The Beast Queen

by Felicity Partington

  “Who?” Isabelle asked she could tell by their expressions who they meant and the way their faces dropped nervously and her own excitement grew. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t one of them, that they were all glancing at each other at the imposition of an outsider imposing on their conversation. Luckily Maggie adored Isabelle and seemed to be on a mission to draw her into their world.

  “The Master.” She chimed in her own bubbly way, oblivious to the discomfort of her friends.

  “Shh,” Natalie hissed fervently, “I don’t know what I saw.” Her caution was unsurprising, to them, their precious master was like some sort of phantom; never seen, never heard. They shared stories of their beastly protector through hushed murmurs and girlish titters.

  But where true terror might have stilled their tongues, theirs was a feigned fright which evoked excitement. The insistent, curious eyes of Isabelle and Margaret on her, melted Natalie’s silence eventually. Though she put on a good show of reluctance. “I was shovelling the snow off the road, so the wagon could make it up tomorrow. I’m sure there was something watching me.”

  “Did you actually see him?” Isabelle frowned, more sceptical now. On one hand, Natalie wouldn’t be the first to invent sightings, when the lights were off it seemed to be a favoured pastime of the maids. On the other; had the beast not watched her? Her pride felt a little damaged, if he was watching them too, then it would explain why he had disappeared from her. What if he’d decided unequivocally that Isabelle wasn’t what he wanted? She hadn’t left much to the imagination. The thought of one of these simpering morons holding his interest when she could not? Suddenly this conversation was making Isabelle angrier than she would have expected. Not with them, but with the beast himself. How dare he capture her and then spend his time stalking others.

  “No, but when I looked afterwards, I saw some really strange marks in the snow. Like footprints.”

  “What kind of footprints?” Maggie asked, her blue eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Huge ones, three times the size of mine.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Isabelle sighed, jealousy having dissolved her patience, “you see a mark in the snow and you act like you’ve seen a ghost. He’s just an animal. You know that he’s real and that he lurks around. Why is it so surprising to find a footprint? Surely in all your years here, you’ve seen more than that?” They were all looking at Isabelle now, but her outburst had come too quickly for her to rescind on. It was frustrating, tiptoeing around these people, trying to discern what was an act and what was sheer simple idiocy.

  “You’ve seen him. What does he look like?” Natalie asked, her question was more direct than any of Maggie’s had been. Maggie was nervous, like a mouse, ready to scamper off at a loud noise. Natalie met Isabelle’s eyes with an inquisitiveness she could admire.

  “He looks,” Isabelle paused, trying to find words that didn’t disappoint. “Like a beast. I don’t know. Like no animal I’ve ever seen before.” She would have to remember to pat herself on the back for that thrilling description.

  “Is he big?” They asked together, crowding her.

  “Very.”

  “Is he scary?” Shock and awe on their faces.

  “Yes, I suppose,” Isabelle replied disconcerted.

  “Can he talk?” They almost had their faces pressed to hers as they chorused. She pulled free of them and span to a safe distance, they were making her feel claustrophobic.

  “A lot, actually.” She frowned at them. “It’s getting him to stop that’s challenging.”

  “I still can’t believe you’ve seen him,” Maggie whispered, Isabelle puckered her lips into a superior smile.

  “Trust me, I wish I hadn’t.” Though anybody who was watching her expression would know she was lying. It felt good, it made her feel better than them, even if she wasn’t sure why. Yes, she had seen their exalted master, but she was also a prisoner, take the good with the bad she supposed. Isabelle thought back to his piercing yellow eyes on her in the bath, would she trade that feeling, the power which had coursed through her, the adrenaline, for never having seen him?

  No, she realised, the beast was the single most interesting thing that had ever happened to her and he was ruining it with his disinterest.

  “You’re the first person to ever see him,” Natalie exclaimed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. If nobody else had seen him, how would any of you know there was a beast at all?” Isabelle scoffed, before continuing. “He’s not this big mysterious magical thing.” Isabelle threw her hands up in exasperation, “he’s just an animal, like a man I suppose, he’s intelligent, eloquent. Granted he needs a lesson in etiquette and not imprisoning innocent women,” they exchanged a look between them, one which made Isabelle falter. “He walks on four legs, but he can stand on two. His head is sort of like a lion, he has a mane, but frightfully enormous horns. And his teeth…” Isabelle enjoyed smirking at their terror, a small revenge for their shared, unreadable exchange. She doubted they would sleep tonight.

  “What do you think it means then?” Maggie asked, looking around herself and pulling Natalie to her for comfort.

  “That he finds you all tedious and dull.” She snapped, she couldn’t blame Beast for the opinion, it was one she shared. But seeing the offence taken she quickly spoke to try and make it better, “for instance, have any of you ever been upstairs to visit him?”

  “No!” They both mumbled together, horrified.

  “Why not? You know he lives up there. If you really want to see him, then go and find him. What do you think he’s going to do? If he wanted to eat you he could do it at any moment he liked. We’re like sitting ducks, worse, we’re sitting ducks trapped in his pond.” They exchanged uneasy looks at Isabelle’s reasoning.

