“Why didn’t you kill me?” she asked and felt her throat close up. She had not imagined that she would have to bargain with death. It was something that was supposed to come easily. Instead, she had to fight for it like everything else in her life.
“You should go home,” the Beast said, its tone bored.
“I have no home,” she replied. The reminder stung like a slap across her face.
“Back to your people then,” the Beast didn’t relent.
“They are not my people,” Corabeth said as her cheeks flushed. “That village could burn to the ground and I would be happy to strike the match.”
For the first time, Corabeth sensed some movement in the shadows across from her, felt them lean a little closer.
“That was your home? The one that burned?” the Shadowbeast asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“They’re just things. You’ll get them back,” it said. There was no comfort in his voice.
“The world is set up in a way that makes sure I won’t,” Corabeth said. “If I go back, my only option is to sell myself into servitude. And I will not do that. Not to those people. I would rather die. Iwantedto die.”
The Beast was still for a moment before it stretched impossibly tall. There was a clatter, and something metallic fell to the floor before her. She fumbled around in the darkness that had only deepened, the moonlight nearly extinguished. Something cold touched her fingers, and she grabbed for it.
“A key? To the cell?” she asked, frowning.
“Mmm,” rumbled the Beast. A confirmation.
“But why?” Corabeth asked. She strained her eyes to peer at the shadow, desperate to see any features of the Beast, but was met with a solid wall of black.
“The bars aren’t there to keep you in,” the Beast said. The words came easier now, as if it had remembered how to speak. “They were to keep me out.”
The Shadowbeast started to slip along the wall, back in the direction of the stairs.
Corabeth scrambled to her feet, shrugged the blanket from her shoulders, and dashed for the bars. She clung desperately to the cold metal.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” she called after the retreating shadow.
The Beast halted momentarily.
“In my experience, those who ask for death rarely deserve it,” it said over its shoulder and continued moving. This time, when it moved, Corabeth could hear quiet steps. When it made it to the end of the hallway and up the stone stairs, the door did not fall shut behind it. Instead, the silence felt like an invitation.
Seven
Corabeth
It was some time before dawn, when the shadows were deepest, that Corabeth finally fit the key into the lock and set herself free. There was a slight tremble to her hands, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold, the exhaustion, or the fear. It was most likely an unpleasant cocktail of all those things.
Her fingers brushed against the chilly, uneven stone wall to her left as she walked towards the faint light coming from the top of the stairs. As she suspected, the door had been left open.
When Corabeth had first entered the mansion, the entryway had been entirely dark. Now, there was a single door ajar across the enormous hall, a warm glow emanating from it. The light flickered and moved across the black and white checkered floor as if it were a living thing.
Her steps were entirely silent as she walked towards the only sign of life in that house. Part of a leather armchair with a high back became visible, then the wall behind it with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, each one filled to the brim.
Corabeth placed her hand softly on the door to push it open.
“Upstairs,” said a voice that by now was familiar to her. She pulled her hand back.
“Left wing. Second door on the right,” the Shadowbeast instructed her.
Corabeth hesitated for just a moment. Then her feet started to move towards the grand staircase as if on their own. Shewas so exhausted, so bewildered, that it felt good to just follow orders. To have someone tell her what to do.
