The Eye of the Beholder (2 page)

I will not describe what I saw there. I cannot. The memory of it will haunt me forever. My chest swelled with rage and I tried to launch myself at her, but she stilled me with a slight motion of her hand.

"I will show you more pity than you have ever shown. You will remain in this castle with servants to attend you. The castle will be well hidden so that idle passersby will not stumble upon it. I will give you three hundred years to break the curse, but there is only one way, and it will not be simple," she said.

A deep growl came from my throat. I would do whatever was necessary to break the curse, and woe betide anyone who crossed me. I knew she would have a difficult task for me, but I did not doubt that I could fulfill it. How much I had to learn.

"The only manner in which you may break the curse is this: you must learn to love another and, in return, you must earn her love. You cannot force this love through threats or coercion; it must be given to you freely. If you tell anyone of the curse, you will be doomed to remain a beast forever. If you do manage to break it, you will return to your original form and you will only have aged one human year for every hundred you pass as a beast. If you fail to break the curse, you will perish and your kingdom will die with you." With these words, the enchantress faded away. As she disappeared, a riotous profusion of roses bloomed on the walls of the castle.

For many, many years, I remained alone in my prison, with only my silent servants to attend me. I did not know why the enchantress had left the roses, but the sight of them and the smell of their heady fragrance were my only comforts, for love was something I could now never hope to know.

Chapter 2: Alone

Massaging my sore lower back, I stood admiring my handiwork. A vigorous, hour-long scrubbing of the floor of the cottage's main room had left it practically gleaming. I was prouder of that rough wooden floor than I ever had been of the delicately veined marble floor of our manor. It made me smile and shake my head to think that I had begun to derive such satisfaction from menial household chores. When we had first moved to the cottage, my blistered, calloused hands had been unwelcome evidence of just how much we had lost. I carried the bucket to the door to empty it outside. Just as I was reaching for the latch, it turned, and Papa began to step inside.

"Stop right there!" I called out, holding up a hand. Papa froze, and the effect was quite comical indeed, though I tried to suppress my smile in favor of adopting a stern glare. "I have just finished scrubbing the floors. Do not even think of putting your filthy boots upon them!"

"May I at least put my foot down?" Papa asked, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

I cocked my head to the side and pretended to consider his request. Then I heaved an enormous sigh. "Oh, I suppose you may!"

"My Mira: generous to a fault!" Papa teased as he lowered his foot and bent to unlace his boots. I saw that he stood carefully on the mat placed just inside the door, keeping his soiled boots off my clean floor. Once, Papa would not have attended to such details.

"Have you finished cutting down the garden, then?" I looked at Papa out of the corner of my eye as I untied my apron and carefully washed my hands. I would need to begin preparing dinner soon, but this was the time of day I most cherished.

"What have we today?" he asked, emptying my dirty bucket outside, then crossing the floor on stockinged feed. Meticulously, he washed his hands before moving over to the larder, as I unhooked the kettle and poured water into the teapot.

"Biscuits left over from yesterday. I am sorry. I wanted to make some of your favorite apple cake, but…"

"Oh, hush," Papa scolded gently. "I am certain I can survive one more day without apple cake, but only just." He winked at me as he took down a clean tray and arranged biscuits on it.

I added the teapot and cups, and Papa carried the tray into the sitting area, setting it on the small pedestal table with its woodland motif. I sank into the neat, delicate chair across from his, and we both sat silently for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feel of a moment's respite after a long day of work. At the sound of Papa pouring the tea, I opened my eyes to see a slight frown on his face. He added a dab of honey and handed my cup to me, and I savored my first sip. The hive had been well worth the effort.

"I suppose your sisters did not help you today?" Papa asked.

Though there was suddenly a sour taste in my mouth, I tried to keep my expression light. "It seems they had already committed to visiting the Lancasters ." Papa's frown deepened as he took a large swallow of his tea.

Papa and I had accepted the necessity of this life as best we could, given our circumstances. With time, we had even found contentment. Thomasina and Rowena, however, were every bit as petulant and spiteful as they had been the day we had left our manor, our servants, our more refined life. It was a constant source of pain to Papa, and I knew he felt as if he had failed in his duty to provide for us.

Though Papa looked displeased, he said no more on the subject. He sat quietly for a moment, his face pensive, before his expression cleared and he looked at me rather slyly. "I have heard a most intriguing rumor." He took a casual sip of his tea, but I could see his eyes dancing over the rim of his cup.

"Have you indeed?" I asked, raising my own cup to hide my smile.

"But perhaps you will not be interested."

"Perhaps not." The corners of my mouth twitched and I attempted to cover it up with an exaggerated yawn, but a laugh escaped just as I raised my hand to cover my mouth.

"Aha! I am the victor today!" Papa said triumphantly.

"Indeed you are," I conceded with a smile. "Will you now prove yourself a gracious winner by satisfying my curiosity?"

"Curiosity about what?" He feigned a look of utter innocence, and I could not help but laugh again. He looked almost like a child as he set his cup aside, and I felt a wave of happiness. For so long, Papa had not laughed, had not even smiled, that I had nearly forgotten about his mirth, his zest for life.

"Come to think of it, I am not certain I shall have time to make apple cake tomorrow either…" I mused, tapping a finger against my chin.

"That is an underhanded technique indeed! Very well, I shall tell you. I had it from the blacksmith today that a trader has arrived in Swan Hollow, and he is reputed to have several books in his possession."

