Before Beauty

by Brittany Fichter

  Ever couldn’t conceal his shock as he whipped his head around to look for the familiar face that wasn’t visible.

  “You never told me that!”

  “My apologies, Your Highness, but you were young, and struggled greatly with the incident yourself. I didn’t want to make you even more anxious about it.”

  Ever let that sink in for a moment. “She was the one you went to warn on the night of the coronation, wasn’t she?” he asked softly. He hadn’t missed the sudden disappearance of his steward, as well as many of his other officials after his crazed order had been issued. Ever had been drunk, but the details of all that he’d said and done that night were burned into his memory.

  “Yes.” Garin’s voice was quiet, too. “I knew her father.”

  A few quiet moments later, Ever asked him another question. “How can I win her heart? I need her to accept the Fortress and myself in order to best carry the strength. It will be very difficult to do that if she hates me as she does now. If she can develop the strength, however, we can be married, and our strength can unite to end all of this.”

  “Be careful, Everard.” Garin’s voice had a sudden edge to it. “She is not like the court women you are familiar with. Her past and her present have put her in a very precarious place.”

  Ever didn’t bother asking how Garin knew such things. Just as Garin’s origins were unknown, his methods of getting information were mysteries best untouched as well. The steward continued speaking though.

  “And if the Fortress has brought her here, then it has an interest in her, and nothing good will come of meddling vainly with her heart. She is one who cannot be easily purchased.”

  A moment later, Ever heard Garin sigh, and when he spoke again his voice was more resigned. “Her father was here on a business matter not long before the Fortress went dark. He told me that a young man had recently begun to draw her from her sorrows, but from the look in her eyes tonight, that future she envisioned with him is no more, broken curse or no. Reaching her…It will take time and sincerity. Pushing her before she is ready will only hurt you both.

  “I don’t have the time for sincerity,” Ever retorted.

  “And what will you do, Sire, if she refuses you? Will you force her into wedlock against her will?”

  “Garin, I am asking you for your help so that is never a decision I have to make!” Ever huffed. The conversation had taken a turn he didn’t like, and Garin’s tone of a loving mentor was grating on his ears.

  “She is strong. She must be the one to bring the new strength, to heal me, to make me ready to face death again and break the curse! Besides,” he added sulkily, “even if she’s not madly in love with me, I will be giving her more than any woman from her station could ever dream of. She will be queen, surrounded by every luxury she could ever imagine, and the Fortress’s strength, too.”

  “Neither gold nor power can mend a broken heart,” Garin said gently.

  “Well, then,” Ever frowned at the shadow, “it is your job to find me something that can.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Never Again

  When Isa awakened the next morning, the sun had already risen high in the winter sky. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she struggled to break free from the dreams that had trapped her all night. Images of Raoul and the prince had blended together into a terrifying nightmare, a never ending dance in which she was both unwanted, and yet forced to be a part of.

  It was a few minutes before Isa was completely convinced that the visions were only dreams, not terrible memories. As she began to more clearly recall the details from the night before though, she wasn’t sure the truth was really any better than the dreams had been. The silken slippers, the lonely dance, and the hopelessness came back to her piece by piece. And as each miserable moment returned, a new determination began to set in.

  Never again would she be a part of that story. She was through letting the shadow servants bully her, no matter how many orders Prince Everard gave them. She wasn’t going to wear the slippers. It would be her boots or no dancing at all. And if indeed the prince wanted to dance again, she would choose to hold her head high, not lower it in shame with tears running down her face.

  Maybe her mother had been right. There was a time to mourn what she had lost, but she could see now that self-pity had made her weak and vulnerable. She would never be powerless like that again.

  In addition to her new sense of resolve, as she became more fully awake, Isa began to sense a strange new presence. Oddly, she innately knew that the presence which comforted her didn’t belong to any of the servants that were always hovering nearby. It was a different kind of comfort, more potent than any human company she’d ever encountered before. And as much as she was confused by it, the new presence had somehow transformed the Fortress in her eyes overnight. The smells of dust and mildew were noticeably less powerful this morning, and the bed she slept in had felt just as familiar as the one pallet in her parents’ attic.

  The presence didn’t fade as she got dressed. Her boots and clothes had been once again returned to her during the night, and Isa took the new shine of her boots as a sort of apology from the servants.

  “I accept your apology,” Isa announced to the shadows as she pulled the boots on. “But do not think that means you can take them again tonight. If the prince wants to dance, I will be wearing the boots or there will be no dance at all, understand?”

  The shadows brushed by her in annoyed, sharp breezes, and Isa felt a sense of laughter from the walls around her. What was this strange presence that heard both her words and her heart?

  “Oh,” she called out once more to the servants, knowing they would listen even if they didn’t want to. “And tell your prince I need books on the early history of this place. That should be a mild enough request to suit him.”

  The sense of the presence still didn’t depart as Isa left her room. Instead, it felt close, warmly wrapping around her the way her mother’s cloak did. Moving through the towering halls and out to the stable, it felt like the presence had been there her whole life. How had she missed it before this? It was as if her eyes were just being opened.

