones. Agate gave the rose its shades of red, while light and dark green Jade pieces filled the leaves and stem. The giant rose was encircled by blue Angelite and white opal. Isa couldn’t help but to kneel reverently and touch the piece of art.

  Every single stone had been polished down to make the surface perfectly flat. Suddenly, a small flame of rebellion was ignited inside of Isa, and the longer she looked at it, the more the flame grew. If she couldn’t go home, and she couldn’t visit the annals, then she would dance.

  Slowly, she walked to the center of the mosaic. The center was deep enough that Isa felt delightfully hidden by the tall bushes, not that there were many people about to watch. Still, the privacy was delicious. Isa had no idea as to what she could expect of her body. It had been a long time since she had danced. Gingerly, she extended her right arm. Then, as well as she could, she pointed her left foot.