The firstborn son of the king and queen was never meant to inherit their large and newly prosperous kingdom. Long before his birth, he was promised to another, a deal that gave the queen the power to spin gold from straw, bringing more wealth than the kingdom had ever seen before. A firstborn was a small price to pay for endless gold and soon enough, a real heir was born to the king and queen.
He was born into this world too early, a small and fragile thing, as if he knew that he was given parents who did not love him. Nameless, he was given to the enchanter, completing their terms of agreement. The magical spinning wheel was theirs to keep for all time and the enchanter finally had the son he’d always wanted. Some would call him cruel for demanding a baby for a form of payment but the enchanter saw it as a mercy. For whomever would take the bargain surely would never love the child as the child deserved to be loved. He had proposed the exchange many, many times, but the queen had been the first to accept.
None knew the true name of this enchanter and so he was given many names: imp, trickster, devil. But to the young boy, he was simply known as ‘father.’
The enchanter placed a curse on the child, giving him the hideous form of a beast. Horrible fangs grew from his teeth, the snout of a warthog was his nose, with two little tusks jutting out. His hands were as hairy as the rest of his body, with sharp claws in place of nails. His legs were the haunches of a wolf and the tail of a fox would wiggle indignantly anytime the boy was annoyed or curl up when he was embarrassed and wrap around him when he was afraid. But beneath the fur and the fangs and the claws, he kept his blue human eyes. If anyone took a moment to look at him, to really look at him, they would see the eyes of a boy who wanted a friend more than anything in the world.
The enchanter named him Caerwyn. He raised him with all the love he had for the boy, a child he’d been waiting for his whole life. Even the curse upon the boy was out of love, for he knew that should the king and queen ever discover that their unwanted son learned the enchantments and skills of his adoptive father, they would surely find a way to go back on their deal. But who could ever learn to love a beast, besides the man who made him into one?
Caerwyn lived a simple life in a simple manor of enchantments. His candelabra would light the room as he entered. His clock would tell him the time with its grandfatherly voice. His teacup would giggle when his hairy lips brushed over the rim. Everything in the home was alive and they loved Caerwyn nearly as much his father did. This was his only company in the world.
Beyond the little haven the enchanter made for him and his son was the domain of the king and queen, a dangerous place even for one who was not the rightful heir to the throne. The new wealth brought by the spinning wheel had saved the kingdom from certain destruction by their neighboring kingdoms. They had run out of gold to pay their soldiers and create their weapons but now they had an overabundance, and every young man in the kingdom lined up to become a soldier. This meant that even the cruelest and greediest were given a power they were never meant to have and the ordinary folk of the kingdom had a new foe to fear.
The young women of the kingdom were always in danger. When a soldier came by on the street, she would duck her head to avoid catching his lusty gaze, hoping that she wouldn’t have to spend that evening with straw stabbing into her back or a sweaty hand pressed over her mouth with her body against the walls of a barrack. But the soldiers carried horrible weapons that made resistance a deadly thing.
Even a clever inventor who lived in wealth of both gold and family was not spared by the cruelties of the soldiers. When his youngest was but a mere child, his beloved wife was stolen from him and never returned. He did not know if she was still alive, somewhere in the kingdom, and wedded to another, or if she had fought back and was killed the same night she was taken. Deep down in his heart, he knew that she had struggled.
The inventor had four beautiful daughters, but his youngest was the most beautiful of them all. His beloved wife had called her Belle from the moment she laid eyes on her daughter. After his wife was taken, the inventor sheltered his precious daughters, doing everything he could to keep them out of the soldier’s paths. He built a garden for them to enjoy the sun, he brought them books so they could explore new worlds, and he created beautiful things for them so as to not feel so lonely. He invented a box with a dancing ballerina, a puppet who could sing for them, and a little toy soldier that protected the ballerina rather than harmed her.
The sisters were fiercely protective of the youngest daughter, for she truly was the most beautiful of them all and rumors of beauty were just as dangerous as strutting one’s self before a line of lecherous soldiers. For there were things in this world far worse than them. There were tales of a creature roaming the lands, preying on the young and beautiful maidens and stealing their lives for itself. But much nearer and much more threatening was the young prince of the king and queen.
Word had spread that Prince Maxen was in want of a wife but the young women knew the stories of the prince. How he was even crueler than Prince Aven who had thrown his fiancée to the streets mere days before they were to wed and stripped her of everything she had. Prince Maxen not as merciful, disposing of a young woman in more permanent ways.
The sisters knew it was only a matter of time before the prince heard about Belle and they did everything they could to delay it. If a man ever stumbled into their garden, they would drive him out with the weapons their father made for them. They would make Belle keep a hood over her head of fair hair, keeping her lovely face in the shadows. They would even use their makeup to make Belle look less pretty.
But it all was done in vain, for Belle could never be content trapped within their small garden. She wanted nothing more than to venture out into the great wide world. The books were no longer enough and she wanted to see and feel and touch the world for herself.
And so, Belle would slip away from her father and sisters any chance she could and wander out into the forest. She knew the dangers of the town, as well as the forest, and always carried a weapon on her during her ventures.
Belle never imagined she would meet someone and Caerwyn never thought that someone other than his father would ever look upon him without fear.
But that was just what happened one early afternoon when Belle had sneaked away while her sisters were preparing a pot of tea and sandwiches to enjoy the cool spring day. She had explored every bit of the forest to the right of her home, all the way to the main road which she never dared to cross.
