The Eye of the Beholder (9 page)

In the gloom of the night, it was impossible to judge the castle's exact size, but I knew that it was the most enormous structure I had ever seen. I had the unsettling impression that it continued on and on infinitely, and I shook my weary head to clear my irrational thoughts. I knew where to go instinctively, and I did not question the sensation as I allowed my feet to carry me to a massive studded oak door that was nestled into a recess in one of the walls.

The inside of the castle was as black as pitch, with only a single, flickering candle sputtering in the distance. I turned toward this source of light, and felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I realized it was moving. Hesitating for a second, I tried to decide whether I should follow it. What if the beast was carrying it? However, the thought of standing alone in the inky darkness of the castle was far more terrifying to me than the thought of following that light. By the time my decision was made, the light was fading and I had to run to pursue it.

In spite of my rapid pace, I was unable to catch up with the source of the light. I ran for what seemed like forever, until the light stopped moving. Blood roared in my ears as I made my way cautiously forward, holding my breath. My eyes fell on a silver candlestick in a recess in the gray stone wall, just outside of an enormous white door. I cast a quick glance around me, but there was no one to be seen.

I turned my attention to the door, staring at it apprehensively as my mind raced with thoughts of what might lay behind it. Perhaps it was the beast, crouched in wait, prepared to set upon me the moment I stepped through the door. Would he harm me? What might he say to me, if he did say anything at all? Or perhaps the door led to a prison cell, in which I might be held until I perished. Looking about me, I did not think that it could be a cell. I knew very little about castles, but what little I did know told me that prisoners were usually held in dungeons or towers. The corridor in which I stood was above ground and could not belong to a tower, for I had only climbed one massive flight of stairs in order to reach it.

At last, I decided that allowing my mind to imagine any manner of horrors was not likely to improve my current situation and so I reached out, my hand shaking, and knocked hesitantly upon the door. There was no response, and I paused for a short moment before taking a deep breath and seizing the silver door handle.

The chamber beyond the door was nothing like I had imagined. It was well-lit, though the candlelight was subdued enough not to dazzle my eyes. A brisk fire was burning in the enormous fireplace, and its heat was extremely welcome after my long, cold walk. I immediately gravitated toward it, holding my hands out to its warmth and allowing my breathing to slow to a normal pace before I turned to study the rest of the chamber.

My uninterested eyes took in the many features as I wandered through my chambers, though none of them really registered with my fatigued mind. The only objects that caught my attention were the windows and the enormous, gilt-framed looking glass that hung in my dressing chamber. As I had passed through the castle, its decrepit state had not escaped my notice and the grimy, dingy windows in particular had caught my eye, which is why the glass in my chamber struck me as so unusual. The windows and the looking glass were immaculately clean and had been polished until they were crystal clear.

Returning to the sleeping chamber, I had the sense that something was amiss. It had been decorated in hues of lavender, spring green, and a calming blue, but somehow the atmosphere was still oppressive; the clean white walls seemed cold and stark, the colorful tapestries and paintings garish by comparison. The highly detailed embroidered curtains that hung on the bed lent it a strangely funereal air, and I shivered at the thought of closing them around me. Everywhere I looked, objects of obvious expense had been placed, but none of them lent the chamber any cheer.

My eyes filled with tears as I looked at the cold, unfamiliar objects about me. I was rather astonished by what I saw, for I had believed I was to be the beast's prisoner, not his guest, but the chamber suggested otherwise. In spite of the effort that had obviously been made to make the chamber welcoming, I heartily hated everything within it. I wanted to be back at home in my cottage, where all of my familiar and well-loved objects were. I had brought a few things with me, but there had not been much room to spare, and my heart ached for the beloved objects I had been forced to leave behind.

I set my pack down, too fatigued to even attempt to put things away, and dug through it until I found the object I sought. It was a miniature portrait of my mother, roughly the size of my thumb, and I focused on it with tear-filled eyes until I had an idea. Returning to the dressing room, I opened the chest, finding what I had hoped would be there. I withdrew a slender white satin ribbon and threaded it through the small eye on the top of the miniature. Once, I had worn the miniature around my neck on a fine gold chain, but the chain had been one of the many possessions I had been forced to sell when we had lost the old manor. It had been painful to cease wearing it, but I had placed it on the table next to my bed in the cottage and had been content to gaze upon it every night before lying down to sleep. Now, I felt the need to wear it once again and, as I tied the ribbon around my neck, I felt a slight abatement of the heartsickness that had plagued me since I had left the cottage.

Reluctantly and somewhat fearfully, I stepped over to the bed. I could see that a fine white linen shift embellished with lace had been laid upon it, and I carelessly removed my garments, leaving them in a pile upon the floor, before pulling the shift over my head and climbing into the bed. It seemed as large as my entire chamber at home, and I had the disconcerting sensation that I was lost, adrift in the midst of some strange sea of fine linen sheets and feather pillows. I would have thought that I could not sleep at all, considering how overwrought I was feeling, but I was exhausted from my journey. It was not long before my burning eyes closed and I drifted off into a deep, unsettled, sleep.

Chapter 9: The Guest

She was here. The castle walls seemed to reverberate with the consciousness of her presence. My voiceless servants flitted from one end of the castle to the other, attending to various chores in honor of her arrival. Their activity irritated me and the change in atmosphere of the castle was most unsettling. Years upon unchanging years had passed, and I was apprehensive of the changes that had already been brought about by the presence of this maiden.

