The Beast Queen

by Felicity Partington

  “He’ll freeze,” she exclaimed suddenly, “it’s gotten so dark he’ll never find his way home. And the gates, are they still locked?”

  “The gates were never locked, and there is a cottage a little way down the mountain, he knows of it, he stayed there last time he visited, I have made sure the fires are lit there.” He answered simply, before moving further into the castle. “Come.” He ordered. It took an enormous amount of willpower to make her feet move to follow him, but she did. The floor was hard and cold, smoother than stone, her thin, sodden shoes were silent as she walked.

  The Beast had never locked them in, he had tricked them, to test how determinedly they would try to leave. If she had not insisted they come to the castle, then they would be on their way home now. Or would her father have taken her to the cottage, the one that would have stopped them freezing to death and made her brave plight to the castle irrelevant entirely?

  She followed him up the stairs, he was lighting torches as they went, but it wasn’t doing very much to diminish the shadows. A few corridors later and she was lost, when he opened a door and moved into a room, she was surprised at the warmth which came from it. He didn’t come out, so she tentatively stepped inside. It was a bedroom, there was a fire burning, and the room was deliciously warm, the curtains drawn against the freezing night. Her body instinctively relaxed as the heat kissed her skin. Her eyes fell upon the enormous bed, it was bigger than any she had ever seen before and covered in sumptuously thick looking blankets.

  “This is your room.” He growled quietly, tossing the log into the fire and turning to see her still looking around.

  “My room?” She repeated, confusion pulling her brows together.

  “Yes. You’ll need to warm up and sleep to be of any use tomorrow.” He made to sweep past her, she stepped aside in reflex.

  “You must get awfully lonely here, this big castle…” Isabelle suggested coquettishly. Yes, he was a monster, but her survival instinct ran deep, and she could have sworn he was flirting with her outside in the snow. He seemed flatter now, less interested now they were without an audience. Still, there was very little she wouldn’t do to stay alive. He didn’t reply.

  “Aren’t you going to eat me?” The words came out of her mouth of their own accord.

  The Beast stopped mid-lope, his massive head level with hers. A look of evident surprise appeared on his terrifying visage before it morphed into disgust, then anger.

  “No. I don’t generally go to all of this trouble for supper. Besides,” the beasts eyes raked up and down her body, “you’d make a poor meal.” The offence she took to the statement was slightly more than was warranted. Nobody had ever appraised her and found her wanting before, inadequacy was a new feeling, and it was singularly unwelcome.

  “So why am I even here?” She snapped, the events of the night finally getting the better of her, already trying to figure out a way to quietly murder her captor.

  “It is a big castle. And it doesn’t clean itself.” He said eventually, obviously weighing his words.

  “I am to be your maid?” She recoiled indignantly.

  “Don’t be absurd,” he shook his head, continuing towards the door, “maids are paid. Now I suggest you sleep; you’ll have to be up early to make any headway.” He snuffed out a torch with a paw, then swept out with more agility than she could have credited him with. He pulled the door closed behind him with a thud, and as if to prove his point a small puff of dust danced in the air, disturbed by his exit.

  Isabelle wrapped her arms around herself and stared after him, alone.

  Chapter Five

  Isabelle hadn’t intended to fall asleep, in fact, there was one point where she thought she would never be able to sleep again. Yet the room was warm, and the bed was soft. Slowly, exhaustion drew her fear back, and self-preservation gave way to the inexorable pull of sleep. When she stirred, the fire was long dead, and there was sunlight creeping in from behind the curtains. Stretching beneath the thick blankets, she took the quilt with her, wrapped it around herself, then walked to the window. Isabelle tried to focus on the moment and ignore her bleak future, as well as the raw betrayal of her past. All that existed right then was her present, this room. Pulling the lined velvet curtains open was difficult with one hand, they were cumbersome. But since she wasn’t willing to forgo the blanket, even for a second, she struggled until they were drawn. Outside she couldn’t see much, an icy landscape from the dizzying height of her window. It was mostly just trees and mountains, all covered in a thick layer of snow. At least the sun was shining brightly, it filled the room with daylight, allowing her to see it clearly for the first time.