So today, she went left. Just as rumors about her and her sisters eked from their garden, so did rumors make their way in, slipping through slats in the wood and skimming through the trees. One such rumor that intrigued her was that of the manor set against the sloping mountainside, tucked just beyond the reaches of the king and queen’s domain. This was said to be the home of the famous enchanter whom none dared to cross. His reputation was the only reason the land wasn’t part of the sprawling kingdom that dragged its claws further and further, bloating itself.
Belle didn’t plan to cross into the enchanter’s territory, she only wanted to see. Of course she would like to knock on his door and ask for a wish but she was much too clever for such a foolish thing. For a wish was never free and would cost her far too much, even if that wish was to bring her mother home.
No, she would simply look then walk away.
Caerwyn was used to trespassers. They came almost every day and they always recoiled at the sight of him. Those that had simply gotten lost and didn’t mean to find the manor promptly fled but those who had sought out Caerwyn’s father managed to keep their fear in check and ask the beastly young man where they could find the enchanter. It was always the same. None ever came to see him and every one of them was eager to leave his presence. Even if they knew that he could give them the enchantments they sought out, they would rather see the imp or the trickster or the devil. At least the enchanter had a human face, even if it had an unsettling look to it.
When Caerwyn heard the familiar clopping of hooves, he tucked his looking glass away. After one of his enchanted toys was stolen by a visitor when he was a child, he no longer trusted them to see the amazing things his simple belongings could perform.
Baethan, one of the palace guards who frequented the manor, sneered down at him. Caerwyn hated him for the simple fact that he was Prince Maxen’s best friend and therefore thought himself superior to everyone around him. But being the prince’s closest confidant left him with the task of errands such as pestering the enchanter for potions and enchantments. Caerwyn’s father seldom agreed to the requests and his fees were always exorbitant. But these were small prices to pay for a prince of a king and queen who could spin gold from hay.
Caerwyn sneered in return, but only when Baethan’s back was turned. Somewhere beneath all his fur was a scar from when Baethan caught him rolling his eyes. Sometimes, it still itched.
Not in the mood to listen to Baethan’s pathetic negotiations for yet another enchantment the prince fancied at the moment, Caerwyn jumped over the stone wall separating their land from the kingdom and wandered into the thick forest. His father always warned him to be careful, for the king and queen hated trespassers on their land just as much as the enchanter hated trespassers on his own. But the only people who ever ventured here were either intent on seeing the enchanter or merely lost.
Never had someone come to simply look at the manor without want for something else. And so, when Caerwyn saw the beautiful young woman staring at him, he thought her to be a lost traveler. Usually, he couldn’t care less for them, but she was a young woman, alone in a dangerous land.
She took a step back, snapping a twig beneath her foot. Caerwyn’s chest swelled, waiting for the fear in her eyes as she fled from him, screaming about a monster in the forest. But no, she lifted the skirt of her dress and bowed to him. She bowed to him, the beastly creature that everyone else detested.
“Forgive me…Lord,” she tested, “If I have trespassed on your land. I did not mean to do so.”
Caerwyn felt as if his heart were beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Other than the brief demands to see his father, no one spoke to him. And he only ever held conversations with his father and his furniture. If his cheeks were smooth, they would surely be red as apples as he thought about how ridiculous it sounded that he spoke with his furniture.
“Actually, my land starts on the other side of that wall,” Caerwyn said, pointing over his shoulder. “And I’m not a Lord. At least, I don’t think so, since we’re not really part of the kingdom.”
“Enchanter, then?” she asked.
Ah, so she thought he was his father. Of course, she came to see him. Caerwyn lowered his eyes. “The enchanter is with another client at the moment, but I can take you to him as soon as he’s free.”
She shook her head fervently. “No, that’s not necessary. I…I don’t have anything to trade for a wish. I only came to see if it was true that he lived here.”
Caerwyn frowned, an expression that made his beastly face more animalistic, even if he tried not to let it. But his snout would turn up, showing off his fangs. “Why see if he’s here if you’re not going to ask for a wish?”
Her cheeks turned rosy. Everything about her was delicate and human. Everything he wasn’t. Her blonde hair was pleated over her shoulder, her hazel eyes bright as a citrine jewel. She had a small nose, curved red lips, and a smooth jaw. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She reached into her satchel at her side and unfolded a map. She turned it to him, showing the nearby town which he’d never seen for himself. Colorings and markings were made all over the map, including a large black X just outside the town. The mountainside where Caerwyn lived was unmarked. Her finger tapped that barren place.
“I haven’t explored this area yet,” she explained. “I wanted to see it for myself.”
He stepped closer without thinking and paused, afraid he’d scare her away. But she didn’t back away from him. For the first time, someone who wasn’t his father didn’t recoil from him, so he continued getting closer. He did notice the weapon strapped to her hip so he made sure to keep his movements slow and gentle. His claw scratched against the unmarked area on the opposite side, just beyond where her markings were abruptly cut short.
“What about here?” he asked.
Her body tensed and she quickly folded the map. “I can’t go beyond the road,” she muttered.
He cocked his head. He wasn’t allowed to go places, but why should she not? No one would see her and think ‘monster.’
Without the map between them, he realized just how close he’d gotten to her. His snout twitched at the smell of her. It was like she was made of flowers but there was also the scent of grease and metal and smoke.
“Is the enchanter like you?” she asked, peering around him to look upon the manor.
Caerwyn swallowed. It always came back to his father. “No, he looks nothing like me.”
She returned her gaze to him, her bright eyes travelling across his face. He felt ashamed of his snout and the tusks jutting out in a lopsided way. He’d noticed it one day when staring at his own face and his looking glass tried to console him, saying that many people had lopsided ears or only had a dimple on one cheek and not the other. He’d scoffed, wishing he had one dimple. At least he took care to keep his fangs cleaned every day and always scraped the dirt from his claws every night. If he wasn’t going to look human, he was certainly going to act like one. A clean one at that. His tail wrapped around his waist as she scrutinized him.
