Chapter 2 (Part 1)

Chapter 2

 

     Just as I predicted, sleep remains hidden far from my grasp. I toss and turn for hours, till I finally decide to surrender to wakefulness. 

     Pulling a dressing gown over my night clothes, I silently ghost through the halls to the music room. My beloved piano sits glowing in a shaft of moonlight. Tenderly I open its cover to reveal the ivory beneath. I sit and lay my hands upon the keys. Then I play. I play till all the fear and pain and anger is overwhelmed by sweet melodious notes.

     Eventually, the sky begins to lighten. The wolves will have returned to the forest by now. I hurry to my rooms, pull on a blouse, breeches, and riding boots then set out to the barn. Abraxas greets me with a familiar nicker, but before I enter his stall I take a moment to scrutinize Arawn’s horse. It is a red dun, with a beige mane and tail, white blaze, and three white socks. His stature is rather like Abraxas', except slightly more robust. When he sees me, he slowly ambles forward. I extend my hand and he fearlessly fills it with his soft muzzle.

     I smile and rub his forehead, “You are a real sweetheart aren’t you?” In response, he blows into my palm. “Yes, I do believe you are. You and Abraxas shall get on famously.” Abraxas must have heard his name spoken for I hear him stamp his foot impatiently. “Yes, yes. Here I come.” Giving Arawn’s horse one more pat, I move to Abraxas’ stall who, if he was a dog, would be wagging his tale. I open the stall door, not at all afraid he will attempt to escape, “Come on then, you spoiled child.” Abraxas waits patiently for me to move in front of him, then I walk him to the tack room where I saddle him up.

     I ride through the dew covered fields for a long while before I finally decide it is time to face what awaits in my palace.

     When I return to the stables, I hand Abraxas over to Jonathan and Lucas with a parting kiss upon his nose. “Give him an extra measure of grain, he behaved well this morning,” Abraxas begins to follow me, but Jonathan whispers a few words to the great horse and leads him back to his stall.

     In my room, Beedy has breakfast waiting and I gobble down every sip of tea and bite of fruit.  Due to my churning nerves it has been nearly a day since I last ate. 

     After my growling stomach has been tamed, I dress in a silk dress with a plain skirt that just barely trails on the floor. The bodice is made of a wide sash that is neatly tucked and folded but is sewn into the dress so that it ends at the back and is replaced by a set of buttons. The sleeves are three-quarter length and also cling tightly to my skin. Beedy does my hair in a soft bun behind my head and I select pieces of jewelry to put on. When I am ready I step reluctantly into the hall where I am immediately greeted be Cedric.

     “Good afternoon my Lady. I trust you slept well,” he does not even let me breathe a word, but instead continues in a rather flustered manner, “Our guest is lost, in the East Wing.”

     “Lost?” I ask incredulously. “That was fast, but I suppose I had better go rescue him.”

     Cedric obscurely bows and I voice my thanks before making my way to the east wing. I find my guest staring intently at a painting of one of my ancestors, probably thinking that he has passed it already.  

     “If you do not try to kill me again I will take you for a tour,” I offer, startling him with the sound of my voice.

     He spins quickly to face me, squinting to see me where I stand in the shadows. “No,” he disinclines sharply. “I do not need a tour.”

     Amused, I take in his set jaw, he will change his mind eventually, “Suit yourself.” I turn to leave, I will come back later when he is really desperate. He will not be able to find his way, the enchantment will prevent it. Unless I give a tour of the palace to my guests, they are doomed to wander the halls without finding their way.

     I sit in my favorite sitting room, with a book, but I find it hard to concentrate. He will break, he has to. The others already gave in by now, but Arawn, he is not like the others. They trembled before me the moment they met me, begging me not to eat them or to make their death a swift, easy one. As soon as they fully comprehended that they were not here to die and also decided not to kill me, they always asked for something. Gustav requested paint, Dante, silversmith tools, Jasper, books, Jamie, the kitchen, Enzo, cloth, and Tauren, musical instruments. I shake my head, it will come, maybe he will ask for weapons.

     Eventually, I give up reading for painting, it goes much better. After an hour and a half I already have a rough depiction, it is rather gruesome, though. It is of a sharp blade surrounded by velvet, blood rose petals. I almost want to throw it away, but I swallow the impulse and finish it. I cannot just pretend to forget what happened. When I am finally satisfied with the completed work, I leave it on the easel to dry. It is almost dark out already and Arawn must be still wandering the halls, I suppose I had better lead him to his room.

