The Beast Queen

by Felicity Partington

  There was an isolated castle, a mysterious ‘he’, and her father was morose. Comprehension dawned upon her within moments, betrayal and indignation flooded her. He was going to force her to marry some wealthy stranger, without her consent or foreknowledge. He’d promised her off to some rich recluse. This frozen stronghold was to be her prison, her sentence an obedient wife. She had suspected that he was planning it on a smaller scale, but she had thought he would have told her first.

  Well, fuck.[FH2]

  She was desperately trying to figure a way out of this mess.

  Marriage was just a contract, if she could reason with her father, he could dissolve it. It would be a matter of wounded pride, paperwork, but ultimately, she could not marry without his permission. Once they explained that Isabelle was no longer on the market, then they would be able to go back, there was hope. Isabelle just needed to keep control of her father, assuage whatever fears drove him to this. “We have to go to the castle.”

  “No Isabelle.” Her father protested; eyes wide.

  “We’ll freeze out here. Look; we’ll go, explain everything, it will be okay.” She spoke with a calmness she didn’t feel. Fear pulsed through her, it battled her common sense and self-preservation.

  Reason was the victor, there was no shelter here, and it was beginning to get dark. If they stayed outside, they would freeze to death. Some hope was better than none, and no matter how intimidating the man who lived in the castle might be, she doubted he would be less pliable than any other. “Come on,” she pulled at his arm again, and he took reluctant steps towards the horse, “hurry Papa. I can’t feel my fingers.”

  Once they were inside the carriage, she hastily pulled another blanket around herself. Amaury urged Briar onwards, after a swift backwards glance towards the gates. This was why he had been quiet. He had planned all along to offload her, his only child, to some stranger. Under lock and key, away from trouble. Amaury had underestimated her, Isabelle thought darkly, she was entirely sure she could find trouble wherever she was.

  She needed to hold onto hope otherwise fear and desperation would impair her thinking. They’d explain, return home, and she would try to be better. If only for the sake of her father’s sanity. Maybe being a mayoress wouldn’t be so bad.

  The road up to the castle was long and steep, and the light had faded by the time they walked through the ornate rose-trellised arch into the courtyard. Isabelle stepped out first and looked around. There was a frozen fountain in the middle of the white expanse, flawless snow all around, the castle looked abandoned. It was easy to imagine that it was a relic of time. The only sign of life was the smoke coming from the chimneys. Smoke meant fire. Fire meant warmth. Isabelle almost ran to the door, her father stopped her.

  “Be careful,” Amaury cautioned, “notice how there are no footprints? This is not a normal castle. “

  “There are no footprints because nobody in their right mind would come outside in this weather.” Isabelle reasoned, rolling her eyes and pulling free. The main doors were huge, at least twice as tall as she was, and she knocked on them loudly. Her hands were so cold that knocking hurt. “Hello?” She called after a while when there was no answer. She glanced back to her father, who was still waiting by the horses, observing nervously, had he always been such a coward? She knocked again. No answer. Taking a chance, she tried the handle, it surprised her by moving, and she pushed the door open. “Hello?” Isabelle called again into the dark corridor. No candles were lit, and she could barely see through the gloom. “Is anybody there?”

  Blackness greeted her, the only sound the soft lilt of her voice echoing off the cavernous darkness. With a glance back to her father, she stepped inside, determined not to give up hope. Feeling her way down the corridor, a hand against the rough stone wall, she shouted again, louder this time. Now she was further inside she could see a warm glow in the distance, and she moved towards it. There was a room off the corridor, a room with a fire, standing in the doorway she surveyed the space, revelling in the heat which engulfed her. There was a window surrounded by heavy drapes which let the eerie twilight in, the fire in the large grate cast dancing shadows all over the room. Every part of her stung as the blood started making its way back to her extremities, her skin felt like it was burning, a testament to how close they had come to hypothermia.

  There might not be anybody home, but at least they could wait in warmth. Surely whoever lived here would not begrudge them some heat from an already lit fire.

