Beautiful Beast

Chapter 9

KALISTA 

The wolves are gone. There is silence now and it is a familiar silence. The palace. My room.

How did I get here?

My eyes flutter open and are greeted by my floral-patterned canopy. Not so long ago I looked up and saw a canopy of trees with the light of a single star fracturing the darkness. Or was it all a dream?

I move to push myself up but cry out when a sharp pain cuts through my right arm.

A breeze rushes to my side, signaling the arrival of Beedy. "Oh, my lady. Don't try to move. Just stay nice and still while I fetch Master Arawn."

I prop myself up with my left arm. "No, Beedy. I'm fine. Don't call him."

But it is too late, she is already gone. Fetch Master Arawn? When did he work his way into Beedy's heart?

My right arm throbs, but I manage to prop the pillows up behind me so I can sit up. I then look over to my wound. There is nothing to see. The skin from my wrist to my elbow is bandaged with clean white linen. This was certainly not the servants' doing.

Glancing around the room, I search for a sign which might tell me what transpired. However, as usual, the room is neat as a pin. On the other hand, I am likely a frightful mess. With my good hand, I comb through my hair in an attempt to smooth the stray wisps. Next, I wrap a burgundy shawl about my shoulders to cover the wrinkles in my chemise—at least Beedy changed me out of my torn and filthy dress.

"Come, quickly. She just woke up. She seems alright—perhaps a little pale, though," Beedy chatters as she sweeps into the room.

I wrap my shawl tighter about my shoulders as if it is armour and will be able to protect me. How could Beedy be so careless as to allow him into my private chambers when I am injured, and my magic has been drained?

A pair of brown-gold eyes gaze at me from the doorway. There is fear and uneasiness residing in them, but no anger. I am sure it must be another charade. After what he did to me, I cannot believe that this is honesty.

"May I come in?" He asks placidly.

"Yes, yes. Come in. She won't bite." Beedy hurriedly interjects before I have a chance to send him away.

Tentatively he approaches and I straighten my spine so as to appear regal and strong. Although, I feel quite the opposite. My arm throbs with a frightful pain and my lack of magic has opened the door to exhaustion.

He pauses a few feet away from my bed. "I am sorry."

I blink in surprise. He is sorry?

"I am sorry for stabbing you." His words are taut, like the strings of a violin, but as far as I am able to discern, he is being truthful. "And I was wrong. You're not the beast. If you were, you would have killed me already, or left me to face the same fate as my brother."

How is one to acknowledge an apology? I almost feel like I should clap, but that would come across as mocking him. So I simply incline my head and force my lips to lift a little. It is not a smile, but it is as near to a smile as I can manage at this moment.

A weight falls from his shoulders and his stance becomes more relaxed, but it is countered by the awkward silence that swells between us. We are no longer enemies, yet we are also not friends. We are simply standing on middle ground, staring at each other, likely both wondering if it is safe to move.

Arawn shifts, as if he is about to leave, but in a breath, Beedy is hovering next to us. "You were going to examine her arm again, remember?"

"Yes, of course. I should change the bandages," Arawn says, moving a chair next to my bed and taking a seat. His resolute movements break the glaciers of uncertainty, but in their place, fear opens its eyes.