Human Again

by E. L. Tenenbaum

  It would have to be. I had nothing else.

  Until then, I had been accommodating, I had been gracious, I had been generous with anything she needed or could anticipate her wanting. But now, I would have to put myself forward. I would have to rustle up some charm, some humor, some human part of me that once joked with visitors at the palace, knew every servant’s name, and at times even tossed them small pouches of coins. I would have to recall the part of me bred for politics and court, the side that knew languages, philosophy, and how to dance the night away with a beautiful girl in my arms. I would have to prove that there was still something worth saving, even if I couldn’t imagine what that might be.

  I stood slowly, my mind still whirling with the possibility of finally having something real, a tangible way to break the curse and free me from the darkness for good. I headed back to the castle, aware that I didn’t have much time left to order my physical appearance and greet Kiara as I said I would when she arrived home. To greet her as the man she was adamant about seeing within me.

  I picked my way back through the woods and up to my room, forming plans that would eventually fall to bits, only working long enough to make me believe in the impossible for just a little while. I cleaned myself up and dressed with care, resuming the persona of the prince I’d left behind in my angry dash into the forest. I paused long enough to study the ravaged portrait of my family, looking at each ruined face with a newfound curiosity instead of my customary rage. Even the ghost of Adlard didn’t threaten me in that moment.

  In the years since, I’ve heard many tellings of Kiara and the beast that she tamed, many of which only ever had the basic idea of the story right. I even know of one version in which the villagers were the beast’s enemy, attacking my castle with their pitchforks and torches, intent on killing the beast for fear it would kill them all while they slept, led by a charismatic hunter intent on freeing Kiara from the beast’s clutches.

  While I do not doubt that Kiara turned more than several heads during her charitable forays into the villages, spending the winter teaching poor children to read and sharing with them the wonder she found in the worlds of books and music, there was never any beau vying for her attentions, not as far as I know. I suppose neither Jaxel, nor Kellan, nor even Kiara would have told me if there was, but there weren’t even whispers of one. Surely, no one was foolish enough to rouse the castle beast, even if they weren’t quite certain of what he could or would do. It was very likely that Kiara never told them where she came from, but seeing her attire and the abundance of what she had to share, they surely had to suspect. Now though, I wonder about a village of men who never questioned a young maiden living alone and away from her family. Did they think Ms. Potsdam her governess? Did that ease their consciences at all?

  Either way, there was no mortal enemy in the village who gathered the rabble and sought to drive me from my home. What storyteller needed to stretch the truth so far, to create such an enemy? I was already my worst one.

  Kiara returned late afternoon, the carriage rolling into the snow-swept drive when there was still plenty of light left to guide her way. I met her at the entrance, waiting for her just outside the door with a calm, smiling face, taking her cloak from her before anyone else could, ushering her in to the warm fire.

  “You’re back!” she exclaimed when she saw me, echoing my internal relief.

  “I’m back,” I confirmed with a wide smile, startling myself with the deeply exhaled breath I had been holding since I caught sound of her carriage wheels coming home.

  We stood a minute studying each other, I reveling in the beauty of her being and she examining me for any signs of a lingering beast. I didn’t usually take to such scrutiny, but I indulged her, reminding myself that I didn’t just want but needed her to be happy here if I was ever going to have a chance at breaking my curse.

  “How were your visits?” I asked abruptly, reminding myself to ask, to take notice of the things she cared about.

  Kiara’s face brightened at my interest. “Wonderful,” she replied, “wonderful, but hard. Many are proud people who don’t want help and are glad to work to pay their way, though winter usually waylays such admirable ambition,” she explained. “I told them I merely wanted to teach the children and assured them the necessities I brought along weren’t charity, but only loans to get them through winter. It’s quite possible I’ll be showered with crafts or baskets of produce come spring harvest. Though I’ll only redistribute most of them.”

  She chuckled delightedly and even punctuated her report with a little twirl. I beamed at her, responding not only to her happiness, but to her veritable promise that she would be here well into spring. That gave me a good four or five months to do what I could, to find some way to succeed, I hoped.

  “You must be exhausted after such a long day,” I commented, grabbing an opportunity to display some consideration.

  Kiara gleefully clasped her hands together. “Far from it,” she exclaimed. “The ride back felt so long, there is ever so much to do!”

  “Well, it won’t all get done tonight,” I began. “Perhaps there’s something—”

  I glanced out the window. Light still lingered in the trees. The snow was still on the ground. Kiara followed my gaze and when she excitedly squeezed my arm, I knew what she was thinking.

  Not thirty minutes later, we stood across from each other, a pile of snowballs at each of our feet, right next to the rough mounds of snow we’d pushed together for forts. Alvie stood with Kiara, Kellan stood beside me, both ecstatic beyond belief that Kiara had invited them to join us. More than the others, they were the two most enamored with Kiara. Kellan, well, probably because what wit he had was truly wise in the language of delight and kindness, and Alvie because Kiara was like a doting older sister to him, someone he could ask for advice or talk to when he needed a hug without provoking the ire of men or the annoyance of his busy mother.

