Free Bastien by Alianne Donnelly Page A

believe I see that man in you now. The others will too, soon enough.”
    The Beast huffs.
    “Then again,” Jacques add, “the moon is full tomorrow night. Perhaps we shall see another side of you all together.” Despite his good natured smile, his words send a chill up the Beast’s spine. He rushes to the windows to seek the moon. Sure enough, only a minuscule sliver of shadow obscures its round face.
    The Beast doesn’t sleep a wink that night.
    As soon as morning dawns, he goes in search of the servants. Many cower at the sight of him. He has to corner three of them and growl them into silence for them to listen to his demands.
    “Bring me chains,” he says. “As thick as you can find, as many as you can spare or buy.”
    “Master,” one of them says, “is something the matter?’
    He doesn’t know, but a deep sense of foreboding makes him restless throughout the day.
    Jacques watches him curiously as he paces the gardens in the snow. The Beast shakes himself off every once in a while, but the flakes stick to his fur too well. Five men lug chains into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. There’s not enough time to secure them to the wall. He must hope that there are enough, heavy enough to restrain him, should he somehow lose control of himself.
    Terrible visions of blood and bodies torn apart haunt him until supper time. He has no stomach for what’s on his plate and sends it back with his apologies. The servants are made even more nervous. They’re already locked in their rooms, no doubt barricaded in to be safe. If they could leave, they would.
    Only Jacques seems unconcerned by any of this. He goes about his duties as if this is just another day and nothing is out of the ordinary. While the Beast watches the sun dip lower with every minute, Jacques hums a tune to himself as he arranges the horse combs on the new armoire.
    When he cannot wait any longer, the Beast loops the chains around himself as best he can.
    They are so tangled and convoluted he will need help getting out of them come morning, but hopefully they will keep him restrained in the night. Once he’s sufficiently weighed down and can’t move, he asks Jacques to add more.
    With a shake of his head, the man obeys, and then sits in an armchair, tapping his foot in a merry rhythm as the sun sets.
    For a few moments, the sky retains some of its luminescence. Then even that is gone.
    Jacques smiles. He opens his mouth to say something when a horrible wail splits the air.
    The Beast roars, his body crushing in on itself, tearing apart and growing back together, smaller, so small he can’t breathe. His head feels as though it’s exploding. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear himself screaming for help. He can see flashes of Jacques staring at him in horror. Run! he wants to tell the man but can’t form the word. Death, that eyeless skull draped in a black, hooded cape, wraps its hands around the Beast’s throat. He is dying.
    Then everything stops.
    Incessant ringing echoes all around in the absolute darkness. One eye opens, then the other.
    The chains are crushing, but they are loose, easy to slip out of. A hand free, then the other. Every muscle aches and twitches, but works.
    Wait... hand?
    Yes. And one more. And a chest, arms, legs. A face! Laughter rings out loud and clear, so sweet because it is human. “I’m back!”

    Chapter Fifteen
    “My... my Lord?”
    I laugh at the look on Jacques’ face. “So much for the Faery curse, eh?” My joyous bellow echoes in the chamber. I feel so alive my lungs are bursting. I strip out of the clothes too big for me and search for my old things while my butler stares. “What happened to my goddamn wardrobe?” All I find is a worn pair of brown breeches and a torn peasant shirt. I can’t think of why I would even own things like this unless it was for some lurid masquerade, but they will have to do. I don’t require the height of fashion, just something that will keep me