Beauty and the Alpha Beast

Audience with the King

*Bexley*

I follow Ellison down the corridor toward the dark part of the castle. He’s not holding my arm like he was the night before, and he’s walking so fast, I can barely keep up. About half an hour after I made my demands, he left the room and then came back to tell me that King Canaan was willing to meet with me.

Barely breathing, I do my best to tamper down my nerves. My lack of oxygen has little to do with how fast I’m walking and everything to do with seeing the king again. A thrumming in my heart has me undulating between rushing to keep up and slowing down and fading into the walls. Would it be possible for me to ditch Ellison and find the nearest exit? Could I run all the way back home from here? I doubt it, but if the king is as scary today as he was last night, I might not be able to control myself.

We reach the office door, but Ellison doesn’t knock on it right away. Instead, he waits for me to reach him and then says, “Are you sure about this, Bexley? You don’t have to do this. You can just go back to your room and wait for him to call for you—the way the rest of us do.”

I scoff at him, thinking, if it’s true that he’s an advisor to the king, he probably comes and goes as he pleases. “I’m fine, Ellison,” I lie. “It’s not a big deal. He’s just a person, right? He’s not dangerous.”

“Not any more dangerous than I am.” He has a gleam in his eye that makes me question whether that was a threat or not. “He won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I just want to hear from his own mouth why I have to stay, that’s all.”

He blows out a deep breath and knocks on the door.

Canaan’s husky voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Come in.”

Ellison pushes the door open and gestures for me to enter, but he doesn’t escort me in. I hesitate, silently pleading with him to come with me, but I can read his expressions well enough already to know he’s not going to do it.

With a sigh, I step inside. Ellison shuts the door with a resounding bang, and I jump.

I’m in the same position as I was in the night before. No light pours through the curtains here. It’s practically pitch dark, except for the same wall sconces as last time.

“You wanted to see me, Bexley?” His voice sounds almost inviting, but I don’t find myself moving. “You can come over. I don’t bite.”

A hysterical bout of laughter bounces out of my mouth before I clamp it shut with my hands. I see his outline shift slightly and know he’s tipped his head to the side to look at me like I am a buffoon. I sound like one.

Knowing this can’t get much worse, I decide to trust him and slide toward the chairs I can barely make out across from him. None of Fiona’s stories ended with women being eaten by the king, so I assume that he does, in fact, not bite. I feel my way into the seat across from his desk and note I can see him only slightly better this close.

“W-Would it be possible to... to turn on a light?” I practically whisper.

“No.”

It’s not an ugly response, but it’s not particularly friendly either. I take a deep breath. “Okay. Your Majesty….” I clear my throat, not sure what I wanted to say. When I demanded an audience with him, I was angry. I still am to a degree, but I don’t know what I meant to say to him. Other than the obvious.

“Bexley?”

A chill shoots down my spine. Something about the way he rasps my word affects me in a way I’ve never experienced before, and it’s not completely unpleasant.

“Uhm… Ellison said I’m meant to stay here a bit longer.” I blurt it out. There—I’ve started the conversation.

“Yes.”

It’s all he says. He doesn’t move, either. As my eyes adjust to the light, I can see more of an outline. Whether it’s his hair or the shape of his head, I can’t say, but he has lupine characteristics. His hair looks like a wolf’s main, and his nose is long and angular, like a snout.

“Bexley?”

He’s said it again, and while I’m still trying to paint a picture of him in my head, I feel that twitch down my spine once more.

“I… want to go home. Please.”

Once again, his answer is direct and to the point. “No.”

“But—”

“I said no, Bexley. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I want to believe that he means that, but it doesn’t make sense to me. “All the other girls who’ve come here only stay one night,” I point out.

He barely moves to lift a hand and set it on a folder on his desk. I can’t see anything more, but I wonder if it’s not information about me. “You’re not like other girls.”

He’s not wrong about that. “I miss my mother.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been told you are engaged to a man who lives in your village? Weren’t you planning to leave your mother to marry him?”

The mention of Garth has bile rising in my throat again. “That’s not true,” I begin. “Garth just said that because… he’s planning something with my stepfather. I never intended to marry him.”

“Interesting. Nevertheless, I assume you do plan to marry one day, which means you won’t be living at your mother’s house for the rest of your life.” His tone is full of dismissal, something I don’t appreciate.

“Just because I may leave her one day, that doesn’t mean I’m ready to leave her now,” I remind him.