  The four of us had worked quickly, racing against the waning daylight sure to disappear in less than an hour. Though it may have been wiser to postpone such an activity for another day, it seemed right after the day we had to do something absolutely frivolous. Anything to remind us there was still cause for laughter in the world.

  “Loud and clear, Alvie,” Kiara prompted.

  “One,” Alvie began. “Two, aaaaand begin!”

  Barely was the count over, then we pelted each other with snowballs, even as we dived, dipped, and twisted to get away from the ones heading our way. Not even the cold could combat with the sting I soon felt from my mouth sustaining a rare, genuine smile. For the first time since our little royal ensemble had been banished to this castle, the sound of exuberance, of fun, of people rang out against the indifferent stone walls. It was the first time Kellan smiled with good reason. It was the first time Alvie laughed without being hastily hushed. It was the first time we sounded…alive.

  Having taken a rapid-fire approach, I very quickly ran out of snowballs, and I dropped to my stomach behind my makeshift fort to hurriedly assemble more. Kellan had already dived over the fort, abandoning the mock safety of the little snow wall to chase after Alvie, who had probably climbed up a tree by then. They gleefully swapped juvenile insults as he tried to coax the boy down.

  I was interrupted moments later when Kiara’s head appeared over the small wall of ice that was supposed to be protecting me.

  “Azahr?” she sing-songed.

  Having missed her approach, her sudden appearance startled me, and I shot to my feet with my arm raised to throw the snowball I had just formed. Just as quickly, something stayed me.

  Kiara didn’t have any qualms. The moment I hesitated, she let loose her snowball and it smacked me between the eyes.

  She immediately shot away from me, her marvelous laugh trailing behind her.

  That’s real music, I thought suddenly, that reverberation of pure joy which plucked the strings of the heart and soul.

  Then, abruptly, I miss it.

  Onc
e again, I wished to bottle it up, just one bottle kept close to ward off the darkness whenever it threatened to overtake me.

  Involuntarily, a merry chuckle gurgled from me as well. It wasn’t anything long or deep, nothing that came from the belly or caused stitching, aching sides. But it was real.

  Even more notable was that it was a personal melody I hadn’t heard from myself in a very long while.

  Later that night, as my plan to impress Kiara was now underway, I decided against taking dinner in the formal dining room. It was a rather wonderful room, richly designed with engraved, dark wood panels lined with tapestries of great hunts and a few mounted stag heads. The table itself was a large rectangular piece that could comfortably seat at least twenty people. Kiara and I usually sat directly across from each other somewhere in the middle, but there was no denying the room was too big for just the two of us.

  So I ordered that dinner be brought to us in the small parlor where we so often spent our evenings. We ate at a small table, complementing the day with an intimate dinner in a room just right for two.

  After, I lounged in an oversized recliner, which was just big enough to allow me to comfortably stretch out my large frame. Kiara sat on the floor in front of her chair, her knees drawn up, her chin propped upon them as she gazed into the fire with a contented look.

  I watched her while I could, sneaking in a study of her before she felt the weight of my scrutiny. The glow of the fire chased shadows about her face, and I marveled at this wonderful woman before me, this combination of strength and beauty Heaven had sent my way, a reminder and a promise of just how good the world could be.

  I searched her features, seeking signs of the fire I knew burned so bright and constant within her. Whereas I was ice, indifferent and vengeful, an avalanche that overran everything in its path without discernment or discrimination, she glowed with the fire of life, the warmth of a hearth comforting and sustaining.

  “I wish you’d come with me today,” Kiara finally ventured into the silence, speaking the words carefully as if testing the mood to ensure I wouldn’t flee as before.

  “I didn’t think it wise,” I replied.

  Kiara shifted, breaking her gaze from the fire and turning it on me completely so there was no doubting the earnestness, the kindness behind it.

  “But everything I give them is really yours!”

  “Which I put under your care.”

  Kiara shook her head. “Did you ever think that maybe all this anger, all this rage, can possibly be channeled for something good? There’s enough evil in the world that should be subjected to some righteous anger.”

  I was more stunned than insulted by her question. Honestly, no one had ever suggested as such to me, and I certainly hadn’t thought of it before.

  “No.”

  “Perhaps there’s a way for seemingly negative traits to be used to accomplish something good,” Kiara began, struggling to find the right words. “Anger without harm, anger with purpose and direction, can actually result in some change. Perhaps understanding your people’s—”

  “Nonsense,” I coldly interrupted, and Kiara immediately stilled.

  With that, a day that hadn’t really started off right but had managed to turn into something wonderful—which should’ve been signal enough to me—was cooled. I hadn’t meant to be harsh, and as much as I needed her help, I knew without doubt it was unwise for me to be around other people, because I could not be trusted to hold the beast back.

  Despite how I saw her, I had to wonder how such an icy heart could stay so cold when I was so close to her. I didn’t understand how I could feel the warmth of her hands, the glow of her presence when my blood still ran so cold. I didn’t either understand how I could have any anger left in me at all when she was near.

