Beauty

by Sarah Pinborough

  ‘He thinks there are other conspirators,’ Petra said. ‘Why would anyone conspire against Beauty? She seems the kindest and gentlest of creatures.’

  Without consultation, neither of them headed back to the banqueting room from which music and laughter drifted towards them, but took the central staircase up to their rooms.

  ‘Who knows?’ the huntsman said. As they turned onto a vast landing the curtains billowed in the evening breeze coming through the open veranda doorways. Petra paused and her gaze drifted, as if their current conversation was suddenly forgotten. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’ the huntsman frowned. His hearing, trained by years of tracking, was excellent but aside from the revellers below and the breeze the air was empty.

  ‘Oh nothing,’ Petra said softly, heading towards the balcony doors. ‘Just something I’ve heard before. From the other side of the wall.’ She pulled the curtains back and stood in the open doorway. Outside the moon shone full and low in the dark sky. ‘I think I’ll sit out here for a while. Get some fresh air.’

  ‘You don’t have to come with me tonight,’ the huntsman said. ‘You may be safer in the castle.’

  ‘I want to come,’ she answered. ‘There’s something in this city I need to find too.’ She glanced back at him over her delicate shoulder, her eyes dark in the gloom. ‘And I’m not at all sure how safe this castle is.’

  He couldn’t argue with that. His own senses had been humming ever since the queen woke up and the first minister’s request made his nerves jangle. He was already a pawn in one royal court’s game, and now he was embroiled in another. As Petra wandered out towards the edge of the balcony, he left her and took the stairs two at a time, needing to release some energy.

  A figure waited outside his bedroom door. He frowned and then smiled. It was the serving girl. She dropped into a slight curtsey.

  ‘I wondered where you’d gone.’ She looked up, her eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘I thought p’raps you might like something brought to your room.’ She held up a jug of wine. ‘I thought I could serve it to you. Personally.’

  The huntsman laughed and swung open the door to his room. He bowed. ‘Ladies first.’

  ‘Oh,’ the girl giggled as she passed him. ‘I’m no lady.’

  6

  ‘The dark days . . .’

  ‘Perhaps all this was just fate,’ Beauty murmured into his chest as the prince held her close and they danced. ‘If Rumplestiltskin hadn’t . . . done whatever he did, if I hadn’t slept, then we’d have never met.’ She looked up at him and smiled. It was the sweetest expression he’d ever seen and his heart melted all over again just looking at her exquisite face. Her eyes were the colour of clear water in a summer stream and he wanted to dive into them. To know her completely. ‘I would have been long dead before you were born,’ she continued. ‘You would never have woken me.’

  ‘Then yes, my love.’ He kissed her forehead. Her skin was soft and her hair smelled of spring flowers. He was completely enchanted by her. ‘It must be fate.’

  ‘You saved me,’ she tilted her face up to him, the two blonde streaks in her perfectly black hair hanging loose in styled curls to either side of her pale cheeks. His lips met hers and they kissed again. She was soft in his arms and the feel of her tongue touching his was electric. He had saved her. Already, in his mind, he had pushed aside the image of the huntsman bandaging her finger and stemming her dripping blood at the moment she woke. That was simply coincidence.

  ‘True love’s kiss is the only way to break a curse,’ she said, her mouth only parted from his by a breath. ‘Everyone knows that.’

  ‘And I love you truly,’ he whispered back, his voice raw. He did love her. It had gripped him from the moment he’d touched her, a wave of wonder and awe and passion that he’d never felt before. It was almost like magic. He pulled her closer to feel the swell of her bosom against his shirt. His mouth dried slightly as he fought the urge to run his hands over her body.