I think I see a slight rise in one shoulder, but it’s hard to say. From what I can tell, his shoulders are slumped, like he’s leaning far forward. It reminds me of when a dog stands up to beg and has to lean forward slightly to keep their balance. “Either way, Bexley, I’m sorry, but my hands are tied at the moment. You have to stay here a bit longer.”

“Your hands are tied?” Indignation rushes through me as a spiteful laugh leaves my lips. “You’re the king.”

“That’s what they say.” He moves his hand again, and now I can see it’s actually… a paw. A glint of light hits what should be fingernails, but they are claws.

It’s distracting. While I’m trying to carry on a polite conversation with the ruler of this kingdom, I am fully distracted by my brain trying to decipher what I’m looking at. Is he… part wolf?

Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts. He can’t be part wolf. “Uhm, I just… if you’re the king, can’t you do whatever you want?”

“No. I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Believe me, I wish it did.” He lets out a sigh that chills me to the core.

Something is wrong with him, that’s for certain, and I don’t just mean the way he looks. I remember the stories Fiona mentioned, about how handsome he was. But now he’s not. What if he has some sort of horrible disease?

His yellow eyes glow softly, and I can tell he truly does wish he could change this, whatever it is. But he can’t, and I have no idea why.

I take a deep breath and say, “Fine. I understand that forever reason, I can’t leave, but you don’t want me here either—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Now, I am even more confused than before. “You said—or at least implied—that you wished you could let me go, didn’t you?”

“What I meant to imply is that I don’t want to make you unhappy, Bexley Kessler.” I can hear a softness in his tone now, and I want to believe him. Why he called me by my full name, I’m not sure, but it wasn’t an accident. I have to believe nothing he says is without intention. “But for now, you must stay here. You can explore the woods on this side of the castle fence, but you must not try to climb it. You can write to your mother to let her know you’re safe and happy—whether that’s the case or not—but you must understand your letters will be read before they go out in order to protect everyone who lives in the castle. As I’m sure you know, I do have enemies, people who would like to expose me as a monster and bring my rein to an end. I can’t let that happen, so I have to use the utmost care when dealing with the people outside of the castle walls.”

“Your subjects,” I remind him.

Again, he lets out a deep breath. “Yes.”

“People who haven’t seen you for years.”

“Well, that is out of my control.”

It seems a lot is out of his control for someone who is the king. “What about your representatives?” I ask him. “Why does no one ever see Ellison or… surely you must have other advisors.” I mentally scan the people I met the night before. I believe some of them were advisors and nobility.

“It’s all quite complicated, Bexley. The last seven years have been hellish. Ellison does visit the villages on the east side of the mountain and keeps the peace with our local rulers there. The areas on the west are not so easily maintained.”

I have no idea what the difference between the two parts of the kingdom are, and I’ve strayed from my initial point anyway. He’s been more than cordial in trying to explain the situation to me. The bottom line is, he’s saying I must stay, whether I like it or not.

“How long?” I ask, my question just a whisper.

His hair—or is it fur—moves slightly. “A few months.”

It’s not an actual answer, but it’s better than the alternative—forever.

“I want to see you.” Again, I can’t control the volume of my voice, and the words are barely audible even to me.

Something flickers on the top of his head. Is that an ear? “No.”

“I won’t be afraid.” It’s a lie, and we can both taste it. “Ellison said that you’re not dangerous.”

“Ellison lies just like you do.”

“I’ve only just met you, but I’m not afraid.” Why I am insisting on forcing the king to do something he doesn’t want to, I’m not sure, but I suppose it’s because he’s making me stay when I want to go home.

I do want to go home, don’t I?

“You should be afraid of me, Bexley Kessler.” It’s almost a growl, and for a moment, I am scared of him.

But I think he’s bluffing. I think there’s far more to him than I am ever going to be able to discover while sitting in this room in the darkness. If only I could force him into the light.

A tingling sensation in my hands has me looking down at them. For some reason, I can see them clearly, though I can’t even see my knees. They aren’t glowing—that would be impossible—but they feel warmer.

“Bexley, I have work to do. Write a letter to your mother. Let her know you’re having a good time, you’ve made friends, and you’ve been invited to stay. Don’t mention anything about my appearance—”

“Or lack thereof,” I press.

He groans. “Just tell her you’ll be home soon, but not right away. Now, please leave.”

Frustrated, I get up and head toward the door. I know he’s the king, and he can order me around, but what harm would it do for him to show me what he looks like?

As I reach for the doorknob, I place a hand on the wall to steady myself, and my fingers brush a familiar object.

It’s a light switch.