I wandered through the castle for a long time before I managed to find the tallest tower. The invisible whispers followed me. At first, I got hopelessly lost, wandering through an endless maze of interconnected corridors and rooms. The castle had clearly been expensively and elegantly decorated at some point. But, unlike my room, the majority of it had fallen into dusty disrepair.

The contrast indicated that someone had clearly prepared for my arrival. I remembered the line of lights that had led me to my room. What sort of strange curse was this? Was the castle itself responsible for its own care? I shook my head at the fanciful thought. How could a magic building have fed and groomed my horse?

But the gloomy, shadowy castle, combined with the whispers all around me, fed the mad imaginings. Perhaps it had not been the curse that had warped the Beast’s mind; perhaps living here for so long alone had done it.

I shook my head. No. The Beast wasn’t mad—he had written coherent letters, after all—he was evil. He must be evil to have brought down such a curse upon himself. And I had seen the evidence myself in the cruelty of the events of the Princess Tourney. The Tourney he had called and that had, therefore, been magically shaped to fit him.

The darkness he had brought to these lands had nearly overtaken Marin—and all the other kingdoms still stood in danger. And yet here he sat, holed up in his strange castle, carelessly destroying the lives of innocent girls he had never even met.

If the castle was dark and terrifying, it had been he who had made it that way, and not the other way around.

What did the Beast do to curse himself and his kingdom? I wondered for the thousandth time. I shook off the thought. Filling my head with horrifying theories wouldn’t help me fix my projections or find the truth. I needed proof, and I had a whole castle in which to search for it.

After a while of aimless wandering, I remembered again that the lights had led me to my room. Perhaps a friendlier power dwelt here alongside the Beast. He had certainly shown no effort to see to my comfort.

“I’m looking for the tallest tower. Could you show me the way?” It felt foolish to speak the words aloud to the empty air, but it could hardly hurt.

I had no immediate response, and no candles sprang to life to lead me. But I soon noticed a strange phenomenon. When I moved toward the whispers rather than away from them, I seemed to find more open doors and staircases. I began to listen for them, and soon I found myself in an enclosed staircase that spiraled upwards.

As I climbed stair after stair, I caught glimpses through a series of small windows of what appeared to be a second staircase, somehow twisted around mine. And every time I passed the openings, I heard the whispers.

I tried to calm my breathing which kept speeding up despite my best efforts. The whispers appeared to be friendly, but the sound created the inescapable impression that I was ascending upwards in tandem with an unseen group of people. I shivered. I needed this to work. The familiar sound of Lily in my mind would drive away the eeriness of this empty castle.

But it took only a moment to discover that height made no difference to the wall that blocked my thoughts. I threw them out anyway, again and again. At first, I did it out of frustration, but then I began trying to pinpoint the exact feeling of the obstruction. I had never experimented like this before, and it was unexpectedly interesting.

I had always assumed that we had a direct connection and placed our thoughts straight into each other’s minds. But it now seemed more complicated than that. Clearly our thoughts traveled to each other. I focused on the sensation of my thoughts flying out from my mind. I felt the way they stayed connected to me, but at the same time I couldn’t shake an underlying unease.

I sat on the floor of the top tower room, put my chin in my hands and chewed on a strand of hair. After extended thought, I decided the discomfort came from the sense of being unanchored. My thoughts had always stayed attached to me, yes, but usually they also attached immediately to someone else. My sister. A tether on the other end. I now felt loose, floating in the world without foundation.

The whispers swirled around me, reaching a crescendo. For a moment, I thought I could make out individual words, but meaning eluded me. I shivered, unnerved, but then reminded myself that the sounds had helped me find my way. They had been friendlier than my betrothed, in fact.

A chuckle escaped me. I hadn’t even been gone from Marin a week, and I was already counting disembodied, inaudible whispers as my only friends.

“Not that I’m not grateful,” I said aloud. “In fact, I’d greatly appreciate it if you could show me the way back to my room.”

A low murmur surrounded me and then moved toward the door. I clambered to my feet and followed the sound. Sure enough, it led me down several flights of stairs and through a series of corridors and delivered me to my room. I smiled as I opened the door—I might not have broken through to Lily, but I had learned a small something of the secrets of the castle. And a particularly helpful something, too, given the size of the building, and its confusing layout.

As soon as my eyes fell on my bed, the smile dropped from my lips. The bed had been made and my possessions tidied, but it was the piece of parchment resting against my pillow that filled my heart with dread. I walked slowly over and picked it up.

The note hadn’t been signed, but the handwriting was easily recognizable from his earlier missives. The curt command made me tremble with rage. At every turn, the Beast was determined to strip away my freedom. I immediately determined not to go.

