Impossible.
His heart started to pound like thunder. It was pounding so violently that he felt as if it would burst within his chest.
Then came the laughter. It surrounded him, cacophonous. The wicked cackling seemed to come from lands unseen; their voices, their vindictive words entrapped him, causing his anxieties to overwhelm him. His vision became narrowed, and soon all he saw were the cat’s yellow eyes staring at him from the mantel. Then everything closed in on him and his world became black.
Nothingness.
He was alone in the darkness with only the sisters’ laughter and his own dread to keep him company.
He woke what seemed like some days later, feeling as if he’d been beaten by a gang of black guards.
His entire body ached and he could barely move. The sisters had ensured his misery and compounded it with their laughter and taunting, leaving him ill and suffering.
“You’re awake, sir!” said Cogsworth from the corner chair, where he had been sitting. “We were very worried about you, sir.”
“What happened?” The Prince’s head was still slightly befogged and he couldn’t quite get his bearings.
“Well, it seems, sir, you were very ill, suffering from a severe fever. When you hadn’t come down to breakfast, I came up to find you lying on the floor.”
“Where’s the mirror?”
“The mirror, sir? Oh yes, I put it in your dressing stand.”
The Prince’s panic subsided.
“Was it all a dream, then? All fancy brought on by worry or illness?”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir. But you were rather ill. We’re all very much relieved to hear you are out of the woods, as they say.”
Cogsworth was putting on a brave face, as he always did, but the Prince could tell he had been worried. He looked tired, worn, and uncustomarily rumpled. He was usually fastidious. It was a credit to his loyalty that it seemed he had been at the Prince’s side during his entire illness.
“Thank you, Cogsworth. You’re a good man.”
“Thank you, sir. It was nothing.”
Before Cogsworth could be embarrassed any further, the porter poked in his head sheepishly to say, “Excuse me, sir, it’s just that Mrs. Potts wants Cogsworth down in the kitchens.”
“Here now, I won’t have Mrs. Potts telling me where I am needed!” grumbled Cogsworth.
“No, she’s right, you look like you could use a good cup of tea,” said the Prince. “I’m fine. Go to the kitchens before she waddles her way up here, getting angrier with each flight of stairs she has to take to reach us.”
Cogsworth laughed at the thought of it. “Perhaps you’re right, sir.” He left the room, taking the porter along with him.
The Prince felt incredibly foolish for thinking he had actually been cursed. As he looked out the window, the trees were violently swaying, dancing to a manic song only they were privy to. He longed to be out of doors, tracking elk and talking with his friend about anything other than the sisters, Circe, or curses—and as if by magic, there was a knock at the door. It was Gaston.
“My friend! I heard you were awake! That Cogsworth wouldn’t let anyone in your room except Dr. Hillsworth, who just came downstairs to let us know you were finally on your way to health.”
“Yes, Gaston, I’m feeling much better, thank you.” Looking at Gaston, the Prince noticed he hadn’t shaven in more than a few days, and the Prince wondered how long he had been ill.
“Have you been here all along, good friend?”
“I have. Cogsworth gave me a room in the East Wing, but I spent most of my time down in the kitchens with Mrs. Potts and the others.” Gaston seemed almost like the young boy the Prince had befriended so many years earlier, his face tensed with worry over his friend’s illness—and spending his time in the kitchen like the other servants’ children.
“Stay as long as you like. This was once your home, friend, and I want you to always feel it is such.” Gaston looked touched by the sentiment but didn’t say so.
“I’m going to make myself presentable before heading home. I’m sure things have gone to the winds without me there for so many days.”
“Surely LeFou has it handled.” The Prince tried not to look disappointed his friend was making plans to leave.
“Doubtful. He’s a fool at best! Don’t fret, my friend. I’m sure Cogsworth will be up shortly to keep you company and help you to make plans for the party we’re throwing the moment you’re well enough.”
“Party?” the Prince asked.
Gaston gave one of his magic smiles, the kind that always ensured he would get his way. “Yes, a party, my friend, one that will be remembered throughout the ages!”
Gaston’s plan went directly into action only a few short weeks after the Prince’s recovery. The entire staff was behind it and thought it was exactly the thing he needed.
“This is like a dream!” was heard throughout the castle by Mrs. Potts as she amended menus and made suggestions for little cakes to be served in the great hall.
Cogsworth had an extra bounce in his step but was too austere to let it be known he was pleased to have a bustling house again to take control of like a general at war. And that was how he directed things, ordering the staff hither and thither to ready the castle for the grand event.
The Prince, however, had needed some persuading before he agreed to such a party. Gaston argued that after the mishap with Circe and his long illness, the Prince deserved a thrilling diversion.
“What better way to find the most enchanting woman in the kingdom than to invite every fair and available maiden so you may have your pick? And all under the guise of a fanciful ball?”
The Prince didn’t share Gaston’s enthusiasm.
“I hate such events, Gaston. I see no need to stuff my house with frilly ladies prancing around like decorated birds.”
Gaston laughed.