  It was beautiful.

  The bed, carved intricately from dark wood, was embellished with intricate and exquisite patterns. The rest of the room’s furniture matched the imposing sleigh bed, the carpet was a deep purple and, curious, she slipped her foot from her shoe and let her toes touch the material. It was lusciously thick and threatened to swallow her entire foot.

  This was not the room of a servant.

  But then she supposed, if she was the only other person in the castle, there were probably an endless amount of rooms identical to this which weren’t being used. It was a sobering thought. She was entirely alone, in the middle of nowhere, with nobody but a monster for company.

  Her stomach growled insistently, and she realised she couldn’t stay hiding in her room. Of all the feelings to creep up on her now, of course, it was hunger that stirred her into action. She needed to eat, especially if the beast expected her to clean the entire castle. It seemed a terribly daunting task, even just cleaning this room would take her an hour. It was too much. But who was there to complain to?

  Had her servitude been part of her father’s bargain? The stab of pain to her heart was better buried, and she ruthlessly cut off that train of thought.

  Putting her shoe back on and dropping the quilt reluctantly onto the bed, she opened the wardrobe to see if there was anything to wear instead of the creased dress she had slept in. Her jaw dropped. Inside was an outstanding amount of clothes. Gowns, skirts, bodices, shawls, furs. She pulled out a dress and turned it over in her hands. It was brand new, and it would fit her, she could tell immediately. Her thumb brushed over a silver pearl sewn into the bodice; it was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen before. Had the beast outfitted the entire room specifically for her?

  Isabelle felt ever sicker. All of this, the room, the clothes? Just how stupid did her father think her? ‘Buy her some clothes, she’ll be fine.’ Isabelle determined to remain in her own clothes, they might be dirty and creased, but at least they were hers.

  They were possibly the last things that ever would be. Isabelle swayed with the enormity of the mess she was in. Closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath, she tried to think of ways that it could be worse.

  The Beast could have killed her, but at least then her ordeal would be over. How long could she survive here alone? A year? Ten? Isabelle shook her head, any hunger she might have felt was quickly fading away and she walked back over to the bed and wrapped herself up.

  What was the point?

  Maybe she could just stay here and starve to death.

  That would show the uncaring world.

  ∞

  When she eventually did leave the room, she took her time walking around, trying to pinpoint things which she might be able to use to find her way back. Isabelle felt like she was trespassing. As though at any moment the beast might appear and scold her. For a moment, she wondered whether she should leave a trail so that she might find her way back. But of what? She had no breadcrumbs; clothes perhaps? It wasn’t like there was anybody around to see her naked. Logically she figured she would run out of clothes before she even reached the end of the corridor. The light filtered down through high windows, and she could see the courtyard from here. It was empty. A part of her she hadn’t known existed was horrified that her father had genuinely left.

&nbs
p; Seeing the main doors gave her location some bearing at least. The snow must have been falling all night, for there were no footprints in the courtyard, no evidence of their struggle. It was as pristine as when they’d first arrived as if her father had never stepped foot here.

  For the first time since the beast had shepherded her inside, tears threatened. Isabelle tried to think about something else, ashamed of herself. Crying would do her no good, there was nobody here to feel sorry for her. Isabelle needed to think practically, she had to find the kitchen.

  This corridor alone had countless doors. Isabelle didn’t believe that they could all be bedrooms, but she didn’t dare look inside any to find out.

  When she found the main hall, she could see from the balcony that upstairs there were at least another four corridors leading off in other directions. The great hall looked beautiful in the daytime. The domed roof had an exquisite mural, punctuated with stained glass which let the sunlight through and created beautiful patterns over the stairs and onto the parquet below.

