Beautiful Beast

Chapter 25

KALISTA

A shrill whining wakes me from my sleep and my eyes snap open. It is still dark, so I burrow deeper beneath the blankets. It is simply the wolves being a nuisance. They will go away presently.
But their whining is incessant, and I angrily throw my blankets aside. Wrapping a thick shawl about my shoulders, I reach for a candle. At my touch, the wick bursts into flame and casts the room in a yellow glow. Time to give these troublesome wolves a piece of my mind.

I stride through my rooms and just as I arrive at the door to the hall, something slams into the oak wood. It startles me so that I drop the candle. The flame extinguishes upon hitting the floor and the room is once more cast in darkness.

There is a scratching at the door and the plaintive whining comes again.

They are inside.

Arawn.

My limbs regain mobility and I scramble for my dressing room. The wolves must hear my retreat, for their howling grows louder. Pushing aside masses of taffeta and lace, I reach for the latch to the hidden door. It snaps open and I step into the narrow passageway. With a flick of my hand, I summon a ball of fire to light my way; I then hurry through the damp passageway. What if I am too late and the wolves have already reached Arawn? He has his sword and arrows, but by himself, he can hardly defeat them all.

Once I am well past my rooms, I return to the main hall through a door hidden behind a tapestry. Although the passageways are safer, the main halls are a more direct route to Arawn's chambers. Now that there is more room, I break into a run. The sounds of wolves come from multiple directions and here and there I see marks from their claws. Out of breath and with worry stabbing at my heart, I slide to a halt before Arawn's rooms. The door is open, and all is quiet. My eyes instantly go to the bedpost where he usually hangs his sword. The weapon is gone. He must be in the palace somewhere.

Snatching a book of fairy tales from his bedside table, I whisper a spell over it, "Draw me to the hands that last held you." Blue light sparks from my fingers and swirls about the book, then it tugs lightly at my hands. I hurry in the direction that it indicates—through the door, to the left, to the right, past the staircase, and into the west wing. As I make yet another turn, I suddenly come face to face with a wolf. It is as startled as I am, but I have the sense to act quickly. With all my might and perhaps a dash of magic, I slam the book into the wolf's skull. There is a cracking sound and the wolf crumples; from unconsciousness or death I am not sure, but I do not take the time to find out. The impact shattered my spell and now I have to find Arawn without it. Once again, I hurry down the hall, glancing into sitting rooms, the ruined music room, and my art room, but I avoid the hall that leads to my rooms—no need to alert the wolves of my presence. With each step, a greater fear that the wolves have reached him builds in me. And with that, comes a crushing sense of loneliness. Once, I could endure this place, I could even find happiness in tiny corners, but not anymore, not without Arawn.

Finally, frustration triumphs and I call out, "Arawn. Arawn?"

My voice is answered by growls from the wolves and I am about to give up when I hear him reply. Without a second thought, I lift my nightgown and dash toward the sound. Never in my entire lonely existence has my heart beat so wildly. But it is not just my heart—my entire being cries to him. I hasten around a corner and suddenly, there he is, rushing toward me.

Relief spills through my veins and I fall into his arms. "Where were you? I could not find you anywhere."

"I went to your rooms and there were wolves outside. I thought you were trapped," he says breathlessly.

"No, no, I..."

"They're coming after us." Arawn pulls on my arm, dragging me down the hall. "The library. We can bar the door."