“If the enchanter doesn’t look like you, is this a curse?”
He scratched at the raised scar on his arm, the end of his tail flicking apprehensively. “My father did it so that the king and queen would never steal me away.”
Her eyes went wide for a second. “Why would they steal you away?”
He motioned her to follow him. He climbed over the wall with ease then turned to help her. His pulse quickened when her small hand touched his and he kept his grip gentle, afraid of hurting her.
“Are you sure the enchanter won’t be angry?” she whispered as she brought one leg over, then the other. She had a dark green cloak over her blue dress, the skirt of which she had to lift to her knees to make the climb.
Caerwyn averted his eyes, not sure why just looking at her legs sent a trill through him. “We get visitors all the time. The rumors about him being a devil are just to weed them out. Imagine if he was known as a kind enchanter?” he chuckled to himself at the thought of the entire kingdom lining at his doorstep. They would never get a moment of peace.
She didn’t draw her hand from his and he led her to the back of the manor. Though it was true there were a lot of visitors, he never actually got any. He wasn’t sure what his father would do or say about him bringing a young woman into the manor for anything other than a service.
Best to air on the side of caution, he concluded, and brought her in through the kitchen. He completely forgot that practically everything was alive and his teacup bounced when he walked in.
“Who’s that?” it asked in its small voice.
Caerwyn scooped the cup and held it to his chest, muffling its voice. But she peered around him.
“Did that cup just speak?”
As Caerwyn flustered with an answer, the cup squirmed until it could manage an, “I sure did!”
Her brows raised, her eyes alight in wonder. She offered her hands and Caerwyn set the cup in them. She brought it so close that its handle nearly touched her nose.
“Brilliant!” she said in a whisper. “My father could never do something like this.”
The cup wriggled in her hand. “Is your father an enchanter too?”
She shook her head, touching her finger to the chip on its rim. “He’s an inventor. He makes incredible things but nothing quite like you.”
The cup spun around to Caerwyn. “I like her.”
Once again, Caerwyn blushed beneath his fur. He moved the cup back onto the counter. “I’m going to show her the spinning wheel. But if my father comes.” He pressed his finger to his lips. The cup bounced in response and he led her further into the home, taking her upstairs.
Everything wanted to stop and talk with her, excited to see the visitor. He had to constantly shush them until they reached the attic at the very top.
Straw covered the floor in heaps, a spinning wheel set next to the single window. A golden thread glinted in the sunlight, coiling into a basket. Though they were never wanting for money, his father often came to spin. He said it helped clear his mind. He also taught the magic to Caerwyn, saying that it was a simple form of magic and the more he practiced, the more enchantments he would learn.
Caerwyn sat at the seat and continued the unfinished thread. As straw was spun in, gold emerged. Belle knelt and lifted a twine of it, feeling it between her fingers.
“My father fears that the king and queen would steal me away for my enchantments. I’m not nearly as good as he is, but I’m also not as scary as he is. At least, not on the inside.” He gestured at himself. “Outside, I’m hideous enough to scare them away.”
He averted his eyes from her as he spoke. He had come to accept that he must look this way for his own good. It didn’t make it any easier to say out loud. Especially to the first person to ever let him hold her hand.
“I don’t think you’re hideous,” she said gently.
His tail flicked, heart racing. But it had to be a joke. A cruel, cruel joke.
“What’s your name?” she asked, still kneeling on the other side of the wheel. He glanced over, his toes curling in his shoes.
“Caerwyn,” he answered.
She smiled, letting the name sink in. “I think that name is perfect for you.”
“And yours?”
“Belle.”
Belle. It suited her far better than his own name suited him. His father and the furnishings were the only ones who ever used it. Everyone else just muttered things like animal, monster. Beast. Caerwyn was a name meant for a person, not the accursed thing he was.
Belle glanced out the window and leapt to her feet. The sun had sunk low, the day growing very late before she’d even realized.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
Caerwyn’s heart sank. He foolishly wished she could stay forever but of course she would have to leave. She had found the enchanter’s home and there were many more places to explore.
He guided her back down the stairs, everything calling to her once more. She seemed sorry to have to go and not speak to them. When they reached the wall, he stepped over first and helped her once again. He swallowed, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever hold her hand.
He walked as far as he dared but hesitated to leave her alone. As if reading his mind, she tapped the weapon at her hip and winked.
“I’ll be fine.” She turned, then paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Would it be possible to come back? To see you again?”
Caerwyn’s snout flared, his eyes wide. He couldn’t speak so he just nodded.
She returned a smile. “I don’t know exactly when, but I will as soon as I can.”
He waved as he watched her go, staying until she vanished in the forest. When she was out of sight and – hopefully – out of earshot, he threw a fist in the air, leaping as high as he could with a shout.
This gesture made the palace guard watching from the distance sneer and he raced back to the palace to tell the prince at least one bit of good news.
Belle’s sisters were upset – as they always were – when she returned. They promised to keep a closer eye on her next time but she knew she would find a way to sneak away once more. Only the next time, she would try even harder to slip away and see Caerwyn again. She wanted so much to meet all the things in his home and to spend a day just talking with him.
Other than his eyes, his voice was the most human thing about him. When she first saw him, she thought it would be guttural and rough, but it was gentle and soft, with a few hiccups as he was coming into manhood, but it was pleasant nonetheless.
Her sisters watched her humming to herself as she readied for bed that evening and they were quick to figure out her secret.