“If we invite every fair maiden in the kingdom, I daresay every girl will attend!” the Prince protested.
“That is my point entirely, my friend! No girl would pass up her opportunity to shine in the Prince’s eyes.”
“But that is what I fear! Surely there will be far more ghastly-looking girls than beautiful! How shall I stand it?”
Gaston put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and replied, “No doubt you will have to wade through some ugly ducklings before you find your princess, but won’t it be worth it? What of your friend who had such a ball? Wasn’t it a great success after the matter of the glass slipper was sorted?”
The Prince laughed. “Indeed, but you won’t catch me marrying a housemaid like my dear friend, no matter how beautiful she is! Not after the disaster with the pig keeper.”
The talk went on like that for many days, until the Prince decided he would have the ball after all, and why not? Why shouldn’t he demand the attendance of every available maiden in the kingdom? He and Gaston would make a game of it, and if he did happen to find the young woman of his dreams, then all the better. So it was decided. He didn’t have to think any more about it until the night of the event.
In the meantime he did his best to dodge his servants, running about like wild geese being chased by hounds. He forgave their franticness and even grew to laugh when he heard Mrs. Potts padding her way down the hall to ask him this or that about what he’d like served. Meanwhile, the maids were polishing silver in the dining room, the grooms were readying the stables for the guests’ horses, and the parlor maids were perched precariously on tall ladders, dusting the chandeliers and replacing the old candles with new. The house was abustle and he wanted nothing more than to get out of doors and do some hunting. But Gaston was out traversing his lands, dealing with one thing or another, and couldn’t be bothered with trivial sport.
The Prince chimed the bell for Cogsworth.
“Yes, sir, y
ou rang?” asked Cogsworth, knowing full well he had. The Prince always detested all this ceremony, but he let Cogsworth have his way. He remembered what his father—rest his soul—had said to him many years ago. He said everyone in the house, upstairs and down, had their places and their roles to play. To deny a man like Cogsworth his duty and remove him from his place was like taking away his sense of self and dignity. Cogsworth had treated him well for many years; he couldn’t shatter the man’s self worth by treating him like family, even though that was how he had grown to think of him. It was an unspoken sentiment between them.
The Prince believed Cogsworth thought the same of him but was too austere to say so.
“Yes, Cogsworth, I would like you to arrange for the Maestro as soon as manageable. I mean to have another portrait.”
Cogsworth rarely let his expression betray him. “Yes, sir, I shall send for him.”
“What is it, Cogsworth? Don’t you approve?”
It seemed he thought about it for a moment before answering, “It isn’t my place to say so, sir, but if it was, I would mention how ‘interesting’ the household becomes when he visits.”
The Prince had to laugh. He had thought Cogsworth was going to comment on how recently he’d had a portrait done.
“Indeed. He is a bit of a character, isn’t he? He treats the staff well, though, doesn’t he? You don’t have a complaint on that account, do you?”
“Oh no, sir, it isn’t that. A gentleman such as the Maestro isn’t the least bit challenging in that regard. No, sir, he’s just an eccentric fellow, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes he is, and very keen on himself and the impact his art makes on the world, I would say. Enough of that. I am sure you are very busy with all the details for tomorrow’s event. I trust everything is in hand?”
Cogsworth looked positively proud, almost beaming. “Oh yes, everything is running like clockwork, sir. It’s going to be a perfect evening.”
“And Gaston, have you any word from him? He all but insisted I have this party and then took off to places unknown, leaving me here to dawdle my time away.”
Cogsworth smirked. “Yes, sir, he sent word this morning ensuring he would be back tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’ve asked the gamekeeper to ready for a day of stalking. I thought with the house in such a state you would be eager to get out of doors.”
“Brilliant idea, Cogsworth! Thank you!”
On the following evening the castle was aglow with gold flickering light, which was dancing in the hedge maze, making the animal topiaries seem to come to life. Everyone would be arriving within the hour, but the Prince was finding a moment of quiet in one of his favorite places on the castle grounds.
The tranquility was shattered by Gaston’s booming voice calling for him from the arched entryway covered in tiny pink blossoming roses.
“Are you in this damnable maze again, Prince?”
The Prince didn’t answer his friend. He just sat there wondering what the night would bring. He had also been thinking of Circe and wondering if it was possible ever to find another girl who loved him as much as she had. There had been times he thought Circe was a dream and her sisters some sort of nightmare he had conjured in his own fevered imagination. He’d lost so much time already, it didn’t seem reasonable to waste much more with thoughts of Circe, her harpy sisters, or curses.
“Your guests will be arriving any moment,” Gaston shouted, “and though he wouldn’t admit it, I think Cogsworth will blow a gasket if you’re not there to greet them as they enter the great hall!”
The Prince sighed. “I’ll be right there.”
Gaston turned the corner, seeing his friend sitting near a towering topiary of a winged lion. “What’s the matter? I thought this would liven your spirits! Every girl in three kingdoms is said to attend! It’s going to be magnificent!”
The Prince stood, straightening his velvet frock coat, and said, “Yes, it will be. Let’s not keep the girls waiting.”
