THE MORE TIME I spent walking throughout the dusty hallways of the castle, I became suspicious that the rooms were circling around me. It made no sense, for I had walked up the same staircase twice, yet each time, I found myself in the opposite direction to where I had been faced earlier.
The same door opened to multiple different rooms, staircases led to opposite directions without ever splitting, hallways circled me back to where I had come from without ever turning, and I would step into rooms with no entrances.
It confused me, how any sound person could navigate their way through this castle. By the time I had circled back to my chambers for the fifth time, I was convinced that everything within the castle walls had a mind of its own. My husband had not bothered to assign an escort to assist me and I was not about to request one.
However, I was likely monitored by those bodiless servants who used their invisibility to report to their lord. I was certain they were curious to what I would do if I thought myself alone. Whenever I stepped, I made sure to keep an ear strained for an extra set of footsteps clopping after me. I strode onward, continuing my aimless wandering.
The Beast had very conveniently failed to mention this little detail. I suspected he was laughing his throat hoarse thinking about how many times I walked the exact same corridor as I insisted on denying what I speculated. I ground my teeth together. He must find this so very entertaining.
Furious, I spent my entire morning exploring the castle, determined to find something that would be of use to me. Something—anything—that hinted at his mortality. But to no avail. I wandered until I no longer recognized the halls. They would shift around and the stairs would twist so that I was returned to the very doorway of my room.
At one point in the day, I had discovered a large ballroom. Its ceilings were so high and decorated with exquisite archways that extended into ornate pillars. These pillars framed tall glass panes that let in the brilliant light from outside the castle. It left me breathless, the sensation of the sun filling my chest as it shone through the glass and reflected on the extravagant gold cornices lining the walls.
Beyond the crystal chandeliers, I could see that the ceiling had displayed a fresco of painted cherubs hiding in puffy clouds. They were looking down at the marble floor which, despite the dust, was varnished so extravagantly that it reflected their image. My chest was weightless, filled with the kind of air that lifted a corpse so that it floated atop the water.
This was quite different from every other section of the palace. Where the castle was grim and black, these rooms shined with vibrancy and opulence. It seemed odd that this ballroom existed here and I dared say that once I left, I would not enter it again.
So I took the opportunity and committed the dance room to memory, imagining that at some point in time, celebrations were held here and music was played. Since the Beast came into rule, the country has grown desolate and lifeless, every city and town losing the meaning of frivolity. For this castle to have such a dance room meant that it was likely built before his time. Perhaps it was the castle of a rich family he had slaughtered.
Secretly, I was searching for the West Wing. They were the only place the Beast had forbidden me from entering. Of course, that would fill me with the desire to enter them. Despite my attempts to walk in the direction I knew was West, I always found myself back at my doors even though I had never turned. It was beginning to drive me mad.
Eventually, the sun had begun to set and it was time for me to dine with my lord husband. Just like the previous night, he was not present when I arrived. I fiddled with the sleeves of my dress, smoothing the black fabric over my wrists.
"It appears my dear bride has grown accustomed to waiting for her lord husband," a voice said, echoing throughout the hall. "I cannot quite claim to feel pity for making you wait, you appear to be a great deal tamer and more...customary sitting like that."
I sat up straighter and looked at him. He wore an elaborate white cravat that matched the lace cuffing's at his palms. It did not escape my attention that he omitted his usual cloak, only wearing a white linen shirt and black breeches. The same mask concealed his face, which upon closer inspection, appeared to have small silver decoration embroidered onto the fabric layered over the metal. I wondered if the mask's edge was sharp enough to slit his throat.
I inhaled. "Need I remind you that the sun has risen and set since we have been married? I do believe that makes me your lady wife." I paused. "And, my lord husband, you never feel pity for any of your wives. I daresay that that is one of your more favorable qualities."
He appeared calm, his masked face a waiting calamity. His head lifted in an acknowledging nod. "Ah, I suppose you have come to that realization whilst listening to servant's gossip? Or perhaps you learned it on your little adventures?"
I pressed my lips. Did he not approve of me wandering in the castle? "I did not learn that in my time here. Every civilian is aware of it. We have been told stories of your lecherous acts since we were infants," I replied as I replicated his posture.
"Lecherous?" He leaned forward and for a moment, I thought he had taken offense. "I have had a great many wives, but not a single one has dared to consider attempting a fraction of anything you have done. It makes me wonder, my dear, what other concerns do you wish to bring up now that you are my bride?"