  Isabelle startled when she heard a loud bang. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she ran from the room back down the shadowy corridor. At the end of the hall, there was no glimmer of the outside, somebody had closed the door. Luckily her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the shapes of tables and rugs enough to not trip. She fell upon the vast door and pulled at the handle. It was locked.

  “Papa?” She cried through the wood, panic beginning to claw at her.

  “Isabelle?” She heard his raspy voice, worried, which calmed her a little. For a split second, she had worried that he had planned to lock her here and run.

  She pounded on the door, harder this time so that her terror might touch Amaury’s conscience. He didn’t answer her. She tried to calm herself, to reason the situation out. She may be locked in a dark castle, but there was nothing in here that would harm her. So why did she feel such a consuming sense of dread? There were no demons in the shadows, merely the absence of light, and there was a fire, so she would not freeze.

  Still, there was the nagging doubt in her mind, the worry that this had been her father’s plan. Isabelle had never been in a situation she couldn’t talk her way out of, but the door was unyielding, inanimate objects were terribly uncooperative. Amaury knew that he couldn’t say no to her, she knew that all too well, and used it to her advantage unashamedly. Had he finally found a way to overcome that weakness, was he going to leave her here?

  Alone.

  A thunderous roar broke the silence, and Isabelle turned back to face darkness, the colour draining from her face. Suddenly alone didn’t seem like such a bad option.

  What exactly was she trapped in here with?

  She heard a deep voice outside; it was most definitely not her fathers.

  Back pressed against the solid wood, she tried to listen for whatever had roared, while making out the words on the other side of the door.

  “Hello!” She yelled again after the outside fell silent “can you let me out? I’m trapped in here!”

  They were talking again, but she couldn’t make out the words. The deeper voice sounded angry, full of determination. It was a rumbling, dull tone which made her insides thrum, unlike anything she had ever heard before. Her skin prickled.

  Isabelle ran back into the little sitting-room she had found. She closed the door quickly, hoping whatever lurked in the darkness could not open it. Then grabbed a chair and pushed it against the wall, standing on it, Isabelle hoisted herself onto the high windowsill. She rubbed the frosty condensation away frantically so she could see who her father was talking to in the courtyard.

  What she saw outside made her freeze, confusion warring with her fear.

  Chapter Four

  Amaury tried to pry the door open with his numb fingers, Isabelle was screaming for him, and he hated it. He knew he should have stopped her going in, but what other chance did they have? She had been right; they would have frozen out there on the road. Adrenaline pumped through him, making his old bones shake, and he ran back to the carriage to find something he could use to wrench open the door. He found a crowbar, one that he used when the controls got jammed. No sooner had he slid the narrow end between the doors, it flew from his hands, and he was knocked backwards. He landed in the snow with a grunt, eyes widening as the deafening roar ripped out of the Beast’s mouth.

  “Please,” Amaury panted, winded, “let her go!”

  “But we had a deal Amaury.” The voice snarled. The beast loomed over him, more grotesque than he re
membered. This Monster had haunted his nightmares for weeks, how could he have forgotten the pure terror of his form? He stood on all fours, a looming shadow against the castle. His head was easily the size of a bull's, the muzzle and teeth more like a lion. Hunched over in a way which contorted its back into something of a hump, it was impossible not to see the muscles, the strength beneath the thick fur. One of his twisted horns was stained with dried blood and Amaury couldn’t help but wonder what poor beast had met its fate against this brutal creature. Its eyes were the most terrifying thing of all, yellow and sentient. There was nothing animalistic about them, they were calculating, cunning, malicious. This monster understood everything.

  “I-I’ve changed my mind!” Amaury stuttered, scrambling backwards in the snow, “I’m taking I-I-Isabelle home with me.”

  “Now, now, Old Man. I think you’ve quite forgotten I have already upheld my end of the bargain. I spared your life, I let you go.” What would have been a polite, pointed statement from anybody else, was significantly more menacing coming from that massive, toothy muzzle. The beast crept closer to Amaury.

