My stomach rumbled, my body overruling my fear with other needs. For the first time, I noticed a small table tucked next to the fireplace and laden with a tray of food. I looked around the room again, but I was still alone. The bowl looked as if it held some sort of stew, the aroma rising from it enticing enough to make my mouth water. Sinking into a well-placed chair, I devoured the fresh, hot food, calculating the hours since I had anything other than travel fare. Already the long, boring voyage seemed impossibly distant.
When I had finished, I knew it must still be early, but I had no desire to step foot outside my room. Instead I explored the inside, examining the large desk and peering into the wardrobe. As I pulled the ornate walnut doors open, I stumbled back, gasping. A row of dresses hung inside, several of them recognizable as gowns from my saddlebags. Rushing through the room, I pulled open all the drawers I could find as well as the large chest at the foot of the bed. I had soon located the entire contents of my bags, carefully distributed around the room.
Shame filled me. In my fear, I had completely forgotten about my saddlebags and, more importantly, Chestnut. I had left her shivering in the cold while I filled my belly and warmed myself.
I looked around the room again. I had still seen no physical sign of a servant, but someone had clearly retrieved my bags and unpacked them. Surely the same person would have cared for my horse. It seemed a certainty. Surely…
I regarded the drawers in front of the door doubtfully. Should I go and check on Chestnut? I couldn’t remember the way through the castle, but perhaps the candles would show me the way again.
I imagined myself stumbling through the dark, stone corridors, straining to hear the soft footfall of the Beast around each corner. When I shook myself from the vision, I found my hands had already stripped off my dress and pulled my nightgown from a drawer. I flung it over my head and dived beneath the covers of the bed, blowing out the candles as I went and leaving only the soft glow of the fire to light the room.
I buried my face in my pillow and wept. I could only hope my mysterious helper had indeed cared for Chestnut, and that the poor animal wouldn’t have to pay the price for my cowardice. Because I had come so far but now, at the end, my courage had failed me. Lily would have been braver. The thought of my sister only increased the flow of my tears.
Chapter 4
I must have fallen into an exhausted slumber, because when I awoke, the fire had died and daylight shone through the windows. I reached out instinctively to Lily in my mind, and the emptiness hit me like a physical blow. Curling in on myself, I fought back a fresh wave of tears. I had always known coming here wouldn’t be easy, but I had thought I would have Lily in my mind to give me strength. How would I survive alone in this strange place?
I let my mind dwell on Marin for a moment. Had they found Cole, or were they still busy turning the city inside out? What was Lily making of our sudden disconnection? I knew she would be sick with worry and hoped Jon had prevented her from rashly rushing after me. I thought of her galloping toward Palinar, and the howls of the wolves sounded loudly in my mind. I shivered.
Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I sat up. No good would come from moping and dreaming and crying, I needed a plan. Lily and I had never truly understood our unusual gift; it had always simply worked. Until now—suddenly—it didn't.
I sighed. If only we had spent more time experimenting and trying to understand our connection. More information might have helped me in this situation. But, even without it, I was determined to discover what was blocking our connection and find a way around it.
I looked around at the lush bedchamber. Since my questing projections continued to run up against an invisible wall, I didn't think I would find any answers in my room. Which meant I needed to get up and explore my surroundings. The roar of my fiancé from the night before echoed through my mind, as ominous as the howling of wolves.
I took another deep breath and realized I'd twisted two strands of hair so tightly around my finger I was threatening the blood flow. I forced myself to relax and slip out of bed. Instead of the expected cold stone, my feet landed on a soft rug, sinking into the thick piles. I wiggled my toes, enjoying the luxury after my previous nights in the carriage. I needed to focus on the positives, or I would lose every last shred of my bravery.
I examined the room again in daylight. The curtains were flung wide since I hadn't stopped to close them before diving into bed. I walked over to the windows to peer out. From the view, I guessed my room to be on the third floor and vaguely remembered fleeing up stairs the night before. The room had an incredible vista looking out over extensive gardens.
They had clearly been carefully sculpted and appeared well cared for, although I could see no sign of any gardeners at work. No footsteps showed up in the glistening carpet of snow, either. My eyes stung from the brightness of the white, so incongruous against the green leaves and vivid petals. I couldn’t imagine wandering through such a strange landscape.
A small glimpse of a stone building off to one side looked like stables. My shame from the night before flooded me again, and I immediately decided to make the building my first goal.
My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten yet, but I resolutely ignored it. I had failed in my responsibility to my mount the night before: I wouldn't fail again.
Pushing aside the chest of drawers, I stepped out into the stone corridor and looked up and down, hoping to see something familiar. But both directions looked the same, an expanse of cold gray, broken by regular sconces. The stable-like building had been to my right when I stood at the window, so I turned left, heading in that direction. I would look for stairs to take me down and then any door to the outside I could find.
As I walked, I pretended to myself that I felt calm and confident—the new mistress of the castle, exploring my domain. But my ears strained for the sound of footfalls behind me, and my eyes flickered toward every shadow, looking for a looming shape.
