Page 8 of The Beautiful Blade

“I can give you a quick manicure. Itwill all be fine."

I reached for the door on the other side of the carriage. My mother was already disappearing into the castle's darkened doors. I got out and began walking toward the stone walls that surrounded the castle. The doors to the outside world were closed. No one manned the massive battlements to reopen it.

"I can't do it, Belle. I won't."

I was starting to crack. I'd known this day was coming. It was one of my first memories, because it had been told to me over and over again every day of my life.I was going to marry the Beast Prince on my twenty-first birthday.That was in just two days.

"I can't marry that beast."

"I'm sure the rumors are an exaggeration. He's the son of a lioness. So he might have a big nose and sharp teeth. It's not like he's a troll."

Belle wasn't listening to me. I didn't expect her to. No one ever listened to me. No one except him.

There was a chance he was here. If he was, I would find him. I didn't know that he would still have me. He'd promised. But I'd promised, too, and I'd broken my end of the bargain on the day that he was taken from me. I would not fail him again.

I looked around, this time realizing that I was practically alone. The Sky Keeper Mage guards who had been dogging my steps since I was eighteen were all gone. The moment they'd stepped onto the beast'sgrounds, they'd finally laid down their arms and took their gazes from me. There was no one stopping me from running this time.

I gathered the edges of my skirt and bolted for the wall. My boots struck the ground with sharp, frantic sounds. My hands reached for the lattice as though it were salvation.

“Your Highness,” Belle called, the panic rising in her throat. “Stop!”

I didn’t stop. I climbed. I hefted my leg up and over the wall. There was a scrape of metal against stone. It was the blade he'd made me all those years ago. The intricate designs on the metal were a series of intertwining flowers he'd finished at the same time as we watched the closing ceremonies of that year's Convergence Games.

Everyone thought I was dainty, fragile—delicate was the word the fairy court liked to use, as though my lavender skin and princess-cut gowns defined me. They had no idea. Those gowns didn't define me, they hid the truth.

I’d been training for this moment since I was nine years old, when I first realized no one was coming to save me. I didn't have a delicate bone in my body. The muscles on my arms and legs had been forged by that fire as Jorge had worked. I had been getting stronger as he'd made me weapons to train with. By the time I waseighteen, I’d mapped our escape, every last detail, down to the weight of my boots and the blade I'd strapped to my thigh.

My nails bit into the cracks of the stone wall as I hauled myself up. I wouldn't say it was easy, not with my arms burning with the strain. The wind tugged at the edges of my dress, trying to pull me back. I set my jaw and kept going.

The stones were cold beneath my hands, slick in places. Twice my foot slipped. The second time, I scrapped my knee but caught myself. A delicate princess would have cried out. I gritted my teeth through the sting and pressed on like the warrior I was.

The only reason I’d been obedient these past few years—the perfect little princess, docile and well-dressed—was because they’d sent him to the capital. He’d looked me in the eye the day they dragged him away and promised to survive. I trusted that he'd kept that promise. Now, I was going to find him.

“Charlotte, please.”

I looked down at Belle. It struck me then how much we favored each other. Same pale lavender skin, same dark indigo hair. She looked regal holding my wedding gown in her arms. I'm sure I looked like something off the street with my legs thrown over a wall.

I'd only had one friend all my life. One person whohad looked out for me. The dressmaker had tried in her way. I wish we could've had more time.

Maybe we could've been friends. But she was not my destiny. Neither was the Beast Prince. Today, I was going to take my life in the direction I chose.

"I don't want this life, Belle." And with that, I jumped.

The wind rushed past my ears, a sharp, whistling cry that ended with a thud as I landed. I rolled onto the grass to absorb the fall. The impact jolted through my bones, leaving me breathless. I pushed up onto my knees, my hands digging into the dirt. For the first time all day, I smiled in earnest.

Freedom.

I rose to my feet, brushing dirt off my skirt as I glanced around. The forest stretched out endlessly—fields of tall grass and opposing treetops rippling in the wind like waves on the sea. A faint path wound toward the main road. I turned away from it immediately. If I took that route, they’d catch me before midnight.

No, I’d have to go through the forest.

I broke into a run. Each step sent a small thrill through me, a defiant surge that drowned out the voice in my head whispering I’d never make it. My breath came hard and fast. The wind snatched at my cloak, but I pressed on, racing against the dying light of the day.

I paused just inside the tree line, my hands bracedon my knees as I sucked in lungfuls of air. The first stars blinked to life above me. Slowly, the first moon began to rise.

Avarix's pale light spilled across the treetops, cold and judgmental. He had always been the watcher, the oldest of the moons. When the people of Lunaterra bent their heads to him, it was in obedience to the will of fate.

But I wasn’t going to obey. Not this time.

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