Charming, Volume 2 (8 page)

He moved closer. As he approached, he noted first the man's breathing. It was deep and powerful, almost like panting. Beyond that there was a general impression of size. Whoever he was, he was massive. In fact, his shoulders resembled Gnarsh the Troll's more than those of an ordinary man. But even standing next to him, his host's face was indistinct, a mask of shadows beneath a deeply hooded cloak. Perhaps he should have been scared, but he didn't have enough energy left for fear.

Once upon a time, I was Prince Charming.

He drew a chair to the lord's right. “May I take this seat?”

“Be my guest,” came the low response.

Remembering the butler's request, Charming decided to come right to the point. “Thank you for your kindness, Your Lordship. I am truly in your debt and do not wish to impose on your hospitality, but before I take my leave I would ask . . . no, beg you, please return to me the glass slipper.” Charming stared down at the table as he spoke and felt a burning in his eyes. He blinked away the half-­formed tears.

“I will ask you simply and request only your honesty. Did you steal it?”

Charming thought hard about the night at the ball, about Elizabeth running up the stairs, about retrieving the slipper from where it lay beneath a curtain at the edge of the ballroom. He raised his eyes and stared into the shadowy void of his questioner's face. “No. I am not proud of how I came to hold the slipper, but I did not steal it. It was lost. I wish only to return it to its rightful owner.”

There was a long pause from his faceless host before he replied, “I am satisfied, but let us speak more about this remarkable shoe as we dine. I apologize in advance if my appearance disturbs you.”

He pulled back the hood of his cloak.

Charming had not known what he expected to see, perhaps that his host was badly disfigured or scarred, but what sat across from him was more monster than man. Seemingly a cross between a boar and a wolf, this lord, his host, resembled a taxidermist's nightmare come to life. His face was twisted into an elongated snout with sharp white teeth and short tusks jutting upward from his lower jaw. Thick coarse fur covered his head and poked out from beneath a fashionably high lace collar, and sharp ears flicked back and forth as he gazed at Charming with yellow animal eyes.

Instinctively, Charming gasped and his hand reached down for the sword that was not there. A few days, even hours, before, he would have leapt to his feet, ready to slay such a monster, to battle it like a hero. But he was not a hero any longer. He took in a deep breath, but otherwise did not move from his chair.

The man—­beast—­cocked his head, studying his reaction. Charming knew he was being measured, but did not care. He had already been judged and found wanting. With nothing to lose, he asked, or tried to ask, the obvious question, the only question: “How did you . . . I mean . . . I'm sorry, are you cursed?”

The yellow eyes softened, and, to his surprise, Charming realized that there was something distinctly human behind those eyes, and, what was more, something manifestly good. Gray streaks ran through the creature's fur, and Charming determined that the monster before him must be well past its prime. The creature spoke: “Do you wish to know why I appear the way I do?”

“I apologize, good sir, but yes, I do.”

The beast gave a deep, gentle rumbling chuckle and began playing with a small golden charm he had on a chain around his neck. The yellow eyes smiled. “First, let us dispense with the titles. My name is Adam. In the tales, I am simply the Beast. As to how I came to look like this, I suppose I could say that I was the victim of a magical curse, but that would be to deny my own part in what happened.” Adam paused, considering how to start, and after a measured moment said, “How do these stories begin? Ah, yes . . .

“Once upon a time, this part of the kingdom was a thriving land, and this forest and much beyond even that was part of my family's estate. My father was a good man, and a wise lord, but he and my mother died of fever while I was still young.” The Beast's voice broke here and he paused to collect himself. “I was a man, but I was immature. Perhaps in time I might have grown into my new position, but I was impatient and lazy. Rather than apply myself, I summoned a fairy spirit and asked it to make me a great lord, strong in battle and feared by all. The fairy, as I have since learned, is quite literal in granting wishes, and turned me into the creature you see before you. Perhaps she thought that it would teach me a lesson.” He held up his hands in a half-­shrug.

