The Eye of the Beholder (14 page)

Now that Mira had seen my full form, I felt she could scarcely be more horrified by anything else in the castle, so I had ordered the servants to show themselves. Why had I wished to do my best to spare her the shock of seeing both me and them? What did it matter? She was my prisoner and there was no question that I would never allow her to leave. Perhaps I had simply wished to test her mettle.

To my astonishment, she had passed this test quite successfully indeed. For some reason, it caused me to feel a sort of respect for her. A lesser maiden would most likely have fled or would at least have barricaded herself in her chamber and never again set foot outside of it, but not Mira.

She did not appear to be as well as she had been when last we had met. Her face was pale and appeared rather drawn, and there were shadows under her eyes that had not been present during our last meeting, but she was lovely, very lovely. Perhaps because of my own ugliness, I was irresistibly drawn to that loveliness.

Loveliness alone would not have been enough to captivate me, though, and I knew it was the glimpse of an intriguing mind that had piqued my interest. It had quickly become apparent to me that she was a woman of firm understanding and intelligence. Though I had not thought I required a maiden with a lively intellect, I found that I was grateful for it, for it would be infinitely more interesting to converse with one possessed of a keen mind. Then again, had she been nothing more than a beautiful simpleton, my task would have been much easier. I sensed that she was not one to succumb to flattery, and I knew that my only hope of winning her was to appeal to her mind rather than her vanity.

All of this raised my hackles. Her beauty and her wit gave her power over me, and it chafed me to find that her bluntness could wound me. I did not want her pity, nor did I seek her approbation, but I could not deny that there was some part of me that wished she would protest against my statement that it was only natural she should find my companionship distasteful. She did not, and that provided me with further proof of her power to wound me.

"Do you know what it is that truly troubles me?" she asked, breaking into my uncomfortable thoughts.

"Pray, enlighten me," I growled, ill-tempered.

She glanced over at me, and I saw censure in her eyes. "It disturbs me that you would use your appearance as a shield. It is not the way you look that is distasteful, but the way you act."

"I do not try to pretend to be anything other than what I am," I growled.

Her defiance provoked me, and I was angered by the turn the conversation was taking. I understood now that I had removed any leverage I may have possessed by separating Mira from her father. She would not succumb to me, for she had nothing to lose at this point. My only hope was to spend enough time with her that she might find some redeeming quality within me, although I sincerely doubted that I was possessed of any. Still, I was experienced enough to know that a woman in love can overlook a great many flaws, so I supposed my strategy for winning her would have to involve helping her somehow find that there was something within me worthy of her regard. I had no choice other than to be honest and to hope that she would learn enough of me to find something she would like.

"That is the poorest of excuses," she said sharply, her gaze now fixed upon me.

Ah, a good sign
, I thought.
If I provoke her, she cannot resist the urge to rebuke me. I must put this discovery to good use, but I must have a care not to be so provoking as to drive her away entirely.

"An excuse?" I shifted slightly forward, bringing my visage toward the light.

"Yes, an excuse. I find nothing admirable in those who declare 'I am who I am', as if that should excuse their every flaw. If you truly willed it, you could change."

"Why should I wish to change solely to please others?" I asked, not bothering to hide my disdain.

It pleased me to see that my plan was working. She was in such a passion that she had turned fully toward me and was leaning forward in her own chair, her face fixed on my shadowed one. I could see that she sought my eyes, so I shifted even further into the light, allowing her to look me fully in the face. There was a slight flicker of fear in her gaze, but she was too outraged with me to allow it to divert her.

"I do not understand why you insist on being so perverse. You claim to want companionship in one breath, and with the next you acknowledge that you are a distasteful companion," she said, her eyes blazing.

Much to my astonishment, I found that I was enjoying our exchange, so much so that I actually smiled. Perhaps I was every bit as perverse as Mira had said. In the past, I had brooked no defiance from my subordinates, but now I found myself enjoying her defiance. It was rather stimulating to be challenged by her.

"You are angry with me," I said. "Otherwise, I do not think you would dare speak to me thus."

"I am angry," she snapped. "But even if I were not, I would still speak to you in the same manner. I do not know what you anticipated, but if you expected a meek, docile maiden, you are destined to be disappointed. There is nothing you can do to change that."

"I would not wish to."

She eyed me warily and I knew that she did not trust my words. Smart woman; I never had been very trustworthy.

"You will forgive me if I do not see fit to take your words as truth," she said. "You strike me as the sort of creature who wishes to bend everyone to your will."

"Then you know me better than I would have thought," I said, unapologetically.

Once again, she appeared startled by my honesty. Her eyes were troubled as she continued to study me, and she bit her lower lip pensively. "I confess that I do not know what to say in response to that. Surely you cannot believe I will respect you for having such a perspective."

"As I told you quite clearly at the beginning of our conversation, I know that you would much prefer other companionship to my own."

"I find you exasperating, not to mention mysterious. I do not understand you at all. You have brought me here by cruel design, but I am treated more like a guest than a prisoner. You seem to wish for my company, but you seem determined to be as disagreeable as possible. Your castle is filthy and in an appalling state of disrepair, but the chambers I inhabit are clean, warm, well-lit, and beautifully decorated. What am I to make of such contradictions?"

"You may make of them whatever you choose," I said, my tone clearly expressing my lack of concern.