I had struggled for some time with the decision of how to treat her. Was she my prisoner? Was she my guest? I knew the servants hoped that she would be my salvation, and this knowledge angered me. She was here at my will, not because she was meant to be my savior. In the end, perhaps she would deliver us from the torment we had known for so many years, but if this was to happen, it would merely be a means to an end. She was here to serve me, and I would have liked to have treated her thus, but I knew that if I did it would destroy any chance, however slim, of her breaking the enchantment.

Her reception had been unusual but necessary. I thought it probable she would be in some state of turmoil when she arrived, and had not wanted to exacerbate this by exposing her to the servants. They were under strict orders to stay out of her sight for the first week of her residence, and I would follow suit. It seemed best to allow her some time to settle into the castle as much as she could before introducing her to its true horrors.

Sleep was impossible during her first night of residence in the castle. In spite of my many hopes and preparations, I had not truly thought that she would be the one to come to the castle. It struck even me as incredible that her father would have willingly surrendered her to such a fate. He had seemed a decent man and, in my experience, decent men did not willingly surrender their daughters to peril. Yet, what other explanation for it could there be? I supposed I should have been grateful for this turn of events, but I could not overcome my sense of wonderment. Perhaps, in some small corner of my mind, I had hoped that her father would be the one to return, for that would have been far less fraught with complications, frustrations, possibilities.

The fates continued to mock me. Here was the maiden who was my only hope, and for one of the rare occasions in my life, I feared what stood before me. Perhaps I should simply ignore her presence, keep to myself, and pretend she did not exist. But I knew I would not do this. Now that she was in the castle, I felt compelled to try to change what I had been convinced was my inevitable demise. This was the true perversity of my nature.

My mind wandered from these thoughts to thoughts of the maiden herself. During the last fortnight, my temptation to use the pool to gaze upon her had not abated, but I had not allowed myself to look, for I had not been certain it would be she and not her father who came. But now that she was here, I felt an inordinate sense of curiosity, and I knew that I would soon have to satisfy it or I would run mad. I did not fear that I would be unable to gaze upon her without her notice; rather, I feared what I might see. Until now, she had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination, and I was reluctant for her to become flesh and blood for it made my predicament all the more real. But how could I not wish to see her? Though she did not know it, this maiden might very well hold my fate in her hands.

Night turned to day and, a few hours after dawn, one of my servants entered my chamber. His trembling hands indicated that he was agitated, and I barely acknowledged him before summarily dismissing him. I knew what his presence meant, for I had ordered my servants to inform me when the maiden was up and moving about the castle.

There was no need for anyone to lead me to her, for I knew I would quickly be able to find her through the use of my animal senses. As always, they did not fail me, and it was not long before I caught the soft sound of her slippered feet upon the marble floor and smelled the evocative lavender scent of her skin and hair. Her scent gave me pause, and I caught myself sniffing the air eagerly. So much time had passed since there had been a female presence in my life other than my female servants, who may as well have been invisible to me. I let out a very low growl at my thoughts, and then pushed them aside as I continued silently through the corridors, stopping a short distance from her.

Concealing myself in the shadows, I peered out at her and was astonished by what I saw. In spite of her pale and drawn air, she was beautiful, far more beautiful than I would ever have expected her to be. It occurred to me that it was strange for me to think her beautiful, for my previous definition of beauty had been something very different from that upon which I now gazed. I told myself that this was likely because it had been so long since I had last had seen an actual woman in the flesh, but I did not think that this was truly the reason for it. Refined beauty had once pleased me, but I had always sensed that such beauty was surface beauty, and that the women who possessed it worked very hard for it. The beauty of the maiden that now stood before me was entirely natural and completely unspoiled, and I sensed immediately that she was very much unaware of this fact.

She was small and delicate, with exquisite bone structure. Her cheekbones were high and finely sculpted and her collarbone was delicately curved. Her eyes were large and a deep, limpid brown, shaded by long, abundant lashes and crowned with delicately arched brows. She had a small, fine nose that tilted up slightly at the end, and a very well-formed mouth with lush, rose-hued lips. Her hair was an arresting shade of pale brown with threads of red-gold, and she wore it loosely pulled back from her face, her soft curls brushing her neck and tumbling down her back in shining spirals.

I perceived that she was rather ill at ease in her gown, for she seemed to smooth it unnecessarily, and her hands absently brushed over the fall of luxurious silk that tumbled from her hips. It was a warm rose in color, complementing the shade of her lips and the blush of her cheeks perfectly. The gown had a square neckline that showcased her flawless skin, and was embellished with an exquisite lace that enhanced her delicate air. She was wearing a small, oval ornament around her neck that hung from a white satin ribbon, but I could not see what the ornament was, nor was I willing to risk moving closer to her so that I could attempt to see it better.

"Hello?" the maiden called out softly, startling me out of my reverie. Her voice trembled as she spoke and I could sense the fear emanating from her. "Is anyone there?"

I wondered what she would do if I responded. Would she flee at the growling sound of my voice? Would she faint? Would she hold her ground and address me as if I were nothing out of the ordinary? I was almost tempted to respond, to see what she would do, but I restrained myself. Now was not the time. I would know when she was as prepared as she could be to see me, and I must not allow her to see me until then.

With one last glance at her, I skulked off into the shadows, leaving her once more alone. My mind whirled ceaselessly as I stole through the dark shadows of the castle and returned to my quarters. My head was full of unwelcome thoughts of the maiden, and I found that I had a disconcerting number of questions with regard to her.

Soon, I found that she was to plague my thoughts nearly every moment until we finally met. Not a day went by in which some new evidence of her presence was not made known to me: an open door here, a slightly disarrayed work of art there. I wondered how she occupied herself, what she thought about, whether she had exhausted her fear and moved on to indifference.