Page 49 of Beauty

The hallway is utterly silent as we move toward the stairsthat lead into the main hall. I follow Arik, who lumbers in front of me. Allthe long walk, I can feel Tir’s eyes on me. I begin to feel an ache low in mygut. Fear? It’s a horrible rolling sensation.

“We’ll get a hot fire going for you, witch.” Arik’s voiceechoes off the stone walls.

“But not so hot it won’t take a little time to work.Wouldn’t want you going out too soon, now would we?” Tir says with a hollowlaugh.

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint the crowd.” I frown, my feetshuffling in front of me. One foot in front of the other. I have to get througheach moment. I try to focus. My skin feels hot. Is it starting again?

Arik stops at the bottom step. “Ain’t no crowd. Heard theywas too afraid of you. The mayor is trying to calm them, tell them he has youunder control. I’m sure by the time the magistrate passes sentence, they’llcome out in droves and see you ain’t nothing to be afraid of.”

But Tir is frowning. “I heard they wouldn’t come becausethey love her. She gave a lot of people in this village food. That sister ofhers healed a lot of Fae.”

Arik’s eyes go hard. “That’s the way witches work. Theybring you in. Who knows how many she really hurt? My neighbor lost two cowslast week. I bet it was her.”

Tir seems to pull his energy back around him. He nods.“You’re right. Me ma’s wrong. She’ll see when the witch dies and things getbetter around here. Move it, Isolde. Don’t think because a few of us are toostupid to see that you’re evil, that they’re going to help you. More’s likethose who don’t come will get punished.”

I find a comfort in the fact that they’re rebelling, even ifit is in a quiet way. The people of this village seem so deeply content withthe status quo, but perhaps that’s because Torin hasn’t really touched themyet. Things are changing. I simply need to find a way to live long enough tosee it happen.

I try to focus on the heat that threatens to take over mybody. It needs to be in my hands, not low in my gut.

Arik turns back around and has a foot on the first step ofthe stairs. I begin to follow. There’s nothing else to do. The corridor isnarrow and doesn’t lend itself to fighting. But if I can start a fire, maybe Ican run.

I hear the guard shuffling behind me. He gives a soft grunt,and then there’s a hand on my elbow. I turn and look into Niall’s brown eyes.He holds a finger to his lips, an obvious request for silence. Tir is on thefloor, his body in a crumpled mass. I check my gasp.

Niall holds a blade in his hand, the knife slick with blood.Tir’s blood.

The enormity of it grasps me. Niall is killing to protectme. Do I want that responsibility? Do I have a choice? The choices I will haveto make if I pursue this path hit me squarely in the gut as Arik moves up thestairs and Niall stalks him.

I cling to the side of the wall, my eyes moving betweenTir’s body and Niall’s arm as he rears back. The burning sensation hasn’t goneaway. What in all the planes is happening to me? I need to think.

I make the decision. There will be no going back. There willbe blood and death, and I cannot not shrink from it. I will eat the guiltbecause that’s what it means to be a leader.

Niall slits the guard’s throat, the knife moving in uttersilence. He holds Arik against his body, his arm around Arik’s shoulders in anodd approximation of intimacy. Niall brings the larger man to the ground. Henever got a chance to shout or say a word.

My protector eases him to the floor and holds the blade athis side. “Your Highness, I need you to trust me.”

“Gillian told you. Gillian trusts you.”

His face contorts in confusion. “Gillian? No. Gillian knowswho sent me. I talked to her yesterday. I knew she wasn’t your sister so Ifigured she had to be the Unseelie princess who went missing.”

I stare at him for a minute. “Who sent you? Who told you myname?”

Niall’s eyes are on the stairs above. “You have to play yourpart, Your Highness. We don’t have another way out. Just take a deep breath andfollow my lead.”

He takes my elbow and starts to escort me up the stonesteps. But I have a few questions. If I’m going to be the center of thisrevolution, I’m going to start playing the part.

“If Gillian didn’t send you, who did?” I can feel the sweaton my brow, the ache in my gut. But it isn’t my gut. Not really. It’s lower,deeper—an ache with only one cure.

Niall stops on the second stair. We’re still so close to thebodies, but it doesn’t seem to bother Niall. He simply stares at me for amoment as though trying to decide how much I can handle. “You don’t rememberme. Niall Younger. My father was the stableman. He took care of the horses forthe White Palace. I worked with him. I took care of your pony.”

I search my memory and see a young man, only three or fouryears older than me. Brown hair and bark-colored eyes, and a soft hand with thehorses. His father taught me to ride.

“I remember you. You had a brother named Walter.”

His face turns down. “Walter and me dad died long ago. I wasleft alone in the palace, but I found a friend. A shade. A sluagh. He taught mehow to live, gave me information on where to find food and who would protectme. He sent me to the cook, who helped me. I was only fifteen. The cook gave mea place to stay, and the sluagh gave me a purpose. He taught me how to fight,how to be a guard. He whispered to me who to get in good with so I would havemy choice of assignments. And he gave me my reason to live. To find BronwynFinn. To locate his daughter.”

I feel locked in place, the whole world spinning. My father?“My father can’t be a sluagh. He would never.”

It’s beyond comprehension.