She rose from her chair and began to pace before the fire. "Do you wish to drive me away? Do you wish I would remain in my chamber? If so, why do you not simply lock me within it?"

"Because I do not wish to drive you away, nor do I wish you to remain confined within your chamber. The truth is, I am a lonely being and I do desire your company. Yet, as much as I desire companionship, I will not attempt to conceal my true nature from you. Indeed, I would not think of insulting you in such a manner, for I know you are far too intelligent and perceptive to be deceived."

Mira's pacing halted, and she glanced quickly over her shoulder at me. Her cheeks were appealingly flushed, but whether this was because she was furious and overheated or embarrassed by my compliment, I could not say. She turned away, and I watched as the tension in her shoulders gradually eased. Finally, she strode back to her chair, turning it so that it faced me directly.

She must have seen the astonishment in my eyes, for she smiled at me, though the corners of her mouth seemed reluctant to form the expression. "It would seem that you know me better than I would have thought," she confessed.

"On the contrary, I would say that I have successfully guessed at your personality, but I still know very little about you. It is my hope that, with time, I will learn more ."

"Perhaps you shall. Or perhaps not. That will depend on the direction taken by further discussion between the two of us."

"I do not like the idea of anyone holding power over me," I said. There was a low growl in my voice that I tried and failed to control.

She did not seem frightened, however. Instead, her smile faded, and she shook her head slightly as she studied me. "No one likes to feel that another holds power over them. And why should you begrudge me whatever small power I might hold over you? You hold a great deal of power over me, as you are well aware. What is it to you if I decide to withhold my companionship from you when you have the power to withhold my liberty from me?"

We were both silent for a moment. She turned her gaze to study the fire, and I could see that she was growing both weary and sad. The animation that our dispute had provoked had faded, and what remained was vulnerable, raw. I studied her as I considered her words. She had far more power over me than she imagined, but seemed to take no pleasure in the power of which she was aware. Nor could she know that I clung so jealously to my power over her not simply because I derived pleasure from it, but because losing it would mean losing everything. Crushing my spirit might bring her relief, but it would bring her no joy. It was astounding to find that we had this in common, for I felt no triumph in having crushed her spirits.

Impetuously, I found myself being far more frank with her than I wanted to be, and I knew that I would curse myself for it afterward. "Perhaps if you withhold your companionship from me, it will harm me far more than you know." There was a note of despair in my voice. Her beautiful eyes met mine, but instead of feeling soothed by her gaze, I felt scorched. I turned away. Someday, she might know the extent of the truth in these words.

She stayed with me for some time, but she did not speak. I wished that I could rise from my chair and escape the chamber, but I refused. My pride demanded that I not expose my weakness to her. If I had to sit all night until she finally rose and left the chamber herself, then I would wait. If she attempted to speak to me, I would rebuke her violently.

Mira did not attempt to speak, though, and I began to wonder why she stayed. I could read much in her eyes, and the temptation to look at her to see what I could ascertain was great, but I fought the urge. I worried she would prove just as adept at reading my eyes.

I now knew just how dangerous her presence in the castle was to me, and I cursed my own folly. I should have let her father take the stupid rose, should have let him ride off to his family and never thought of him again. Instead, I had sealed my own doom by menacing him, thereby setting events into motion that I could not control. Far better to have remained alone in the castle and died a beast than to have to suffer the torment I had now brought down upon myself.

The clock struck one and then two before Mira finally sighed, the sound so tinged with despair that I nearly forgot myself and looked at her. The sound of her soft, slow footfalls broke the heavy silence. She hesitated for a brief moment before she walked from the chamber, and it was only then that I allowed myself to look at her, to watch her retreating back as she closed the doors, never once looking behind her.

Chapter 14: Plans and Purpose

I awoke the next morning with the beast's words ringing in my head. They stayed with me as I rose from my bed, as I dressed, as I breakfasted, and as I took my morning walk. I could think of nothing but his assertion that, if I were to withhold my company from him, it would hurt him worse than I could imagine. They were the most sincere, most private words he had spoken to me, and I knew very well that it had caused him pain to speak them.

What did the beast want from me? Did he expect me to be his salvation? I sincerely hoped not, for I was not eager to assume the role of his savior. Though my pity for him grew the more time I spent with him, there was so much about him that I found distasteful. For as intelligent and fascinating as he could be, he was also cruel, cold-hearted, and small-minded. He thought only of his own comfort and cared nothing for that of others, as was made obvious by his insistence on the castle's gloomy and dank state of disrepair. He assigned no value to the claims of family, and spoke with sneering derision of love and its obligations. What qualities did he possess that could possibly convince me to try to aide him?

The truth of the matter was that the beast was an enigma to me. For far too long, I had led a very simple life in Everforest. Though I had been reasonably content, there had been little engagement for my mind. There were days when I felt as though my wits were dulling, as if all my learning was slipping away. Given this, I suppose I viewed the beast as something of an intellectual experiment. He was obviously intelligent, and our conversations exercised my mind in a manner I had thought lost to me. Though I did not like him, I did enjoy engaging with him. The thrill of our verbal sparring made me feel more alive than I had in a very long time.

I knew I was playing with fire. I worried that continued exposure to his presence would taint me, would make me forget the ideals I had so long held dear. The thought made me close my fist around the portrait of my mother. I needed her at that moment, needed to hold onto something that was good and pure, for there was nothing of goodness or purity in this accursed castle.