Page 7 of Betraying the Beast

Company. Conversation. Purpose beyond mere survival.

“So be it,” Ceryn said finally, rising slowly to her feet. She stood barely to his chest, fragile as a sparrow before an eagle, yet strong as the rock she was named for. “I will stay.”

The words settled over the great hall like a spell, and Vael’Zhur felt the castle itself respond. Doors that had remained locked for years stirred on their hinges, chambers long dark suddenly seeming less oppressive. Or perhaps it was merely his imagination, desperate for change after centuries of sameness.

“Elodia will see to your quarters,” he said, gesturing to the shadows near the doorway where a woman hovered. “You will dine with me tonight. We have much to discuss.”

As Ceryn turned to follow the silent woman, Vael’Zhur called after her. “Ceryn Vale?”

She paused, glancing back.

“Run, and I will hunt you.” The promise emerged soft as death. “And unlike this visit, our next meeting will end with your blood upon my claws.”

Her eyes widened and she paled before nodding once. She then disappeared into the shadows, leaving him alone with the echo of her name and the fading warmth of her scent that teased him.

The fire crackled in the hearth, consuming the silverfruit he’d thrown into its depths. Beyond the castle walls, night deepened, bringing with it the familiar weight of solitude. But for the first time in years, the silence felt different.

He no longer felt alone.

Vael’Zhur moved to the window, his reflection a monstrous shadow in the glass. His fur ruffled gently as he contemplated the darkness beyond, the forest that had become both his kingdom and his prison.

“You’ve chosen a dangerous path, my lord.”

The voice emerged from the air itself, carrying the musical quality of wind through willows. Lady Elodia manifested beside him—not fully solid, never fully there, but present enough. The castle’s ancient guardian, bound to this place longer even than he.

“I know,” he replied without turning from the window.

“She is not like the others who came before,” Elodia continued, her ethereal form drifting closer. “There is something different about her.”

“All humans are the same. Liars, thieves, cowards,” he said, though doubt crept into the words.

“No.” Elodia’s hand, insubstantial as mist, passed near his arm. “This one is different. She walks like someone who’s already chosen her grave.”

The observation sent an unexpected chill through him. “What do you mean?”

“You sense it too, don’t you? That she came here for more than theft. That her purposes run deeper than she admits. And she has accepted that it may end in her death.” Elodia’s laugh was sad and knowing. “She may yet surprise us both, beast-king. Or she may be your undoing.”

Vael’Zhur’s claws scraped against the stone windowsill, leaving deep grooves in the ancient rock. Another mark to join countless others, physical manifestations of his frustration, his rage, his endless imprisonment.

But now, for the first time in years, something was different.

A woman bearing his enemy’s name had entered his domain. A thief who had not fled. A fragile human who had met his gaze without flinching.

And despite every instinct warning him against hope, Vael’Zhur felt the faintest stirring of something that had died the day he was cursed.

Curiosity.

A dangerous thing for a beast to possess.

Chapter

Three

Ceryn had expected her welcome in the beast’s castle many different ways as she made her way through the forest. Being escorted to the dungeons. Ensconced in a torture chamber. Slaughtered before she even set foot on the castle grounds was the most likely. Instead, a spectral servant had led her to a chamber that might once have belonged to a noblewoman.

The room was surprisingly intact despite years of clearly being uninhabited. Ceryn could only assume no one had lived there in decades since she had seen no other living being, beyond the beast and the ghostly being who escorted her to the suite, though she thought she spied faint ghost-like beings as they weaved their way through the halls to this chamber. A fine layer of dust covered most surfaces, but beneath it lay evidence of former luxury—a canopied bed with faded silk hangings, an ornate dressing table with a cracked mirror, tapestries depicting forest scenes that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of one’s eye.

“You must dress for your dinner with the master,” Elodia said, her voice echoing strangely as if coming from a great distance. The ghostly woman’s form shimmered in the dying light, translucent yet somehow substantial enough to open the wardrobe, revealing gowns of another era. “You will find suitable attire here.”

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