  ‘Let’s get married quickly,’ he said. His desire for her was so great he wasn’t sure he could wait any longer. Everything else had faded away; his father’s wishes for an expansion to his kingdom, the desire to return home laden with treasure and be treated like a hero, even his normal lust for drinking and wenching had gone. Home was a distant memory. All that mattered was this girl and possessing her completely.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, as breathless as he was. Her eyes sparkled in the light from the glittering chandeliers above. ‘I will announce it to the city tomorrow and we shall wed the next day. We’ll have a family and live happily ever after. I shall give everyone in the city a gold coin as a wedding gift to show my happiness. And there will be days of feasting. I want my people to be as happy as I am. It’s all I ever want.’

  The prince was sure his heart would explode. Not only was she beautiful, she was kind and gentle and generous too. ‘I can’t believe that you weren’t betrothed already,’ he said. ‘What is wrong with the noblemen of this kingdom? Or the princes close by?’

  ‘My father was very protective of me,’ she said, quietly, a slight shadow darkening her face and her eyes glancing away. She must have loved him very much, the prince thought. ‘Well, now I’ll protect you,’ he said. ‘My huntsman will find the traitor and all will be well.’

  ‘And we’ll live happily ever after,’ Beauty murmured again, her smile returning. They kissed once more and the music played on. Around them, aware that the young couple had eyes for none but each other, the ministers and their wives quietly slipped away. They were no longer young and neither was the night, and despite having spent a century sleeping their bodies were tired and their feet ached and they wanted to let their smiles drop.

  A few paused at the door and glanced back with a mixture of nerves and heart-ache. She was so very beautiful, and so very sweet. And then they shuddered slightly, unable to stop themselves, before heading to their rooms in the castle.

  It was a cool spring night, but Petra didn’t care. The castle, exquisite as so much of it was, felt claustrophobic, and she couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling that had plagued her since Beauty had woken. The prince was blind to it – blind to everything but his sudden love – and even that she found strange. She knew men could be fools where women were concerned, and although the prince was too spoiled and arrogant for her to find him attractive he hadn’t struck her as stupid. Her great-grandmother had passed down many tales of handsome princes – stories that were no doubt just flights of fancy – but they had ingrained in her the truth that royals were invariably only true to themselves. This one was suddenly a changed man, if that were the case.

  The forest wall was still thick around them. The garish ballroom she’d found while the city slept was now firmly locked. Things were not well in this kingdom. She leaned on the smooth white marble of the balcony and tilted her head back. Above, the moon was full and heavy in the sky, shining its cool light over the darkness of the city below. Music drifted up from the ballroom as the party endlessly continued and she frowned as she tried to listen beyond it. It was an irritating distraction from the sound her ears sought. The counterpart to her soulful duet that had drawn her here even before the prince and the huntsman had arrived in her life. She didn’t care about castles and sleeping beauties. She didn’t even care about curses. These things were best left to run their course. It was the haunting song which had found her through the thick forest wall that held her here.

  There it was. She almost gasped as she heard it; a faint low howl. It sang to her, so full of melancholy and yet so strong. Her heart fluttered. Her skin tingled. She stared out into the night. ‘Where are you?’ she whispered. ‘What are you?’ The howl came again. Animal and human rolled into one. Without a thought to anyone who might hear her, she tilted her head back and answered the call. The creature, wherever it was, let its voice join hers, and she was sure she could hear her own excitement in the sound as their cries mingled in the night. Her feet yearned to run dow
n the stairs and out into the strange city night. The huntsman could find this Rumplestiltskin. She would be on a different search.

  The sheets were a tangled mess around their legs and the serving girl, whose name it turned out was Nell, lay on her side next to the huntsman, her hair tumbling over one shoulder. She took a sip of wine and then handed him the glass. ‘You must be thirsty.’

  He laughed a little and drank, enjoying the sweat cooling on his body and then leaned forward and kissed her. She had an earthy beauty and a full voluptuous body that might one day swell into fat but for now was young and firm. She smiled and then settled down against his chest, both of them content in the enjoyment they’d taken from each other. They hadn’t done much talking, their needs too urgent, but now they were sated they shared that comfortable space that only exists between two strangers who’d just had good enough sex to be at ease in each other’s company. Their bubble of intimacy and affection might not last, but it would at least remain as long as their nudity did.

