A Tale of Beauty and Beast: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (Beyond the Four Kingdoms #2)

But the Beast did not speak. Instead he ate steadily, his hairy hands curling awkwardly around the cutlery. I followed his lead, glad to fill my stomach and gather my composure before launching into the inevitable conflict.

The first course gave way to the second, and the glances I stole at him increased in frequency. The strange shape of his mouth clearly made eating difficult, but he persisted without comment. Twice when I looked his way, our eyes met. Both times I looked quickly away and then spent the next minutes trying to interpret the strange expression I had glimpsed on his face.

The third time I refused to look down, holding his eyes instead, my own full of defiance. His eyes, as they met mine, seemed to glow, the warmth in them more unsettling than the harsher emotions I had glimpsed previously. Eventually I looked away, hating the faint flush which I could feel staining my cheeks. He had no business having eyes like that.

I rushed to cover the awkwardness of the moment, sick of waiting for him to speak. “You may call me Sophie, if you like. Everyone does. I only use Sophia for formal occasions.” I paused to give him a chance to reply, but he remained silent, so I pressed on.

“I suppose you must have been surprised to see me. My kingdom of Arcadia lies far across the seas—one of the Four Kingdoms. We are large and prosperous, and my family wish to expand our diplomatic and trade ties. My sister Lily and I were part of the delegation sent to Marin to open negotiations. We arrived in time to be caught up in the Princess Tourney which you called.”

Surprised was probably an understatement. The Four Kingdoms had been cut off from these lands for generations. For so long, in fact, that our people had forgotten that a flotilla of ships ever left our shores to seek new lands.

Yet, apparently, those ships had sailed away and found these lands, pristine and untouched. And then they beseeched the High King to set a wall of storms between us. Back then it had been the Four Kingdoms that had forgotten the High King’s decrees of true love and had turned their backs on the godmothers. Those who fled had sought protection from us.

In the intervening generations, much had changed. And perhaps that was what had caused the storms to disappear, and our lands to find each other once again. Because now the Four Kingdoms flourished. The godmothers had assisted the rulers of each of the lands to find true love and, as decreed from the High King’s Palace of Light, the result was peace and prosperity for kingdoms ruled by love.

Except Lily and I had found peace a little boring—a fact I now heartily regretted. When an Emissary had arrived unexpectedly from this unknown land, we had responded to the promise of adventure with enthusiasm. We had joined the return delegation to the duchy of Marin, and had found adventure enough in the danger of the Princess Tourney. The ancient laws of this foreign land had worked against us then, even as they protected me now.

Thoughts of the Tourney sparked a flare of resentment inside me. Lily and I had suffered in many ways during the competition, and it had nearly sabotaged Lily’s chance at true love. All because of this silent creature sitting beside me.

A small voice in the back of my mind whispered that it had sabotaged my chance of true love, but I suppressed it. I would find a way free from this forced betrothal, whatever it took.

I glanced back at the Beast again. I hoped he had absorbed my words about my kingdom. I wanted him to know they would not sit idly by if he attempted to harm me. Should I tell him so outright? Or would such plain speaking spur him to anger? I weighed the risks either way.

While I considered, the silence between us lengthened. I had moved past anger into incredulity, at this point. Did he really intend never to speak to me? What purpose could he have in such behavior? He had been the one to summon me, although I could hardly imagine why, based on his actions so far. I had feared on the journey here that he might expect too great an intimacy, but the opposite seemed to be true. He did not even want the most basic of interactions.

But, on the other hand, he had demanded my presence at the meal. The contradictions made little sense, and I was sick of feeling uncertain and confused. I had tried being rude on the night of my arrival, and I had now twice tried being polite. I would ask him directly for an explanation—of the Tourney, of his curse, of his behavior.

I opened my mouth to do so just as he shifted toward me. The huge bulk of his shoulders rippled with strength as his large hand stretched out. I remembered we were alone and how capable he would be of crushing me and closed my mouth again.

A strange energy coursed through the huge, mostly empty room. The flames made the shadows dance and weave around me, and the air overly warm. I began to feel I was in a dream. It took me a moment to notice that the Beast had been holding another small piece of parchment out toward me. By the time I recognized the object, he had dropped it beside my plate.

My hand trembled slightly as I picked it up.

Will you marry me in the morning?





“What?” I leaped to my feet, my chair clattering to the floor behind me for the second time in as many meals. In all my imaginings, I had not considered that he might press for such a quick wedding. Royal weddings took time to prepare and, surely, he could not expect me to marry him while I was alone here without support. Let alone while he and his kingdom remained cursed.

“No!” I almost shouted the word, unable to meet his eyes. “Absolutely not!” I had started to grow a little comfortable in this castle—I had lost the edge of my fear and anger. But the thought of actually marrying my betrothed brought them flooding back.

I turned to rush from the room, only to be jerked to a stop just before I reached the door. His large hand, the nails more like claws, easily wrapped around my upper arm and spun me around to face him. He held me close, although not quite pressed against him, his face leaning down toward mine.

For a mad moment, I thought he meant to press his lips against mine and I froze, almost incapacitated by revulsion. But he made no move to close the small distance between us, instead pinning me in place with his eyes and his firm grip on my arm.

A strange fascination filled me as his eyes pleaded with me for something I couldn’t understand. Only that morning I had resolved never to let him touch me. And yet the surge of energy which ignited me now contained as much intrigue as repulsion.

I remembered his hand, soft against the neck of the black stallion. I felt the way his fingers gripped me now, firm and yet not hard enough to hurt. Something about his restrained strength enthralled me in a way I had not expected. What was going on inside the head of such a strange person?

Fancy gripped me, and I imagined that his eyes were attempting to tell me—to pour everything from his mind into mine. That they were pleading with me to free him.

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