28. The Prince and the Beast

THE PRINCE AND THE BEAST

I n the tower, I sit before the rose and stare at it, practically unseeing, for too long before I manage to shake myself out of my thoughts and admit what sits before me.

The rose is nearly bare. Almost every petal has fallen from the stem, and they lay on the bottom of the cloche in a soft pile that would be nothing if it was not counting down the days I have left.

I close my eyes and hope for it to be different when I open them.

I heave myself out of the seat with a growl, my frustrations like a fire inside me. There's a mirror on one wall. It has been on the wall since before the curse, but I have long since stopped looking at it. What does it have to tell me? Nothing but to remind me that I am a beast. The rose was the only thing that mattered in this room.

In the mirror, I am unchanged. I am the frightening predator who stalks the woods, who tears at throats and roars in the night. My gaze drops to my hands, and the carved claws and brown fur are still there. Never leaving. How could she look at this and call me the prince?

"Nothing but the beast," I whisper.

"That is not what I see."

Elle's voice startles me, and I turn from the mirror to find her standing in the doorway to the tower room. She must have climbed to the room with soft footsteps, because I did not hear her approach.

Anger and disbelief fill me, turning my body hot and my muscles tense.

"You are not welcome here," I remind her in a harsh tone that does not seem to affect her. I have forbidden Elle from being here. She has always avoided the tower, and yet now she has chosen to follow me here. I do not know whether I am angry that I did not prevent her from climbing the stairs or angry that she has seen me in a moment of weakness.

This is weakness.

"I know," she says softly but doesn't move. Her head stays bowed, her eyes red rimmed and her hair in a messy braid. Her wide eyes stare back at me and her lips part, but she says nothing.

"What are you doing here?" I manage to keep my voice steady, but it is difficult.

Elle takes two small steps into the room, her head held high. I can tell that she is not feeling as brave as she looks. Her hands tremble slightly, but she clasps them together in front of her and tries to stop them from shaking.

"You are the prince," she says.

I turn away from her with a sound of disgust. "Do not look at me."

"I swear it!" Elle takes another step forward but stops when I give her a sharp look over my shoulder. "I do not see a beast! I only see you."

I look back down at my body. It is the body of a beast. It is not the body of the prince I was before I was cursed. I can hardly remember what I looked like. "You do not need to flatter me. I know I am a beast. And even if you deny that, I am still a beast for what I have done."

"I saw you as a beast," Elle says softly, her eyes determined. "I saw the beast that is in you, but in this moment…you are not him. You are the prince."

"The magic?—"

"It is not the magic. I can see clearly. I feel you. I've touched your skin and kissed you. You have blue eyes and dark brown hair that falls to your shoulders. It is wavy but does not curl into ringlets. I can see you."

My stomach clenches. Elle is describing the man I once was, but that is impossible. I look into the mirror, bracing myself to see that I have changed.

I have not. The beast stares back at me. He has gold eyes and the face of a beast. There is no mistaking it, and certainly no confusing it for the man I used to be.

And Elle cannot know what I looked like before I was cursed. I tore all the portraits of me that existed in the castle to shreds years ago. Not a single one remains. They were too painful to look at, and when the beast was in control, he responded to that pain by doing whatever he could to destroy them. The canvases were no match for his claws.

I turn away from the mirror and meet Elle's eyes. If she is lying to me, it does not show on her face. She simply watches me as if her fear of me earlier was a mistake, and now she understands why I could not accept what she said.

I swallow, my throat dry. "How do you know what I once looked like?"

Elle's brow furrows. "I do not know what you mean."

"You have just described the man I was before the curse. That is not what I look like now. You are not seeing clearly."

She looks at me again, blinking as if to clear her vision, then waits a few more seconds.

Elle shakes her head. "I was not describing the way you used to look. I was describing the way you look now. The way you look at this moment, standing here in front of me. As you are now."

I search for the beast inside of me. He is at peace, still, resting, but not gone. He is never going to be gone. I glance out the window at the night sky. The moon hangs heavy and bright. It's nearly the full moon. The days passed quickly after the new moon, and especially after the attack. At its sight, I feel the pull, both to the beast and to Elle. The magic is strong when the moon is full.

"What did the spell say?" Elle asks and as I return my sight to her, she is focused on the rose that is almost no more. "If you could tell me?—"

If I told her, there would still be nothing she could do. That is not the nature of the spell. Suddenly the loneliness of the hours I have spent in the tower, watching the rose petals and making foolish wishes, as if they could change what is to come wraps around me. I feel every moment I have spent apart from Elle and how much of a waste it was, and I cannot control what I want from her. I do not care if it makes me weak.

"Please," I say, my voice rough. "Kiss me."

Elle moves toward me, her eyes soft and her hands already lifting to touch me. I am entranced all over again by how she comes to me without fear. This is a woman who has every right to fear me. She has seen me at my most dangerous, and still she followed me here to tell me that I do not look like a beast. Elle came here to tell me that she sees the prince I once was.

That is not possible. It can never be possible, but in her eyes, I can see that she believes it. For that, I thank the magic.

Perhaps it does not matter what I look like. It has mattered to me a great deal since I lost the person I was before the curse. I knew the witch would not be kind, as she was too drunk on her own power when I came to her. She was able to hold the lives of all the villagers over my head, and there was no reason for her to show mercy, and she did not.

For such a long time, I have thought of myself as suffering a punishment that was almost as final as death. The villagers who had once sent me away to bargain for their lives feared me and hated me, and it was because they did not see me as the prince.

They saw me as the beast I have seen in the mirror every time I brought myself to look into one. The villagers and I have this in common. We both know what we are looking at.

So perhaps it is a miracle that Elle does not see that. Perhaps it is an act of magic. Perhaps it is a kind of mercy that I never thought was possible. As she walks to me, I am willing to believe it, and it does not matter that I might only let myself believe her because there is almost no time left for anything else.

What does my reflection matter now? If I never look in a mirror again, I can pretend that Elle is right, and I will not have to pretend for very long.

She is almost within reach, her hand inches from mine, a gentle smile on her face, when there is a noise in the stairwell.

I hear this one with all of my senses. I hear the scrape of a boot on the stone stairs, and a thump , as if the person climbing the stairs has lost his balance. I can smell the presence of another human being in the castle. Impossible, my mind cries. I have spent so long keeping them out that it is impossible for another man to be here. And I can feel the change in the air on my skin.

"Elle?" a voice calls.

Elle whips her head toward the sound. "Father?"

The beast leaps from his slumber, seizes control, and lets out a roar of rage that shakes the entire tower. The stones tremble beneath my feet. Everything goes red. My skin turns to fire as he fights for control, and I don't know how I can possibly hold the beast back.