The Eye of the Beholder (16 page)

"That is what I shall call you: Lysander."
A release of a man…
He was a beast, not a man, but it seemed to me that he had something like the soul of a man.

"Lysander," he repeated. "Would you be so kind as to tell me precisely why you wish to call me that?"

"In time, perhaps; for now you shall have to content yourself with the knowledge that it is a name I find particularly fitting for you."

"I would like to know why that is," he said, his voice a low growl.

"Well, then, I suppose you will have to trust that I will someday tell you," I said airily, rising from my seat. "For now I will bid you good night."

With those words, I walked from the chamber and closed the door behind me, leaving the beast alone with his thoughts.

Chapter 15: The Meaning Behind the Name

Our conversation was very different that night--Mira was very different that night. I sensed it the moment she entered the chamber. Gone was the hesitation tinged with fear, the reluctance to come near me. She seemed infused with a confidence and determination I had never before witnessed in her and, much to my displeasure, this change in her put me off my guard.

The chair she chose was much closer to me than she usually sat, and I was both rewarded with and punished by the best view I had yet had of her. Her confidence rendered her more beautiful than ever, wrecking havoc with my composure. Her brown eyes shone with something like satisfaction, and for the first time I noticed the flecks of gold within them. Her hair had been most becomingly arranged, and it shone brightly in the firelight. It was difficult to tear my eyes from the appealing curve of her smile.

What is it about her? What qualities does she possess that lend her the power to captivate you?
I wondered.

I wished I knew. Perhaps if I could discover the source of her power, I could do something to eliminate or at least lessen it. I did not like the hold she had over me; it was dangerous. It made it far too easy for her to say things or to look at me in a manner that breached my walls. No one had ever breached them before, and I had not intended to ever allow anyone to do so.

It was surprising how taken aback I was by her question about my always sitting in shadow. In truth, I had given this subject little thought. I had always had a vague notion that it would be mutually beneficial if I were to always conceal myself in shadow. My appearance was simply too terrifying for anyone to feel comfortable in my presence, and my pride was far too strong for me to willingly expose my bestial appearance. There was a time when I had been considered quite comely, when I had been actively pursued by the princesses and queens of many foreign lands. Of course, once they knew me, my appearance--no matter how handsome--was not enough to compensate for my personality. This had never disturbed me, for I had never had any wish to marry, but I had been extremely proud of my uncommonly fine looks. After all, I felt myself deserving of every possible advantage and gift, and so I had taken my comeliness for granted, a fact the enchantress no doubt had in mind when she had decided how I was to be punished.

I was relieved when Mira changed the subject, but my ire was soon raised as she began to berate me for my bad manners. She could not know how fortunate she was that I was so taken aback by her candor. Had I not been as thunder-struck as I was, my anger might have been unleashed. As it was, I could see that she refused to be daunted by my displeasure, which only served to render me both angrier and more astonished. Quite literally, no one had ever before taken a stand against me or had challenged me as she was now doing. I was ashamed to admit that I was so unprepared for such a challenge that I found myself at a loss. I was even more ashamed to admit that some small part of my interest was piqued by her challenging me, and I did my best to ignore the quickening of my blood that this inspired.

Just when I thought the evening could not get any worse, Mira dubbed me Lysander. I knew she had an interest in the Greek language and that she must have studied it extensively, for many of the books she had taken from the library were myths and tales written in Greek so complex that they were not for the amateur scholar. What Mira did not know was that I, too, had studied Greek extensively and could read and understand it with nearly as much ease as I could read and understand my native tongue. I knew that Lysander meant "a release of a man" and, for a brief, mad moment, I feared that she had somehow discovered the nature of the curse that bound me.

My panic was short-lived, as her response to my questioning her choice of the name gave me no indication that she was aware of the irony. But if she had not chosen the name for the reason I thought she had, why had she chosen it? I did not like the idea of its having some sort of meaning to her that she refused to share with me. Asking me to trust her was an affront to everything for which I stood and I believe she knew it. I never trusted anyone or anything other than myself.

I sat alone in the library for some time after she left. I was wrathful but, fortunately, I was able to stave off the black rage that pricked at me. Never before had I possessed the power to fight the rages off, but never before had so much been at stake. Fortunately for me, my resolve had grown stronger due to Mira's presence in the castle, but it was a strength tinged with desperation, for I felt my end drawing ever nearer. Mira had not been in the castle long, so I tried to convince myself there was still time to try my best to win her, to obtain the confession of love that would free me. However, there was no denying that time was slipping through my fingers, and nothing was progressing according to my plan. There were precious few days left to me, and this knowledge was driving me to the brink of madness. With each day that passed, it became more imperative that I find some way to make Mira love me, but I was flailing about in the dark. I did not even know how to make her like me, let alone love me.

"Cursed enchantress," I growled quietly, and the sound of my own words seemed to mock me. I had spoken them many times before, and every time they were spoken I was reminded of my own impotence.

Too little time remains. I sit here night after night in the hopes that Mira will enter this chamber, in the hopes of sharing some conversation with her that might somehow convince her she should love me, but every time I see her, I present her with a multitude of reasons why she should not like me. This will not do. I must see more of her if I am to have any hope at all of winning her, and I must cease sabotaging my own efforts. I must allow her some small victories over me if I am to have any hope of inspiring an attachment. As distasteful as it is, I know I must alter my conduct, for I can see that, thus far, I have earned only her censure. How can I possibly expect her to fall in love with me? I must at least feign the appearance of changing or I will never have any hope
.