The eldest stood before her, arms crossed, while her other two sisters sat at either side of her. “You’ve met a man, haven’t you?” she asked.
Belle flushed, giving herself away in an instant.
“She has!” the second eldest exclaimed.
“He’s not a soldier, is he?” the third whispered.
“Of course not,” Belle replied.
“But a man likes to gloat to other men,” the eldest said seriously.
“He’s not like that.”
“How long have you known him?” her sister asked, grabbing her arm.
“You haven’t told him where you live, have you?” the other asked, grabbing her other arm.
Belle felt as if she would be torn between the two of them. Her oldest sister knelt, cupping Belle’s cheeks in her hands. “Belle, we’re only trying to protect you. So that what happened to mother won’t happen to you.”
She pulled her arms free and pushed her sister back. “So what, I become an old maid wandering the garden until I wither and die?”
Her sisters all sighed. The eldest took Belle’s hands. “Maybe if you brought him to meet father?”
Belle lowered her eyes. She hadn’t been frightened by Caerwyn because she expected something magical like him. And when she learned he wasn’t the enchanter, she wasn’t frightened because he had those lovely blue eyes that saw the world with a veil of sadness over them.
But her father and sisters would surely be frightened by him. Even if his form would scare off soldiers and his enchantments could keep her safe, would they ever see beyond the beast?
Her sisters relented, thinking they had talked reason into her when they’d simply given her more reason to keep Caerwyn a secret. Maybe there was one wish she could ask the enchanter. It could even be worth whatever the cost. There were things she could offer, should she ever build up the courage.
Caerwyn had expected to wait weeks, even months, to see Belle again, but she returned two days later. His teacup would be quite excited, as it had asked him nearly every second of the day when Belle would return, almost revealing his secret to his father. He had to wriggle his hairy lip against the cup to keep it quiet.
Her satchel bounced heavily at her hip and she paused at the wall. He sprinted over and helped her up. He thought it was out of politeness, waiting to be invited into their land, but he liked to imagine she wanted to touch him as much as he wanted to touch her. Of course, he was only imagining that.
“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he admitted, leading her to the kitchen.
“Well, when I see an opportunity,” she explained.
The cup bounced with joy when it saw her. “You’re back, you’re back!”
She laughed and scooped it up. “I couldn’t stay away.”
“Would you care for tea?” Caerwyn offered. The cup gasped excitedly, hoping she’d say yes, then nearly leaping from her hand when she did. Caerwyn took it from her before it fell. “I’m sorry, everything around here has only had me and my father to talk to.”
He set the tea kettle over a flame that sparked from his fingertips. It giggled as the water boiled within it.
“It’s been ages since a lovely young lady such has yourself has come into this home,” the kettle said.
“What of your mother?”
Caerwyn paused as he scooped tea leaves into a bag. “My father says that she traded me for a wish,” he said quietly.
Belle stopped admiring a plate that was admiring her back. “Traded?”
“My father asks a great price for his enchantments. I was one of them.”
He gave Belle his teacup, using one of the many others for himself. She pressed her fingers to the warm sides and brought the cup to her lips, blowing the steam slowly. As she did, her eyes roamed over Caerwyn’s face. It was impossible to forget what he looked like, but possible to notice something different about him each time she saw him, like the patch of fur just under his right ear that was a few shades lighter than the rest. She thought back on his words, how the enchanter had cursed his own son, but not his son, to protect him from the king and queen. It almost seemed cruel, but then Belle thought of all the things he had brought to life in the home so that he wouldn’t ever feel lonely.
“It seems as if your father would do anything for you. He must truly love you.”
Caerwyn smiled a little. He knew that to be true. Though his father would never tell him who the man and woman were that gave him up for a wish, he decided long ago that he didn’t care. Even if he had to spend eternity in this form, he never doubted that his home was filled with love. Although, that bargain seemed highly unfair after meeting Belle. He still couldn’t help but think she wanted to see his father more than him.
Speaking of his father, Caerwyn noticed him walking to the stables to gather more hay. Caerwyn grabbed a handful of cheese and bread and fruit. “Let’s go to my room.”
“Your room?” she asked, the red creeping to her cheeks.
“Uh, y-yes,” Caerwyn stammered. “So my father doesn’t disturb us. He’s not too fond of guests unless they come with payment.”
She glanced over her shoulder to where he had been looking and he sucked in a breath. He was relieved when she nodded and let him lead her upstairs to his room.
Whenever Baethan made snide comments to Caerwyn or bragged about his chambers at the castle, Caerwyn would secretly smile, knowing that not even the prince had a room like his. He opened the door for Belle and set his stolen stash of food on the table near the fireplace that never needed a single log of wood to burn.
His room was massive, an entire wall dedicated to all of his favorite books that he had stolen away from his father’s extensive collection. Vials made from brightly colored glass with jeweled stoppers were filled with herbs and potions that he’d practiced making with his father’s help, some potent enough to stop a bear with one drop. His polished wooden desk held parchments and inks and maps and rulers, all from his studies. He didn’t know how old his father was, but he knew that he had lived a very long time and seen a great many things and that knowledge he passed along to his son. Not even the prince would receive half the knowledge he did, even without taking into account the enchantments.
On his bed were sheets made of silk finer and softer than anything the prince could ever have. They were even enchanted not to rip from Caerwyn’s claws or tusks. There were two windows, one looking out to the dense forest and one to the mountainside. Every morning and every evening, he would watch the colors in the sky shifting and illuminating the lands in new ways. It was a view he wouldn’t give up for even the king’s room in the castle.
Belle held the cup close to herself as she ran her eyes along the bookshelves, skimming over every title. She paused and reached out to touch one but stopped herself.