  After tending to her horse, Isa returned to the rose garden. As confirmation of her suspicions that something was different, there was a single rose bud on the hedges when she arrived. It grew near the spot where she had fallen the day before. The flower was small, to be sure, and hardly open, but the bright sliver of pink was impossible to ignore against the background of brown.

  “What is this place,” Isa murmured to her new companion, “that rose buds should bloom just before the dawn of winter?” In response, a breeze smelling of lavender caught her dress and twirled it gently against her legs.

  Isa smiled, remembering what she’d come to the garden for to begin with. Her ankle bore none of the pain from last night, strangely enough, and was now tucked safely in her boots. It was time for her to dance.

  Once again, Isa’s dancing was not the fluid, confident movement it had been when she was a child. In fact, her limbs were sore from the day before, and possibly even less coordinated. And yet, her arms, her legs, and even her ankle felt just a little more poised, a little more prepared for the steps she put them through.

  A few hours later, as she headed in for lunch, Isa realized with a start that for the first time in years she felt like she had a purpose here. And as much as she hated being held against her will, and even if the prince was a despicable human being, she desperately wanted a purpose, one that went beyond tending her parents’ store for the rest of her life. If she was somehow able to miraculously restore the Fortress as Prince Everard wanted her to do, it wouldn’t be done for him. It would be done for the kingdom. And wasn’t that a cause noble enough to desire?

  The midday meal was waiting in her room, along with a stack of books. She ate and read until the servants began to pester her about getting ready again for the evening meal. With a sigh, she stood and let them push her in circles as she sensed t
his would be a nightly event. Despite her resolutions from that morning, Isa still dreaded the approaching supper, dreaded speaking with him, feeling his touch, even seeing his face. The dream of Everard and Raoul was still fresh in her mind. But, Isa supposed, this was part of the price to pay for saving the kingdom, and for that, she would put up with the servants’ tricks and the prince’s ill temper. She could do that for the kingdom.

  This evening she didn’t get to choose her gown. She had dawdled purposefully until it was too late for the grimy bath, and wasn’t surprised when a dress of light green velvet and yellow silk was shoved at her. She endured all the shadows’ pushing and pulling until she was once again handed a set of dreadful, lovely silken slippers.

  “I told you,” Isa folded her arms and stood firmly in place, “I’m not wearing those tonight. It’s my boots or nothing.”

  To her amazement, one of the little shadows dove furiously at her feet, nearly knocking her over. Indignation rose up inside of her. “If you think I’m going to supper without my boots, you are sorely mistaken!” she hissed. She stamped her foot down hard on the stone floor to make her point.

  Isa could feel the shadows begin to swirl about her, and with a tiny bit of fear, wondered if they would continue to behave as people without bodies, or true ghosts when they were angry. Before she had too much time to worry, however, that faithful presence seemed to flood the room, and the shadows went scattering. She could feel their annoyance as they put up her hair after that, but nothing more was done about the boots.

  Just moments before she was ready to walk to the dining hall, a knock sounded at her door. When she answered it, to her amazement, Prince Everard was waiting. He was still wearing the thick cloak, but underneath he was wearing what appeared to be a somewhat clean garment of deep brown with silver threads. It was too large for his frail body, but she had to admit that distinguished attire didn’t look uncomely. He looked to have washed his hair as well, as it was combed and parted neatly, the gold strands glinting in the weak light from her fireplace.

  He shocked her even more by giving her a stiff bow and somewhat awkwardly extending his arm. “Good evening, Miss Isabelle. Will you allow me to escort you to supper?”

  Not quite sure what she was doing, Isa accepted his hand as if in a daze. Inwardly, she berated herself for so readily taking it, her willingness to touch the man that she loathed so. To her annoyance, she also found she wanted desperately to stare into his strange fiery eyes. Though all else about him was too upsetting to look at for very long, she could have gazed into the rings of blue forever.

  They walked in silence to the dining hall. Their progress was slow, and their uneven steps made scuffing sounds echo down the great stone corridors. Isa did grudgingly admit to herself that it was nice for once not to be the slow one. The man beside her was every bit as slow as she was. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what he had looked and walked like before the curse.

  After the incident at the parade, Isa had avoided all events at which the prince had made public appearances. Following the events, the other young women always reported with giggles that they had nearly swooned at the sight of him. How straight he stood! they would exclaim. And though he wasn’t the tallest man in the court, Isa had heard, he’d carried himself powerfully, and that one swipe of his fist could knock a strong man unconscious.

  With a start, Isa realized that the prince had fallen much harder than she had first guessed. He, who had grown up with respect and strength, was reduced to walking at the speed of a lame peasant woman. It was ironic, she thought. And yet, it brought her less satisfaction than she would have expected.

  Supper had been laid out by the time they arrived. Again, once they were seated, the prince started the conversation, his voice polite and distant.

  “Were the books I sent to your liking?”

  “They…were satisfactory in regards to history, Your Highness.”

  “But?”

  Isa looked up from her stew to see the prince raising one of his eyebrows. He must have caught the tenor of dissatisfaction in her voice. She sighed.

