Page 67 of The Beast King's Bride

She’s pretty, so damn pretty—but it was the look in her eyes that drew me to her, that mixture of fear and anger, of pain and defiance. The way she held herself, not backing down, the way she pleaded for her life but also struggled to get away, the way she thought that it was better staying where she was, broken and trodden upon, than to leave with me.

And yes, I realize it was because I’m the monster under her bed, the one who came to take her away, but she was fighting before I found her. Which was why she was in that ballroom in a borrowed gown. If it hadn’t been for me, she’d have found another way out.

I listened to everything she told the raven. All her worries and fears and doubts, and all the things she appreciated about life. I got jealous of Pete and the other servants surrounding her. Of the bed that she lay on. The air around her.

Yes, I wanted it to be her, but it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s almost no time left, and she hates me. I managed to fail the riddle, fail to cure the curse, by being myself. My family did not want me. Why should she?

And as maudlin and self-centered as all this sounds… this curse is about me. It’s centered on me. So it makes perfect sense that I have failed it.

As I hurry through the palace, my two personal guards and Jassin a few steps behind me, I can already hear the voices and laughter, jarring after the years of silence. Jassin was right, the guests are gathering even though the ball has not officially begun yet. I don’t blame them for coming in early. It has snowed and the roads are tricky. The light has already faded outside, the night gathering in around us.

I can feel the Empress approaching through the fields and meadows. She’s on my lands, inside my kingdom.

She might as well be stepping on my body, pressing on bruises, on aching joints, on recently healed bones. Light as air and yet heavy as a mountain.

She will be here soon.

Jassin and the guards are oblivious to her approach, as is everyone else. They fear her, everyone does, because her magic is subtle and terrible. She took over the Ore Courts like a storm, falling on them and ripping away their power in a matter of months, with her games ensnaring and cursing the kings one by one. It’s only a matter of time before we all fall in her hands with time to spare.

Rumors say she’s eternal, immortal, and even those with long life spans like ours cannot compete with an eternal being.

I thought we could. I thought I could. But time is running out and so is my hope.

Maybe I wanted it to be Ash because I wanted one last chance at happiness. One last spark of joy.

Selfish. I’m selfish to the very end. Nothing has changed. That’s why I’m still cursed.

Let her go, I tell myself. What’s the purpose of this whole charade? Of keeping her until the full moon? Buying time before the inevitable. Why not end it now and be done with it? Why drag it out any longer?

I’m so damn tired.

Still, I pull my aching shoulders back and force myself not to limp as I walk down the long galleries leading to the ballroom. It had to be dusted and checked, bats and giant spiders driven out firmly, chandeliers fixed after decades without use. I had to walk the grounds with my guards to make sure no monsters lurked—but with the Empress here they probably won’t make an appearance. It is her magic that called them forth, after all, her magic that cast the curse.

It’s her will to torment us. It’s all dependent on her will.

And tonight, I have to convince her that I haven’t given up, that there’s still time. She won’t harm Ash, not while she’s a pawn in the game. I have to believe that, trust in the rules tat the Empress set.

She hasn’t changed them in a hundred years. Maybe, just maybe she cannot change them once they have been set. That’s what I’m counting on.

A crowd stands before the doors of the ballroom, speaking in whispers, soft snatches of conversation drifting over to me as I stride down the narrow carpet. They part and bow, their eyes following me, checking me over, judging me.

I deserve their judgment. I cannot even find any anger to hold on to. I thought myself matchless, second to none. Invincible, that was what I’d thought. I had powerful magic, I was heir to a great family, and I had won the fight and taken the throne thinking I was doing the right thing. I thought playing with her was the right thing. I thought I could beat her.

How wrong I was. I have learned a lot about myself since. How powerless I am. How arrogant. How cruel. How blind.

How unlovable.

I walk down the blue carpet toward the thrones set at the end of the ballroom—replicas made for such occasions as the stone thrones are impossible to move from the throne room, having been hewn out of the rock as the whole palace was. My cape billows behind me as I hurry to climb the steps and take my seat. My guards split to stand at either side of the thrones, their armor gleaming with gold and silver designs and swirls, the chandelier above swaying.

It makes me dizzy. I’ve been pushing myself too hard, even for a Fae lord. This game has dragged on for too long.

I want this over with.

But tonight is only starting…

The crowd is let inside in ones and twos. They walk down the long carpet to bow and curtsy to me, silken gowns and gem-encrusted tiaras, formal coats and golden pins, hard stares and fake smiles. They pass before me, flowing to take place on the sides of the ballroom, in front of the colored-glass windows, the panes cut out of the glass mountains and brought over by my ancestors millennia ago.

The absence of my companion is noted. Everyone is already whispering behind their hands, scowling at the empty throne, little eddies of magic forming from their unease and anger.

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