  It was then, at that very moment, she realised she was being as absurd as they were. Isabelle had all these questions about why she was here, and yet she was stepping into line with the rest of them, letting their fear and superstition sway her. “This is ridiculous.” She said to herself more than to them. She moved away from the sink and headed for the door, stopping on the way and grabbing a basket full of rags and dusters.

  “What are you doing?” They called after her. Isabelle looked over her shoulder at the doorway and smiled.

  “I’m going to clean upstairs.” They seemed nailed to the spot with fear as she turned away.

  “You can’t!” Maggie insisted, horrified.

  “Watch me,” Isabelle called over her shoulder without looking back.

  Chapter Ten

  Isabelle was halfway up the second stairway when she began to have doubts. The clean carpet and perfectly polished bannisters gave way to dust and cobwebs. The stairs curved upwards higher than she thought possible. Until she found herself overlooking the great hall from a circular second balcony. Peering down she saw Thomas, Maggie and Natalie all looking up. When they saw her they waved frantically, but Isabelle knew she couldn’t lose her nerve now. She had to prove to them that they were being ridiculous. Especially now they’d enlisted Thomas to the audience. Why had they? Had they hoped that he would be brave enough to go upstairs and rescue the fair, delusional damsel?

  Isabelle scoffed; she was perfectly capable of protecting herself.

  That didn’t stop it being haunting up here. Isabelle wondered how long it had been since anybody had come this far up. Unlike downstairs, there were no corridors off this balcony, just three enormous doors, with the biggest in the centre. She imagined, once upon a time that they were beautiful, each decorated with intricate carvings and polished guiding, but now they were tarnished and dull. Not to mention marred by enormous scratches in the wood, it took her a moment to realise they were claw marks. A shudder ran down her spine.

  Which room was Beast’s?

  Isabelle tried the first door she came to, it was locked, what if they all were? It seemed a horrible thought to have to go downstairs and tell them all she’d gotten nowhere. Still, it made sense if he didn’t want p
eople up here then why would he leave the doors unlocked? She walked around the circular corridor, there were stairs exactly opposite the flight she’d come up, and she fought the urge to sneak down and just flee straight to her room with her tail between her legs.

  Just one more door.

  But not the biggest one, she didn’t quite dare pick that one.

  She’d try the second smaller one, and when it was locked, she would have no choice but to return downstairs.

  What else could she do?

  Her fingers gripped the handle and to her dismay, it opened. Swallowing thickly, Isabelle hesitated. The warm glow from the chandelier hanging over the great hall was cheery, it called her back to where the people were, to where it was safe. But down there she would get no answers. After a moment wasted, locked in an internal battle, Isabelle stepped inside.

  The first thing she noticed was how cold it was, she looked across to the balcony and saw the doors were wide open. Upon closer inspection, they had long been broken and though the snow softened them now, she imagined they looked dangerous and intimidating without their cushioned pillow of soft white. Why had nobody fixed them? Drifts of snow blew into the room, it was too cold for them to melt. Isabelle wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

  Looking around the room didn’t help her confusion. She had expected, well, she wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. A bed was in the centre of the room, its frame was broken. It was small, much smaller than her own bed downstairs. The mattress had been dragged to a corner along with the blankets, the pillows, and the curtains from the windows. He had created a sort of nest. Isabelle frowned. Picking her way through the debris she stopped before she stepped on something, picking it up she dusted it off and frowned. A wooden train. She didn’t have time to ponder it before she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, glancing to the balcony, she wasn’t surprised when she saw the beast poised there. Watching her.

  “The cleaning in this room has been painfully neglected.” She announced casually, already realising her ruse was a lost cause. She’d left her bucket of cleaning supplies back on the landing. It took all her effort to retain her cool composed facade.

  Definitely not a figment of her imagination then.

  “People don’t come up here.” He stated, the deep tone resonating in her bones, a deep vibration coursing through her body. It wasn’t unpleasant.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, they think you’re some sort of benevolent, mysterious god. They’re terrified of you.” She said, managing to keep her voice steady despite the cold and his proximity.

  “And you’re not?” He alighted from the thick stone rail of the balcony and Isabelle could see the deep gouges left behind by his claws. His prodigious bulk filled the doorway so that it seemed ridiculously tiny, like a dolls house, as he stood with one paw steadying him against the frame.

  She was stuck to the spot, staring at him, her mind reeling. She felt such a strong sense of something, déjà vu or some phenomenon close to it. Who was this man, this monster?

  “You’ve already said you’re not going to eat me.” She managed to say, her voice steadier than it had any right to be. “You’ve stolen me from my home. Trapped me here and condemned me to a life of servitude. What else do I have to be afraid of?”

  “You’re very brave for such a little girl.” He noted, loosening his grip from the frame and entering a few steps, his movements careful, predatory.

  “Not so little.” Isabelle added boldly, her lips curling into a licentious smile, “but then you already knew that.”

  “Maybe you should be afraid." He shot back, stalking towards her the way she imagined a lion would, "maybe there are scarier things than life downstairs.”

  “Not many.” She replied, her back aching from how still she was being with this enormous monster advancing on her. For all her bravado, she didn’t dare move, lest he pounce.

