26. The Prince and the Beast

THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST

I 've lost count of the number of days it has been when I finally break.

It has been my habit to let Elle determine the life she lives in the castle, so long as she stays obedient and does not try to leave. The first night I brought her here, I did go to bed with her. The beast had not been willing to accept anything else. He had been patient enough, carrying her through the woods without lying her down on the grass and having her then, and he could not be held at bay any longer.

In truth, neither could I. There had been too many years of solitude before Elle came through the gate in the wall and found the swing. I had not been able to touch a woman in so long, and from the first breath I took of the scent of her skin, I knew she was mine.

Every little detail of how we began consumes my waking thoughts. The details of how I lost her meet me when my eyes close and the terrors of that night return to haunt my dreams.

I made her mine, and that was no easy task. It was not easy to wait when I heard the words her father said to her. It was not easy to hang back, knowing that anything could happen to her in the village. It was not easy to have that patience, waiting until she was safe behind the castle walls to do what I wanted and what the beast demanded.

I waited, and I was rewarded with her submission.

Yes, she was afraid, and she was wary of me, but what did I give her other than pleasure? Surely I made up for her fear. Surely I did not turn out to be a fearsome creature of the night. It is I who brought her here and I who gave the magic my blessing to make her as comfortable as she can be.

And Elle cannot say she did not enjoy it. I saw her in the library all those many days. I know she delighted in having the kitchen prepare recipes for her. She was lighthearted, and as a result the castle became more serene as well.

I cannot watch her cry through the tarnished mirror in the tower for another moment.

I rise from my chair, the old wood creaking. The moment my eyes lose their focus on Elle, they land on my own reflection. After all these years I am used to the sight of the beast in the mirror, but I feel a disappointment that I did not think I would feel again. What did I expect? I am the beast, and nothing will change that. There is no hope of seeing my former self in the mirror again.

With a hopeless feeling I haven't known in so long, I'm at her rooms without remembering any of the journey. My feet have carried me here with the same urgency they carried me to the gate that night. This problem is one that must be attacked without any further wait, because the castle has done its best. It has brightened Elle's room with roses and sent her things to eat and opened her window as she cried, giving her fresh air until she shivered from the outdoor cold on her skin. It can do no more.

Elle cries on the other side of her bedroom door when I knock loudly, my heart beating fast.

"Put your blindfold on." I call through the door.

Elle does not answer. She only cries, her sobs becoming a bit softer. I do not hear the telltale creak of the bed as she reaches for the blindfold. I do not hear her agreement. Pain flows through my being.

"Please put the blindfold on." I try again, though I am certain she can hear the impatience in my voice. What she cannot hear is the agony her pain puts me through. I can bear it no longer.

"Elle," I call out and bang my fist against the door. "Answer me!"

She clears her throat while sniffling. "Why? When I have seen you for what you are?"

"For your comfort," I answer as calmly as I can.

There is a pause so long I think she has chosen to ignore me and my blood boils. The control I had over her is seemingly gone and I do not want to discover what that means for us.

Finally, she answers. "I do not wish it."

"Do it now ," I thunder, losing what little control I had over my temper. My voice echoes in the hall and the castle seems to fall silent around me. That cannot be anything but an illusion brought on by the volume of my own voice after many hours of silence.

Elle sucks in a small gasp. "Will you harm me if I do not?"

I want to slam my fist into the door to release some of the frustration that burns within me, but I clench both my hands at my sides, breathing deeply. I can hear Elle's breathing on the other side of the door with the beast's senses. She inhales quickly, still crying but no doubt shocked by how this has come to an argument through a closed door.

"Will you harm me if I do not?"

The emotion at my chest feels so tight that after a few deep breaths, it becomes hard to continue. My corded muscles ache from holding myself back for so long.

"Why do you wish to torture me?" I ask her lowly through the door.

Elle lets out a sound that may be a laugh or it may only be another sob. "It is I who is tortured. My mind is playing tricks on me. I wish to see you so that I may not lose what sanity I believe remains."

I know she is on the edge. I know she has been consumed by sadness and is at a loss for herself. But there is something else within the magic and within her voice that both pains me and makes me hopeful.

"I do not wish for you to have to look upon me." My voice sounds strained, even to myself. I do not want to show her this weakness, but I do not know what else to do. I do not know what else to say. I feel broken down by watching her cry in that damned mirror for this long. I feel broken down by all these years of being cursed. "Please. For the moment, put on the blindfold and spare yourself."

I pause to allow Elle to consider my request. I can hear her sitting up in bed, the covers rustling as she does.

"I want to see you," she says, her voice soft but determined. "Will you let me see you?"