I saw nothing, but soft noises reached my ears. I twitched and looked behind me, but the passageway remained empty. I walked on, descending a set of stairs that took me all the way to ground level. Again, I heard the sound, like a faint rustling or whispering, and spun around. Still nothing.
I picked up my pace, looking for any promising door, anxious to be free from the stifling walls that hedged me in. The sound, like a breeze through leaves, sounded again, and I broke into a run resolutely keeping my eyes ahead.
A door appeared, and I rushed to it, hoping to find it unlocked. A desperate surge of disappointment washed over me as the door resisted me, and then it seemed to fling itself open, almost tumbling me into the snow outside.
I staggered and regained my balance, striding quickly into the garden. The cold air hit me just as the first sensation of damp penetrated my thin slippers. I should have taken the time to dress in boots and a jacket. I glanced back at the door to find it had mysteriously closed behind me.
I wrapped my arms around myself and hurried on, unwilling to backtrack and unsure I could even find my way back to my room. As I got closer, it became obvious that the building I had seen was indeed a stable. The familiar smell of horses overwhelmed the exotic aroma of the unnatural flowers, and I heard a nicker emanating from inside.
My heart surged with hope. If the castle had horses, it must have someone to tend them. And surely whoever was responsible for that task would have cared for Chestnut after I abandoned her. I moved quickly, almost running into the warm aisle between the rows of stalls.
A couple of horses nickered a welcome, while another one snorted loudly, stomping one hoof. My gaze flickered over them, traveling down the row until I found a familiar head hanging over a stall door. I ran over and flung my arms around Chestnut’s neck. We had made it this far together, and I still hated how close I had come to failing her.
She huffed a soft greeting and began nosing at my dress, clearly hoping for a treat of some kind. I laughed shakily and stepped back, apologizing for coming
empty handed. Her coat had felt smooth and soft. Clearly, she had been groomed since our trek through the wilderness. I would need to offer my thanks to the stable master—if he ever made an appearance.
A soft sound behind me, like the shifting of weight, informed me that I had company. “Greetings,” I said as I started to turn, “I had begun to wonder…” My words fell away as my eyes absorbed my company.
Somehow Prince Dominic looked even more terrifying in the otherwise familiar setting of a stable, his unnatural features obvious in the daylight. I quelled a strong desire to flee back out into the gardens. The Beast towered over me: if he wanted to catch me, I couldn’t possibly escape him. Running would only make me look foolish.
He looked as frozen as me, obviously surprised to be disturbed. I followed his outstretched arm to where his hairy hand rested on the neck of a large jet-black stallion who eyed me warily. The stance surprised me; my mental image of him hadn’t included an affinity with animals. Perhaps it should have, though, since he seemed part animal himself.
The large horse looked aggressive, and I had to admit that I would be nervous to mount him. And yet I didn’t doubt that Prince Dominic could easily control him. Something about the quiet moment between them suggested both power and something softer. For an unthinking moment, I thought that I would like to join him on a ride, to see him galloping across a field on the black horse.
And then my eyes focused on the strange shape of his mouth and the way his shoulders bulged unnaturally under his jacket, his misshapen body a constant reminder of his curse. I remembered who he was and everything I had already suffered at his instigation. My anger flared, but a decent night’s sleep and the reassurance of daylight helped me to repress the fear. Like it or not, I was stuck here, at least for now. I needed to find a way to make this work.
I tried to think of something I could say that would balance my true feelings with some attempt at conciliation. “Your stable is well kept and the horses beautiful. Do you come here often?”
He stared at me, the intensity of his blue eyes seeming to communicate a message, if only I knew how to interpret it. He raised his free hand, as if in greeting, and for a moment I thought he was finally going to speak. But instead he gave a long growl, his lower jaw thrusting forward to reveal his sharp fangs.
I recoiled slightly, a burst of energy urging me to be afraid—to run while I still could. But the instinctive response was quickly overwhelmed by an invigorating anger. Since the moment I had stepped foot in these lands, I had been swept up in a series of unpleasant experiences engineered by this prince to force me to come here. And yet he treated me like an unwelcome intruder.
I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “Do you truly have nothing to say to me? Are we not betrothed, Beast?” I hoped the title would provoke him into speech, but he merely glared back at me.
Our standoff stretched out, as we stared at each other, neither moving. After a long moment, the stallion neighed and tossed his head, disrupting the Beast’s hand. The prince shook his shaggy head and transferred his grim gaze to the animal. The stallion ignored him, and the Beast turned and strode from the building.
I sagged a little and took a deep breath. I hadn’t made any headway with my new betrothed, but at least I had conquered my own fear. And Chestnut seemed happy and well cared for. Which left me free to begin my explorations.
As I walked back toward the castle, I looked around, sure I would now see tracks in the snow. Sure enough, a set of large indents led from the stable around the main building and disappeared off toward the front entrance. They clearly belonged to the Beast, a name which fit my betrothed much better than Dominic.