  “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” He asked, stopping before her, almost close enough to touch. “What manner of creature are you truly?” He rose onto his back legs and towered above her, suddenly the large room seemed a lot smaller, the vaulted ceiling a lot closer and Isabelle was beginning to feel cornered. How had she seen anything of a lion in him? He was more like the bear's Gauge had bragged of hunting. She stared up at the Beast's piercing yellow eyes so many hundreds of miles above her; two fiery, malevolent suns as distant as any stars in the night's sky. Did he truly think she wasn’t afraid? She must have been a better actress than she thought.

  “Who said I’m not afraid?”

  “Are you?” He asked. Isabelle contemplated her answer for a long time. It seemed pointless to lie, she had come here seeking answers and honesty. It would be hypocritical of her to not give him the same back. So what if he knew he frightened her? She was still here.

  “Yes.” She answered simply. He made a huffing noise that she took for acknowledgement and dropped back to his four paws. He turned his back to her and moved to the broken bed, running a claw across the wood.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because you’re the only person who can answer my questions.” She followed him slowly as he made to pick up another wooden toy and stopped himself with a glance at her.

  “You have questions?” His tone hardened then, and he went from casting her furtive glances, to turning his back on her gruffly, “everybody has questions. What makes you think I would answer them? You have nothing I want in return.”

  “I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.” Isabelle added, letting her voice trail off suggestively, “who’s room was this?” She asked, picking up an old tattered teddy. “Certainly, not the King’s.”

  “King?” He asked perplexed.

  “Isn’t that who lived here? Before you? The King and Queen?” Isabelle explained, confusion evident on her attractive features. Beast snorted, understanding flooding his features before he looked away again.

  He snorted. “I’ve lost track of who it is I’m supposed to have killed.”

  “So, if it wasn’t a king and queen, then who lived here?” Isabelle leant against the broken bed, holding the musty old teddy tenderly, completely undeterred by his dismissal. There was a name embroidered on the collar, she let her fingers run over the stitching.

  “Do you expect me to keep track of all the residents who have taken shelter here?” The beast still had his back to her, but he had moved towards the window again now, she was half afraid he was going to disappear. There was an arrogance in his voice, the way he talked, he wasn’t like the rest of them around here. Then again, he wasn’t like anybody or anything she had ever encountered.

  “No. Just the important ones. Were they nice people, the ones living here when you arrived I mean?” Isabelle desperately wanted to keep him talking.

  “No,” he murmured sullenly, “they were selfish, wrapped up in their own wants and desires. They didn’t give much care to the people around them. They liked to get their way. They spent too much money on frivolous things. They were supposed to help, protect their people, they didn’t.”

  For somebody who claimed to not remember, he seemed awfully specific. There was a bitterness in his voice, the undertones of one still recovering from the most unnatural betrayal one could. Isabelle should know, she’d also been deceived by her parent.

  “What about their son?” Isabelle enquired, her tone soft, testing her theory. The beast turned to face her, eyes filled with surprise. She smiled, she liked surprising people. He had expected a pretty halfwit, somebody like the rest of the people here, she was proving him wrong already.

  “You should go.” He growled, shaking his head and loping out onto the balcony.

  “Wait!” Isabelle called, feeling empty at the thought of him just running off and leaving her here again, “please,” she continued “Erik?” He froze. “How old were you, when you got turned into this?”

  He had clambered onto the stonework again, his back was still to her when he h
alted, looking for all the world like a gargoyle turned to flesh.

  “I was seven.” He replied and though Isabelle was thrilled at her victory of working it out, the brutality of what he had confessed to her hammered home. He had been a child; turned into a monster. “I was the worst of us all. Spoiled. Nasty. My father gave me everything I wanted." He turned his lowered head to the side to see her reaction. “Except love. He hated me, blamed me for…”

  “My father hated me too, I think,” Isabelle confessed, she found herself moving towards the open balcony, one hand at her heart, the other half-lifted towards the Beast, “my mother died giving birth to me. I’m not sure he ever really forgave me.”

  “I wasn’t like you; I wasn’t like anybody. The things I did-”

  “You were a child.” Isabelle interjected quickly, “you can’t have done anything unforgivable.”

  “There was an accident one night," She could see the story was being torn from him, it hurt to re-tell and she ached for him in spite of everything, "my sister was hurt. It was my fault. They lost her and got this instead.”

  Isabelle stopped, her hand still partially raised, barely an arm’s reach away from him.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. My father always spoke of witches, but I didn’t believe it. Until…” he trailed off, she saw him turn a paw and inspect the rough pads and wicked claws.

  “Where are they now?” She asked, her hand dropping as he turned his fierce eye on her.

  “I killed them.” He confessed simply, “I killed them all.” He stared through her briefly, glanced around himself and seemed to realise how close she had gotten. “You shouldn’t be here.” He said recoiling. He twitched back from her hand, shook his head so that some of the clumps of snow flew from him then turned and dropped into the night.

  With a single movement, he had left the balcony and disappeared into the slope of the mountain. Leaving Isabelle very alone, gripping the threadbare teddy tightly, thumb tracing the hand-stitched embroidery which bore his name.