* * *

Several hours later, as I once again paced up and down my room, I doubted my decision. I wished I could consult Lily. My stomach had started reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since the morning. And when I had hopefully asked the room if a meal might be forthcoming, nothing had happened except a brief swirl of whispered noise. The murmuring sounded more distressed than usual, but no assistance appeared.

I lay down on top of the covers and let my head sink into the pillows. My defiance had seemed entirely justified when I first read the note, but perhaps I had been too hasty. I needed to understand the curse and the Beast if I was to find a way around the betrothal. And what better source could there be than my betrothed himself?

As the last ray of sunset pierced my window, I scrambled off the bed and hurried over to the wardrobe. The doors flung themselves open before I could touch them and, for the first time, I smiled at the strange behavior of the castle. I hoped it meant I had been right—a second power existed here, and it wished to help me defeat the Beast.

A breeze rushed through the room and rustled one particular dress. I pulled it out and examined it, frowning. I could tell, even without trying it on, that the soft material would fall flatteringly, clinging to my torso and waist before swishing elegantly around my hips and out into a small train. But I felt no need to dress up for the part-monster who was essentially my captor, and the room’s desire for me to do so made me question my earlier assumption as to whose side it was on.

But as I reached to return it to the wardrobe, my hand stilled. The Beast insisted on treating me brusquely, as if I had no position or importance. If I wanted to remind him that I was a princess from a powerful kingdom, then I needed to look the part. Reluctantly I dressed and examined myself in the full-length mirror. Sure enough, knowing that I looked elegant and regal boosted my confidence.

My stomach rumbled, and I hurried from the room in a swirl of satisfied whisperings. As I followed the sounds back to the entrance hall, I told myself that my decision most definitely had nothing whatsoever to do with my hunger, or the delicious food I had been served in the dining hall that morning.

My steps slowed as I reached the open door, the glow of flames pouring out into the entrance hall. I took a deep breath and stepped through, half noting the blazing fire in the huge fireplace as my eyes locked onto the hulking form occupying the seat at the head of the table.

His shaggy head came up at my entrance, and he pushed back his chair, standing silently. For a brief moment, our eyes met, and his piercing blue gaze froze me in place. How could such a monster possess such eyes?

He seemed caught off guard by my appearance, a response at odds with his command that I attend the meal. Then I stepped forward and the unsettling moment was broken.

I had to remind myself to be glad when I saw that my spot had been set at the Beast’s right hand rather than the distant foot of the table. I had told myself I wished for a chance to speak with him, but in truth I had hoped to have the long table between us.

I took my place, and the chair pushed itself in behind me. I noted, distantly, that the moving furniture didn’t even surprise me. I was growing accustomed to the oddities of this castle. The scrape of a knife drew my eyes upwards, and I had to suppress a gasp at the sight of the Beast’s gleaming fangs, jutting from his human mouth. Apparently, I had yet to grow accustomed to my betrothed.

I quickly looked down again, hoping he hadn’t noticed my moment of intimidation. A childish part of me wanted to return his earlier rudeness with silence of my own, but the larger part anticipated our first conversation with reluctant interest. I had spent so much time imagining the motivations and mindset of this man, and yet I had no idea what he would say.

But the Beast did not speak. Instead he ate steadily, his hairy hands curling awkwardly around the cutlery. I followed his lead, glad to fill my stomach and gather my composure before launching into the inevitable conflict.

The first course gave way to the second, and the glances I stole at him increased in frequency. The strange shape of his mouth clearly made eating difficult, but he persisted without comment. Twice when I looked his way, our eyes met. Both times I looked quickly away and then spent the next minutes trying to interpret the strange expression I had glimpsed on his face.

The third time I refused to look down, holding his eyes instead, my own full of defiance. His eyes, as they met mine, seemed to glow, the warmth in them more unsettling than the harsher emotions I had glimpsed previously. Eventually I looked away, hating the faint flush which I could feel staining my cheeks. He had no business having eyes like that.

I rushed to cover the awkwardness of the moment, sick of waiting for him to speak. “You may call me Sophie, if you like. Everyone does. I only use Sophia for formal occasions.” I paused to give him a chance to reply, but he remained silent, so I pressed on.

“I suppose you must have been surprised to see me. My kingdom of Arcadia lies far across the seas—one of the Four Kingdoms. We are large and prosperous, and my family wish to expand our diplomatic and trade ties. My sister Lily and I were part of the delegation sent to Marin to open negotiations. We arrived in time to be caught up in the Princess Tourney which you called.”