  “It would be easier if I were simply allowed to browse the library on my own.”

  But the prince was already shaking his head. “That is out of the question.”

  Isa nodded, a bit annoyed that he had pried the request out of her when she hadn’t meant to make it.

  He wasn’t done, however. Leaning forward, he cocked his head. “Out of curiosity, why are you so intent on finding the books on your own?”

  Isa felt annoyance rise up within her again as she pushed her bits of meat and potatoes around the bowl. “I need to know more about the magic.” As if it weren’t obvious enough.

  “Magic?” He raised that eyebrow again, and Isa scoffed a bit.

  “Surely you cannot think that the rest of the world experiences life as…as you do here. In the real world, it shadows do not appear to serve supper. Hundreds of life-sized statues, each as different as a man from his neighbor do not suddenly appear on a lawn and look as if they have been there for decades. Doors do not open on their own, nor do instruments to play without musicians.

  “Besides, you cannot pretend that all these strange things have begun to happen only since the casting of the curse. In Soudain, even small children know the Fortress holds a special power. Whatever happened to this place came from within. I can feel it. That is what I need to know more about.” Isa sat back and took a breath, finally glad to have gotten the chance to vent at the prince.

  He didn’t answer immediately, but gave her a long, shrewd look, distracting her with those strange storm gray and blue eyes. Finally, when he did speak, his answer was slow and deliberate.

  “What you call magic does indeed exist, but there is no book in the Tower of Annals or any other place that can explain it.” His eyes turned dark, and his deep voice became bitter. “It cannot be written about. It does not have that kind of nature. Many have tried, but none have succeeded, and in their frustration, they burned or destroyed what little they attempted. If you have questions, you will have to content yourself with asking me. Do you understand?”

  Isa nodded, a bit taken aback by the sudden storm in his voice. He had gone from being distantly civil to temperamental once again.

  They ate in silence until he added, more softly this time, “I know the…strength of this Fortress better than any other creature, living or dead. What I need you to understand is that if I simply told you what you wish to know, you would never be able to break the curse. There are things about this place that you must discover for yourself before the curse can be touched, knowledge the Fortress will reveal to you if you need it.”

  Isa stared at him, dumbfounded, as he stared sadly out into night sky through the great windows behind her. She was still trying to understand what he meant when he spoke in his polite voice once more.

  “Are the slippers my servants chose for you not to your liking?”

  Isa broke out of her reverie and without thinking, looked down at her feet. So he had noticed the boots. “The slippers are fine,” she said, “but I prefer boots.”

  His expression was so quizzical that she sighed and explained. “After the accident, my father had the cobbler make me boots that could support my ankle. Without them, I can hardly walk, much less dance. Your servants stole my boots last night and forced me to wear the slippers.”

  Isa’s voice hitched with sudden emotion on the last words, reminded suddenly of the last time she had tried to wear slippers at home. Gathering her resolve, she said more forcefully, “I told them that if I was to dance tonight, I would do it in my boots. I am not about to go to bed completely lame again.”

  “Oh.” Everard frowned in thought for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that. I will tell them to stop bothering you about it. And…I am sorry they treated you that way. They can be a bit overzealous to please sometimes.”

  Isa nearly dropped her spoon as the apology fell from the prince’s lips. It wa
s the last thing she had expected from the man. All she could utter was a hesitant, “Thank you.”

  Before long, the prince stood, indicating that it was time for the dreaded dancing again. Isa was more prepared this time, however. The boots made her feel more confident. So did the friendly presence that followed her out onto the balcony. Isa still shuddered a bit when the prince’s gloved hand held her waist, and she did not find a single moment of the awkward partnering enjoyable. But when the dancing was done, she departed feeling more like herself, feeling victorious.

  The despair she had felt the night before was gone, and this time, she was more prepared to fight the memories of Raoul’s dances as she left the dining hall. She still had no idea as to why the prince insisted on such a strange ritual, especially when it most likely made him sore as well, but she now knew she was at least capable of meeting the task.

  As she turned the corner of the dining hall, however, curiosity flared up inside of Isa. There was much that the prince wasn’t telling her, much she desperately needed to know if she was ever to break this curse. A reckless idea sprang to Isa’s mind, and she without pause, she decided to act upon it. So Instead of returning to her room, she hid behind a large column until Everard had gone up the steps of the southern wing.

  “I am sure you want me to break this curse just as much as he does,” Isa hissed at the shadows around her. “So if you dare tell him what I’m about to do, know that I will stop trying to break the curse, and you will be stuck like this forever!” She felt the shadows’ disapproval, but sensed them leaving her alone, one by one.

  When the prince had been gone long enough to get a head start, she followed him up the large winding staircase as quietly as she could. As she ascended, she passed numerous levels of halls. Down each hall were many doors that were larger than the ones in her wing of the Fortress. Isa guessed these doors led to Prince Everard’s personal chambers.

  She had fallen behind purposefully so he wouldn’t hear her foot when it dragged, and she hoped now that he must be in his chambers, he would be asleep soon so she could explore. Something told her that the library, or rather, the Tower of Annals was up the dark flight of steps that led skyward from the chambers.