I chose to ignore his improper usage of the word. "Your castle is a mess and you do not seem to care about the chaotic state it is in. And there is something you want from me." I held his gaze, wondering if I could make him remove that mask of indifference. I wanted to see him show emotion—to see him display weakness. "What do you want from me, my lord husband?"
"What do I want? I want..." A menacing smile formed on his lips, one that made my body tense with anticipation. "You. In my bed."
I was taken aback for a moment. But I hid me appalment and said, "I find myself rather inclined to comply."
"All the better, would it not be?" he asked, his words pointed and aimed. I held my breath as he paused, holding his glass. He stood from his seat and leisurely stepped around the table. "Rather than attempt to butcher me while I bed you, as you have done last night, perhaps you intend to join me in my bedchamber so that you could slaughter me in my sleep."
I bit my lip and nearly flinched at his forwardness. "I agree. It would be far too rude to rouse you beforehand. I think it'd be best to part ways with the plunge of a knife."
He appeared amused and very playfully said, "But that would not be so heartwarming nor satisfying a parting with your dear lord husband."
I wondered if his eyes twinkled as he spoke those words, or if he uttered them without much thought. He seemed not to think very highly of me. I rolled my lips together, watching as he prowled toward me. A challenge. "I could bring an extravagant wine to your bed before I deliver my goodbye," I offered.
He braced his hands on the arms of my chair, dipping his head so that it was level with mine. "Poisoned, I assume?"
I wet my lips. "But then you would show off your immunity to it."
He barked out a laugh. "Then you are aware that I am not so easy to kill."
With pretended bravado, I whispered, "The countless wives who have been wedded to you and have fallen at your feet are enough proof of that, my lord husband."
"But none of them were quite as astute as you, my dear bride," he murmured, his voice brushing against the shell of my ear.
It was his laid-back demeanor that made me question my ability to kill him. He had brushed every threat and ill-spoken word uttered by me as if it were nothing more than a speck of dust on his sleeve. He was not worried by me.
Without turning or leaning either into or away from his touch, I said, "It is the sagaciousness I possess in knowing that I am your wife."
With that, he leaned away with a malicious smile pulling on his mouth. I wanted to pull the mask from his face if only to see whether or not the rest of his face matched the expression. "As far as I am concerned, you are my bride until you have consummated to our marriage."
I stiffened, fear delving into the depths of my abdomen. That was not a prospect I fancied. "In that case," I decided rather quickly, "I would very much prefer to be your loving bride than your wife."
"Of course you would, my darling bride." He turned to me, masked jaw against my cheek. "But you must realize that your lord husband wants you as his willing wife."
"His lordship must come to the realization that that will never happen."
"I can be very persuasive," he murmured.
"You mean threatening," I corrected him.
He laughed, his breath fanning across the side of my face. "A man can dream," he murmured to himself.
So I stood up. "I suppose. Now, if you will excuse me."
He caught my wrist, drawing my eyes to a faint mark at the edge of his cuff. "Are you running away from your lord husband?"
"Of course not," I snapped, backing away from him. I escaped to the entrance of the dining room, stepping back between the pillars. "It is a strategic retreat so that I can put together a new plan to assassinate you." He smiled as I said that and began to near me, his body moving in that manner of a wolf cornering its prey. "I must retire to my bedchamber."
At the mention of bed, I remembered his statement of consummation. He caught me, easing himself closer and pushing me against a pillar. His lips brushed my skin and my breath hitched. "Ismae LaBelle," he whispered, his voice unfurling into my ear in tendrils of temptation. "Do you wish to guess how many years I have lived?"
"I would sooner die."
And with that, the dinner had concluded and I was left to return to my empty chambers. As I walked through the dark halls, I thought of how I would kill him. Evidently, he was far too skilled in close-body combat. I would need to outsmart him—and I dared not invite him to my bed, that first night was bad enough.
There is the matter of guessing his age. I did not allow myself to even think of guessing it. My odds of surviving a knife to the heart were far greater than the odds of guessing his age correctly. It was a wicked scheme, to tempt me and his former wives into the belief that we could escape him with the utterance of a single number.
As for the West Wings...What could he be hiding there that he did not want me to know about? My feet paused their movements. It was a sound conclusion. For me to be forbidden from setting foot there suggested that there was something I could not be allowed to know about.