The girls filed in by the hundreds. So many of them! He didn’t know there could be so many in all the world. All of them were decked out for the occasion. There were stunning brunettes with dark haunting eyes, pale and lovely blondes with perfect ringlets, striking redheads with jade colored eyes, and everything in between. They all paraded past him, some hiding behind their fans and giggling, while others tried not to look the least bit interested in whether he glanced in their direction. Some seemed too nervous to keep from trembling, sometimes so violently they lost composure altogether and spilled their drinks.
There was one girl with auburn hair he didn’t manage to see properly. She seemed always to have her back turned. She must have been very beautiful, because he caught the dirty glances she received from the other ladies as they passed her, and quite unlike the others, she didn’t travel in a swarm of girls. She stood off—apart from most everyone—seeming not the least bit interested in the idle chatter of the fairer sex.
“Gaston, who is that girl? The one in the blue dress I saw you talking with earlier? What’s her name?” Gaston pretended he didn’t recall, annoying the Prince. “You know very well to whom I’m referring, man! Bring her over here and introduce me.”
“You wouldn’t be interested in her, trust me!”
The Prince raised an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t I? And why is that, my good friend?”
Gaston lowered his voice so those nearby wouldn’t hear. “She’s the daughter of Cuckoo! Oh, she’s lovely, yes, but her father is the laughingstock of the village! He’s harmless enough, but fancies himself a great inventor! He’s always building contraptions that clank, rattle, and explode! She isn’t the sort you’d like to get mixed up with, good friend.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but nevertheless, I would like to meet her.”
“I daresay you would find her very tedious with her endless talk of literature, fairy tales, and poetry.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about her, Gaston,” the Prince said with a comical, knowing nod.
“I fear I do! In the few moments we spoke just now, she prattled on of nothing else. No, dear friend, we need to find you a proper lady. A princess! Someone like the princess Morningstar over there. Now, she is a delight! No talk of books from her! I bet she’s never read even a single book or had a thought of her own!”
The Prince thought that was a very good quality in a woman. He could do enough thinking for both himself and his future wife.
“Yes, bring over the princess Morningstar. I’d very much like to meet her.”
Princess Tulip Morningstar had long golden locks, with a milk and honey complexion and light sky-blue eyes. She looked like a doll draped in diamonds and pink silks.
She was remarkably beautiful—radiant, in fact. Everything about her sparkled, with one exception: her personality. But that didn’t bother the Prince. He had enough personality for both of them. It wouldn’t do to have a wife who took attention away from him.
Morningstar had a charming little habit of giggling when she didn’t have something to contribute on a subject, which was most of the time. This made him feel like the best of tutors. Honestly, he could talk about anything and her attentions were never diverted from him; she just giggled.
He had already decided he was going to marry her, and judging by the sulky looks on the faces of the rest of the ladies in attendance, it must have been quite clear.
Gaston looked positively pleased with himself that he had helped arrange a perfect match for his friend. And for his part, he saw to it that the other ladies didn’t go without a dance partner for very long.
It seemed to the Prince that Gaston must have danced with every girl there that evening—all except the inventor’s daughter, who by all accounts didn’t seem too pleased to be there to begin with, though he couldn’t tell by the look on her face, because he hadn’t, in fact, had a single clear glanc
e at her the entire evening.
None of that mattered, though. He had his darling princess Tulip to look after now.
The Prince was more pleased than ever the Maestro was coming to do his portrait now that he’d made Princess Tulip Morningstar his fiancée. It would be an engagement portrait with the two most attractive members of royalty anyone had beheld!
The princess went back to her father’s kingdom after the ball and awaited the various ceremonies, parties, and other trappings that would take place during their engagement, all leading up to, of course, the most majestic of weddings. She would, by custom, live with her family, visiting the Prince frequently with her nanny as chaperone, and sometimes also bringing her mother along as it suited her or the occasion presented itself.
This visit she would come with her nanny. Everyone was excited that the Prince had commissioned the Maestro to paint the portrait. He was the most celebrated painter in many kingdoms and was in great demand. Not since the renowned Master Maker of Mirrors had there been another artist who caused such a stir in the royal circles. Though his art could be brutally accurate, most gentry didn’t seem to let that color their opinion of the man.
Princess Tulip showed up on a rainy afternoon, quite soggy. Though her hair was flat and her clothes were sticking to her, she somehow managed to look pretty, and quite worth rescuing from the elements. The Prince kissed her sweetly on the cheek and greeted her happily when she stepped out of the carriage.
“Tulip, my love! How was your journey?”
A grumble came from inside the carriage, and out popped what must have been his dearest’s nanny.
“It was intolerable, as you can see! The carriage leaked and I would be surprised if my darling girl doesn’t come down with the nastiest of colds! I must get her into a hot bath at once!”
The Prince blinked a couple of times and smiled at the woman. She was impossibly old and lined like a little apple doll that had been moldering away on a windowsill. Her hair and skin were powdery white, and though much aged, her eyes were rather sparkling with life. This woman was a little firecracker.
The Beast Within Page 4