The Eye of the Beholder (2012)

by Elizabeth Darcy

  When the moment arrived, I was prepared for it. Great warmth suffused me, as if I was being cradled in loving arms. There was light and a feeling of nearly overwhelming joy. I opened myself to it, gave myself over to the sensation, and my thoughts subsided, my body became lighter and my soul began to fly. I knew nothing but blackness for a time, and then a sense of confusion. I could feel myself returning to consciousness, and this did not make sense to me. How could I be waking when I was dead?

  Turning my head was difficult, exhausting, but once I had managed it, I saw a familiar statue. It was one of the few that I had not destroyed, and Mira seemed to have been particularly fond of it. I had observed her spending long minutes studying it with a wistful expression on her face. The statue was of a young girl caught in the midst of a dance. One arm was raised above her head, fingers gracefully poised. There was a slight smile on her face and her eyes were closed, as if she was lost in the music of the dance. There was a feeling of such movement to the statue. Her hair was a mass of long, flowing strands and her gown swirled about her. She seemed vibrant, alive, as if at any moment she might spring to life, marble becoming flesh. Before Mira, I had paid the statue little mind. Before Mira, I had paid a great many things little mind.

  Confused, I attempted to sit up. Everything felt wrong. It was as if my center of balance had shifted and I felt ungainly, which was saying quite a lot, considering I inhabited the body of an enormous beast. My head throbbed as I pulled myself upright and I groaned at the pain. The sound brought me to an abrupt halt and I could feel my breath catch in my chest. Slowly, very slowly, I raised my arm. I was trembling everywhere and as my eyes caught sight of what was at the end of my arm, I began to shake in earnest.

  "What is the meaning of this?" I asked in bewilderment. My voice was passing strange, and it took me a moment to understand that it was the voice of a human, lacking the depth of tone and the growling quality of my bestial voice. At the end of my arm was a hand. Not a paw, but a hand.

  Suddenly, Oriantha was once more before me. She was so radiant that I had to blink, even though some part of my brain registered that the light was not affecting me as it once might have. It was bright, but exposure to it did not cause me the same level of pain as it had when my eyes had been more sensitive.

  "I do not understand," I said. "Is this Elysium?"

  Oriantha laughed and the sound was warm and sweet, more beautiful than the song of the nightingale. "Nay, Edward, it is not Elysium."

  "But…I died…"

  "Edward did not die. Lysander did."

  "But I failed to break the spell. I loved Mira, but she did not love me. I thought…"

  "If that was true, you would not be Edward again."

  I stared at her uncomprehendingly. New information began to invade my consciousness. It was bright and sunny outside. There was a heady scent of roses in the air, and the sound of birdsong seemed to ring out from every tree.

  "Birdsong?" I asked, my voice full of wonder.

  "Aye, birdsong," Oriantha replied in a soft voice.

  Slowly, I rose to my feet. The pain was lessening now, but the awkwardness remained. I must have been more used to my beastly form than I had realized, for it now felt strange to be human. I staggered a bit as I took a few tentative steps, but I soon grew steadier on my feet. Without conscious choice, my feet carried me to a nearby reflecting pool. It was not the magical pool and a voice told me that it was a waste of energy to move toward it for it would be empty, just as every other pool save the magical one. But when I reached it, I found that the pool was full again; pure, clear water sparkled in the sunshine. My breathing was shaky as I leaned over it and when I saw my reflection, I gasped.

  It was me, what I had once thought of as the true me. The dark, blue-gray eyes staring at me were the same eyes that had once been in the face of a beast. That, however, was where the resemblance ended. My face was handsome, human, and crowned with a thick mass of wavy black hair. I had been a trim young man on the eve of my transformation, but had become so enormous as a beast that my new--old--body seemed small, fragile. For a human, I had broad shoulders and a powerful chest that tapered down to a slender waist. My legs were strong from years of riding. Disbelievingly, I began to pat at my body, watching my reflection do the same. My teeth were so white and so…blunt.

  "Do you remember this form?" Oriantha asked, coming up behind me.

  "It seems as if it belonged to someone else." I held my right hand before my face, clenching and unclenching it simply to watch the play of muscle and sinew. It was a very odd sensation.

  "Did it not belong to someone else?"

  I stilled, thinking for a moment before turning to face her. "I suppose it did. But, my lady, I still do not understand what has happened to me. How is it possible that I have regained my human form?"

  Oriantha smiled at me and stepped aside, extending her arm. I followed the length of it and saw something in the distance, something small and undefined that was approaching the two of us. Squinting, I tried to determine what the shape was, but my mind seemed somehow unable to process what I saw.

  "It cannot be," I whispered, feeling the color drain from my face.

  "It cannot?" Oriantha asked, her voice soft.

  I stared and stared, unable to believe what I was seeing. It seemed I was not the only one, for the figure halted abruptly, staring at me for quite some time before looking over at Oriantha. Her hair was tangled and wild, her scratched face bore the tracks of tears, and her dress was torn. She had never before looked so beautiful.

  "Oriantha?" she called, her voice uncertain and wavering. She hastily raised a hand to her eyes, dashing at them.