Surprised was probably an understatement. The Four Kingdoms had been cut off from these lands for generations. For so long, in fact, that our people had forgotten that a flotilla of ships ever left our shores to seek new lands.

Yet, apparently, those ships had sailed away and found these lands, pristine and untouched. And then they beseeched the High King to set a wall of storms between us. Back then it had been the Four Kingdoms that had forgotten the High King’s decrees of true love and had turned their backs on the godmothers. Those who fled had sought protection from us.

In the intervening generations, much had changed. And perhaps that was what had caused the storms to disappear, and our lands to find each other once again. Because now the Four Kingdoms flourished. The godmothers had assisted the rulers of each of the lands to find true love and, as decreed from the High King’s Palace of Light, the result was peace and prosperity for kingdoms ruled by love.

Except Lily and I had found peace a little boring—a fact I now heartily regretted. When an Emissary had arrived unexpectedly from this unknown land, we had responded to the promise of adventure with enthusiasm. We had joined the return delegation to the duchy of Marin, and had found adventure enough in the danger of the Princess Tourney. The ancient laws of this foreign land had worked against us then, even as they protected me now.

Thoughts of the Tourney sparked a flare of resentment inside me. Lily and I had suffered in many ways during the competition, and it had nearly sabotaged Lily’s chance at true love. All because of this silent creature sitting beside me.

A small voice in the back of my mind whispered that it had sabotaged my chance of true love, but I suppressed it. I would find a way free from this forced betrothal, whatever it took.

I glanced back at the Beast again. I hoped he had absorbed my words about my kingdom. I wanted him to know they would not sit idly by if he attempted to harm me. Should I tell him so outright? Or would such plain speaking spur him to anger? I weighed the risks either way.

While I considered, the silence between us lengthened. I had moved past anger into incredulity, at this point. Did he really intend never to speak to me? What purpose could he have in such behavior? He had been the one to summon me, although I could hardly imagine why, based on his actions so far. I had feared on the journey here that he might expect too great an intimacy, but the opposite seemed to be true. He did not even want the most basic of interactions.

But, on the other hand, he had demanded my presence at the meal. The contradictions made little sense, and I was sick of feeling uncertain and confused. I had tried being rude on the night of my arrival, and I had now twice tried being polite. I would ask him directly for an explanation—of the Tourney, of his curse, of his behavior.

I opened my mouth to do so just as he shifted toward me. The huge bulk of his shoulders rippled with strength as his large hand stretched out. I remembered we were alone and how capable he would be of crushing me and closed my mouth again.

A strange energy coursed through the huge, mostly empty room. The flames made the shadows dance and weave around me, and the air overly warm. I began to feel I was in a dream. It took me a moment to notice that the Beast had been holding another small piece of parchment out toward me. By the time I recognized the object, he had dropped it beside my plate.

My hand trembled slightly as I picked it up.

“What?” I leaped to my feet, my chair clattering to the floor behind me for the second time in as many meals. In all my imaginings, I had not considered that he might press for such a quick wedding. Royal weddings took time to prepare and, surely, he could not expect me to marry him while I was alone here without support. Let alone while he and his kingdom remained cursed.

“No!” I almost shouted the word, unable to meet his eyes. “Absolutely not!” I had started to grow a little comfortable in this castle—I had lost the edge of my fear and anger. But the thought of actually marrying my betrothed brought them flooding back.

I turned to rush from the room, only to be jerked to a stop just before I reached the door. His large hand, the nails more like claws, easily wrapped around my upper arm and spun me around to face him. He held me close, although not quite pressed against him, his face leaning down toward mine.

For a mad moment, I thought he meant to press his lips against mine and I froze, almost incapacitated by revulsion. But he made no move to close the small distance between us, instead pinning me in place with his eyes and his firm grip on my arm.

A strange fascination filled me as his eyes pleaded with me for something I couldn’t understand. Only that morning I had resolved never to let him touch me. And yet the surge of energy which ignited me now contained as much intrigue as repulsion.

I remembered his hand, soft against the neck of the black stallion. I felt the way his fingers gripped me now, firm and yet not hard enough to hurt. Something about his restrained strength enthralled me in a way I had not expected. What was going on inside the head of such a strange person?

Fancy gripped me, and I imagined that his eyes were attempting to tell me—to pour everything from his mind into mine. That they were pleading with me to free him.

But then my eyes dropped to his fangs, and I remembered. It was I who needed to be freed. This Beast had plucked me from my family, cut off my contact with them, isolated me completely, and now even attempted to physically restrain me.

I stepped down hard on his foot, wrenching my arms from his grip at the same time. Shock crossed his face, and I didn’t wait for him to regain his balance. Picking up my skirts I fled from the room as fast as I could run.