  The sweeping staircase practically engulfed the room, spiralling the edges to the second floor. Isabelle didn’t remember it seeming so high last night. But then, she had been somewhat distracted. Making her way downstairs, she risked a glance at the massive double doors, only now noticing the window above them, which let in a line of snow-muffled light on the floor of the corridor. The small room with the broken window was closed, locked against the outside world. It seemed silly, who on Earth would break into this cursed castle?

  Or was it locked because she might break out?

  The sickness returned along with a gnawing claustrophobia, silly as that seemed in such a vast castle.

  Swallowing thickly, she walked towards the main doors and tried the handle, it turned smoothly and opened. A flurry of frigid air swept in, and she shivered. The beast couldn’t be too concerned with her absconding then. Closing the door, Isabelle ruminated over her confusion. If she could just leave at any time, then why did he go to such elaborate measures to get her here in the first place, and why was the other door locked?

  “Are you lost?” The unexpected voice made her jump, and she spun around on her heels. The speaker was a squat, larger woman, she wore a blue dress and a pinafore. Isabelle’s eyes widened. There were other people here?

  People.

  There were people.

  Isabelle’s mood lifted immediately.

  “I’m Isabelle.” She offered, much to the other woman’s mirth.

  “Oh, I know that, dear. That wasn’t my question.”

  “I,” she peeked sheepishly back to the door, “I was seeing if it was open. Why is that one locked?”

  “There’s glass everywhere, we don’t want anybody getting hurt before we can tidy it away.”

  “Oh.” That made sense. “Who are you?”

  “Me? I’m Charlotte.” She rubbed her hand clean on her apron and offered it to Isabelle, who took it somewhat dumbfoundedly, “head housekeeper here at the castle.”

  “I thought I was the only one here. Are you a prisoner too?” Isabelle began eagerly. The older woman laughed again, Isabelle’s face darkened into a frown, she felt foolish, and she didn’t like it.

  “A prisoner? Me? Goodness no, I work here.” Her voice was filled with laughter. She was raking her eyes up and down Isabelle’s form eagerly, no doubt judging her for the state of her dress. Isabelle straightened proudly.

  “I was just looking for the kitchen.”

  “Well, you won’t find it out there.” She inclined her head towards the mammoth doors. “You’re hungry no doubt. Well I’m afraid you’re too late. You’ve missed breakfast, and lunch won’t be for a few hours yet. But if you follow me, I’ll get you an apron and some rags, and we’ll get you started on your chores. How does that sound?”

  Isabelle hesitated; it didn’t sound very appealing at all.

  “Where is the beast?” Isabelle glanced around, interestingly Charlotte flinched at the name.

  “You mean the Master.” The older woman corrected. Isabelle’s lips curled in amusement. So that’s what he meant last night.

  “You know who I mean, and he’s not my master.”

  “You’d do well to leave him be, he doesn’t deal with disappointment well,” Charlotte warned. Isabelle bristled.

  “And what exactly does he have to be disappointed by?” She arched an eyebrow. Charlotte’s lips pursed but she didn’t speak. “So if you’re a servant and I’m a prisoner, then it’s your job to bring me food? You’re not really going to let me starve because of some breach of mealtime-etiquette that I wasn’t even aware of? After locking me here, far from home?” Isabelle aimed for sympathy, but Charlotte remained unmoved, watching her with a wary silence. “Ok then. Hardly the uncrackable puzzle. A big castle like this, if I was a big beast where would I be?” She meandered into the centre of the great hall and looked up, surveying the upward layers.

  “Isabelle,” Charlotte spoke firmly.

  “I’d be right at the top. I mean, you do call him master, perhaps I’ll go and personally report your mistreatment of his prisoner. I mean, I doubt he’d want me to starve.” Isabelle exploited the other woman’s obvious discomfort at the idea of her seeking out the beast. She started up the steps. Charlotte reached out to stop her, but Isabelle had already paused, victorious. They stared at each other for a second.

  “Fine. I can show you where the kitchens are, you can prepare yourself something small.”