No other prints appeared, however—as if the Beast and I were alone in this well-kept place. I frowned. Something was even more wrong with this kingdom than I had imagined. While I tried to find a way around the block preventing me from projecting to Lily, I wouldn’t forget my original goal. I needed to find out what had happened here, and how to reverse it. And, hopefully, while doing that, I would find a way to break my engagement. The sooner I could leave the Beast behind forever, the better. I certainly had no intention of ever letting him touch me. I shuddered at the thought of being that close to him.
I followed the footprints, confident the Beast would be long gone to whatever lair he usually frequented. For the second time, I trod the shallow stairs and paused in front of the huge doors. The castle lacked the cultivated feeling of the magical garden. Instead it felt dark and ominous, even in the bright morning light. I felt sure that every crevice in this cavernous place must be full of dust.
The doors didn’t swing open for me this time, and I pushed at the small door cut into one of the bigger ones. It swung open reluctantly, and I sighed before entering the entrance hall. The garden still made me nervous, but I found it less repugnant than I had expected. The open air turned out to be preferable to the gloomy castle.
Inside, I faced a broad staircase that rose upwards before splitting into two. I had already decided to follow the stairs as high as they would take me. It seemed too simple to hope that height would allow me to bypass the mysterious wall blocking my projections, but I had to try everything. Just in case.
As I stepped forward my stomach twisted, reminding me that I still hadn’t eaten. As if on cue, a door in the far corner of the entrance hall swung wide, allowing me a glimpse of a long, dark dining table. My feet turned toward it, following the instructions of my stomach over my mind.
Sunlight streamed through a row of tall windows that faced onto yet more gardens to the rear of the castle. The oversized room contained the longest table I had ever seen. It looked particularly out of place in this empty land, and the food that had been laid out at one end looked small and lonely.
But when I approached the single seat that had been set for a meal, I realized the size of the table had been deceiving. There was actually enough food for a miniature feast, it was merely dwarfed by the expanse of empty wood. More food than I could possibly eat had been laid out in gleaming bowls and platters. I paused. Was this the Beast’s meal? Surely even he could not eat this much.
I peered around the room but could see no one. After a moment of deliberation, I sat. As much as I regretted it, this was my home now, and I had to eat. If the Beast disliked my actions, perhaps he would finally be roused to speak to me.
The food tasted so delicious it was hard to limit myself to only a small portion of each dish, but I wanted to try everything. I wished I could let Lily know that at the very least I had a warm bed and a full stomach. Loneliness crashed over me. I had never been without a built-in best friend before.
Several tears slid down my cheeks, and for the first time I felt grateful I was completely alone. At least there was no one to witness my grief. As I reached to wipe the moisture away, the rustle I had heard earlier in the corridor swept through the room. It sounded so much like whispering that I twisted, searching the room with my eyes. I was still alone.
I stood up abruptly, and my chair crashed backwards onto the floor. Feeling foolish, I picked it back up before hurrying from the room. I had eaten too much already, and I needed to find a way to communicate with my sister.
Chapter 5
I wandered through the castle for a long time before I managed to find the tallest tower. The invisible whispers followed me. At first, I got hopelessly lost, wandering through an endless maze of interconnected corridors and rooms. The castle had clearly been expensively and elegantly decorated at some point. But, unlike my room, the majority of it had fallen into dusty disrepair.
The contrast indicated that someone had clearly prepared for my arrival. I remembered the line of lights that had led me to my room. What sort of strange curse was this? Was the castle itself responsible for its own care? I shook my head at the fanciful thought. How could a magic building have fed and groomed my horse?
But the gloomy, shadowy castle, combined with the whispers all around me, fed the mad imaginings. Perhaps i
t had not been the curse that had warped the Beast’s mind; perhaps living here for so long alone had done it.
I shook my head. No. The Beast wasn’t mad—he had written coherent letters, after all—he was evil. He must be evil to have brought down such a curse upon himself. And I had seen the evidence myself in the cruelty of the events of the Princess Tourney. The Tourney he had called and that had, therefore, been magically shaped to fit him.
The darkness he had brought to these lands had nearly overtaken Marin—and all the other kingdoms still stood in danger. And yet here he sat, holed up in his strange castle, carelessly destroying the lives of innocent girls he had never even met.
If the castle was dark and terrifying, it had been he who had made it that way, and not the other way around.
What did the Beast do to curse himself and his kingdom? I wondered for the thousandth time. I shook off the thought. Filling my head with horrifying theories wouldn’t help me fix my projections or find the truth. I needed proof, and I had a whole castle in which to search for it.
After a while of aimless wandering, I remembered again that the lights had led me to my room. Perhaps a friendlier power dwelt here alongside the Beast. He had certainly shown no effort to see to my comfort.
“I’m looking for the tallest tower. Could you show me the way?” It felt foolish to speak the words aloud to the empty air, but it could hardly hurt.
I had no immediate response, and no candles sprang to life to lead me. But I soon noticed a strange phenomenon. When I moved toward the whispers rather than away from them, I seemed to find more open doors and staircases. I began to listen for them, and soon I found myself in an enclosed staircase that spiraled upwards.
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