Beast

by Maya Emmerich

  Chapter 8

  Leona turned to face the wind, shivering, feeling the icy blasts of snow on her face like pinpricks. She saw the torches in the distance, coming fast, yet they offered no hope of warmth. She walked all the way to the palace gates to meet them, determined to hold her spine straight. She wouldn’t let them see her cry- wouldn’t let them see that she was shaking down to her very core. She was so terrified she could hardly move, but she made herself, because she had to.

  The pitiful doctor was in the lead. He ran, eyes raging, finger pointing, at her. “There! She was there! She saw it all!”

  Leona narrowed her eyes. Her head snapped away from the doctor to Mr. Bradley when he spoke.

  “Is it true? He exists?”

  Leona narrowed her lips. She stood straighter. “I’d tell you he did if I could.”

  Mr. Bradley narrowed his eyes. Mr. Green stood directly behind him. The two men were not a part of the castle- they worked for the prince, but they had never once stepped foot inside of the palace. They wouldn’t know the beast; who did? Why would the Prince ever claim him now, a murderer, as his overlord?

  She could still fix this. She had to.

  “What does that mean?” Mr. Bradley hissed. “A man is dead, woman, and you stand there playing games!”

  Leona curled her lip. She said, loud and clear for every man in the mob to hear, “I’m not ashamed of what I did! I needed money! I was released from prison and my mother was sick, starving! I called for the doctor, and he refused- so I made Destin come out to help me, and he said no!” she started shaking, fists curled. They would never know it was from fear, not rage. “I killed him,” she said between her teeth. “I bashed his head against the wall, made him suffer for rejecting, humiliating…starving me! And you!” she pointed to the doctor. “You pitiful fool! I threatened him,” she said to Mr. Bradley. “Told him that if he told a soul I would do the same to him. And then he ran!” Leona approached the doctor, hand raised like claws, ready to rip his throat out.

  Her anger was real. She hated this little man- hated him for ruining her life and denying her happiness. She leapt on him, strangling him, freed by the chance to set loose her anger in public, finally able to express her emotions without worry of consequences. She was already dead. What did it matter?

  Mr. Green and two other men dragged her off the poor doctor kicking and screaming. She glared at them all, pure murder in her eyes, held by both arms. The doctor lay panting in the snow, staring up at her with confused, terrified eyes. Mr. Bradley stood in front of her, eyes cold, and slapped her hard across the face. She felt blood in her mouth.

  “Get a hold of yourself!” he shouted.

  She clamped her lips shut. He stared at her hard. “My mother died because of him,” she snarled. “And then he comes to you, crying beast.” She narrowed her eyes. “You won’t find any beast here, Mr. Bradley, except me.”

  Mr. Bradley snorted. “I have no doubt about that, Miss Winters,” he said icily, and then motioned for her to be taken away.

  She was bound at the wrists and dumped into a cart, head swimming with pain as it bumped against the side. She gritted her teeth and sat back, ignoring the condescending glares. She moved her eyes up to the castle, fighting her tears, trying to take strength in the faint light burning in the ground floor window. Her eyes fixed on that light and stayed to it, determined to accept only its light as her reality. She felt her heart ache as it faded farther and farther away, spinning her into bleak darkness. As the last view faded, her eyes no longer able to strain past the treetops, three words whispered through her head.

  He’s alive.

  Knowing that, she was able to keep her back straight and her tears at bay. But she wasn’t able to stop her entire body from shaking with cold, exhaustion…and fear. At least he was safe. God, at least she would die knowing that she hadn’t condemned him.

  Leona had nowhere else to look now, as she was wheeled faster and faster toward the town jail. It was nearing day; they would place her in isolation, she knew, until the sun rose, and her trial could commence.

  Her lips trembled, but she could barely feel them. The icy wind tore holes in her skin, burning to her bones. Her wrists ached unbearably behind her, arms sore and stiff, legs cramping in her position. She looked above her, trying to see the stars through the tips of the trees, but they were not there. Once more a painful lump tried to break free, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t let them know of her fear, of her sadness.