  “I think I’d rather you do it.”

  “I don’t-“ Isabelle feigned disinterest and ascended another couple of steps after a nonchalant shrug. “Fine. I’ll make you something. But this won’t become a habit, so don’t get used to it.”

  “Brilliant,” Isabelle beamed brightly. “I’ll take it in the dining room, I assume there’s a dining room.”

  “Third door off the left corridor,” Charlotte muttered meekly.

  “I do hope there’s wine.” Isabelle brandished, walking off cheerfully planning to see exactly how many people there were in this castle for her to play with.

  Chapter Six

  There were somehow both more and less people in the castle than Isabelle anticipated. For the size of the place, you could go for a while without seeing anybody. But for her to not have noticed anybody yesterday, there seemed so many. All of them appeared frightfully curious to see her, but none wanted to talk. Her meal was a dismal affair, some bread, broth and no wine to speak of, but she’d been so hungry she’d finished it all. Charlotte seemed like an old wet hen, about as confrontational as a flannel, Isabelle was sure she would be malleable enough.

  So far she’d seen a gaggle of stable-boys when she poked her head outside, they’d all whispered, looked at her and fled off in the other direction. She’d tried to gossip with a couple of maids while they were cleaning out a fireplace, but they’d been silent the whole time, sharing excited glances and giggles as Isabelle tried to entice them into conversation.

  There was a gentleman in a tweed suit pottering around in an office, he had a dark handlebar moustache, beady eyes with glasses that were too small for his face perched on the edge of his nose, and he sniffed before he started sentences. He nodded at her gruffly but otherwise ignored her, he seemed busy, filling paperwork and handing off letters to the girls who ran to him whenever he rang a little bell. Isabelle hung around in an alcove outside his office for a little while, watching him through the open door. He’d barely said two sentences to her which was very disappointing for a man who looked like he was very much in charge around here.

  “I’m sorry we’ve not got you any uniform, there simply wasn’t time, we will arrange something.” Had been the first, as he’d sniffed over the state of her apparel. It was obviously a lie, though why she didn’t know because they’d had plenty of time to fill her wardrobe with intricate hand-stitched dresses tailer made to her measurements. The other sentence was, “can you kindly not sit on my desk, it’s ancient and the wood doesn’t need t
o be polished by your posterior.” Isabelle wasn’t used to men simply dismissing her out of hand, she was almost sure she could put one of his coveted letters betwixt her teeth, remove her clothes and crawl on all fours towards him and he’d not look up. Bored, she’d moved on.

  “Your hair is very pretty.” She’d complimented one of the maids desperately, pulling one of the dark curls and watching as it sprung back into place. It had barely distracted her from her dusting.

  Nobody was interested. What was she supposed to do in a castle where nobody would flirt with her or give her attention?

  Isabelle was shuffling around genuinely considering going to find the giant lumbering creature when she saw a girl struggling with a bucket. She wasn’t so removed from humanity that she couldn’t be helpful, it seemed it might be the only way to engage any of them. Rushing over to grab the bucket before the entire pale of soapy water ended up over the floor, she simultaneously introduced herself.

  “Hi, I’m Isabelle.” The girl's eyes widened, but Isabelle already had a hand firmly around the bucket handle.

  “Hi.” The blonde smiled, “you don’t have to-”

  “Oh, it’s not a problem.” Isabelle insisted. “I’m stronger than I look. Where are we taking this?”

  “To the lounge, it’s for cleaning the windows.”

  “Okay,” Isabelle turned to glance behind her, “Which way is the…” she trailed off when it became apparent that the maid had fled. “I guess I will find it myself.”

  As it happened, the lounge found her, or rather the window-cleaner did. A young man was loitering in the corridor.

  “Is that for me?” He asked, hurrying over to take the bucket off her. Isabelle’s mood lightened immediately. Finally, a man who was willing to fall over himself to make her life more comfortable. He took the pail effortlessly and vanished through the open doorway.