My mouth fell open, and Papa smiled broadly at the look on my face. We had taken but two volumes with us when we had moved to Everforest, and I longed sorely for the many leather-bound books that had once lined the bookshelves in our library.

"What does he have?" I asked eagerly, setting aside my cup. "Do you think he will come to Everforest next?" I had small hope of this; rarely did we see strangers in our tiny, isolated town. Even if the trader did come to Everforest, it was unlikely we could afford a book. These days, we had little money for things like books, but it would still be a pleasure to look at the volumes, to imagine the possibilities hidden within their spines.

"I am afraid I can tell you no more, but perhaps you may have the opportunity to see something of his wares." Papa took another sip of his tea, his eyes inviting me to question him further but, before I had the chance, my sisters arrived home.

"You did not wait for us for tea?" Thomasina asked indignantly.

"I did not know when you would return," I sighed.

"I shall get you both cups," Papa offered, but Rowena shook her regal head.

"We had the most marvelous cakes at the Lancasters' today. I could not possibly eat another bite," she announced. She cast a withering glance at the last herb biscuit.

"Nothing could be more marvelous than Mira's apple cake," Papa said, and I smiled at him.

"Oh but these were cakes with the most delicate icing--made with sugar," Thomasina informed him.

Papa flushed slightly; sugar was a delicacy that belonged in the past with many other delicacies we had once enjoyed. "That does sound quite nice," he said quietly.

"I prefer apple cake," I said, staring Thomasina in the eye.

"Of course you do," she replied, smiling at me in her most condescending manner. I gritted my teeth.

"Mira is simple," Rowena added, flicking her fingers dismissively. "She would not appreciate the sorts of delicacies with which the Lancasters provided us."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that the Lancasters only provided them out of a sense of charity, but one glance at my father told me that doing so was likely to make him even unhappier. He had deflated quite visibly since my sisters had swept through the door, so I bit back my sharp words.

Unsurprisingly, Thomasina and Rowena lost interest in us and went upstairs to talk in the privacy of their shared chamber. I tried my best to turn the conversation to more pleasant topics, but Papa's merriment had vanished, replaced by the bleakness and weariness that had become all too familiar to me.

"Your sisters were not made for this sort of life," he said, looking at the loft ladder.

His expression was distant, as if he was picturing them in their past splendor, wearing gowns of satin and silk, jewels winking at their ears and necks. Thomasina and Rowena had worn such baubles well. They both looked a great deal like Mother: their thick hair fell in golden waves, their brows were delicately arched, their teeth were perfect, their beauty undeniable. I, on the other hand, favored my father, and had inherited his rather mousy brown hair, his dark eyes, and his taste for philosophical discussion. In short, my sisters and I could hardly be more different.

We finished our tea, Papa's lack of spirits infecting me as well. As he cleaned up the tea things, I began to prepare dinner, slicing vegetables with more vengeance than was strictly necessary. Leave it to Thomasina and Rowena to spoil what had been a perfectly lovely afternoon.

As we sat down to dinner, my sisters regaled us with tales of their splendid afternoon while I resolutely spooned stew into my mouth. I could not help but wish for a bit of salt to season it but, as this made me feel uncomfortably like one of my sisters, I did my best to push the thought aside.

"And the wine!" Rowena gushed.

"Oh indeed!" Thomasina breathed. "It was sublime."

"The Lancasters have a fine house, though it is nothing to the houses in town that we once…"

"Pardon me," Papa said, rising from his seat abruptly. "I must put the rest of my tools away."

I waited until he had closed the door behind him before I lashed out at my sisters. "Do you two enjoy tormenting Papa?" I hissed through my teeth.

Rowena regarded me coldly. "What, precisely, do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! I have asked you not to talk about town like that. You know how much it hurts Papa."

"So we are to pretend as if that life never existed?" Thomasina asked. "What about what we have suffered, thanks to our reduced circumstances?"

"It would be difficult to forget, seeing as how you are so fond of reminding Papa," I said, slamming a fist down on the table.

Thomasina pursed her lips, looking at me as if I was something particularly revolting she had scraped from the bottom of her boot. "You were meant to be a peasant, but Rowena and I were not."

"Oh, I see. So you two are grand ladies then, are you?"

Narrowing her eyes, Rowena glared at me. "We may not be grand, but we are ladies, which is more than can be said of you."

"I make myself useful, which is more than can be said of either of you," I cried. "While you were off playing at being the ladies of the manor, I was here working. Despite what you may think, I am not your servant."

Thomasina's eyes looked through me, and I felt a chill, though I tried desperately to cling to the heat of my anger. "Come, Rowena, we do not need to listen to this worthless creature."

"Indeed. Let us take a turn in the lane. Perhaps we may see Mr. Downey."

"What a brilliant idea!" My existence forgotten, my sisters hurriedly seized their cloaks and disappeared through the door, gossiping about what passed for the local gentry--and leaving me with the dishes.

My fingers twitched, and I nearly gave in to the urge to fling one of the dishes at the door, but that would only result in another mess for me to clean up. Instead, I dropped my head into my hands.

"Oh, Mother," I sighed. I missed her so desperately. What would she say to me, if she were here? Of course, had she not died, we would never have been forced to move to Everforest. But it was no use having such thoughts. Mother was gone and, as difficult as it was, I had come to accept this reality. My sisters might have decided to cling desperately to the past, but I had done my best to move on, to build a new life.