  She took several deep breaths to steady herself, trying to take comfort at least, knowing she could see the glow of the moon, just barely, through the thick fog that shrouded her. They reached town with loud grumbles and shouts, and suddenly she was tossed about in the wagon as it lurched to a halt, her head once more spinning as it slammed against the side. Still dizzy, she was yanked by the rope at her wrists down to the ground, making her cry out in pain, unable to help it, as her stiff muscles were shredded into movement.

  She bit her lip to keep from crying out again, holding her breath to keep it from releasing tears upon its exhale. She was shoved forward, and she stumbled, falling to her knees in the snow. She winced as they hit the ice, and on her lip she tasted blood. Despair lurching inside of her, she rose slowly to her feet, trying to keep her dignity as best she could. She knew it did not matter to them, whether she cried out in mercy or snarled in fury, but to her, it was all she had left, to at least go knowing she did right, knowing that all she suffered now was a very small price to pay for the blood shed, the hardship endured that could have all been avoided has she not been so blind.

  Still, as she walked through the jeering crowd toward the iron-barred windows of the jail, she felt their words and glares more scathingly than the cold night chill. The door was opened and in she was pushed, closing her eyes in misery as the door clicked shut, the key turned, and Mr. Bradley walked away, chuckling, behind her.

  She stood still in the small room, her nose twitching with the rank smell of sweat, vomit, and rot surrounding her. The cell was cold, unheated, just a few degrees warmer than the night air. When she opened her eyes she realized that it was not much different than the cell the beast had been in, that far away day.

  She felt the tears in her eyes as she wondered, helplessly, of why he had been there, of how he was doing, if he even knew where she was. Eyes heavy with dread, she walked to the window, staring out of the bars, face drenched in moonlight. Her mouth opened as she spotted one tiny tip of a tower, flag blowing steadily in the mountain air.

  A strangled cry escaped her throat, and she fell backward against the nearest wall, letting herself slide down to the dirt bottom. Her feet still danced in the moon’s pale glow, but her face, her eyes, were shrouded in darkness. She stared before her, seeing wicked shapes in the pitch darkness, her mind slowly turning as her situation dawned.

  She was going to die.

  She was alone. So utterly, miserably alone. She had no one left, save the one being that could never sit with her in her final hours. She thought of his warm embrace, thought of his wild roar as he stormed through the village in her pursuit. He would bash down the door, eyes wild, teeth bared in frustration. She would cry out his name, and he would reach for her, sweeping her up into his warmth, forever lifting her from this pain.

  She knew she had saved him. She knew, deep in her heart, that she had done right, feeling every inch her love now that she knew it was there. She ached for him, ached in loneliness and want. And she felt desperate. She wished so badly that she could just confess, that she could explain, it had all been a mistake, all just a bad dream, and they would believe. They would smile at her and everything would be all right- she would go back to the palace and live day and night with the beast at her side. She felt the injustice of the cruelty upon her, felt her impending death with fear and unfairness.

  Whatever else her faults, she did not deserve death- however her part had led the beast to that cottage, led Destin to the
beast…surely she did not deserve to die for it? But neither did the beast- no one did! Yet here she was, alone, cold, hungry, back to her same fate. Perhaps it was just her destiny to die. The beast had given her a few short weeks, had given her borrowed time. But now it must be. Now she must fly away, into her mother’s paradise.

  But she wasn’t ready!

  For all her bravado and hope, she didn’t want to die. She just wanted to live. She wanted to rise the next day and watch the sun climb with her, wanted to lay down to sleep just as the sun retired as well. She wanted to find a man to love, wanted to have babies, wanted to grow old….

  She looked at the tower out through the bars. So this was it. As the moonlight played with her face, glinting off her icy tears, illuminating her body’s frantic shivering, she knew. It could never be. She didn’t want to die, but to live her life with the beast, a barmaid forever trapped in that castle…what life was that? They may love, but how could they be?

  She sniffed, closing her eyes against the sight. No. She could never think those things.

  Her head bowed, she let her fantasies once more cloud into her mind, drifting her off into a hazy world free of the nightmares of real life.