“Please,” Caerwyn said, “Be my guest.”
She tugged it free and joined him at the table. The book was a collection of short stories from a land far in the east that almost no one had heard about. Caerwyn’s father told him that the stories were told by the beautiful young wife of a ruler and that they saved her life, as well as countless others. It always brought wonder to Caerwyn’s eyes to think that a story could save a person’s life.
Belle took another sip of tea and the cup said, “Your lips are much softer than Caerwyn’s.”
For the first time in his life, Caerwyn was happy that he didn’t have the dimpled cheeks he always envied because then Belle would see how much he blushed around her. What he didn’t realize was that she was already onto his tell. Anytime he got nervous or embarrassed, that tail of his curled in on itself.
“I hope that doesn’t trouble you,” she said.
The cup wriggled, nearly spilling tea everywhere. Caerwyn had learned long ago not to keep it near any of his books or papers. “It’s not as ticklish,” it replied.
Caerwyn cleared his throat and scooted closer to Belle. He opened the book to his favorite story in the collection: the one about the sailor who went on seven voyages, despite all the dangers he faced. Caerwyn envied him for the bravery that allowed him to see the world while he himself hardly ventured beyond the walls of father’s land.
“You can borrow the book, if you’d like,” he offered.
She smiled, drawing it close to her. “I would love to.”
Then, she reached into her satchel, retrieving her own books she’d brought with her. Something else remained in the bag, something heavy, but he couldn’t get a good look at it. She spread out the books and flipped open one. It was an atlas, containing many maps from all over the world. The page fell open to their kingdom, though the map was an old one and the kingdom had grown since.
“I’ve always wanted to visit these places,” she admitted, flipping through to another page.
“Why don’t you?” Caerwyn asked. She already proved to be much braver than he was by leaving her home to come all the way here on her own.
She let out a sigh, touching her fingers to a map of islands. In the sea were depictions of creatures known for luring men to their deaths. “My father is much like yours. He loves me and wants to protect me. Which means, I’m not supposed to ever leave my home. But, as you can see, that hasn’t stopped me.”
“What is he protecting you from?”
Belle opened another of the books. It was a collection of short stories that Caerwyn was familiar with but didn’t much care for. Rather than the brave and noble characters of the other book, this one was filled with cruel and nasty villains who preyed on all.
The pages of the books were illustrated but were also marked with notes and comments that Belle and her sisters had made over the years. One particular illustration of a knight stealing a woman away had a black drop of ink covering his face.
“My mother was taken from us by a soldier.” Her fingers traced the image of the woman, her nail running along her trail of tears. “And my father fears the same will happen to me or my sisters one day.”
Caerwyn couldn’t deny the possibility. In fact, it surprised him that she was yet to be spoken for. He touched his hand to hers.
“Were you searching for the enchanter to make a wish?”
Her eyes lowered, hidden by her long lashes. “I’ve had a wish in my heart for as long as I can remember,” she admitted. “But,” her eyes flitted up to him. “I think I have a different wish.”
Caerwyn knew that someone always had a wish. Even if they denied it, he knew they were lying. He himself had wishes, but he knew their cost better than anyone. He didn’t want to ask for her wish because he didn’t want to give her the bad news. But there was something he could give her.
He stood and went to his desk. Another thing the prince would never have was one of his father’s greatest treasures that he’d given his son when he was finally tall enough to peer over the stone wall and gaze at the mysterious world beyond. Caerwyn lifted the looking glass from the drawer and brought it to Belle. He set it into her hands carefully.
“This will show you anything you ever desire,” he explained. “Give it a try.”
She glanced at him with brows raised. Despite all the magic she had seen, she was still skeptical. She cradled the heavy glass, the silver finishing cold beneath her fingers. “Show me my garden.”
The image of her reflection clouded over, then the garden appeared. Her sisters were sprawled about, griping about Belle running off yet again and how they needed to mend that wobbly gate to keep her in place. Caerwyn glanced over her shoulder, in awe of all the brightly colored flowers blooming throughout.
Belle bit down on her lip. She had a mirror that would show her anything she could ever desire. Could it show her anyone?
“Show me my mother,” she whispered, her voice shaking. The image clouded, then returned to her reflection. She shifted it around to make sure it was actually her current reflection. “Show me my mother, please,” she tried again. The same thing happened. The glass clouded, then returned to her reflection. She turned to Caerwyn for an explanation.
He looked away, a frown creasing his thick brows. “If the thing does not exist…or is not alive, the mirror will not show it.”
Belle’s arms sagged. She set the glass on the table and shut the books.
“I’m sorry,” Caerwyn said, feeling foolish for giving her such hope.
She was quiet for a few moments. Her tea had gone cold and the cup silent during the heavy pause. “Have you ever thought of going out into the world? Instead of just looking at it?”
Caerwyn picked up the mirror. He’d used it many times to see as much of the world as he could think of. His father had warned him about using it too often, as it could drive one insane. He told him about a creature so obsessed with searching out the fairest of the land that it lost all humanity. Caerwyn’s stomach knotted as he wondered if Belle’s face had ever appeared in that creature’s looking glass.
“People…creatures like me don’t see the world,” he explained quietly, gazing at his reflection. He wriggled his snout so that his tusks were no longer lopsided.
“People like you and I should see the world,” Belle said, resting her hand on his.
Caerwyn set the mirror aside, tired of looking at himself. “I make everyone flee at the first sight of me.”
She smiled. “Then we’d never have to worry about crowds. Or bandits. I bet even that thief, Robin, wouldn’t dare cross us.”