While he spoke, servants slipped quietly into the room and placed covered trays in front of the two men and poured two goblets of wine. The Beast gestured at the dishes. “I would guess that you have not had a good meal in days. Come, let's eat!” He reached forward, and removed the lid of a large tray to reveal a turkey, cooked a perfect golden brown. Charming swallowed in anticipation. “Ah, the kitchen is trying to impress you. They do tire of cooking for one. If you would be so kind as to do the honor?” The Beast indicated with one of his clawed hands an elegant silvered carving knife and matching serving fork set beside the tray. “I signaled the servants to give us some time before they check on us again. I suspect we both have stories to tell that would be best told with fewer ears listening.”

Charming regarded his host, who was still playing with the end of the little gold necklace he was wearing. It was remarkable. The creature, Adam, was so well-­mannered that Charming was finding it necessary to remind himself that his host was a monster and not some aged lord.

As Charming carved and served the turkey, the Beast picked up the thread of his story. “As I said, I was transformed by a fairy who had a remarkably strong sense of right and wrong. But if the fairy's goal was to teach me a lesson, then I learned nothing. I was bitter and angry, and I used my new form to become a true tyrant. One day, several years after I became what I am, a merchant trespassed on my land. I was enraged, and was near to killing him. The man pleaded for his life, offering me anything, even his own daughter in exchange for his freedom.”

“But surely you didn't accept,” Charming said, not able to hide the disgust in his voice.

The Beast smiled, but it was a humorless smile, a grim, self-­mocking smile. Then he raised his goblet and took a sip of wine, and the smile was gone. “But I did. I think that act alone—­that I could join in such a cruelty—­justified the fairy's punishment. I know that I have never been more deserving of this form than I was at that moment. However, then she arrived.” His voice softened. “When first I saw her, I lost my heart.”

Despite his hunger, Charming had forgotten the food, and he asked the question that had been burning in his mind for weeks, “So, you believe in love at first sight?

The question broke the Beast's grim mood, and he smiled and winked at Charming with real affection. “My boy, every person's life is a fairy tale. And, if you live in a fairy tale and don't believe in love at first sight, then you are missing half the story. Yes, I believe in love at first sight, because I have felt its keen sting.”

“What did she think of you?” Charming asked.

“Oh, she was terrified. She hated me. How could she not? I had imprisoned her father and now held her hostage. I can only imagine what she thought my intentions were. Was she to die or suffer some other violation?” His eyes grew hard and his jaw clenched in anger at the memory of himself. “I can say now that there is nothing in this life I will ever do that can make up for the fear and pain I put her through in those early days.” The Beast paused, his face alive with a swirl of competing emotions, and then that same little self-­mocking smile flickered out and the moment passed. He tucked the necklace back into his shirt and began tearing at his meat with massive clawed hands. In between bites, he continued. “Nevertheless, I tried to court her.”

“Did it work?” Charming asked as he cut another slice of meat.

The Beast wiped his snout and chuckled, “Not a bit.”

Charming served himself and, after a few ravenous bites, leaned closer to the Beast, intrigued. “Then how did you win her?”

“I didn't
win
her,” he answered with another of his knowing winks. “As improbable as it sounds, she and I became friends; and in time, she decided that she could love me, and I, for my part, learned to trust that I was worthy of her love.” He raised his goblet. “I have found that love isn't about conquest, but having the strength to surrender.”

They ate in silence for a time before the Beast came back to his story. “We married and, apart from a few squabbles that she always won, lived happily thereafter. My anger was gone and I dedicated myself to being the man my beloved deserved. We lived and loved well and long, and then, two winters ago, she . . . she left this world.”

“I am sorry.”

He waved away the concern. “I am old. Death is not as frightening a specter as it was in my youth. My love passed peacefully, without pain, and I was with her at the end. There were no words left unsaid between us. I mourn her absence, but she is always with me in my heart.” Having finished eating, and telling his story, the Beast leaned back in his chair. “I have done all the talking, and all about my own ancient history. What about you? I am most interested in how you ended up in the mud outside my unfashionable manor, and bearing such an unusual trophy.”

