Before Beauty

by Brittany Fichter

  Isa frowned, unsure of why this strange woman was telling her all this. While she couldn’t deny that his early days had indeed been terrible, it seemed unfair to allow the man she knew now to be spoken about as such. “He’s changing,” Isa squeaked, her voice nervous and her throat dry. “He is a different person than he was then.”

  “He has stopped insulting you, so now you think he loves you?” All traces of her smile left the woman’s face, and the golden fire of her eyes bored into Isa. “I was hoping you would be wise enough to see through him as you did at first, but obviously you’re as foolish as the rest of htem.”

  Taking Isa’s chin firmly in her hand, the woman jerked her face up so Isa had to look her in the eyes. “He is using you, Isabelle. A man like that cannot love. For power he sold his soul, and you along with it.”

  Isa wanted to cover her ears and hide, but the woman continued to speak, and Isa continued to hear.

  “You see, the prince wants to use your power for his own ends, to heal his own self.” She let go of Isa’s chin and sat back in her chair again, her eyes suddenly brilliant. “This end he has conceived for you does not have to come true!”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I am offering to let you join me. You will be no one’s captive, and your power will be sung of for generations to come! If you allow me, I can help you reach heights of glory you never dreamed of! Together,” she leaned forward and lifted Isa’s wrist, “we could heal you, erase the scars that he inflicted upon you! There would be no limit to what we could do.”

  For a moment, her words painted a picture in Isa’s mind. Release from the agonizingly slow gait, and being recognized as more than just the cripple. What would it feel like, Isa wondered, to go wherever she wanted? Could she truly make her own destiny? A part of her yearned for that, for the freedom to go where she wanted and to do as she wished. No rules, no restrictions, no one to tell her she was incapable.

  It was then that Isa noticed the thin young man standing behind the woman. Ashen and glassy-eyed, he watched Isa numbly. Isa felt her mouth drop in horror at the sight of the familiar face.

  “What’s your decision?” The woman’s voice snapped her attention back to their conversation.

  “My decision?”

  “Be my ally!” The woman’s eyes were bright and fierce as she leaned forward and put a hand on Isa’s shoulder. “Together, we can take him down! You can have your revenge after all these years! You and I could rule this land together! Make it what we want!”

  “I don’t want revenge,” Isa whispered. And as the words left her lips, Isa realized in her heart, that she had forgiven him. When had that happened?

  As Isa was wondering over this sudden revelation, the woman’s eyes went flat, and the golden flames roared.

  “Then you have made your choice.” Abruptly, she stood, and she and the sickly young man began to retreat into the darkness.

  It only felt like seconds had passed after they left, when the room suddenly began to move from uncomfortably warm to scorching. Sweat dripped down Isa’s temples. When she blinked again, Isa was back in her room, but her return brought little relief, as the room was now ablaze with the golden tongues of fire that had been dancing in the woman’s eyes. Tied to the chair once more, Isa screamed until her throat ached.

  The flames grew higher, and the smoke made it harder to breathe by the second. Gasping, Isa tried to stand so she could pull herself to the door, but all she succeeded in doing was tipping her chair over so her face was even closer to the blaze. She cried out in anguish as the flames began to lick her body. Spots began to fill her vision. Just as she was about to give in and let the blistering room take her, however, a faint voice called her name.

  She was too weak to respond. Agony filled Isa as she realized that she was about to die in the inferno alone. And yet, the voice called again, slightly louder this time. And it didn’t stop. Something cool touched her hand. Then her head.

  Slowly, Isa began to realize that the voice that called to her was actually singing. It was Everard’s voice, and the words he used were in the ancient tongue he had serenaded her with in the Tower of Annals. Little by little, the flames were quenched, and the cool of the night began to touch her burned, charred body.

  It seemed like years, but eventually, she was able to open her eyes, and to her surprise, she was still in her room. There was no fire. Not even a single candle burned. Only moon drenched the room in its blue light. Anxious faces were everywhere. A female servant changed the cool cloth on her forehead.

  What surprised her most, though, was Everard. His eyes were closed and his face was strained. His whole body shook as he still continued to sing, blue light encircling their clasped hands.

  Isa stared at it in wonder. She tried to find her voice, and only after a full minute of trying could she croak out his name.

  “She’s awake!” Gigi, the kitchen mistress, cried. The other servants surrounding her seemed to let out their breath at the same time. Finally, Everard opened his eyes and stopped singing. He continued to grip her hand, however.

  “What happened?” she asked faintly.

  Everard took a deep, slow breath, as if it was difficult to even speak. “It appears our enemy has noticed your growing strength. Unfortunately, with strength comes a greater sensitivity to the darkness she harnesses.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means you had a night terror. Nevina must have returned from gathering men.”

  “She spoke to me.” Isa tried to swallow, recalling the woman’s cruel words.

  “Yes, she sometimes does that.”

  “Have you had one of these dreams before?”

  Everard nodded grimly. “My sensitivity to the presence of the Tumenian power began when I was seven.”