     I find him sitting on a velvet covered bench that stands against the wall. This time he hears me coming, I can see it by the way he tenses.

     “I am not lost,” he says almost sounding bored.

     Amused, I look at him sardonically, “Keep telling yourself that, maybe you will be able to sway the enchantment.”

    His head snaps towards me, a frown creasing his brows. It probably has not dawned on him yet that these halls are cursed to keep those wandering them lost unless they have been properly shown the way around.

    “Come, it is past the time to get dressed for supper,” I say quickly.

    Lazily he drawls in reply, “I’m already dressed.”

    His words baffle me for the breath of a second, “Yes, thank goodness for that, but I am sure Cedric will oppose to your choice of clothing.”

     “I’m not lost,” he states, as he stands. I notice that he is taller than me by at least five inches. It is a great contrast to Gustav who was shorter than me by five inches.

     “We may agree to disagree on that subject, at the moment. So if you will please accompany me we can both continue with our day.”

     Thankfully he does not put up any more fuss and just begins to walk down the hall. I take a few quick steps to catch up with his long strides before I am beside him. As we walk, he nearly hugs the wall, he seems so repulsed by my presence. It is a relief when we reach his room and he enters without as much as a glance towards me. Taking a deep breath I make my way to my own room, I will not let his stubbornness get to me.  

     Supper is much like last night’s, we stare each other down, not speaking one word. I do not really know what to say and even if I did find something to speak of, he would most likely ignore me.

     When I cannot bare it anymore and my glass of wine is empty anyway, I ask the question, “Would you sacrifice a drop of your blood for me?”

     His answer mirrors last night’s, “Never.”

     I hold his gaze a second longer, then stand and leave the room.  

 

     The evening hours reflect yesterday’s and after a few hours of unkind wakefulness, I once again make my way to the music room where I play till my fingers are sore. 

     In the morning, I take Abraxas out for a good long ride so that when we return we are both hot and sweaty. Instead of handing him over to Jonathan and Lucas as I did the day before, I fetch a bucket of water and sponge. Abraxas looks at me questionably, but he stands patiently, his lead rope trailing on the ground, as I squeeze water over his broad back. I do his neck too and the moment I am not looking he rubs his soaked collar all over my back.

     “Abraxas! You sneak,” I exclaim plucking at my damp shirt. In response, he snorts, sending foam flying. I shake my head and flick water at him with my fingertips, silly horse.

     After he is thoroughly drenched, I turn him out into one of the pastures and return to the palace. When I enter, Cedric stodgily informs me that the guest is once again lost in the East Wing. Not at all as worried as I should be that he has not begged for help yet, I hurry up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. In my room again, Beedy cleans me up and puts me in a comfortable, but slim fitting dress. As she works her quick fingers through my hair I feast on a delicious brunch of toast with strawberry jam and tea. I linger as long as I can, fussing over my jewelry, but eventually I swallow my cowardice and set off to find Arawn. He sits on the floor with his head against the wall and a frown creasing his brow.

      I speak smoothly, hoping not to scare him so much that he will jump at me, “What if I were to give you a tour because it amuses me? Not because you need my help.”

     My attempt at easing him into the knowledge of my presence failed because at the sound of my voice he springs tensely up. He stares at me, seeing and yet his mind is in a different place.

     I remind him of my question, uncomfortable with his gaze upon me, “Well? What do you say?”

     “It would amuse you to spend time with someone who tried to kill you?” The tone of his voice indicates that he hardly believes my words.

     I attempt to appear nonchalant, “Tried, but failed.” I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers so that he can see the fading cut upon my palm, “Remember?”

     “How could I forget?” He meets my eyes coolly, not perturbed by the fact that he wishes me dead. Could he really hate me that much? The silent abhorrence in his gaze answers my unasked question.

     Maybe he will never care for me and so be forced to stay here forever. I turn away from him, hiding the shudder at the previous thought, “Well I shall be on my way. It is your decision whether you would like to accompany me or would rather sit here on the floor sulking and keeping my ancestors company,” I give a pointed look towards the painting of my great-grandmother.

     He steps closer and I bite my lip to keep from backing away. “I will only accompany you if we are clear that it is accompanying and not you helping me.”