  “I don’t care. Kill me if you must. Just please.” His voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself. “Please let Isabelle go!”

  “Why would I do that?” Was the Beast smiling? Amaury couldn’t tell. “She really is as beautiful as you said she was. To think such a tiny, fragile girl could cause you so much terror, enough that you’d come back to me.” There was a definite laugh beneath the gruff words.

  “You can’t keep her here.” Amaury reasoned.

  “And who will stop me? You?” The Beast’s face was right in front of his now, his tone dripped with mockery, he could feel the heat of his breath, of the entirety of his hulking form. Being this close to the monster was like standing next to a furnace.

  “Y-yes,” Amaury nodded, swallowing thickly, “you can let me go, but I will come back. With men. I will rescue her!”

  “As good a reason as any that I should just kill you right here and now!”

  “Then you’ll have to let her go,” Amaury gulped, “our deal will be void.”

  “I will offer her a deal of her own, to spare her life.”

  Amaury closed his eyes as the Beast snapped forward, but instead of the pain he expected, there was an enormous shattering of glass, and he heard Isabelle’s voice. He opened his eyes again to see his daughter running towards them clutching a large shard of glass, which she was brandishing like a weapon, he tried to warn her to stop, but the Beast was already between them.

  “Let him go!” She warned levelly, though he heard the subtle tremble in her voice. Her bravery must have been a façade, but she was managing it better than he. Isabelle lifted the shard of glass before her awkwardly. Amaury was desperate to reprimand her, to praise her, he wanted her to run, he wanted her to save him first. His thoughts were a mass of contradictions. He scrambled to his feet.

  “Run Isabelle” he warned.

  “Quiet!” The Beast growled over his shoulder.

  “Who are you?” The brunette asked, tilting her head slightly to the side. Amaury remained cautiously still, watching their exchange, watching his daughter. This beast, this monster, was precisely what he had been afraid Isabelle was before he’d peered into the blankets when she was but hours old. Outwardly she was as far away from a monster as you could get, but inwardly? Was this the embodiment of his daughter’s inner demons? Was this also the result of witchcraft?

  “This is my home.” The beast replied, lifting from a stoop to his feet, he towered over them, impossibly tall. Isabelle had to look up to hold his gaze, she looked tiny beside him. Amaury wanted desperately to pull her to him, to keep her against him, protect her from his own folly. Instead he watched, frozen in terror, praying silently to the Lord he had never believed in.

  “You’re the man who closed the gate?” She managed. Amaury tried to catch her attention with his eyes, but she was fixated on the beast.

  “I’m far from a man.” As if to make the point his huge front paws met the snow with twin thuds as he dropped onto them with his full weight. The ground seemed to shudder. His colossal bulk moved, stalking, he was further away from Amaury now, closing in on ‘Belle.

  “So, what are you?” She was indulging her curiosity. Now? Amaury stifled a frustrated groan behind her. Isabelle was wasting time asking questions when they should be running for their lives.

  “Some call me a monster. Most call me, Master.” His answer was smug, and he stretched as if to show off his size and brutality to the woman he dwarfed. Was the beast flirting with Isabelle? Amaury felt sickened. What had he done? Never once had he questioned why the creature was so amicable to having a beautiful and troublesome young woman trapped here. “And you are Isabelle.”

  “You know my name?” She frowned, now she met Amaury’s gaze.

  “I know a great deal about you. Your father told me everything the last time he was here, didn’t you Amaury?” If Isabelle was shocked, she didn’t show it. Amaury had finally pulled himself stiffly to his feet and was watching her reaction closely. Isabelle didn’t look surprised, she looked resigned, calculating. Amaury wondered how much she had already figured out. Did she know that her own father had intended this to be her prison, and this monster to be her keeper?

  “What did you offer him in return for me?” She asked, lifting her chin in defiance.

  The beast was watching his quarry judiciously. Amaury tried to convey the entirety of his remorse through the look he exchanged with his daughter.

  What had he done?