Caerwyn laughed. He’d met Robin when his wife came to his father for some help with enchantments. They’d done a fine job sorting the riches in Prince Aven’s kingdom and were going to spread their good deeds to other kingdoms.
Belle perked up. “See, there’s nothing to stop us.”
Caerwyn looked at his fur-covered arm and flexed his fingers. His claws were always deadly sharp. At least if he didn’t scare an attacker off, he wouldn’t ever be defenseless.
Belle scooted closer to him, putting her arms through his. “I could make a wish,” she whispered.
The door to the attic slammed shut and Caerwyn jerked away as his father called to him. He scooped up the books and helped Belle return them to her satchel.
“Yes, Father?” he called back.
His footsteps stomped down the stairs. “I’ve had a thought about Prince Maxen’s request,” he said as he approached.
“Uh, what request?” He hurried Belle to his wardrobe and hid her behind his clothes. His father’s footsteps stopped at his door. The handle began turning. “Wait, I’m not decent!” he shouted.
“Not decent?” he asked.
As the door flung open, Caerwyn quickly ripped his shirt off, tossed it into the wardrobe on top of Belle, and shut the wardrobe.
She was thrown into darkness, a shirt atop her head. She shifted it down but held it to her nose for a moment, feeling the tickle of fur but also smelling it. It had the distinct smell of old books and hay as well as a bit of cologne. She wondered if he had put some on when he saw her coming.
“Whatever are you doing?” the enchanter asked his son.
Caerwyn flicked his tail nervously. “Um, well I was changing before you decided to walk in. Ever heard of knocking?”
Belle heard footsteps cross the room then the clink of glass. “Two cups of tea?”
“My first cup went cold. Right, Chip?” he asked.
The cup’s small voice agreed.
The enchanter grunted, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Well, finish changing then join me in the attic. I’ve been considering the prince’s recent request and need someone to agree with me.”
When his footsteps faded, Caerwyn opened the wardrobe. Belle quickly discarded his shirt and her eyes fell on his furred chest. He reached around her for a new shirt which he tugged on while she stepped out of the wardrobe.
“I’m sorry, but you have to go now.”
Belle glanced at the position of the sun. “It’s getting late anyways.”
He led her down to the stone wall, once again helping her over. But this time, he practically lifted her into his arms. He gripped her elbow a second to keep her from leaving.
“Can I make a request?” he asked. “Two, actually.” When she nodded, he asked the easiest one first. “If you come back, will you bring me some seeds? So I can have a garden like yours?”
Her smile filled her face. “When I come back, I’ll bring as many seeds as I can. And your second request?”
He hesitated, keeping his eyes to the ground. He had seen the other thing in her satchel. It looked precious and expensive. A treasure to be traded. “Please, don’t ever ask for a wish from my father.”
Belle shifted on her feet but he still couldn’t meet her eyes. Eventually she said, “Alright.” She lifted up to her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek, right where his tusk was.
He looked up as she walked away.
Caerwyn joined his father in the attic. Threads of gold overflowed several baskets, the store of hay nearly depleted. Soon, they would need more. Caerwyn always found it funny that they would use the gold to buy hay to be turned into gold, but it was the only thing that ever calmed his father’s mind.
He worked at the wheel for several minutes while Caerwyn slowly wound the thread in loops around his arm, cutting in measured lengths. Just like the spinning calmed his father’s mind, measuring and cutting the gold calmed his. Finally, his father let out a sigh and stretched his back.
“Maxen has requested a love enchantment this time.”
Caerwyn frowned, snipping the thread carefully. “You always told me love enchantments were the worst sorts of enchantments.”
“They are,” his father agreed. He sprawled out his long, thin legs. His tall frame was one of the things that intimidated people about him but more so was the dark look on his face. He had seen countless things in his long, long life that brought a shadow to his eyes and kept his jaw set tight.
“Then why even consider it?” Caerwyn pressed.
His father rubbed his eyes. “Because there are worse things than even a dark enchantment such as that.”
“Like what?”
“The bodies of girls piling outside the castle,” he answered in a weary voice. “If I agree to the prince’s demand, my payment could be that he be given the enchantment as well. So that both parties are as inextricably in love as the other is. Sure, a young woman will have to be sacrificed, but so many more would be saved.”
“How would you choose who to sacrifice?” Caerwyn asked, moving onto the next basket of gold.
“I would let Maxen,” he admitted. “It would be the only way.”
“But why does he even need the enchantment?” Caerwyn wondered.
“Baethan says the prince has grown tired of the women denying him. He says they should be happy to have his affection.”
Caerwyn shuddered, his fur standing on end. “But this could save others?” he asked.
His father leaned back with arms crossed. He stared out at the darkening sky. “I can only hope so.”
Belle returned four days later with her satchel full of seeds. With his father gone on business, Caerwyn and she tilled the yard. Belle had chosen a plot of land near the stables but not too close to the mountain’s shadow. She had her skirt tied at her thighs, allowing her to move more freely. Dirt was deep beneath her nails by the time they took a break.
Caerwyn brought food and water out to her and they sat together in the shade of the mountain. Sweat coated her brow, but not Caerwyn’s.
He hadn’t brought up his second request since she agreed to it. There were many reasons why he’d asked it and he’d like to say that most important was because he didn’t want her to incur a debt to his father that she couldn’t pay. But that wasn’t the truth. The truth was that he was scared of what her wish would be. He thought it foolish that she would ever waste something so precious as a wish on him, but he feared she would ask for Caerwyn’s curse to be taken away. He didn’t want to face the fact that even she couldn’t look past his monstrous form.
