On top of the stone staircase was a large round window overlooking the misty forest outside. Somewhere in the distance, there was the faintest glow of sunrise.
She turned left into a richly decorated, dark hallway. The two lit sconces did little to repel the hungry shadows. The walls were covered by a deep red wallpaper with elaborate damask patterns, framed by intricately carved dark wood paneling. Here and there, the wallpaper had come loose, the corners folding over themselves. A plush red carpet ran the length of the hallway like a fleshy tongue lolling out of a gaping maw. There were paintings on the walls, their artwork too dark to make out any details, but their golden frames glinted dully as Corabeth passed them.
She counted two doors. The unassuming wooden door to her right creaked silently as she pushed it open, and she was immediately greeted by a lit fireplace. Warmth stroked her chilled cheeks as she closed the door behind her.
A four-poster bed was an imposing figure in the dim light, a nightstand on either side of it. Directly opposite of it was the fireplace that was large enough for Corabeth to climb into. A fierce fire burned there, throwing dancing shadows all across the room. To the left of it was a magnificent wardrobe. All cut out of the same dark wood.
It was easily the most grandiose room Corabeth had ever seen or imagined. She was reluctant to even enter. She still had dried mud covering her dress and arms. Her loosened strands of hair had turned solid from… muck? Blood?
Then her gaze snagged on a door in the back wall that was slightly ajar. Careful to avoid the plush, deep red carpet, she walked around to it and pushed it open to reveal an attached washroom. In the middle was a large copper bath that stood outagainst the black floor tiles. Steam rose from the bath, curling towards Corabeth invitingly.
Was this all for her?
She spun in place, half-expecting to see the Beast lurking somewhere. She would have preferred it. At least then she could have asked it questions. Not that it had so far offered many answers…
But ithadsent her here. It had offered her freedom and told her where to go. And the bath seemed so warm, so alluring. And she was so very cold, so very dirty.
Corabeth returned to the bedroom, locked the door leading to the hallway, and, having returned to the washroom, did the same with its door. She was under no illusions that the Beast couldn’t just barrel through those locked doors. She also wasn’t sure she would mind it very terribly if it finally decided to come kill her.
Peeling off her clothes, Corabeth let them crumple to the floor into a filthy pile, and finally stepped into the bath. The hot water was like stinging nettles against her chilled skin, but she sighed with content as she sat and sank deeper into it. Immediately, the dirt started to dissolve, making the water around her murky.
She scrubbed herself raw, washing away the events of the day. The hands that had grabbed her, the insults the villagers had lobbed at her, the soot from her burning home. When she washed her hair, she felt a large scab that had formed on her scalp. The water turned pink as she washed the blood off.
For a moment longer, she allowed herself to sit in the bath, surrounded by everything she had tried to wash away. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the water. Imagined herself slipping under, never surfacing. A watery tomb where she was buried under her pain. But this time, the thought came with a question: what comes after? The Beast finding her naked corpse, exposed and helpless. And that, she could not stomach.
By the time Corabeth stepped out of the bath, she felt strangely lighter, as if some of her burdens had dissolved in the bathwater. She found a fluffy towel to dry herself off, and folded next to it was a cream-colored nightshirt. It smelled slightly musty as she pulled it over her head. But it was clean and dry.
She found the bedroom undisturbed upon her return. Only the fire had slightly died down, deepening the shadows in the corners of the room.
Tired of fighting or questioning her circumstances, Corabeth climbed into the four-poster bed and lay down between sheets that smelled of the same kind of mustiness. The smell of being forgotten, obsolete. She turned to her side and faced what she now realized were balcony doors, flanked on either side by heavy velvet curtains.
Outside was bathed in the pale light of dawn. Barren tree branches swayed in the wind. But Corabeth was inside and warm and so tired.
I can die tomorrow,she thought, and fell asleep.
Eight
Corabeth
Corabeth slept and slept and slept. She was vaguely aware of the light changing in her room. Day turning into night into day again. In the brief moments she was awake to use the washroom, drink a glass of water, or feed the fire, she knew she should consider what her life had become, what she should do next. But she would remember she still had no home, that she was still alone, and she would feel tired all over again. Her dreams were no more pleasant, but at least they weren’t reality.
It must have been on the third day that a chilly whisper across Corabeth’s cheek woke her. Her eyes fluttered open to the balcony door in her room open. The cold breeze blew in, stroking her skin lovingly. It was a gray and overcast day, like all the other days before and after it. On the balcony, in stark contrast against that gray background, stood a figure clad in black with its back turned to Corabeth.
“You’re letting the cold in,” she said, her voice groggy, and pulled the blanket higher.
“Will it get you out of bed?” asked the Beast, turning its head slightly to its right. Long, black hair fell over its shoulder.
“I’m tired,” Corabeth said and closed her eyes again, hoping the Beast would leave her alone.
“Are you attempting death by starvation?” the Beast continued its questioning.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied. A headache was starting to make a nest somewhere behind her eyes.
The Beast huffed a heavy sigh. “Must be nice,” it muttered under its breath so quietly that Corabeth was sure she wasn’t even supposed to hear it. But she did. Her eyes flew open to find the Beast turned around, staring at her. She tried not to balk as she took in its appearance.
The Beast had a pale, almost gray complexion. Its long, black hair was straight and unbound, swaying gently in the wind. It had a pronounced forehead that cast its black, beady eyes in shadows. Its nose was straight and long, almost beak-like. High and sharp cheekbones left its cheeks gaunt. Not entirely human features, but it was far less beast-like than Corabeth had expected. She suddenly felt much more awake.
The Beast watched as Corabeth sat up against the headboard. She kept herself covered with the blanket and pulled her knees up to her chest to hug them tightly.