     “Crystal clear. This way,” I begin down the hall, leading him through the back servant’s stairs and into the entry hall. One glance in Arawn’s direction reveals his feelings on the matter at hand, “I can see clearly, the thoughts you are thinking. Those doors will not budge till you have completed the task of accompanying me.” Suddenly nervous, I move to the center of the room and for lack of something else to say, state the obvious, “As you probably already know this is entry hall.” Taking a reassuring breath, I continue towards the coat room, tell him its name, and open it slightly so he can peer briefly inside. Next I glide to the ballroom, my favorite part of the whole tour. I love opening the doors with a flourish, then watching the faces of my guests as they take in the superlative room. Laying a hand on each cool, gold covered handle I open the doors and sweep aside to let Arawn enter. “This is the ballroom,” I announce letting my voice bounce across the shining floor and glass walls. Looking back I see an awed expression on Arawn’s face. So maybe he has a taste for beauty; at least, that is better than my suspicions that he does not feel at all. He walks slowly to the center of the room and catches sight of the wall painting as he turns.

     Sliding to his side I point out two if my favorite constellations, “That is Andromeda, Cassiopeia, the vain queen’s daughter and there is the Pegasus, the winged horse.”

     Although I love gazing at the wall, there is almost an entire palace yet to traverse so I walk reluctantly from the room. Arawn follows and so begins our palace expedition. Eventually, I grow bored, but I swallow the desire to disappear into the safety of my library. This circuit needs to be completed at some point and it might as well be now while his desire to kill me, for the moment, is not quite distinguishable. Finally, we reach the entrance to the West Wing and I point out to the only part of the palace I forbid my guests to go, “This leads to the West Wing it is off limits.”

     “Why?” He asks quickly.

     The real answer is because it is my haven, the only place where I can truly be myself, but afraid to tell him the truth, I give a lame reply, “Because I say it is.” Fearful that he will press further, I begin to leave and say over my shoulder as I depart, “You may go now. We will tour the gardens tomorrow.” I escape down the hall and into a servant’s corridor that delivers me to a hall near the library. When I enter, I allow the familiar scent of paper and ink to encompass me, I let it blow away the memories that I do not wish to remember. Choosing an adventure novel, I position myself comfortably on a window seat and immerse myself in the thrilling exploits of a fearless hero. Soon after I start reading I catch sight of Arawn riding his horse along the wall that surrounds the grounds. With a start I realize I do not even know his horse’s name, I have simply been calling him Arawn’s horse. That will not do, I suppose I will have to ask Arawn to tell me.

      Annoyed that once again I am thinking of Arawn, I forcefully push thoughts of the present in a dusty corner and bring to light a story that will always have a happy ending no matter how many times I read it.

      The sun travels over the bounds of the sky, till I notice it beginning to sink low. With a sigh I rise from my seat and walk, still reading my book, out of the library. Thanks to years of practice, I make it all the way to my room without stumbling or bumping into anything. When I enter, Beedy shakes her head and plucks the book from my hand. I have attempted before to sneak a book in while Beedy bathes and dresses me, but it never succeeds. She always sees it and steals it away, telling me she won’t be able to do her job if I distract myself with a book.

      Today I decide on a chiffon gown, with a neat sash and short sleeves. My necklace is a simple silver chain with a black jewel hanging from it and my earrings are small studs that match the pendant. Beedy brushes a light dusting of makeup upon my face and I depart towards another evening of torture. 

     Arawn is not yet in the dining room when I arrive, so I sit with a glass of wine in hand and wait. And wait. And wait some more. After I have convinced myself, over a dozen times, that he has not escaped, I finally hear the opening and slamming shut, of one of the great doors.

     I hear his footsteps approach and when he is near, I say, irritated by his tardy behavior, “You are late. It is almost eight, I do believe I told you that supper is at seven,” as he arrives alongside where I am seated I turn my head and give him what is supposed to be an annoyed look, but flits away when I see his rather subdued expression. I am angry, especially now that I see his clothing is filthy, but everything seems easier when he is not murdering me over and over again with his eyes. Suddenly I realize we are staring at each other and I quickly turn my face away, hoping he will voluntarily sit down. Thank goodness he does and my muscles relax the tiniest bit.

     I watch him decide upon and serve himself a variety of foods, before I gather the gumption to speak, “What is your horse’s name?”

     His words are drawn out, as if he is wondering why I am asking, “His name is Hector.”

     Hector. It is the name of a character in one of my books. The story goes that Hector’s clan was attacked and many of them taken captive. Thought to be dead Hector was left behind by the enemy while his family was stolen away. After much tribulation, Hector is able to free the entire village and return them to a safe abode where he marries the woman he loves. 

     “How long have you been here?” His voice pulls me from the story of Hector’s happy ending.