  ‘How long have you worked at the castle?’ the huntsman asked, his fingers trailing through her hair and running down the soft skin of her back. She had been no virgin, her forward behaviour had made that clear before anything she’d done, but she was young – no more than seventeen or eighteen – and a bright enthusiasm shone in her eyes.

  ‘Only two weeks.’ Her warm breath tickled the hairs on his chest. ‘I used to work at the dairy out on the edge of the city. Been there since I was twelve, when my parents were taken by the flu.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the huntsman said.

  ‘Don’t be. It was years ago and the women at the dairy were good to me. I can’t complain. Lots of girls there had no families for one reason or another. I wasn’t alone in that and it was a good place. The work wasn’t too hard once you knew what you were doing, and they weren’t too strict.’ She giggled a little and then glanced up at him, her eyes full of remembered mischief. ‘I used to sleep in a dorm with six other milkmaids. Some nights there were as many men in our room as maids. Some times more.’

  ‘I thought you’d learned a few tricks from somewhere.’ The huntsman pulled her closer, enjoying her uncomplicated warmth. Her past sexual encounters didn’t bother him – and wouldn’t have even if he had loved her. He had no time for bedroom double standards. It didn’t fit with his internal logic and just struck him as stupidity. They were all just animals, after all, and why should a woman deny herself pleasure simply because an insecure man might think less of her? If no women gave in to their lusts then his own life would have been much duller – women were by far the more sensuous sex but most men didn’t know how to keep those feelings alive in them. Most men made them feel ashamed of their desires rather than delighting in them and then wondered why everything died and dried up between them. It would not be like that for him, should he ever find the girl in his dreams.

  ‘From the dairy to the castle seems a big leap for an orphan girl,’ he said. He was probing her but he couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d got here his hackles had been up and soon he would have to go and hunt a traitor – a job he didn’t relish if he was working in a situation where he felt blinkered. He was no soldier who could simply obey orders. ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘A few of the dairy girls have come to the castle over the years,’ she said. ‘The first minister visited and he chose me himself. So I packed up my things and here I am. I sometimes miss the dairy though. Even though life is easier, everything’s so much stricter here.’

  ‘You still seem to manage to find your fun, it seems,’ he said.

  ‘Well when a handsome stranger comes visiting I have to make the most of it.’

  ‘So life in the kingdom is good then?’ he asked, sipping wine thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘There are so many soldiers everywhere. The castle is so heavily guarded. I thought you must have recently been attacked by another kingdom. They’re always fighting, after all.’ He paused. ‘When we arrived and you were all sleeping, I saw the dungeons. Some of the equipment in there is . . .’ It was hard to find an appropriate word for it. He hunted and killed as a way of life, but he made every death as swift and as painless as possible. The things he’d seen here were designed, as far as he could make out, to cause the maximum agony while keeping someone alive. It was the dungeon of a tyrant king, not of a beautiful, happy queen. ‘Barbaric,’ he said in the end.

  ‘I wouldn’t know about that.’ She tensed slightly in his arms. ‘And there’s been no fighting. I think there are so many soldiers because of the dark days. We haven’t had one for a month or so. There must be one due.’

  ‘Dark days?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re not meant to speak of them. No one is. It might upset the queen and no one wants that. She’s such a gentle soul.’ She sat up, crossing her legs and wrapping the sheet around her for warmth now that their sweat had cooled and heat faded. She took the wine glass from him and sipped. He didn’t press her with another question but waited as she drank.

  ‘They say that the queen was one of twins, but her sister was born mad and cruel, and lives locked up in apartments high in the castle. She’s been there ever since her father locked her away for the safety of all. Sometimes at the queen’s insistence, because she is fair and good and kind and loves her sister despite her wickedness, they change places. The queen locks herself in the apartments and her sister takes control of the castle. A bell rings out over the city and we are all to lock ourselves away until it’s over.’