The truth behind these thoughts did not matter; they were intolerable to me. I was on the point of resolving to forget everything and to continue as I was when I was suddenly struck with the understanding that to do so was to concede victor to the enchantress. As little as I would like to act as though I was becoming a kinder, gentler version of myself, I liked the idea of the enchantress savoring a victory over me even less.

I will do it,
I thought, growling low in my throat.
Even if it kills me, I will do it. I must do it. There is no other way. I simply cannot allow that enchantress to win. No one has ever defeated me before, nor will anyone ever defeat me.

It was time to become Lysander. Mira had known me only as a beast in both appearance and personality. It was time for me to show her a more human aspect of my personality, for it was the only hope I could ever have of winning her.

That idea is most beguiling, is it not? Mira is lovely and intriguing, and I do so wish to spend more time with her. More time to study the curve of her neck, the softness of her cheek. More time to allow her to bewitch me with her spirit, her sharp mind. Pleasant thoughts indeed…
an insidious little voice in the back of my mind spoke.

"I care for nothing other than the breaking of this spell!" I roared, the rage creeping ever closer. Just to prove that I did not entirely have a hold over it, I seized my chair and threw it with such force that it flew across the library and smashed into the door through which Mira had exited a short time ago. Both the chair and the door shattered on impact, their splintered remains skittering across the floor.

Stop! Stop immediately! I cannot afford such outbursts! There is too much at stake! She may very well have heard me and what will that have achieved? She may have challenged me this eve, but if I show her the true nature of my bestiality, I will surely fail to gain her affections.

With a snarl, I bounded from the chamber and down the stairs, seeking the servants' quarters. After that very first rage those hundreds of years ago, the servants had seen the wisdom of concealing themselves when they heard or saw signs of my black rages. This meant that they did not appear to see if I wished them to clean up in the rage's aftermath. I had always had to ring for them or seek them out if I wished to command them to clear away the remains of whatever I had destroyed.

My appearance in the servants' quarters caused something of a stir. I did not think I had ever before entered their domain. How could the presence of a mere maiden throw everything into chaos?

The servants turned immediately toward me as they all shuffled hurriedly to attention, dropping whatever it was that had occupied them before I had entered the chamber.

"The library needs attending to," I snarled at them. "Clean it up and replace the door, and see to it that you are finished before morning light. Our…guest must not see it in its current state. Do not fail to set things to rights."

I felt a rush of satisfaction as the servants trembled before me. My head butler managed a curt nod and then turned to face the other servants, nodding and gesturing by way of instruction. Those he chose to attend to the library did not delay, and were off as soon as he had dispensed with his instructions. When he was finished, he turned back around to face me and I smiled viciously as I witnessed his trembling bow.

Without another word, I turned and bounded from the servants' quarters back to my own quarters. It seemed I had spent more time in the library than I had thought, for I could see the gray light of the coming dawn from my broken windows. I moved over to them, allowing the chill morning air to ruffle my fur as it whistled around the shattered panes of glass. It carried the scent of roses, and I felt my fury abate, the tension in my body ease. I could do this. My will
would
be done.

As I became calmer, it struck me that, as vexed as I had become with Mira, I had also enjoyed our conversation--and not because I felt that I had the upper hand. All my life, I had been given exactly what I wanted, and I had thought this was the key to my satisfaction. But the more Mira refused to bend to my will, the more I craved her company, and I was forced to acknowledge how glad I was that Mira was the maiden who had finally arrived. If I succeeded in winning her love, it would be infinitely more gratifying than if I had managed to coerce some meek maiden into loving me.

But what did that gratification mean? It was not the prospect of conquest the consumed me. It was something more than that, something I did not understand. She had been meant to be my pawn, but now it seemed that I did not want a pawn. These thoughts were like hopelessly knotted thread; trying to unravel it only made it become more hopelessly tangled.

The wind picked up as I prowled my chambers, and its buffeting force seemed to finally dislodge the jumbled thoughts in my head. It was time for me to adopt a new tactic. I needed to use the time remaining to the greatest effect, which meant I could not longer waste night after night sitting in the library waiting for Mira to stumble upon me. It was time for me to honor her wish to stop concealing myself in shadow. It was time for me to take her on a tour of the castle--by day.

Chapter 16: A Sense of Purpose

My efforts at improving the castle began promptly the day after I had begged the servants for their help. It seemed a propitious day to begin, for the sun was shining brightly when I threw back the curtains. I smiled at the sight and allowed myself the luxury of a long, slow stretch. My eyes wandered over toward my door and the sight I saw excited me considerably.

Bounding from the bed, I raced over to the door and knelt upon the floor, laughing. Before me was every supply I could possibly need. There were buckets, rags, and a plentiful supply of soap. I also had two brooms and three brushes with boar bristles to scour the deep-seated grime from the floors and windows, and a toolbox with a myriad of carpentry tools. The servants had even left me a ladder, which was propped against the wall just inside my door.