  Isa tried to imagine young Everard with the type of night terror she had just experienced, but that a child should suffer so was too horrible to dwell on.

  Everard finally let go of her hand and leaned back in his chair. “Garin had to stay outside my door at night for a whole year while I learned to manage the dreams.”

  “Do you still have them?” Isa was nearly too afraid to ask.

  “I do, but they no longer disorient me so. They simply remind me of what I am protecting my people from.” In the moonlight, a strange look crossed Everard’s face as he suddenly studied Isa with a critical eye. “What did she tell you?”

  The question caught Isa off guard. While the woman who had tried to kill her was anything but trustworthy, Isa suddenly wondered about her warning that Ever was using her. Could any of it be true?

  “She told me lots of things,” she said cautiously. “But it was more whom I saw that frightened me.” Ever looked at her expectantly, so she continued. “There was a young man standing behind her. He didn’t speak, but he held her weapons. His skin was pale, and looked as though he might be starving.

  “I knew him as a child,” she sighed. “He was born with a bad lung. His parents fell into poverty as they searched far and wide for healing, but no herbalist or healer could help him. I haven’t seen him since–I haven’t seen him for years,” she quickly amended, realizing she’d nearly told Everard of the Caregivers.

  While the prince had certainly changed since she had arrived, Isa wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him about how her young friend’s parents had sent him off in hopes of a better life in Tumen. She doubted he would understand the desperation of the sick and their families that had led them to make such a decision.

  As if to confirm her concerns, Everard was already shaking his head. “He’s a Chien.”

  “A Chien?”

  Everard nodded, a look of disgust on his face. “It’s the soldier’s term for Destinian traitors. They are servants in the Tumens’ royal court, homes, and on the battle lines, although the term slave might be more accurate. Anyhow, they leave Destin, thinking our northern neighbor, Nevina’s father, will welcome them into the arms of grace for a long and
happy life.”

  Isa felt her heart falter for a moment. The young man had most definitely not looked happy or healthy. “What do they do with them?” she asked unevenly.

  “They cut their tongues out to ensure their silence and complete dependence. When they are thoroughly beaten in both body and spirit, they are given away to nobles and royalty, sometimes even influential commoners as free labor.” Everard shook his head. “They often accompany their benefactors to royal gatherings.” Under his breath he added, “Serves them right for leaving.”

  At this, Isa’s face grew hot, and her resolution to keep quiet about the people’s Tumenian salvation dissolved. “Well, thanks to you, I was nearly one of them!”

  Everard stared at her, and Isa continued angrily. “Do you think those people leave because they want to? While your father was cutting off all supply to the churches for the sick and the lame, the Caregivers began telling people they could come with them, that they would hide them in their supply carts and bring them to a place where they would receive food and clothing. It was a new start, they promised, one that would allow the unfortunate to begin new lives, to find work and make a living for themselves.”

  “What stopped you?” The prince frowned unhappily.

  Exhausted from the dream and the outburst, she leaned back into her pillows. “Our neighbors urged my father to send me for years. I might find a husband there, they argued, one who didn’t mind a damaged wife. He outright refused though, until he met you.”

  There was a long silence that stretched between them. The servants had slowed their frantic pace by now, but seeing her fatigue, Gigi gently laid another compress on her forehead.

  “You musn’t push yourself too hard,” she murmured gently to Isa before giving Everard a very pointed look at the door.

  He missed it or ignored it, however, and spoke instead, a fierce look on his face. “How did you know how to find these Caregivers?”

  “They always wear black metal rings.”

  At this, the fire in the prince’s eyes leapt. “Another misstep,” he murmured, his voice nearly inaudible.

  “What?”

  “My family,” he said slowly, rubbing his eyes with both hands, “has long valued strength above all else. In earnest, we’ve sought to protect this kingdom as well as we can. But it seems in so emphasizing the strong, we’ve forgotten the weak. And now our enemies are in the heart of the kingdom being welcomed, even sheltered, thanks to our negligence.”

  The sky was beginning to lighten as he stood up and turned to go. “Perhaps the Fortress is right to strip me of my power.”

  Even though the servants and prince filed out soon after that, leaving her alone to rest, Isa could not sleep for a long time. The fear that the dreams would return mingled with what Ever had said.

  Whether the woman from her dreams believed so or not, Everard was changing. Though anxiety still lingered when Isa thought of the woman’s words, the touch of his hands, the way he had trembled while he’d worked to bring her out of the dream was a comfort. No. The woman could not know everything as she pretended.

  As Isa considered these things, Gigi walked back into Isa’s room and gently pushed her back into a sleeping position. “You don’t need to be afraid, my dear. Ever will guard your dreams until Garin gets back. My guess is that she chose tonight because Garin had to stay in town for the storm. It is easier for two men to be on guard than one.”

  She seemed ready to move into the next room, but something in Isa’s expression must have changed her mind. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and drew Isa into a warm, soft embrace. Isa could have stayed in that hug forever. It was like feeling her mother’s arms around her once again.