  ‘And what does this other queen do during her time free?’ The huntsman was troubled and intrigued in equal measure.

  ‘No one really knows. There are always huge thunderstorms overhead that turn the roads to rivers. They say the other sister has her mother’s magic. Sometimes there are parties at the castle.’ Her face was animated but not without fear. ‘I’ve heard carriages pass through the streets on those nights. But soon enough the sky clears and the bell sounds again and life carries on as normal.’

  ‘How often do these days happen?’ he asked.

  ‘It depends. Although I’m sure they happen more often than they used to.’ Nell shrugged. ‘Like I said, we don’t talk about them. No one would want the queen to know, and she’s so kind to everyone. Perhaps there are so many soldiers because the ministers worry that someone might try and hurt her sister?’

  It was the same thought the huntsman had. Nell was earthy but she wasn’t stupid. A voice cut across the room.

  ‘Well, my dear, now that you’ve given our visitor a potted history of our city’s ridiculous rumours, perhaps you could get back to work?’

  The huntsman had reached across the bed for his hunting knife before he realised that the speaker was the first minister. He stood in the corner of the room, his mouth tight with disdain. How long had he been there? It wasn’t like the huntsman not to sense a stranger nearby. Maybe they hadn’t closed the door to his room properly as they’d tumbled inside.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Nell leapt from the bed, her head down, the sheet wrapped round her as she dropped into a clumsy curtsey.

  ‘She didn’t do anything wrong,’ the huntsman said, still lounging on the bed, forcing his body to relax so as not to give the statesman any clue how much his sudden interruption without knocking had irritated him. ‘I didn’t really give her any choice.’

  The first minister looked at Nell who, having gathered her clothes, was shuffling to the bathroom door in order to dress with some modicum of modesty. ‘Yes. I’m sure,’ he said, his tone heavy with irony. ‘She looked entirely coerced when I came in.’

  ‘I have very strong powers of persuasion.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’ The minister drew himself up tall. ‘I hope your hunting skills are as impressive. It’s time for you to go and find Rumplestiltskin. Remember, I need him alive.’ He paused. ‘And remember that your prince is still in the castle.’

  The huntsman got up and stretched, enjoying the minister’s discomfor
t at being presented with his nudity, before reaching for his trousers. ‘Was that a threat?’ he asked. ‘When he is so beloved of the queen?’

  A sneer crossed the minister’s lips. ‘Her safety is more important than her happiness. Sweet she might be, but I know her better than she knows herself.’

  ‘But it’s still a threat.’ The huntsman smiled, his eyes twinkling. He had no time for anything other than plain speaking. The first minister shrugged. ‘I prefer to think of it as a reminder of the balance of our relationship.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the huntsman said, pulling his rough shirt over his head. ‘I’ll do my best.’ He tucked his knife into the sheath on his belt and picked up his bag. He wasn’t leaving the diamond shoes behind: there was no one here he trusted not to go through his things, not even the prince. He headed towards the door, deliberately brushing past the older man’s slight frame. Not enough to nudge him, but just enough to let him know he wasn’t intimidated by him. The huntsman might not have been educated in castle politics but he understood that power play amongst men worked in many different ways, and being the stronger of two was a primal strength.

  ‘One more thing,’ the first minister called after him. ‘The soldiers.’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Don’t assume they are friendly.’

  The huntsman frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I can’t guarantee they are all loyal to the queen.’ The minister steepled his fingers together under his chin. ‘Let’s just say that there may be some amongst my number who are my enemies. The soldiers are ordered to deliver the traitor to the whole council. There are some there who would use him to try and discredit me. That would not be good for the safety of our queen.’ His eyes darkened. ‘Or, by extension, of your young prince. I think we can both agree that the boy is too blinded by love to see anything other than wonder in the world at the moment.’