The Eye of the Beholder (33 page)

I took a few moments to walk through the different sections of the gardens to survey the work. I smiled and nodded at the servants as they gestured to me and pointed things out, but my mind was far, far away from the castle. It was a relief when I had finished my tour and was free to return to my chambers. The sense of contentment I had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a depression of spirits out of which I could not seem to shake myself.

Chapter 31: Dawning

As she so often had, Mira had left me alone, flabbergasted, and with a head filled with thoughts I would rather not have had. At times, I found it hard to resist my baser urge to subjugate her, to treat her as though she was a child who knew nothing of the world. While it was true that I was far older than she could possibly know, it was also true that I was not always wiser than her. Mira was very intuitive and often surprised me with her insight, a quality I had sadly lacked for most of my life.

Though she knew very little about me, she was able to discern much more than I would have imagined, and I had to admit that her point had been well made. I could wallow in my own sense of unworthiness, my own guilt over all that I had done in the past, or I could change and hopefully do some good. I was tired of being the weak man, shrugging and declaring that it was far too late to change my ways. I wanted to be strong, to face up to my past transgressions and effect change within myself. It was more than time to prove to myself that I could be as strong as I had fooled myself into thinking I was.

An important part of asserting that strength would lie in my facing what I had become. Once again, Mira's insight had been correct. Concealing myself within the shadows of the library had not truly been for her sake. Hiding in the shadows was something I had long done more for myself than for anyone else. The gloom in the castle, the broken windows, the shattered looking glasses, and the drained pools had been my attempts to deny what I had become. In so doing, I had punished the servants. At the time, I had not cared about such an injustice, but I now did.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the window curtains. As I did so, a tremor ran through my body, and the animal part of me reacted to this weakness with disgust, causing my lip to curl as I emitted a soft snarl. It was but the reaction of a second, and it frightened me. This reaction to my fear was a highly unpleasant reminder that what was animal within me had begun to take over what was human.

You shall not win,
I thought fiercely as I fought back. The bestial side of me had controlled me for far too long, and I would not allow it to triumph, not now when I had finally found the strength and the will to change. The truth was, I hated my bestial appearance because it represented the man I had once been, years and years ago, before Mira had come into my life. Only now did I see that I had felt nothing but disdain for myself, and I had allowed that disdain to grow until it consumed every aspect of my life and every person within my sphere.

Forcing the beast within me into submission was not easy. The effort left me drained and breathless, but I was victorious and allowed myself a moment's exultation. Then I focused again on the windows before me, allowing the fear to race through me. I forced myself to acknowledge that fear by listening to my rapid breaths and the pounding of my blood in my ears before I finally pushed the drapes aside.

For a moment, I was blinded by the light of the sun and could do nothing more than blink feebly against it until my eyes adjusted. When they did, I stared at the light with a feeling of something like awe. Untold years had passed since I had truly looked at the pure light of the sun. The beauty of that light struck me as it never before had, and I found myself thinking of my past life and how I had always taken the light of the sun for granted. I wondered now how I had ever been foolish enough to think I could live without it.

As the initial awe passed, I saw what it was I had long dreaded seeing: my reflection. I fought the instinct to look away, and the cringing expression on my face did nothing to improve my looks, exposing my animal's fangs as it did. I forced myself to look at the beast before me, to study that strange lion's face and wolf's body. I had not looked at my own reflection since the night of my transformation, when the enchantress had held up a mirror to show it to me.

Rage threatened to overcome me, and I snarled as I turned my eyes away from my reflection. The edges of my vision had gone black, and I had just begun to think that all was lost when my eyes caught sight of the activity in the gardens. As if it was magnetically attracted, my gaze instantly fell upon Mira. She was easy enough to pick out amongst the servants for, though she was garbed like them, she was the only female with an uncovered head, and the sight of the fiery highlights of her curls arrested my gaze. My chest heaved and the rage boiled within me but, somehow, the sight of Mira gave me the strength I needed to resist. I remained with my eyes fixed on her as I struggled to master myself. The pressure within me built until I almost could not bear it, but I pushed it away and, to my surprise, it slowly began to dissipate. I felt an enormous sense of relief as it receded, but the effort had also left me completely spent, and I sank down onto the floor, my eyes greedily drinking in the sight of Mira until my head dipped below the level of the windows.

I wanted to move over to the grand curtained bed that Mira and my servants had placed in the chamber, but I was far too weak. In spite of my weakness, I felt such a strong sense of triumph shoot through my body that it left me nearly giddy. Never before in my life had I been able to resist one of my black rages. I had feared that they would always get the best of me and was delighted with myself for having proved that this was not the case.

"Never again," I vowed, my voice a low and menacing growl. "Never again will I succumb to one of those rages. Never again will I allow the beast within to rule me. I am a man and I
will
break free."

The air took on a strange quality then, almost as if it were a living, breathing entity. I could feel some sort of presence in the chamber with me, and it caused my fur to stand on end. However, I somehow understood that the presence was benevolent, and I let down my guard. The air before me seemed to shimmer, but that may have been the light playing a trick on my weary eyes. I was unbearably tired and could not fight off the lethargy that overcame me. Relenting, I closed my eyes and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

My first instinct upon waking was to rise and gaze out the window, and I soon saw that evening had begun to fall and Mira was no longer in the gardens. I felt a deep sense of disappointment until I remembered that I was to meet her shortly, and then my stomach lurched. Sleeping on the ground had left me quite disheveled and I hurried to ring for my servants, wanting to change and do what I could to make myself more presentable before I left for the library.