     It is not a question I wish to convey at the moment so I answer vaguely, “Doesn’t one of your stories about me tell you that?”

     He softly clucks his tongue as if he is addressing a child, “Answering a question with a question? Does that not go against the rules of proper etiquette?”

     He is one to judge, sitting there in his grimy clothes. My tone comes out slightly derisive, “And what would you know of proper etiquette?”

     “Plenty,” as if to prove his point, like a high-bred lady he cuts a small portion of meat and places it lightly into his mouth.

     “Oh really?” I say, disbelief coloring my words. “What are you? A prince or something?” I ask the questions without seriousness, thinking they could not be true. But woe to me, he stills an instant long enough for me to realize I am correct in my lighthearted assumption.

     Horrified, my voice rises slightly, “What are you doing here then? And what in the world was your brother doing in the forest?” Great heavens above, I could have a whole army knocking at my door.

     “You can’t have forgotten. I came here to kill you. And my brother was merely too stubborn to go around the forest,” he nonchalantly takes a sip of the wine, which I can tell he does not actually like.

     “Do you still want to kill me?” I ask, changing the subject in the hope that he will abstain from telling me more things I do not wish to know.

     “If an opportunity arose I would not hesitate to take it,” somehow, his words are not quite as convincing as they might have been two days ago.

     Before he can make it aright though, I hastily say, “Would you sacrifice a drop of your blood for me?”

     “Never.”

     I lift my skirt with one hand so that I do not trip as I stand, “Do not forget, you still have to accompany me through the gardens.”

     “I have not forgotten,” he sounds almost as if he wishes he could forget.

     “Meet me in the entry hall at ten o’clock,” I say, before leaving the room and directing my mind towards a mug of molten chocolate and a happy ending.

 

Reviews

[Lavorther]

Another great chapter. It's a very interesting story, with the prince being hold against his will, and the "Beast" trying to make him warm up to her. I'm not really sure why she is called the "Beast", because she seems like a real lady to me. I suppose the drop of blood she keeps asking for is to break the curse, but i'm not really sure what that is exactly. It seems she doesn't suffer from it, like her servants. She can even leave the grounds and go into the forest. Maybe the curse is just that it traps anyone who enters the castle... I don't know, i suppose that will be revealed later.

I did find some small mistakes, but nothing serious:

"Giving Arawn’s horse one more pat, I move to Abraxas’ stall who, if he was a dog would be wagging his tale."
"tale" should be "tail". I also think it would flow better if you place a comma after "dog".

"Come, it is passed the time to get dressed for supper,”
"passed" should be "past".

"As we walk, he nearly hugs the wall he seems so repulsed by me presence."
"me" should be "my". I feel like there needs to be a pause between "wall" and "he". I would suggest a semicolon, but a comma would do as well.

"Beedy brushes a light dusting of makeup upon my face and I depart towards another evening of torcher."
I think you meant "torture" here, instead of "torcher".

I really enjoyed this chapter. Good job!

[Emma]

I really appreciate your reviewing this. Thank you again!
Since I am the writer I obviously know what's going on, so sometimes I really wonder if readers would get lost and not fully understand the storyline. So going by what you said I will work on making those points clearer in the first few chapters. I will clarify a few things now, though...
Yes, she is quite a lady, but there are stories in the neighboring countries that describe her as a terrible beast who kills anyone that trespasses on her land (the forest being part of her land). So when Arawn first comes to the palace he sees her as a beast because that's how he wants to see her. Concerning the curse, I think it does get described in more detail a little later, but it goes that, Kalista is frozen in time and can only leave her palace grounds for a day once a year till someone falls deeply in love with her. There is a catch with "Will you sacrifice a drop of blood for me," but I will only tell you if you want to know. :)

[Lavorther]

Ah, that explains a lot. I can't remember reading something about being frozen in time, so you should indeed mention that.

The "beast" part actually was quite clear, now that i think about it. I think i was just comparing it too much with the original story, that's why i got confused.

I think the rest (breaking the curse through love and the drop of blood) is clear, or at least clear enough for this point in the story. I don't want to know about that drop of blood, i want to be surprised when i reach the point in the story where it is revealed ;)

[Emma]

Haha that might be a while yet. :)

[Lavorther]

That doesn't matter :P
I don't want such a (probably) major plotpoint spoiled for me, which would prevent me from enjoying it as you intended. Also, that would prevent me from giving you proper feedback about the storyline of the rest of the chapters, if i already know something like that.

[Emma]

Very good point. :)