Beautiful Beast

Chapter 27

ARAWN

The day following Tauren's disruptive visit, my hunting expedition is successful. Three rabbits now hang from Hector's saddle. While in the forest, I was also able to find some edible roots and herbs to add to our stew. Our meagre stores have waned to the point where I can fit them on one shelf with room to spare. I have not told Kalista this—she does not need another reason to worry or to send me away. Besides, Tauren's visit seems to have caused even more stress. What did he tell her? And why did he need a spell? Perhaps it was nothing important, only menial selfishness on Tauren's part, but it certainly made Kalista furious. When she is angry, she becomes icy and distant and then disappears somewhere for the rest of the day. This was certainly the case yesterday. But what exactly caused it?

I pull Hector up next to the stables, untack him, and release him into the pasture with Abraxas. They nicker and toss their heads in such excitement it would seem they have not seen each other in days.

With the rabbits dangling from one hand and a sack of roots from the other, I trudge to the kitchens. It is dimly lit so it takes me a few moments before I notice the envelope on the kitchen table. It is a lovely cream colour and my name is written upon it in elegant, looping letters.

Dear Arawn,

I would be honoured if you would join me for a ball tonight.

Please meet me at 5:00 on the grand staircase.

Yours,

Kalista

A ball. I never cared for balls before, but I wager that I would enjoy this one. It is not the dancing that I dislike. It is the constant bombardment of eligible females and their overeager mothers. They think it all a fairy tale in which they might marry a prince and live happily ever after. But this prince has opinions and dreams, and the latter do not orbit around a spoiled girl who is after the title of princess. Kalista is so different from them. She is above the desire of nobility and status, yet I wonder if she could be a queen. In a way, she has ruled her own little kingdom, but Queen of Ventura is a much greater challenge.

First, though, the curse. How in the name of the great heavens above am I to break the curse? Kalista seems to have given up, but I will not relent so easily. No, I must find a way.

Once the stew is assembled, I bank the fire and allow the food to simmer. I then head to my rooms where I rifle through my dressing room in search of clothing appropriate for a ball. While I do not miss Cedric and Pierre's tastes in attire, I do miss their company. I thought it impossible to become attached to invisible servants, but now here I am, wishing for their presence.

From the colourful wall of velvet and brocade, I choose a dark blue coat whose edges are adorned with a delicate pattern of gold stitching. I also put on breeches in the same shade of blue, followed by gleaming leather boots. Not for the first time do I wish there was a mirror in my room. Will Kalista approve of this? Is it fitting for a ball? I fuss over my appearance for some time and even decide to tie my now chin-length hair back with a velvet ribbon, but eventually, I desist and head toward the staircase. The sun's position indicates that it is nearly five o'clock and I would hate to disappoint Kalista by being late.

As I arrive at the staircase, I pause and look across the way to the west wing. Something shimmers in the distance and a few moments later, Kalista steps from the shadows. There is a gentle yet timid smile upon her lips, and like a delicate butterfly, it flits across the space toward me and lands deftly upon my heart.

KALISTA

When I invited Arawn to join me for a ball, I had not considered the predicament of clothing. What to wear? I pull one gown from my wardrobe only to discard it and draw forth another. Beedy would know what I should wear. In the blink of an eye, she would narrow the host of gowns down to but a handful.

Stepping back, I narrow my eyes at the wall of fabrics. Definitely not black or any other dark colour. Maybe green or blue? No, they were never my most flattering colours. A soft shade of pink or purple might do.

But then I see it and ideas of other gowns flit away like a kaleidoscope of butterflies. I draw out a pale gold gown that shimmers subtly in the light falling from my windows. It has off-the-shoulder sheer sleeves and a bodice embroidered with darker gold stitching that extends to curl down the full skirts. It is exactly what I have been looking for, but it takes me some time to struggle into it. Once it is on, I twist a few times and watch as sheer fabric ripples around me like liquid gold. Yes, this will do quite nicely.

Next, I sit at my vanity and arrange my hair. It is not elaborate—simply the front pieces of hair pulled away from my face and tucked into a little bun. Lastly, I dab on a little makeup, put on delicate pearl earrings, and slip my signet ring on my index finger.

Now I am ready. Well, as ready as I will ever be. I don't feel ready. My stomach is a mess of knots and my heart flutters wildly in my chest. It is only a ball, but it is the last ball. The last of so many beautiful things. But I cannot allow Arawn to know this. If he discovers the truth, it will ruin everything.

Taking a deep breath and straightening my shoulders, I head to the grand staircase. My dress swishes softly as I walk and gives the sleeping halls some semblance of life.

Arawn is already standing at the entrance of the east wing. He is dressed handsomely, and his hair is tied away from his face. Tonight, he looks like a prince—a very charming and stately prince. So, despite the impending storm, I smile and savour the sweetness of this moment.