The Eye of the Beholder (2012)

by Elizabeth Darcy

  "There is much that I do not know of you, Lysander, much that remains a mystery to me. Who were your parents? How did you come to be in this castle? What is behind your self-loathing? I know there are many secrets that you conceal from me, but I suppose I hope that, in time, you might grow to trust me enough to share them with me."

  There was a long silence between us, and I could see that he was considering my words. I waited, hoping he might have something to say in response, but it seemed that he did not. I was disappointed, but I hoped that we might continue the conversation in the future. Lysander had taken several steps, but I was impatient for him to take a few strides.

  "You have had little privacy since your injury," I said. At the sound of my voice, Lysander started, and I was more determined than ever to leave him for the time being. He needed some time alone to reflect. "I shall leave you now."

  I turned to leave, but he reached a paw out and gently laid it on my arm. "Mira…might we meet in the library this evening? As we once did?"

  The slight hesitation in his voice made me smile. Gone was the careless, commanding tone with which he had once spoken, and I found its absence most welcome. "I would be delighted," I answered. "As long as you promise not to rudely conceal yourself within the shadows once more."

  Lysander laughed, a sound that was somewhat akin to a dog's sharp bark. "Do you call my behavior rude when it was designed to spare you the necessity of gazing upon me?"

  "Was that the reasoning behind your behavior? Did you truly conceal yourself to spare me, or did you do it to spare yourself?"

  With those words, I departed his chambers and set off for the servants' quarters at a brisk pace. The day was young, and Lysander's positive reaction to the renovations to his chambers had energized me. My head was full of plans for the improvement and restoration of the gardens, and I was eager to recruit some of the servants to help me in my task. The years I had spent in the cottage had given me some knowledge of plants, though the knowledge tended more toward the agricultural and less toward the ornamental. This did not worry me overly much, for the servants had proved to possess such diverse talents that I was certain there would be at least some amongst them who had some knowledge of gardening.

  The day was bright, the sun determinedly pushing its rays through the filthy glass of the castle's windows and, as I walked, I found myself imagining how glorious the corridors would be once they were filled with the bright beams. When I had first arrived at the castle, I had seen little to admire in it, but I had come to appreciate its hidden beauties, and they were numerous. Fully restored, the castle would be a thing of glory.

  My conjectures about the servants proved to be correct, and several who had knowledge of gardening were soon huddled over parchment with me, drawing up plans. It was a challenge to communicate without words, but the servants were eager and innovative and, through a combination of gestures and sketches, we were able to communicate quite well. My eyes eagerly devoured the lines they drew upon the parchment as they created plans for paths, rows of plants, and the placement of various pieces of statuary.

  "Might we begin now?" I asked. I was under the impression that the servants were amused by my eagerness, but they nodded their assent and my feet practically flew over the marble floors as I hurried to my chambers to change my gown.

  Stepping outside of the castle was like a revelation. Since my arrival, the only time I had spent outdoors had been my brisk daily walks and the short periods I spent on my balcony. I was struck by just how much I had missed being outside of the confines of walls. So much of my day at our cottage had been spent out of doors carrying out various chores that I had come to take my love for the work for granted. The warmth of the sun on my face and the freshness of the breeze as it stirred my hair were wondrous things. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, so that my face was fully exposed to the sun.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw the servants gathered in a loose group with me at the forefront. Some of them were doing as I had just done, closing their eyes and tilting the faces up to the sun. Several of them stood with arms outstretched, as if they wanted to embrace the sun's light. Others had gone down on their knees, sinking their fingers into the earth and letting it sift through their hands. Though the milky white orbs of their face stood out in startling contrast against their skin, in the bright light of day they were beautiful to me.

  Who were these servants and from whence had they come? I had seen the blind before, when we had lived in town, but their eyes had been nothing like those of the servants. In addition, the faces of the servants remained strangely expressionless, as though they were incapable of manifesting their emotions. Their strange appearance coupled with their inability to speak was truly puzzling to me but, as I pondered this, I felt a return of the strange, crackling energy that so disturbed me.

  Too close. I am too close to something I am not meant to know, I told myself as the sensation of the energy caused my heart to fill with dread. I forced myself to turn my thoughts away from my questions about the origins of the servants, and to focus instead on beginning to work on the gardens.

  With the help of the servants, I divided the gardens into six sections, one for each of the servants who had gardening knowledge. Each of them would oversee the work on their section, while I and the rest of the servants served as physical laborers. Our first step would be to clear the gardens of the debris and weeds that had overtaken them, and it was a task that would take a good deal of time to complete, for the gardens were even worse off than I had suspected.

  I was distracted by sorrow as I thanked a servant, who handed me a pair of leather gloves. As I tugged them on, my eyes traveled over the ruined gardens and I felt a growing sense of dismay.

  This is an impossible task, a small, negative voice within me whispered.