  Could it be so simple? Was my anger destructive because it was aimless, like a gust without a sail to fill? Is that all I needed to bring it under control? To…give it purpose?

  I thought of what had set me off earlier that day, of how I’d run from the rage only to feel it snapping at my heels.

  “Kiara, please do not insult me in pretending it isn’t there,” I said carefully, my words measured and firm to convey my need for her to understand. “It’s a beast, and it will not go away by ignoring it.”

  There. I’d said it. I’d given her its name. The very thing I was so ashamed of and wanted so desperately to hide from her. It was both a relief and an added dagger in my side.

  Kiara flinched at my words, but only slightly. “As long as the beast is separate from the man,” she murmured without meeting my eyes.

  “I try,” I admitted. “Every day.”

  The once comfortable mood was now heavy and somber from an exchange gone sour. Not wanting to end the day on such a note and looking to reignite the goodwill between us, I rushed to speak again.

  “I didn’t mean to be rude,” I apologized to her. “Come now, let’s not ruin a perfect evening.”

  “Perfect?” Kiara choked back a laugh.

  “Wasn’t it?” I asked, frustrated that she was making light of the best time I’d had in years, since Adlard, at least.

  “Nothing in this world is perfect,” Kiara said with a conciliatory smile, “aside from Heaven, of course.”

  Proof against her claim was right in front of me, but I didn’t think she’d agree.

  “You don’t believe in perfection?” I asked instead, rejecting her simple dismissal of the way I was raised, my need for control and absolute alignment in my life, the main reason I was now fighting the demise of my humanity.

  “No, I don’t,” she replied.

  “Why not?” I pressed.

  “Because there’s no such thing!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air with a laugh.

  “Except Heaven,” I threw back at her, warming up to the argument.

  Instead of giving in and yelling back, Kiara grinned, which eased the tension and brought down my temper.

  “It’s not a matter of belief or not,” Kiara calmly explained, “but a matter of what I think perfect to be.”

  “Which is?” I prompted.

  “Which is…” Kiara stood up and wandered about the room, stopping just beside the window where she could sense the faint outline of drifting snow outside. “…That not everything needs to be perfect to be perfect.”

  I chuckled. “That means imperfection can be perfect which is contrary to its very meaning!”

  Kiara spread out her arms, encompassing not just the room, but the castle, the grounds, the villages, the entire kingdom and beyond. “Look at the world Heaven gifted us,” she encouraged, her voice filled with wonder, “a world where mountains have crags and rocks are jagged, where lakes are rippled and trees grow crooked limbs. Have you ever heard of a perfect snowflake? If there was such a thing would we not simply see the same design over and over again?”

  “I suppose,” I agreed warily.

  Kiara nodded eagerly, her face flushed, her countenance beautiful. “Instead, Heaven decreed that no two snowflakes would be identical. And that’s quite perfect to me.” Here she stepped toward me, trying to convey the sincerity of her beliefs which only further ignited the passion animating her. “Differences and ambiguity, texture and incongruity are what make the world beautiful. That we are different, that we are flawed, that we want so much to be perfect but never can be, that’s perfect to me.”

  I had a moment of clarity then as her words sank in, that therein was the reason Kiara was not easily upset when things didn’t play out as desired or planned. Because she accepted that humans are imperfect, and stumbles inevitable. She knew, no, she trusted and believed the world was supposed to be this maddeningly imperfect and uncontrollable place.

  Kiara was standing so close to me now, so close I could see the reflection of my shuttered blue eyes in her guileless brown ones. She met my gaze and time froze…until the clock on the mantle rang out the hour and the moment was lost with midnight’s chime.

  “T
ime for sleep,” she said, reaching out to place an affectionate hand on my shoulder. “Good night.”

  Then she surprised me with leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on my forehead, something even my father couldn’t bring himself to do the night I was sent from the palace. I couldn’t even remember the last time my mother had given me a kiss. Kiara was out of the room before I could react, though my skin tingled for a long time after I could no longer hear her feet on the steps, in the hall, pattering toward her room.

  Surely she was already sleeping by the time I was able to pull myself together, by the time I could form a thought about how her warmth still lingered, by the time I whispered to her retreated form, “Good night.”

  I didn’t go straight to my chambers after that because there was no chance of sleep just yet. Instead, I slowly paced the halls, for once feeling a sense of calm, for once ignoring the spindly fingers of shadows foretelling my future as they crept across the walls. The castle didn’t feel as empty that night, the stones didn’t seem quite as indifferent and cold.

  I took my time walking down every hall, stopping at every room, seeing many for the first time, especially through my newly opened eyes. I wanted to take advantage of this temporary lull in my war, the fighting that suddenly ceased the moment Kiara pressed her lips to my temple. I knew it was only a momentary truce, but I relished every tick of the clock in which it occurred.

  As I passed through the servants’ quarters, I heard low murmuring slipping out from under one of the closed doors. I stepped closer, curious as to why anyone was up so late. The noise brought me to the door of Ms. Potsdam’s room.