A deep sigh leaves me. I'm no longer willing to spend time discussing this with her. I need to be in the room with Elle, where I can speak to her. Where I can try to explain and hear what she is thinking. I cannot do either of those things if I am only watching her grieve through the mirror.

I open the door and take a few steps into her room. Shamed and enraptured by the hell of the curse and my image. Elle is sitting up in bed, just as I thought she would be. Her eyes and cheeks are red, and her cheeks are streaked with tears. At some point it seems as though she braided her hair, but it is coming loose from the braid, and there is no ribbon to tie it off at the end. It is a mess, and she is beautiful.

Her eyes move over me as she takes me in. I know what she sees. It is the same thing I always see when I look in the mirror and the very thing I never wanted her to witness.

Elle's eyes trail down my body, then rise slowly back to my face. She is distraught, that is true, but her distress does not deepen when she looks at me.

That is strange. The beast makes a questioning sound inside of me. He does not know what it means when someone looks at him this way, as if he is not a beast.

I'm waiting for Elle's eyes to widen and for fear to consume her, but it doesn't.

Instead, the look on her face becomes soft and pleasing, as if she wants nothing more than to be at my side.

I should hesitate and approach cautiously, but it has been too long to force myself to do that. I cross her room in a few strides, sit beside her on the bed, and take Elle in my arms.

Her warmth is everything. She allows me to hold her, to comfort her. Her scent and soft curves are a soothing balm. For a moment there is peace within me if for no other reason than she allows me in her presence.

She slumps against me, burying her face in my shirt, her shoulders shaking with more tears. I pat her hair and drop kisses onto her head, wondering how one person can feel so much sadness. I would have thought she'd be out of tears, but she is not.

"It will be all right," I tell her, hoping she believes me.

"No, it will not." Elle lifts her head but does not pull away from me. "Who are you? The prince?"

Her question shocks me to my core. I am unable to answer her as she stares deep into my eyes. "You are both," she whispers, and her discovery causes her eyes to widen, but not like I'd imagined.

Silence descends for a moment and I can only admit the truth. "Yes, I am. I once was."

Her eyes narrow with confusion and I'm sure mine do as well.

"Prince…what is your name?" she asks, and it pains me to remember.

With haze clouding my judgment, I tell her, "My name is Henry."

She whispers the name I used to go by and my eyes close. A pain rushes through me, and I shush her. Do not call me that, I wish to tell her but the words fail me.

To my surprise, she confides in me. "I do not know what to do with these feelings."

"What feelings? Are you upset that I killed Lord Crawe? They were here to steal you away." I know I should not be condemning men for trying to do the same thing I did, but I cannot help it. "If they had somehow found a way into the castle, they would have done everything in their power to take you back to the village and to kill me."

"I know that is what they would have done. And I am not sad that Lord Crawe is dead. I am happy he's dead. I have wanted men like him dead for longer than you know."

She leans her head on my shoulder, and I keep my arms around her.

"It is," Elle continues, "quite a different thing to see the others and to not know…" She's not able to finish.

I gather her close to my chest and smooth down her hair while the last of her tears run out of her eyes. It must have been a shock for Elle to see so many dead at one time, all by my hands.

Elle's shoulders finish shaking, and on her next breath, she lifts her face to mine and kisses me.

She kisses me as if she needs to in order to breathe. Her warm lips mold to mine and her chest presses to mine. She kisses me.

I go still, shocked, but then my body responds to hers as it has always done. I kiss her back, my heart unsteady at this contact. Elle is kissing me of her own volition. I have not demanded anything from her, and she is kissing me. It is a salty, tear-filled kiss, but it is a relief to us both.

When she pulls back, I run my knuckles down her cheek, reveling in touching her while I look into her eyes. It is so different from when she wore the blindfold. So much of her expressiveness is in her eyes, and it is a sin that I have not delved into the depths of her beauty like this before.

"I do not wish to harm." I take a breath, stroking my thumb over her cheek. Elle's skin is the softest I have ever felt. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever touched. I would steal her from her father's house a hundred times over and never be able to bring myself to regret it. "I did not want to kill them, Elle, and I do not want to harm anyone else who comes here. But I will not let them take you."

Elle's lip trembles. "But what of my father?" she questions, and I am thankful I have prepared an answer, although I do not know its truthfulness in all certainty. I'm fairly sure of it, but not entirely as the world becomes red when the beast takes control.

"I would never harm him," I tell her. "He is safe. He wasn't among them." She holds me tighter than before. Her gratitude is clinging to me.

I would lie a thousand times over to feel her touch forever. Although I pray that what I said is true. And if it's not, I pray she lives in peaceful ignorance. I need her to love me. Simply to survive, I need her to love me like this.