  Isa must have been more tired than she knew, however, for soon Gigi was gently laying her back into the pillows, where she drifted into directionless, unmemorable dreams.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Make It Right

  Ever couldn’t remember a worse night since the curse had fallen. Drawing Isa from the dream had taken more power from him than he had expected. And he’d nearly been too late.

  After Garin had left with the message for Isa’s family, everything had gone on as usual. Supper had been enjoyable, and Isa had even seemed to enjoy dancing with him. When they had parted ways, the air had smelled of rain. Ever had looked forward to the sound of a thunderstorm lulling him to sleep. He’d hoped it would drench Nevina’s men as they continued to wait at the foot of the mountain. They were untrained, and with Nevina still gone in search of more men, they might not know what to do in the face of such a storm.

  But the feeling of peace couldn’t last. He’d felt it before the servants had run to him, the princess’s return to the valley jolting him from his sleep. Her heavy, stifling aggression had wafted into his dreams just moments before the servant, Isa’s childhood friend, had come pounding on the tower door.

  “Your Highness!” the servant woman had cried. “Gigi says you must come to Isa’s chambers!” Ever could hear the panic in the young woman’s voice. “She says it’s a night terror!”

  Ever had leapt off his pallet so quickly that he had nearly tripped and fallen on the floor. His sore bones and stiff muscles protested as he moved, but he hardly noticed them. Staggering through the great halls as quickly as he could, he had begged the Fortress to protect her.

  He was furious with himself for not foreseeing this. Of course, the princess would choose to return from gathering more men for her army the very night that Garin was gone. Soudain was a decently large city, but word spread fast. Any spies Nevina had planted there would have reported quickly that Garin was in town, away from the Fortress.

  Garin had always made Nevina nervous, so she would have seen his absence as a golden opportunity. Nevina must have suspected that with only the prince guarding the Fortress’s inhabitants, it would be easy to slip past him. And it had been, it seemed.

  As he had imagined all of the horrible things the princess could be doing to Isa a cold, steely fear had gripped his heart.

  When he had first arrived in her room, the young woman had been unresponsive to his initial attempts to draw her from the nightmare. He’d cursed the dark princess as he struggled to keep Isa from falling completely into her grasp. Isa’s face had been ghostly, and sweat sheened her skin. As her breathing had faltered, Ever had desperately poured even more strength into drawing the poison from her mind. For a moment, it felt as if he was losing his father again. But no, a part of his mind had whispered to him. This would be worse.

  Hours had passed as he’d gripped her soft, crooked hand in his own bent claws. The servants had watched in panic. Nothing like this had happened in the Fortress since he was a small child, and few of them had ever been privy to those awful episodes, spare Garin, Gigi, and the few servants who had assisted them. Not even his parents had known about the horrible nights he had passed, screaming as the darkness had tried time and time again to poison his mind. And this time Nevina was doing it to Isa.

  Now that it was all over, Ever was more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life, and yet, he couldn’t sleep. The new knowledge that Nevina was handing out weapons of her power to these strange Caregivers in Soudain disturbed him. How long had the Tumenians been infiltrating the capital, and wearing weapons of dark magic at that?

  King Rodrigue had once suggested that he and Ever create similar weapons for their own men, talismans to hold a bit of the monarchs’ strength. Ever had pleaded with him not to, however. Such power wasn’t meant for just anyone, only those the Fortress had chosen, he had insisted. Ever had been grateful when his father listened to him, but apparently, the idea was not original to Rodrigue. Who knew how many men Nevina now had in Soudain, armed with her twisted rings?

  Ever hobbled over to the great wardrobe in the center of the room, just beside the hearth. A weak shine spilled out from the wardrobe as he removed the ring from its case. Sitting, he turned it over again and again in his hands.

  If he had r
emoved this ring from its case ten years ago, it would have lit the whole tower in its brilliance the moment he’d touched it. Even a year ago, the ring had still shined for him when they had taken it from the queen’s finger and given it to him for safekeeping. Now its shine was little more than a reflection from the sun that was just beginning to rise. As he held the ring, shame warred with desperation as it never had before.

  Ever finally fell into a restless sleep with the ring still clasped in his hand. When he awakened, it was nearly noon, and he could see Isa venturing out to the rose garden. He had a sudden urge to go to her. Without thinking about what he was doing, he put the ring away and made his way down to the girl.

  She was already dancing by the time he arrived. He stood at the edge of the walk so as not to startle her. When she finally stopped, he could see her cheeks were flushed with the effort, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She wore an expression of deep concentration as she danced today. When she heard him approach, however, she stopped and dipped into a quick curtsy.

  “Do you mind if I watch?” Ever gestured to the stone bench nearby.

  She gave him a wry smile. “My guess is that you have been watching, otherwise you wouldn’t have known where to find me.”

  Ever smiled and conceded it was thus. He was impressed as she resumed her movements. Compared to the first time he’d seen her dance, her legs had grown noticeably stronger, and she was more confident in her lunges and turns. A tranquil smile lit her face as she moved, and sometimes, she closed her eyes briefly as she slowed, as though not seeing would make a movement just right.