  "Mira, will you not join us?" Oriantha invited.

  "Who…who is this?" Mira asked. Slowly, she began to move toward us. She looked almost frightened, and her eyes darted from Oriantha to me and back again.

  Oriantha smiled at her and then at me. "My work here is complete. I must go now."

  "Thank you, my lady," I said, falling to my knees and seizing her hand. "Thank you."

  She laid her hand upon the top of my hand. "You have my blessing, Edward, King of Organdy. You have been given a second chance. Do not repay my faith in you with insult."

  "I will not, my lady. I swear to you that I will not. I am not worthy of this chance, but I am most grateful for it. Truly, you are merciful, and I shall strive to live by your example."

  "Then may you find peace and happiness," she said. Her voice was warm. I kissed her hand before releasing it and, before my eyes, she began to fade until she gradually disappeared.

  My stomach lurched sickeningly. I was alone with Mira, and I had no idea what to say to her. How could I explain all of this? And could she love me, as I was now, or was it Lysander she had loved? Were Lysander and I one and the same? Nervously, I rose to my feet and turned to face her.

  "Edward, King of Organdy?" Mira asked. Her confusion was evident. "I have never heard of such a kingdom as that. What is the meaning of this? Where is Lysander?"

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat, and when I spoke, my voice cracked like that of a boy on the verge of manhood. "Lysander is…I do not know how to explain this to you."

  "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Where is Lysander? I want to see Lysander."

  "Lysander is no more," I said quietly.

  A mixture of emotions passed over her face as she stared at me. Her lovely, soft eyes filled with tears and she began to weep. "Where is he? What have you done with him?"

  "He…I…He is me. He was me. I am him."

  Mira's flashing eyes bespoke her anger. "What manner of cruel trick is this?"

  "It is no trick, Mira," I said. I took a tentative step toward her and she backed away.

  "How do you know my name?" she hissed.

  "Mira, please. I beg you. I do not know how to explain this to you. It is so fantastical and I…" I could see that I was losing her. Her body was tensed, as if she was about to run. Desperate
ly, I tried to catch her gaze. And then it occurred to me. "Mira, look into my eyes."

  "What?" She took another step back.

  "Look into my eyes. Are they not familiar to you?"

  Though she was obviously frightened, she also seemed puzzled, curious. I could see the reluctance on her face as she raised her gaze to mine.

  "Your eyes…" she whispered.

  Encouraged, I took a step toward her and, though she tensed again, she did not move away. "What I said was the truth. I am Lysander. Lysander was…he was a form of punishment, a manifestation of what Edward once was on the inside."

  "Lysander told me he did many terrible things."

  I took another step toward her, holding my hands out so that she could see them. "He--I--did. The lady that you saw…"

  "Oriantha," Mira interrupted. "I saw her in the castle. She…she told me to look here. She told me Lysander was no more, but that I may yet find what I seek."

  My heart leapt painfully. I wanted so desperately to believe it was possible, but I could not believe that it was. "What do you seek?"

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Mira turned away from me. "A dear friend. I sought a dear friend. I wanted to…to tell him…but it is too late now, is it not?"

  I took one more step toward her. "What did you want to tell him?" I asked gently.

  "That I loved him. That I should not have left him. That I was selfish and sorry, so very sorry, for hurting him."

  Her words brought me such joy that I could feel tears rise to my own eyes. I had to fight hard to remind myself that it was Lysander she loved. "May I…tell you a tale?"

  She turned, an incredulous look on her face. "Tell me a tale?"

  "Please. I…I believe it may help you."

  She eyed me skeptically for a moment and then gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

  "Hundreds of years ago, there was a country called Organdy. Its king was Edward. Edward was a cruel man and, a year after he was crowned, a woman who had stolen bread for her starving children was brought before him.

  "Edward was cruel and had no sympathy for the woman's plight. He judged her harshly, but as he pronounced his punishment, the woman showed him her true form, and he found himself facing a wrathful enchantress. She placed a curse upon him and his castle. All who were outside of the castle forgot that it existed. All who were within it were transformed."

  I watched her face change as I told my tale. Her brow creased in confusion and I fell silent, giving her time to think about what I had said. The expression on her face changed to one of dawning understanding mixed with disbelief.

  "When I came here," she began, her voice so low I found it difficult to hear her, "I found it curious that no one knew of this castle. Something about it was...strange. I could sense a vibration in the air. I began to wonder if there was some sort of magic at work, but whenever I tried to probe these thoughts, the air changed and became painfully heavy. I could not explain any of it. I had never known anything like it, not in all my life."

  "It was a powerful enchantment, one that could be broken in only one manner."

  "What could break it?"

  I felt strangely bashful. "It could only be broken if Edward learned to love another…and if he earned her love in return."

  "Lysander was…he was not truly a beast. He thought like a man, sounded like a man. His voice was rather like yours, in fact," she said, her own voice distracted. Her cheeks began to color. "Lysander was a man. I was correct in my assumption that magic was at work. I sensed the enchantment, but I did not understand the nature of it."