  For a moment, I felt hopeless, but then I recalled how I had felt when I had first set foot within Lysander's chambers, and I knew that the feeling of hopelessness would pass. Even if progress proved to be very slow, it would be progress. I could stand about in the gardens all day long lamenting their sad state and mourning their lost beauty or I could work and do something to restore that beauty. I chose to work.

  Spring had taken a firm hold on the land during the weeks of Lysander's illness, and I could feel a hint of heat in the air that spoke of the summer to come. It had been several months since I had arrived in the castle, and I was rather startled to realize just how much time had passed. Some days it seemed as though I had spent an eternity in the castle, while on others it seemed as though I had only just arrived.

  I felt oddly as though I was two separate women; the woman who had lived in a small cottage in Everforest, and the woman who lived in a castle with a fearsome beast. Trapped within its crumbling walls and filthy windows, time had become something of a foreign concept to me. The days had seemed to blend into one another but now, out in the open, I was reminded that I had once been that woman living in a small village. I was quite astonished to realize just how small my perceptions had become, how they had shrunk to the size of the castle. All the things I had wanted to do, all the dreams I had once cherished had been forgotten when I had made the decision to come here in my father's place.

  A sense of longing filled me, and I halted my work. I stared about me but saw nothing, for my mind was occupied with a rush of thoughts I had not dwelt on in some time. For a brief moment, I burned with anger. I was angry with my father for having insisted on taking the forest road to Swan's Hollow. I was angry with Lysander for having deprived me of my freedom. Most of all, I was angry with myself. Why did I not excel at focusing on what was best for me, as did my sisters? What good had it done me to constantly tamp down my feelings, to sacrifice my wishes and desires for the sake of others? I was now trapped in a gloomy castle with a group of mute servants and the beast who was their master. The realization filled me with bitterness.

  I am better than this, a voice inside my head chided. I will not sink to the level of
pettiness of my sisters. What I did, I did out of love. I thought it would be a sacrifice, but has it truly been much of a sacrifice? There have been no demands placed upon me. I may do with my time as I like, all while I live in relative luxury.

  There was a part of me that clung stubbornly to my old wants and dreams. I did not mind giving something of myself, but I did not want to give everything. Captive or no, my dreams were my own and I had a right to them. I had a right to long for things, even if I was certain I would never have them.

  One of the servants startled me out of my reverie, and I stared blankly into her face until my head cleared and I understood that she was pointing out the position of the sun. We had been working in the gardens for hours and dusk had begun to descend. If I was to meet Lysander on time, I would need to return to my chambers to bathe and dress.

  I took a few moments to walk through the different sections of the gardens to survey the work. I smiled and nodded at the servants as they gestured to me and pointed things out, but my mind was far, far away from the castle. It was a relief when I had finished my tour and was free to return to my chambers. The sense of contentment I had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a depression of spirits out of which I could not seem to shake myself.

  Chapter 31

  Dawning

  As she so often had, Mira had left me alone, flabbergasted, and with a head filled with thoughts I would rather not have had. At times, I found it hard to resist my baser urge to subjugate her, to treat her as though she was a child who knew nothing of the world. While it was true that I was far older than she could possibly know, it was also true that I was not always wiser than her. Mira was very intuitive and often surprised me with her insight, a quality I had sadly lacked for most of my life.

  Though she knew very little about me, she was able to discern much more than I would have imagined, and I had to admit that her point had been well made. I could wallow in my own sense of unworthiness, my own guilt over all that I had done in the past, or I could change and hopefully do some good. I was tired of being the weak man, shrugging and declaring that it was far too late to change my ways. I wanted to be strong, to face up to my past transgressions and effect change within myself. It was more than time to prove to myself that I could be as strong as I had fooled myself into thinking I was.

  An important part of asserting that strength would lie in my facing what I had become. Once again, Mira's insight had been correct. Concealing myself within the shadows of the library had not truly been for her sake. Hiding in the shadows was something I had long done more for myself than for anyone else. The gloom in the castle, the broken windows, the shattered looking glasses, and the drained pools had been my attempts to deny what I had become. In so doing, I had punished the servants. At the time, I had not cared about such an injustice, but I now did.

  Taking a deep breath, I approached the window curtains. As I did so, a tremor ran through my body, and the animal part of me reacted to this weakness with disgust, causing my lip to curl as I emitted a soft snarl. It was but the reaction of a second, and it frightened me. This reaction to my fear was a highly unpleasant reminder that what was animal within me had begun to take over what was human.

  You shall not win, I thought fiercely as I fought back. The bestial side of me had controlled me for far too long, and I would not allow it to triumph, not now when I had finally found the strength and the will to change. The truth was, I hated my bestial appearance because it represented the man I had once been, years and years ago, before Mira had come into my life. Only now did I see that I had felt nothing but disdain for myself, and I had allowed that disdain to grow until it consumed every aspect of my life and every person within my sphere.

  Forcing the beast within me into submission was not easy. The effort left me drained and breathless, but I was victorious and allowed myself a moment's exultation. Then I focused again on the windows before me, allowing the fear to race through me. I forced myself to acknowledge that fear by listening to my rapid breaths and the pounding of my blood in my ears before I finally pushed the drapes aside.

