The Subtle Beauty - A Celtic Beauty & the Beast retelling

CHAPTER 1: Morning Glory

CHAPTER ONE

Morning Glory

Five years later…

White buds, like little delicate cowry shells, sprang from kelly stems. They blossomed into alabaster petals, and silvery dew hung from each frond until it dripped to thorns below. Ivy crept along the trellises of each latticework wall. Sunlight strolled through the land and leapt the bulwarks of Winterholme Castle, bidding the rose garden good morning, asking the buds to rise to its kiss like a sleeping lover.

Princess Glory stepped lightly over the cool gravel of the garden path. The golden beauty, radiant in a pale beryl gown, trimmed in silver filigree, hummed a simple, pretty tune that caused the robins to harmonize. Her fair hand grazed the coarse white mortar of the garden wall. She stopped by the lily pond to check her reflection, smoothing herself over, then wound her way to the middle of the garden and stopped. She stared at the ground, watching the sunlight edge toward her bare toes.

“Come on,” she whispered, “a little further.”

The light crept over the ground, and she felt a wash of warmth cross her feet. She smiled and tilted her head back, soaking in the morning’s most delicious gift and breathed in the botanic perfume balancing on the air. The light seemed to set her golden tresses ablaze, accentuating every exquisite detail of her face and frame. Even the roses turned back for shame in her presence.

The morning sunlight not only filled her body, but it filled her soul, mantling her with an Apollonian robe. She welcomed the day, feeling blessed that the sun loved her so. Today was Lucullia’s wedding, and Glory was relieved to have escaped the madness of the preparations inside, especially her overbearing older sisters. Now she waited for the only thing she desired to hear. To her, the world went silent. No birds sang, no cricket chirped.

“There you are,” his tenor voice chimed.

She knew he would come. She turned toward the voice and graced the man with a perfect smile. “Colin!”

“I love when you smile.”

She ran to the arms of her father’s Royal Falconer. “I am so glad you came.”

“Why would I not?”

Glory gazed up at Colin. “Because Father would have your head if he knew.”

“Let your father worry about his other daughters. Let him especially worry about Lucullia today. What he does not know will not hurt him.”

“Poor Lucullia,” Glory sighed.

“Yes. Poor, poor Lucullia… marrying that poor, poor Lord Davenport with hardly an Adamantine Nickel to his name.”

“It is a good thing falconry pays so well.”

“Yes, it is.” Colin took Glory’s arm in his and began to walk. He was quiet at the interim. Glory could see, from the corner of her eye, Colin’s gaze fixed on her face. She soaked in the sunlight again, sublimely happy. “A good thing indeed,” Colin said, “for I have been saving every cent.”

“Why? Are you at last replacing that knife we never found?”

Colin stopped and swept Glory into an embrace. “Because, Little Bird, soon we will fly away.”

Glory’s mouth formed a little ‘oh’. Her heart fluttered. “Colin, do you mean it?” Colin laughed and lifted her into the air with an agile spin. “Yes, my love, every word of it.”

He set her down and took her head into his hands, as if clutching a small bird, and stared into her eyes. “Glory, I love you.”

He sealed his mouth to hers and held her tightly. They lingered, hanging on the edge of excitement, then Glory pushed him back. Colin lost his balance against a marble bench and fell over it.