  "I believe it caused you pain when you tried to probe it because the method of its undoing was secret."

  "Lysander knew all along how to break the spell?"

  "I did know, but I could not tell you. That, too, was one of the conditions the enchantress--Oriantha--placed upon the curse."

  Slowly, Mira nodded. "Before I left, Lysander said…he told me that he loved me and I…I fled."

  The pain of that encounter filled me. Perhaps Mira saw it, for she started. "Why did you flee?"

  "I was frightened." Tears rose to her eyes once again.

  "Frightened of Lysander, of what he had told you?"

  "Frightened of what I felt for him."

  "Mira, this Lysander, why did you call him that? Was it his name?" It felt strange to speak of myself this way, but I would not rush Mira. I would give her all the time she needed to understand what had happened. My arms ached to hold her and I felt my heart leap again at the very thought. I could hold her now; hold her as I had always longed to hold her. I could rest my head against her hair, inhale its scent. The bliss of it would seep into my very bones, and then I could slip a finger under her chin, tilt her head back, and slowly, very slowly lean in for a kiss… I was a man again!

  "He never told me his name and I hated to call him 'beast', so I gave him a name."

  "He never gave you his name?" I asked, my heart pounding.

  Her fingers flew to her mouth, her eyes opening wide. She stared up at me, and I could see that she now understood. She really, truly understood. "Edward? You are Lysander!"

  Chapter 42

  Joy

  For as long as I live, I shall never forget the look on Edward's face when, at long last, I understood everything that had happened. Wonderingly, I stared at him. Was it really possible that this man, this very handsome man, was actually Lysander? It was the strangest idea imaginable, but I knew that it was true. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes could belong to none other than my dearest, most cherished friend. It was as Oriantha had predicted: in the garden, I found exactly what I sought.

  I was overwhelmed by joy as I finally understood that he had not died. I would not have to know a life without him. We could be together for as long as we both lived. I wished for this with all my heart, and I could see from the expression on his face that he did as well. Every fear I had ever had, every doubt in my heart had now been erased. The impossibility of loving a beast had disappeared. He had been a man all along, and I could truly have everything I desired.

  "Oh, Edward," I breathed. "I am so sorry. I will never forgive myself for the pain I caused you. I was a coward."

  "Mira, there will be no blame between us. You forgave me my many flaws and I forgive you. It does not matter."

  "No, it does not," I agreed, my tears flowing freely now.

  "Mira, may I… would you allow me to…"

  I flung myself into his arms, clinging to him. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. I could feel his fingers in my hair, his cheek against my head. The sun shone and the birds sang as I clung to the man I loved, as I basked in my happiness, in my gratitude.

  "My darling Mira," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. He rained kisses over my hair, over my cheek, my chin, my forehead. All the while, he murmured to me, calling me his darling, his beloved.

  "I love you, Edward," I said, taking his face in my hands and stilling him. "I love you so dearly. I should have told you."

  "I love you, Mira." He tilted my head back and my eyes fell closed. My chest ached from the difficulty of breathing, and my spine tingled in anticipation. His lips brushed over mine, tentative. He was so warm, so deliciously warm. I wound my fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to mine, and his kiss became intent. Heat flooded my body and I knew no need other than the need to be close to him. I raised myself up onto my toes, meeting his passion with my own. There was rapture in his kiss, in the taste of him, and in the warmth of his breath.

  We kissed for some time, lost in one another's embrace. His thumbs traced their way over my jaw, my cheekbones, as his palms cradled the back of my head. I ran my fingers through the glorious mass of his raven hair. Whenever he tried to pull away from me to catch his breath, I pressed myself up against him and kissed him even more eagerly, causing him to laugh.

  How I loved the sound of that laugh! It made me kiss him even more passionately and when we finally did part, I could feel the imprint
of his kisses on my lips. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. His breathing was rapid, but not as rapid as the beating of his heart, which pounded against the hand I had lowered to it.

  "I want to sweep you into my arms and carry you off," he said in a voice that made the heat rise to my cheeks once again.

  "I wish you would," I confessed in a whisper.

  He lowered his mouth to mine once again, kissing me slowly, tantalizingly. "I cannot possibly describe to you how desperately I longed to be able to do this. I knew no will when it came to you. My heart was yours before I knew what had overcome me."

  "You are the only person who has ever truly understood me." I caressed his cheek, my fingers trembling at the texture of his skin. "I felt as if your soul was a twin to mine."

  "It is," he assured me, lowering one of his hands to cover mine. He kissed his way from my mouth across my cheek. Slowly, softly, he trailed kisses over my entire face. "I cannot ever be parted from you again," he whispered, as his lips slowly made their way back to mine.

  There was no talking for some time after that. Every sensation was new and almost painfully exquisite to me and, as I moved my fingers over the contours of his face, I felt as though I was experiencing the sense of touch for the first time. It must have been even more acute for my beloved Edward, who had not had human senses for a very long time.

  "Are you truly hundreds of years old?" I asked, when we paused to breathe.

  "Indeed I am. No jests about my age, please."

  I laughed softly, but sobered quickly. "How lonely you must have been."