I was impatient for my servants to be finished with me, but I remembered how Mira had chided me earlier, and I made an effort to be far more cordial with them than I had in the past. My behavior seemed to astound them, for I caught a few of them exchanging glances with one another when they thought I was not looking. It was yet another reminder that, as far as I had come, I had much farther to go.

As soon as they had finished, I hurried from my chambers and to the library. I suspected I would be late, but I could not help but cling to the hope that I might arrive before Mira. It would give me a great deal of pleasure to watch her entrance into the library. In fact, I believed it had always given me pleasure, even when I had convinced myself that Mira was nothing but a pawn.

Mira was already in the library when I arrived, but she had apparently not heard my entrance for she remained seated in one of the wing chairs, her head bent over a book. I stood observing her for a moment, noting how the firelight caused her hair to gleam and how she pursed her lips slightly when she was concentrating. The expression on her face spoke of a mind occupied with thoughts of places far, far away from where she and I were, and I could not help but feel a slight uneasiness. Without having considered what I was going to do, I found myself making a slight noise to alert her to my presence.

She started and looked over at me. There was a momentary look of confusion on her face, and I knew that her mind had indeed been very far away. It was soon replaced by a look of recognition and a smile, but I could not help but feel that she was not entirely with me.

"Good evening, Lysander," Mira said, moving to rise from her chair. I halted her with a gesture.

"Nay, do not trouble yourself. Good evening to you as well," I responded, as I walked further into the library.

I felt a moment's hesitation as I tried to decide upon which chair to seat myself. The thought of sitting directly across from Mira, where she would be able to clearly see my visage made me rather nervous, until I reminded myself that she had been seeing me quite clearly for some time now. As I sat, I sighed softly at the thought, but she seemed not to have noticed.

"What are you reading?" I asked, gesturing toward the book, which now lay upon a small table next to her chair.

"A book on gardening," she said, fingering the spine.

"Ah, of course. I saw you working out in the gardens today." It had not been my original intent to tell her this, but I spoke the words before thinking.

"You did?" she asked, astonishment evident on her face.

"Aye, I did."

Her eyes met mine and this time her smile was warmer. "You looked through your windows." It sounded almost as if she was proud of me.

"Aye, I did."

"I am very glad." She leaned forward to take one of my paws between her hands. "How did you feel about it?"

Sharing my feelings with her was difficult for me. I was used to guarding my emotions very closely, except for my anger, which I had always been quick to manifest. But never before had I spoken with anyone of my hopes, dreams, fears, likes… Though I was becoming more accustomed to the intimacy I shared with Mira, I still found it disconcerting at times. I was used to being very much alone and I did not entirely trust the idea of confiding in another. I knew Mira was sincere and that she would never abuse any trust I placed in her, but it would take some time before I would be able to open up to her as completely as I thought she would like.

"It was…difficult," I said. Even to my own ears my explanation seemed inadequate.

"I imagine it was."

My head snapped up to look for any trace of mocking in her eyes, but they were filled with nothing other than compassion. They were so dark, so intriguing that I did not want to look away from them, but I forced myself to do so. I would not be clumsy about this. It was more than just the fact that I could not afford to be clumsy. It was also that I felt Mira deserved something better, grander than a fumbling confession or a telling gaze from me.

I could not think of a single intelligent thing to say and so I found myself telling her, "My chambers are much quieter now, thanks to the glass." Inwardly I winced.

Mira shook her head and looked at me disapprovingly. "I do not know how you could bear to live with those broken windows. Did not the sound of the wind drive you mad?"

"I grew accustomed to it," I said lightly. She frowned a little, and I knew that she had asked her question in the hope I might place more confidence in her and speak more of my fear of the glass, but I could not bring myself to fulfill that hope.

We talked about my chambers for a few more moments and then I turned the conversation to the subject of the gardens. Mira told me of the plans she and the servants had devised and, though her voice was pleasant, I could sense something of listlessness in her. I studied her as discreetly as I could and decided that there was something different about her. Her spirits seemed low and that caused me to fret. I had never before seen her in such a state and, though I longed to ask her what had caused it, I could not. Instead, I would agonize over it and allow it to keep me up for hours.

She is unhappy,
I thought, pacing the floor of my chambers later that night. The longer Mira and I had chatted, the more dispirited she had become until she had finally excused herself with the explanation that she was tired after a long day's work, but I knew that any fatigue she felt was mental and not physical.

Of course she is! Did I expect her to be happy caged in this ruin of a castle with only me and my mute servants for company? Could I be so foolish as to think that she would not long for her home, for the father for whom she was willing to sacrifice herself? No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to compensate for all the things she has lost--things I took from her.

I knew this was true, but I rebelled against it. Aye, I had deprived her of much, but only temporarily--though she did not know that the deprivation was temporary. If she could learn to love me, if she could break the spell, there was so much I would be able to give her. She would be my queen, and I would be able to provide her with anything she could ever wish for, take her to places she had probably never imagined she would be able to go.