With that, he produced the glass slipper from beneath his cloak and placed it on the table between them. It drew in the candlelight and threw a halo of sparks into the air. “If you would like to tell me your story, I am willing to listen—­and I promise, young man, that your words shall not travel beyond this table.”

Charming looked up from his plate to the slipper, and, reaching out, he plucked it from the table and cradled it in his hands. The old man leaned forward and poured them both another glass of wine. Charming took no notice, his gaze completely held by the glowing slipper. Then, without noticing, he began to speak. “I'm not sure where to begin. I suppose that I was Prince Charming. Maybe you've heard of me?” He looked up with hopeful eyes.

The Beast pulled out an elegant pipe and packed it with tobacco. Then he lit it and, after his first few puffs of blue smoke, gave one of his kind, toothy smiles and nodded. “Everyone's heard of Prince Charming.”

“Then you know all about me.”

The Beast shrugged and pointed the stem of the pipe at his guest. ­“People called me ‘the Beast,' but it is only a title. It is who ­people think I should be, not who I am. Is ‘Prince Charming' who you are?”

The question caught Charming off guard. All of his life he had been Prince Charming, and he had heard nothing but praise for what he
would
do.

Voices from his past sang in his head:

We await our savior's coming in glory with the same certainty that we await the day that Prince Charming shall free us from the Dragon!

Oh, when you speak in ­couplet, I'm so moved that I nearly swoon. . .

There is no “boy” like Charming.

As Royal Tailor I can say without hesitation, no one else can carry off purple hose with such aplomb.

They had all been wrong. He wasn't the slayer of the dragon. He wasn't the Princess's savior. Now he was not even Prince Charming, although perhaps he could still carry off purple hose. Nonetheless, he was just Edward, and he wasn't sure who that was. He had never been just Edward before.

His head was swimming again, and his hands were shaking. To calm his nerves, Charming took a sip of his wine, and then another; and when he placed his goblet back on the table, he was surprised to see that it was nearly empty.

That deep kindly voice broke the silence. “I am sorry if my question was too personal. You do not have to answer.”

Charming gazed once more at Elizabeth's slipper.
Why am I so afraid? I have nothing to lose more valuable than what is already gone. I have nowhere left to fall that is worse than where I am.
He looked back at the Beast, drawn to those kind yellow eyes, and the words came spilling out. “I don't think I know who I am.” He downed the rest of the wine in his goblet. “All I really ever wanted was . . .” Charming fell silent. He felt warm.
The wine must be getting to me.

“What did you want?” said the Beast quietly, as though afraid to break the spell of his speech.

The answer echoed in Charming's heart, but his voice resisted saying it aloud. When he spoke it was with a reluctant slowness. “I wanted the King—­no—­I wanted my father to be proud of me, and now it is the one thing I can never have.” Charming slammed the table with his fist. “You ask who I am? How should I know? I am disowned. I have no family, no friends, no title, nothing. I was supposed to kill the dragon, and someone else did. I was supposed to rescue the Princess, and someone else did. I was supposed to be a great hero, and had to be rescued time and again. I have no place, no purpose . . .” He slumped in his chair. “The world doesn't need Prince Charming.”

A brief silence greeted this pronouncement, and Charming wondered if he had shared too much. Then the Beast laughed, a short, sharp explosion of sound. Charming looked up, startled at the outburst. The other man was leaning forward in his chair, a look of surprised amusement on his face. His pipe lay forgotten in his left hand, still trailing a thin tendril of blue-­gray smoke. Charming blushed. He was being laughed at. It was not an unreasonable response, but he had not expected it from his kindly host.

Charming shrugged. “You are right, it is rather pathetic, ridiculous really.”

“What—­”

“I was just saying that I understand why you would laugh at me, I'm pathetic.”

The Beast shook his impressive mane as though clearing his head. “No! No! You don't understand. I'm laughing at myself. Here I was thinking that I would listen to your story and dispense some sage advice on life, and then pat you on the head and send you back off into the world. Instead, I find myself discovering truths that, even at my age, I didn't realize I didn't know.”