  For a moment, I was blinded by the light of the sun and could do nothing more than blink feebly against it until my eyes adjusted. When they did, I stared at the light with a feeling of something like awe. Untold years had passed since I had truly looked at the pure light of the sun. The beauty of that light struck me as it never before had, and I found myself thinking of my past life and how I had always taken the light of the sun for granted. I wondered now how I had ever been foolish enough to think I could live without it.

  As the initial awe passed, I saw what it was I had long dreaded seeing: my reflection. I fought the instinct to look away, and the cringing expression on my face did nothing to improve my looks, exposing my animal's fangs as it did. I forced myself to look at the beast before me, to study that strange lion's face and wolf's body. I had not looked at my own reflection since the night of my transformation, when the enchantress had held up a mirror to show it to me.

  Rage threatened to overcome me, and I snarled as I turned my eyes away from my reflection. The edges of my vision had gone black, and I had just begun to think that all was lost when my eyes caught sight of the activity in the gardens. As if it was magnetically attracted, my gaze instantly fell upon Mira. She was easy enough to pick out amongst the servants for, though she was garbed like them, she was the only female with an uncovered head, and the sight of the fiery highlights of her curls arrested my gaze. My chest heaved and the rage boiled within me but, somehow, the sight of Mira gave me the strength I needed to resist. I remained with my eyes fixed on her as I struggled to master myself. The pressure within me built until I almost could not bear it, but I pushed it away and, to my surprise, it slowly began to dissipate. I felt an enormous sense of relief as it receded, but the effort had also left me completely spent, and I sank down onto the floor, my eyes greedily drinking in the sight of Mira until my head dipped below the level of the windows.

  I wanted to move over to the grand curtained bed that Mira and my servants had placed in the chamber, but I was far too weak. In spite of my weakness, I felt such a strong sense of triumph shoot through my body that it left me nearly giddy. Never before in my life had I been able to resist one of my black rages. I had feared that they would always get the best of me and was delighted with myself for having proved that this was not the case.

  "Never again," I vowed, my voice a low and menacing growl. "Never again will I succumb to one of those rages. Never again will I allow the beast within to rule me. I am a man and I will break free."

  The air took on a strange quality then, almost as if it were a living, breathing entity. I could feel some sort of presence in the chamber with me, and it caused my fur to stand on end. However, I somehow understood that the presence was benevolent, and I let down my guard. The air before me seemed to shimmer, but that may have been the light playing a trick on my weary eyes. I was unbearably tired and could not fight off the lethargy that overcame me. Relenting, I closed my eyes and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  My first instinct upon waking was to rise and gaze out the window, and I soon saw that evening had begun to fall and Mira was no longer in the gardens. I felt a deep sense of disappointment until I remembered that I was to meet her shortly, and then my stomach lurched. Sleeping on the ground had left me quite disheveled and I hurried to ring for my servants, wanting to change and do what I could to make myself more presentable before I left for the library.

  I was impatient for my servants to be finished with me, but I remembered how Mira had chided me earlier, and I made an effort to be far more cordial with them than I had in the past. My behavior seemed to astound them, for I caught a few of them exchanging glances with one another when they thought I was not looking. It was yet another reminder that, as far as I had come, I had much farther to go.

  As soon as they had finished, I hurried from my chambers and to the library. I suspected I would be late, but I could
not help but cling to the hope that I might arrive before Mira. It would give me a great deal of pleasure to watch her entrance into the library. In fact, I believed it had always given me pleasure, even when I had convinced myself that Mira was nothing but a pawn.

  Mira was already in the library when I arrived, but she had apparently not heard my entrance for she remained seated in one of the wing chairs, her head bent over a book. I stood observing her for a moment, noting how the firelight caused her hair to gleam and how she pursed her lips slightly when she was concentrating. The expression on her face spoke of a mind occupied with thoughts of places far, far away from where she and I were, and I could not help but feel a slight uneasiness. Without having considered what I was going to do, I found myself making a slight noise to alert her to my presence.

  She started and looked over at me. There was a momentary look of confusion on her face, and I knew that her mind had indeed been very far away. It was soon replaced by a look of recognition and a smile, but I could not help but feel that she was not entirely with me.

  "Good evening, Lysander," Mira said, moving to rise from her chair. I halted her with a gesture.

  "Nay, do not trouble yourself. Good evening to you as well," I responded, as I walked further into the library.

  I felt a moment's hesitation as I tried to decide upon which chair to seat myself. The thought of sitting directly across from Mira, where she would be able to clearly see my visage made me rather nervous, until I reminded myself that she had been seeing me quite clearly for some time now. As I sat, I sighed softly at the thought, but she seemed not to have noticed.

  "What are you reading?" I asked, gesturing toward the book, which now lay upon a small table next to her chair.

  "A book on gardening," she said, fingering the spine.

  "Ah, of course. I saw you working out in the gardens today." It had not been my original intent to tell her this, but I spoke the words before thinking.