I vaguely knew the location of the West Wings, but despite my attempts, the hallways seemed to lead me back to my rooms whenever I had strayed. Perhaps if I attempted to find the wing enough times, I would be able to manage it. Yet, I knew that I could not head to the West Wing empty-handed. I needed my daggers—all of which were embedded into the ceiling of my lord husband's bedchambers if he had not yet removed them. And if I dared to tear the new curtains down, I was sure the head of the maids would come with a swinging fist.
There was, however, a man who I supposed could be of help to me. The very man that had first disclosed the location of the West Wing. He was the only other visible person I had seen since arriving at this palace, presumably a guard of some sort. Certainly, he would know something, and for the right price, would tell me that something.
The only issue was I had no clue as to where he was.
And then the heavens and earth met in an event of fate, for I had walked into the body of another person.
"The Beast's wife, I see."
"The idiot who continuously bumps into me," I greeted.
He scoffed. "You are the one that bumped into me."
"Let us not dwell on who did what," I shushed him as I rubbed my nose. Now was not the time for semantics. I lifted my head to meet his eyes, doing my best not to let my gaze drift to his scar. "I need an escort."
"Where do you want to go?" he asked slowly, as though he was suspicious of me. I noticed that his brows drew together as he spoke, a tilt to his head.
I gave him an innocent smile, feigning genteel. "The rose gardens."
"The maze?" he inquired, scarred brow wrinkled and creased in an unsightly manner. I caught a glance of another mar on the opposite temple. "My lady, surely you can find another man that is more capable an escort."
"I have only found you by coincidence," I replied. And then I dared to say, "Where can I find all the other servants? The West Wing?"
His eyes narrowed the moment I uttered those last two words. "What makes you inquire about that, your ladyship?" His hands latched onto my arms, taking me by surprise as he shoved me against the wall. My eyes twitched to the empty hilt at his hip. "Has his lordship not told you of the fate that befell the wives that dared to answer to their curiosity?"
"He has, but you see, I have not been told much about the West Wing. I could only wonder," I whispered, leaving my lips parted as I peered into his eyes from beneath my lashes. I relaxed against the hold of his palms.
He studied my face intently, eyes searching me for the whisper of a lie. It was then that I remembered how he held me in place and it occurred to me then how I could use this to my advantage. If the rumors of the Beast's treatment towards his servants were true, his act would not go unpunished. It would do me well to bring him to my side.
"There is nothing in the West Wing," the man said stiffly. I lifted my gaze to him, making contact with his deep blue eyes. He stared back. "No one enters except for his Lordship, for we are forbidden to do so."
"How frequently does his Lordship visit?" I asked him slowly, my words soft and sultry.
He answered with a question I despised hearing. "Are you thinking of something?"
"If I was, do you not suppose I would have gone to someone who is not affiliated with my lord husband?" I asked, feeling my own brows furrow in annoyance.
His head suddenly dipped to the crook of my neck and I felt the scrape of his unshaven jaw against my neck. A shudder went through me and I fought the urge to move away from him. "If I were you," he spoke, his voice little more than a quiet murmur only meant for my ears, "I would not say that so loudly. After all, you are in the halls of his castle."
"Yet," I began, the sound softer than I had intended, "somehow, in the arms of one of his men."
He pulled back and met my eyes, a smile pulling on his mouth. With his unmarred brow beautifully arched, he corrected me and whispered, "You are between my arms, not quite in them."
"Either way is no manner to handle the Beast's bride with," I reminded him, holding my head high to meet his. But as he stood, our eyes grew far from level and I had to tilt my head further back.
He was grinning now and I found myself glancing to the ring of scars that cuffed his wrists. From manacles.
"My, what a detail you have confessed to me." Confusion struck me. I had not uttered a secret. "I cannot believe he has been a gentleman and kept his hands off you. I do not suppose you will be his bride for much longer, however." He released my wrists and with a dangerous expression, added, "Only a man of iron could resist a woman like you." He stepped away, turning so that he was walking to wherever he had been headed before we had intercepted paths.
"Wait," I called out after him. "Who are you?"
He stopped but did not turn to look at me. "Who am I?" He chuckled deeply, shaking his head as if a nonsensical thought occurred to him. "I am naught but a nameless man." He strode off, leaving me to ponder over his words.
But ponder not very long I did, for I had somewhere to be. The West Wings sounded like an awfully interesting place to explore.