But she never brought it up as well and when they’d cooled down and refreshed themselves, they went right back to work. Caerwyn would dig up the plot and she would drop in the seeds and pack the dirt right back over it. He wondered how long it would be before his garden looked like hers.
Before she left that day, she kissed him. He’d never felt so relieved that his father’s curse at least allowed him to have normal lips. Forget dimples, lips were all he needed. Their embrace was brief and Belle’s cheeks were scarlet as she turned away to return home.
It was on that evening that a prince watched a beautiful young woman steal back into her garden, biting down on her lips as pretty as a rose and her cheeks as bright as azaleas. For Belle had become careless and left her hood down as she ventured through the forest and the prince looked upon her face, framed by her golden hair.
At Prince Maxen’s side, Baethan leaned over and whispered, “What do you think?”
“She’s just become the luckiest girl in the kingdom,” he answered. All he had to do was wait for the enchanter to finish his spell and he would finally have his wife at long last.
Weeks turned into months and Belle sneaked away to the enchanter’s any chance she could. No matter how hard her sisters tried to keep her in one place, she would slip away and go to Caerwyn.
Caerwyn himself was rather lonely when she wasn’t there, for his father had to leave to gather ingredients for Prince Maxen’s enchantment. It took him to distant lands for many days. But this also allowed Caerwyn the liberty to show Belle his home and let her meet all the things he spent his life with.
As spring turned to summer, his garden began sprouting. He did offer it a little help with some enchantments, eager to see their brightly colored petals blooming like he’d seen in Belle’s garden. But for the most part, he was rather patient.
They seldom went to his room since they had the entire home to themselves and Caerwyn always felt too embarrassed to ask her to join him. But when they did, there was a lot of reading and looking over maps and kissing. There was lots of kissing.
Caerwyn thought he would never, ever kiss a girl but Belle was proving a lot of his beliefs wrong. They would sometimes play the dangerous game of kissing on his bed and it was a gamble they often found themselves in and sometimes, Caerwyn even had Belle on her back. But every time, they regained their control and promptly shifted away from that very tempting bed.
Well, every time but one. Belle had managed to stop Caerwyn before he got too carried away, blushing as she asked about the living things in his room watching them in their very compromising position. With a wave of his hand, he brought a sleep to the enchanted things within the room. That should have been that, and they should’ve pulled themselves apart but their lips couldn’t stay away from each other.
Belle took his face in her hands, looking into his lovely blue eyes that had lost that sadness in them. “You are human, right?” she whispered.
Caerwyn chuckled. “As human as anyone. Just a bit more hideous.”
Her hands trailed over the hem of his shirt. “There’s nothing hideous about you.”
Belle’s lips found his again and they could not keep their passion in check.
The enchanter returned from his long travels a few days later, having nearly gathered all of his ingredients. As was always the case, Caerwyn was eager to ask him about the things he saw. They sat together in their massive parlor, filled with trinkets from around the world the enchanter had gathered over his long life. Books lined the walls, a globe continuously spun on its hinges, showing things crawling over its surface that Caerwyn did not quite understand and his father never explained.
The enchanter laid out the things he had collected for the enchantment then combined them into a cauldron stained with the years of use. There was only one thing left to complete the enchantment and he needed it from Caerwyn and himself.
As his father unstopped a vial and poured in the shimmering red wisp of light, Caerwyn asked what it was.
It dissolved among the milky liquid as it was mixed in. “A love enchantment requires the essence of love. Usually, one steals the love from another, leaving their heart empty, but one may just as well use the love from many others, taking only a sliver. Robin and Ciana were kind enough to trade only a simple – but very strong – sleeping enchantment for a sliver of their hearts.”
“Who else’s heart did you take?” Caerwyn asked, his eyes roaming over the other vials.
“A young woman pining for her brother’s fiancée,” he explained as he continued mixing them in, turning the enchantment red as blood. “A pirate captain longing to see the mother he hadn’t seen since childhood. And,” he reached the end of the vials then brought his long nail to his chest. He traced a lined down his heart and the red wisp flowed trailed after his hand. He dropped it into the cauldron. “A father who would do anything for the son he always longed for.”
He reached for Caerwyn next. “Finally, a son who has known to love a person not by the blood they share, but for the love given in return.” As his nail touched Caerwyn’s chest, he frowned. Caerwyn’s heart sped up, afraid of his hesitation. “There is a different kind of love in your heart.”
Caerwyn moved back, clearing his throat.
“Who is she?” he asked, the room darkening around them.
“A girl I met in the forest,” he admitted.
The enchanter’s eyes turned black, one of the reasons why people called him the devil, for his fury was darker than that of a demon. “You know that no one is to come here unless they pay a price for their wish.”
“She’s never asked for an enchantment,” Caerwyn protested. “She’s kind and beautiful and lonely. Like me.”
The enchanter’s anger waned, tenderness returning to his eyes. He very seldom got angry with his son. “Caerwyn, my boy,” he said gently. “I have done everything I could to protect you, but I cannot also protect the girl. She belongs to the king and queen’s kingdom and if they ever wanted to use her to get what they wanted from you, I couldn’t stop them.”
Caerwyn narrowed his eyes. “Why must you always blame the king and queen? Why would they ever want anything to do with me?”
“Because they are cruel people who would steal you for your magic. They would have you in chains so that you would spend your days weaving enchantments and riches for them.”
He touched Caerwyn’s chest and drew out a piece of his love. It was pulsating, strong with its newness. It brought a great sadness to the enchanter, for he could feel just how much Caerwyn loved Belle and his heart would suffer the loss of her greatly. He tapped his finger against the cauldron, letting the last ingredient fall in.