  ∞

  Isabelle was petrified and freezing, but she was determined not to let it show. If she thought she understood every atrocity men were capable of, she was proven wrong tonight. Here she was now facing down two monsters, one who claimed to love her more than life itself. The other was an atrocious distortion of nature; humongous, vicious, and possibly the most well-spoken, arrogant male she had ever encountered. As unnatural as he was, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow familiar. It was apparent the Beast wanted her to be afraid, to be horrified, in that way he didn’t deviate from any other man she’d encountered. He expected her to behave a certain way and so instinctively Isabelle didn’t want to. She wasn’t going to be forced into the role of snivelling, cowering victim cowering in the snow like her father. Why did she feel so connected to him? His voice, or his eyes, some unexplainable aspect of the beast that was comfortingly familiar. It was hard to pinpoint, especially as she was much more concerned with the betrayal of the man she had trusted the most. “What did he get in return?” She repeated, eyes still on the Beast.

  “This wasn’t a bargain to be struck, Isabelle. Your father sought me out, begged me to keep you here. Out of trouble.” He smirked, it was insidious, his fangs protruding dangerously

  “I see.” Isabelle dropped the shard of glass into the snow, folding her arms around herself in a bid to chase away the cold and the sudden crushing loneliness which she felt. How could she argue with that? What was there left to fight for when her own father wanted to be rid of her. She could fight to go home, but that seemed like a more sickening prospect than having the beast rip her to shreds. “Ok.” She said eventually, defeated.

  “Isabelle!” Amaury exclaimed as the brunette turned to walk towards the door, “I made a horrible mistake. I never meant to-”

  “It’s okay, Papa.” She said simply, her tone cold though her eyes were filled with unshed tears. Did he hate her this much now, was all that they had shared gone? Isabelle longed to ask him, but she knew that it would get her nowhere. She had played the hands she had been dealt, all that was left now was resignation. It didn’t mean that she couldn’t twist the knife a little, perhaps enough guilt would encourage him to find a way to rescue her. “At least the witch won’t find me here. You will let him leave safely?”

  “You have my word.” The Beast promised archly.

  “Can you open the door then please?” She tu
rned from her father and stepped stiffly towards the steps.

  “This will be the last chance you have to say goodbye.” The beast informed her gruffly.

  “I have nothing more to say,” Isabelle replied without turning. She felt betrayed, alone, and she was entirely sure she was about to die. “I just want to get this over with.” The Beast loped forwards and opened the doors and gestured for her to walk inside. Instinctively she turned to have one last look at her father. He was distraught, weeping, snow-flecked thinning hair, blue-tinged lips. Her beloved Papa. All she had in the world. Would ever see him again? Isabelle almost shattered, almost ran into his arms crying. She didn’t want to imagine a world without him in it. Before she could change her mind, the doors closed, and the world outside ceased to exist.

  The beast vanished into the darkness and when he came back, he had a smouldering log from the fireplace in one paw. It made his movements a little awkward, his gait hindered by the temporary loss of a limb. She had a wild thrill of fear, the brand might be for her, but instead of searing her trembling flesh, he merely lit the torches on the walls. As the sight of the enormous castle and hallway came into view, she couldn’t help but feel very small. It looked like the kind of palace built for Kings and Queens. It was almost perverse to be the lair of a horrible monster.

  “You are cold.” The Beast observed, and she realised while she had been looking around, taking in the sights of the ornate, curved staircase and the enormous vaulted ceiling, he had been watching her. She was shivering, the warmth from before had been invaded by the biting chill because of the window she had broken. Isabelle felt somewhat guilty bringing attention to it.

  “You’re not?”

  “I lit the fires for you.” He explained after a swift shake of his head, mane scattering snow to the floor. Isabelle couldn’t help the mortified blush which swept over her cheeks. Of course, he wasn’t cold, he was covered in fur. Perhaps the beast would devour her before she could embarrass herself further. He had known she was coming, he’d expected them, they had planned this. Him and her father.