The Beauty of Mist, the Beast of Dawn {INDEFINITE HOLD}

Chapter 12: The Prince

The door to my suite was swung wide open when I arrived. Growling, I flew into my bed chamber. "ASHTON!"

I heard the disaster long before I saw it. A large crash preceded me into my chamber. The first observation I made was how my belongings were relatively undisturbed. The relief—or what I assumed was relief—lasted only a few seconds. My gaze wandered, and I made my second observation, which was that my undisturbed belongings were the ones least important to me. My most prized possessions, my horse figurines were scattered on the floor. Some broken, some splintered. A mess.

Ashton stood in the middle of it all, clutching only one figurine, a look of guilt on her face. No, not guilt. It was horror and terror I saw. I had never seen her so afraid. What did she see? What had changed? Something twinged inside of me at the realization, but I ignored it. "ASHTON!" I repeated.

She stared up at me for a second longer and promptly burst into tears. "Please, Luka," she sobbed. "Don't hurt me. I—I didn't want—I didn't mean—"

"Why are you in here?" I cut her off. "Better yet, why were you touching the one thing I specifically forbade from ever touching."

"I—I thought—well, you do not exactly play with them anymore. If ever." She mumbled the last part. "I thought—I thought it was a shame to let them get dust. I promise, nothing was going to happen to them, and I was going to return them after I played with them for a bit. They looked so lonely up on your shelf..."

"So you thought you could prance here and take them?"

"I don't prance."

"That does not answer my question."

"I would have returned them!"

"You think I would not have noticed their disappearance?"

"I only wanted them for an hour!" Ashton's voice grew louder with every word. Her tears had stopped flowing. She seemed more enraged than fearful.

I ran my fingers through my hair. I had no response to that, though I did not want her to know. I studied my little sister and noticed again how she still clenched a horse. I felt myself pale. It was not just any horse. It was the horse, black as night and emanating magic.

I inched closer towards my sister. "Ashton," I began, "Put. That. Horse. Down."

Once again, terror transformed her face, and as my shadow edged nearer, her hands began to tremble. At last, I stood merely an inch away, looming over her, the trembles spread to her whole body. Her breathing quickened. She quaked so violently that her hold on my wooden figurine loosened, one finger at a time. Time slowed to a snail's pace as it fell. I watched it meet the ground, watched as one of its legs broke off completely. A jerking sensation in my stomach forced me to my knees.

"Oh my god." Ashton's hands flew to her mouth. Her gaze darted from the floor to me and back again. For the second time, tears spilled down her face. "I'm so sorry, Luka."

I could not bring myself to respond at first, and the tense silence that reigned stretched each passing moment into eternities. I rose, gradually. When I found my voice, it was hard and empty. Cold. Exactly as one would expect a beast's to be. "Ashton Iseulta Helai García, princess of Valennia, go now." I paused, waiting for her to move towards the door before continuing, "And do not ever step foot into my quarters again."

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The moment Ashton was out of view, my personal guard appeared, stepping out from the shadows. "You really ought to be kinder to her," he said in greeting. I knew he was right. I wanted to be kinder to my sister—I wanted to love her—but this blasted curse prevented me from carrying out either.

Or maybe that is how you naturally are. I shook my head as if to dislodge the thought and instead asked my guard, "Amphion, why did you let her in here? You acted against my orders."

"You know why." I did, and it chafed to know he was loyal to the witch, loyal to his creator and not to me.

"A wonderful guard you make, Sand Man," I muttered darkly. 

"Perhaps you ought to be kinder to me too. After all, I have been a faithful personal guard and nothing but kind to you these past years." 

I snorted, thinking bitterly, Faithful. Ha! No, it is not he who is faithful. It was, and is, Cassian. Cassian, the first personal guard I could remember. Cassian, who had been the youngest to join the guard. Cassian, my older, almost brother. And the boy whose tenth year as a chunk of stone was coming up.

Amphion was no Cassian. Though he did guard me, the witch had created him with one purpose in mind, and it was not to protect me. It was to watch me, to keep me wherever the witch wanted me. I was as much his poisoner as I was his charge. 

He blabbered on about the many reasons I should appreciate him more. "Remember who told your servants about your situation?"

"Yes, I do." I was genuinely grateful to him for that, for I did not believe I could live without the special cakes Mrs. Pine made only for me, the small smiles little Elijah gave me whenever he served me tea, Ferdinand's witticisms, or even Frederic's stubbornness. "But I think that, at the very least, you could guard my bedchambers a bit better."

"I was off-duty."

"No. I said you were not needed to guard me. That does not mean you were not needed at all."

"Ah, but remember I am only a simple-minded sand man created from simple-minded sand in a simple-minded box. Something like that would not have occurred to me." He grinned broadly.

Without thought, I lunged at Amphion in an attempt to wipe the smile from his lips. He easily blocked me. Within the next two seconds, my arm was throbbing, and I was pinned to the wall. "Alright, Prince, " Amphion spat. "Never try that again. I may have put up with those sorts of antics when you were a child, but you are nearly eighteen. You are a man now. Act like it."

"Have you forgotten that I am no man?" I replied. "I am a beast. I am the beast."

Amphion released me, and I noted the blood trickling from his nose with sick satisfaction. He backed out of the room, shaking his head. 

"With that attitude, indeed, you are. You have a long way to go if you wish to release yourself from the curse. Your horse agrees." He nodded to the black stallion and its separated leg laying on the tiled floor. "You might want to clean that up before dinner tonight. I will see you then."

He was gone.

I bent down and collected my horse figurines. One by one, I returned them to their rightful places on the shelf until only one remained. The black paint was chipped from where its leg had splintered off, and the purple mist that radiated from it was more vibrant than ever before. As I inspected my cursed figurine, my head swimming with memories of words said that I had not meant, I knew that night would be a long one.