“I’m sorry, my dear son. But you must give her up. For her sake as much as yours.”
Caerwyn leapt to his feet and overturned a table in his anger. He stormed from the room, leaving his father to finish his enchantment alone.
The enchanter gazed about the room at all the things that had watched the budding love between Caerwyn and this girl without ever telling him. Yet, he couldn’t blame them for his own love for his son was imbued in the things of the home and to see him happy was reason enough to keep the secret.
Prince Maxen was coming that day to collect his enchantment. It was the first time he would visit the enchanter but he was forced to come if he wanted to have the enchantment. He himself had to make the vow to drink the potion along with his new wife.
Caerwyn didn’t want to be there to meet him and he also feared Belle would visit. The prince was going to choose who to use the enchantment on and he knew that should Maxen ever see Belle, he wouldn’t hesitate to make her his wife.
She did come and he met her in the forest. Her smile alighted his sad heart, still hurt over his father’s reaction and refusal to even consider meeting Belle. He embraced her, feeling whole again. She lifted to her toes to kiss him and he longed to carry her into his home and make his father meet her. But the prince was still inside.
He cupped her cheeks. “I’m sorry, but you can’t come today.”
“Your father?”
He nodded. “Prince Maxen is with him now. You should go home.”
Her eyes lowered, her hands pressed against his. “Can I come tomorrow?”
Caerwyn sympathized with his father, he truly did. It was a great feat to have their own land and territory beyond the reach of any king and queen and overstepping that privilege could cost them dearly. Belle was a citizen of the kingdom and if she was ever seen by the prince, he would have every reason to steal her away. But Caerwyn was in love and he would do anything to have her.
“Yes. Tomorrow you can finally meet my father.” He hesitated, looking at his furred hands, the sharp claws pressed to her delicate skin. It was so easy to accidentally hurt her and she even had a scar on her arm from when he got carried away undressing her. “But remember your promise.”
Her face fell. She still had a wish in her heart that she hoped to ask for. “I remember,” she said.
They shared a final embrace, lingering in each other’s arms for too long, neither wanting to break away from the other. But they finally did when Caerwyn’s claw snagged on her bodice and ripped it. She laughed while his tail curled tight but now that their lips had finally parted, so did they part until tomorrow.
Caerwyn watched until she disappeared. Then he sat atop the wall and just stared into the forest.
Prince Maxen curled his lip at the sight of the beast. He had heard about how hideous he was but actually seeing him was something he couldn’t ever prepare for. And never did he imagine a beast embracing a beautiful young woman. He had no right to put those terrible claws on her skin or touch those disgusting lips to hers.
The prince had his enchantment. Now he only had one last thing to gather before returning home.
Belle slipped into the garden where her sisters were tending to the flowers, the hot summer day having left them parched. The girls barely paid her any mind, thinking that perhaps ignoring her would finally discourage Belle.
Her father, on the other hand, waited for her with arms crossed. When he saw her, he grabbed her, pulling her into the house. “Belle, how many times do I have to beg that you just stay put? There’s word that the prince has come to the town.”
Belle pulled back her hood. “Don’t worry father, no one saw me.” She hung her cloak on a peg, the tear in her dress evident.
So many thoughts ran through the inventor’s head. He feared she had come across an animal or worse, a soldier. “Belle,” he started but was interrupted by a harsh knock on the door. He ushered her to the kitchen, pushing her somewhere out of sight.
When he answered the door, Prince Maxen stood at his doorstep with a band of soldiers at his back. The inventor paled and stammered a greeting to the prince.
Maxen stepped inside and the inventor stumbled back on his feet.
“What brings you to my humble home?” the inventor asked. “I’d be happy to create anything you desire.”
The prince had his ever-present sneer on his face. His blue eyes ran over the home filled with knickknacks that were either once part of an invention or going to become part of one. The smell of grease was heavy and black fingerprints coated the walls, the chairs, the books. The inventor had a lovely home but a dirty profession. Maxen was interested in neither.
“I hear that you have very beautiful daughters,” he said. “I would like to meet them.”
The inventor twisted his hands. “My daughters are far too simple to grace your presence, Your Majesty.”
Maxen stomped his boot, shaking the floorboards. “I demand to meet them.”
The inventor flinched from his anger but nodded. He hurried through the kitchen, shaking his head at Belle, and retrieved his other daughters. They were trotted in with their heads low and hands clasped together. Maxen frowned.
“Where is the other?” he snapped.
“These are all my daughters,” the inventor explained.
“Do not lie to me!” The inventor and his daughters flinched. “Either bring me your other daughter or give these three to my soldiers.”
The inventor went pale. He loved all of his daughters but Belle was his youngest and he had done all he could to protect her.
Maxen was growing impatient and his soldiers neared the other daughters greedily, until Belle stepped around the doorway.
“Belle,” the inventor breathed, pleading.
“If I go with you, do you promise to leave my sisters be?” she asked.
Maxen was struck once more by her beauty. He had gone through so many young women in his search for a wife but all paled in comparison to her. He walked to her, tucking a finger beneath her chin and moved her face to get a good look at her. His thumb ran over her lips that he’d seen pressed against that beast. They were soft like a flower, far too lovely for something so ugly.
“You have my word. Become my bride and your family will be under the crown’s protection.”
Belle’s sisters began to argue, objecting to the deal, but she raised her hand to quiet them. She’d heard the stories of women trying to resist Maxen. He never took too kindly to rejection.
And so, Belle could not be protected forever. She had caught the attention of the very man her father always feared would take her. She would never get to meet Caerwyn’s father and she would likely never see him again. For she had given herself in place of her sisters.
Be Bold 