I tried to calm my breathing which kept speeding up despite my best efforts. The whispers appeared to be friendly, but the sound created the inescapable impression that I was ascending upwards in tandem with an unseen group of people. I shivered. I needed this to work. The familiar sound of Lily in my mind would drive away the eeriness of this empty castle.
But it took only a moment to discover that height made no difference to the wall that blocked my thoughts. I threw them out anyway, again and again. At first, I did it out of frustration, but then I began trying to pinpoint the exact feeling of the obstruction. I had never experimented like this before, and it was unexpectedly interesting.
I had always assumed that we had a direct connection and placed our thoughts straight into each other’s minds. But it now seemed more complicated than that. Clearly our thoughts traveled to each other. I focused on the sensation of my thoughts flying out from my mind. I felt the way they stayed connected to me, but at the same time I couldn’t shake an underlying unease.
I sat on the floor of the top tower room, put my chin in my hands and chewed on a strand of hair. After extended thought, I decided the discomfort came from the sense of being unanchored. My thoughts had always stayed attached to me, yes, but usually they also attached immediately to someone else. My sister. A tether on the other end. I now felt loose, floating in the world without foundation.
The whispers swirled around me, reaching a crescendo. For a moment, I thought I could make out individual words, but meaning eluded me. I shivered, unnerved, but then reminded myself that the sounds had helped me find my way. They had been friendlier than my betrothed, in fact.
A chuckle escaped me. I hadn’t even been gone from Marin a week, and I was already counting disembodied, inaudible whispers as my only friends.
“Not that I’m not grateful,” I said aloud. “In fact, I’d greatly appreciate it if you could show me the way back to my room.”
A low murmur surrounded me and then moved toward the door. I clambered to my feet and followed the sound. Sure enough, it led me down several flights of stairs and through a series of corridors and delivered me to my room. I smiled as I opened the door—I might not have broken through to Lily, but I had learned a small something of the secrets of the castle. And a particularly helpful something, too, given the size of the building, and its confusing layout.
As soon as my eyes fell on my bed, the smile dropped from my lips. The bed had been made and my possessions tidied, but it was the piece of parchment resting against my pillow that filled my heart with dread. I walked slowly over and picked it up.
You will join me for the evening meal.
The note hadn’t been signed, but the handwriting was easily recognizable from his earlier missives. The curt command made me tremble with rage. At every turn, the Beast was determined to strip away my freedom. I immediately determined not to go.
Several hours later, as I once again paced up and down my room, I doubted my decision. I wished I could consult Lily. My stomach had started reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since the morning. And when I had hopefully asked the room if a meal might be forthcoming, nothing had happened except a brief swirl of whispered noise. The murmuring sounded more distressed than usual, but no assistance appeared.
I lay down on top of the covers and let my head sink into the pillows. My defiance had seemed entirely justified when I first read the note, but perhaps I had been too hasty. I needed to understand the curse and the Beast if I was to find a way around the betrothal. And what better source could there be than my betrothed himself?
As the last ray of sunset pierced my window, I scrambled off the bed and hurried over to the wardrobe. The doors flung themselves open before I could touch them and, for the first time, I smiled at the strange behavior of the castle. I hoped it meant I had been right—a second power existed here, and it wished to help me defeat the Beast.
A breeze rushed through the room and rustled one particular dress. I pulled it out and examined it, frowning. I could tell, even without trying it on, that the soft material would fall flatteringly, clinging to my torso and waist before swishing elegantly around my hips and out into a small train. But I felt no need to dress up for the part-monster who was essentially my captor, and the room’s desire for me to do so made me question my earlier assumption as to whose side it was on.
But as I reached to return it to the wardrobe, my hand stilled. The Beast insisted on treating me brusquely, as if I had no position or importance. If I wanted to remind him that I was a princess from a powerful kingdom, then I needed to look the part. Reluctantly I dressed and examined myself in the full-length mirror. Sure enough, knowing that I looked elegant and regal boosted my confidence.
My stomach rumbled, and I hurried from the room in a swirl of satisfied whisperings. As I followed the sounds back to the entrance hall, I told myself that my decision most definitely had nothing whatsoever to do with my hunger, or the delicious food I had been served in the dining hall that morning.
My steps slowed as I reached the open door, the glow of flames pouring out into the entrance hall. I took a deep breath and stepped through, half noting the blazing fire in the huge fireplace as my eyes locked onto the hulking form occupying the seat at the head of the table.
His shaggy head came up at my entrance, and he pushed back his chair, standing silently. For a brief moment, our eyes met, and his piercing blue gaze froze me in place. How could such a monster possess such eyes?
He seemed caught off guard by my appearance, a response at odds with his command that I attend the meal. Then I stepped forward and the unsettling moment was broken.
I had to remind myself to be glad when I saw that my spot had been set at the Beast’s right hand rather than the distant foot of the table. I had told myself I wished for a chance to speak with him, but in truth I had hoped to have the long table between us.
I took my place, and the chair pushed itself in behind me. I noted, distantly, that the moving furniture didn’t even surprise me. I was growing accustomed to the oddities of this castle. The scrape of a knife drew my eyes upwards, and I had to suppress a gasp at the sight of the Beast’s gleaming fangs, jutting from his human mouth. Apparently, I had yet to grow accustomed to my betrothed.
I quickly looked down again, hoping he hadn’t noticed my moment of intimidation. A childish part of me wanted to return his earlier rudeness with silence of my own, but the larger part anticipated our first conversation with reluctant interest. I had spent so much time imagining the motivations and mindset of this man, and yet I had no idea what he would say.