Free Beauty by Sarah Pinborough Page B

here.’ Beauty’s voice sounded small, all humour gone from it, and he looked back to see her frowning slightly at the other end of the corridor. ‘Why don’t we go now? I’m tired. We should go to bed.’
    The prince crouched slightly and peered through the keyhole. It was dark but he could just about make out the red of the walls and what looked like heavy black curtains. Gold glinted here and there. ‘I think it’s another ballroom,’ he muttered, before straightening up and turning back to her. ‘And you’ve never seen it? How can that be?’
    She had started to tremble a little and her mouth tightened. ‘I don’t want to be here.’
    ‘But aren’t you curious? Surely you should know all the parts of your castle. You are the queen, after all.’
    ‘I said I don’t want to be here.’ The trembling was becoming more visible and as Beauty backed away from him, she tugged at her hair, pulling strands free from the carefully arranged curls piled on her head.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ What was suddenly upsetting her? Had someone died in this room? One of her parents perhaps? ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, rushing towards her. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
    He reached for her, but she stepped away from him. Her eyes had glazed slightly and he wondered if she even knew he was there. ‘Beauty?’ he said.
    ‘I don’t like it here,’ she muttered, and then, without warning, she slapped herself hard across the face.
    The prince was so shocked that for a moment he couldn’t react at all. Bright red finger marks stained her smooth skin. Only when she lifted her hand to do it again did he reach forward and grab her wrist to stop her.
    ‘What’s the matter with you? What is it?’
    She hissed at him and struggled to pull away, the trembling turning to shuddering so strong that the prince thought she might be about to have a fit. Perhaps that was it. Her breathing was coming faster and she hugged herself.
    Rapid footsteps came across the library, and the first minister rushed towards them, his robes flowing behind him. ‘What are you doing here? Why did you open the door?’
    ‘I didn’t . . . I just . . .’ the prince didn’t know what to say. The older man pushed him aside and wrapped his arm around Beauty. ‘Is she okay?’ the prince finished, feeling helpless. She clearly wasn’t okay. Not only was she having the strange physical symptoms but something was happening to her hair. The two blonde streaks at the front were darkening and the rest was somehow getting lighter.
    ‘I’ll look after her.’ The first minister blocked the prince’s view. ‘Go back to your apartment. Stay there.’ He spoke sharply, his words cutting through the prince’s shock. The only man who’d ever spoken to him like that was his father. ‘Do not come out until I come and say you can. Do you understand me?’
    ‘What’s happening?’ the prince asked. He felt like a child again.
    ‘The Beast is coming,’ the first minister said quietly. ‘Now go.’
    The prince did as he was told.



 
    8
    ‘Some kind of terrible magic . . .’
    T hey left the soldier where he lay, his throat ripped out and his eyes forever staring shocked and surprised at the greying sky, and moved quickly. The man might have been lying that there were others close by but dawn was breaking and soon the city would be alive again. It wouldn’t be long before the body was found.
    The wolf immediately calmed after its swift attack, standing by the dead man and letting out a long sorrowful howl before padding to Rumplestiltskin’s side, its eyes fixed on Petra. The man patted the fierce beast’s head and then led the small group away. Petra was staring at the wolf, stunned, and the huntsman grabbed her arm and pulled her along. They had no choice now. He couldn’t take the huge wolf on – and nor did he want to. There was something almost noble about its grace and ferocity. Had Rumplestiltskin tamed it? It didn’t matter; the wolf had