Kieran

Blood.

The first thing I taste is the metallic tinge of something’s – or someone’s – blood on my tongue as it slides over my now-even teeth. Drying blood lines the rims of my fingernails and taints my arms.

The dirt beneath my feet is dampened with dew. Every muscle in my body aches dully as I wander between the trees in an effort to find my way back to the looming structure, where the living remain asleep.

Dawn has not broken yet.

When I finally find the looming stone steps, the first light of the day subdues the black skies into a shade of blue. Overhead some stars still linger, clinging onto their final view of the earth.

I pause. I don’t remember the last time I saw the stars. For a brief, shining moment, I stand beneath the sky. Is my family up there, watching me from above? What would they think of me now?

My bare feet slap heavily against the steps as I move once again. The doors recognize their Master and give way.

Routine directs my steps to run some water over my body and through my hair before pulling on soft cotton clothes that are gentle on my tender skin. Then, I make my way down to the kitchens. On my way there, I pass by wide-open doors that give way to the private dining room. A figure moves inside out of the corner of my eye.

I take a couple more steps before deciding that the movement is not a figment of my imagination. I backtrack into the room.

“How long have you been sitting here?”

Astrid’s head snaps up from her hand. She had almost dozed off.

Blinking sleepily, she says, “Sit,” as if she had been expecting me to somehow find her waiting for me.

A plate of bread and poached eggs lie waiting on the table. When I take a seat next to the head of the table where she sits, she pushes the plate to me. Surely enough, the eggs are slightly overcooked. I smile.

“We need to talk.”

“Yes. We need to have a serious discussion regarding your dramatic greetings.”

She glares at me to show it is too early for her to put up with my quips. My smile broadens into a cheeky grin nonetheless.

“You need to try harder with Isabelle,” she says. “You need to break the curse as soon as possible.”

I chuck a piece of bread back onto the plate and slump in my chair.

She remains persistent: “Listen to me very carefully, Kieran. I do not know what sort of bargain you struck with Lady Selaena, but the consequences are stirring into disaster.”

Her mention of Selaena takes me by surprise. “All the neighboring towns – Ainsfrel, Friuer, Torin – all of them, they are organizing a hunt. For you.”

“Are they?” How fortunate I will be if they actually succeed in their objective. The sour look on Astrid’s face tells me she does not believe they will.

She’s right.

“You do not remember coming across some of the townsfolk?” her tone is quizzical.

I shrug.

Her lips part slightly when she frowns, leaning forward on her elbows. Today, she wears an oversized yellow wool sweater and a pair of denim shorts. Isabelle must have given her pointers on rifling through the part of her wardrobe touched by the 21st century in the mirror world.

When she rubs her covered wrist over an eyebrow puzzledly, I press my lips together to suppress a bemused smile. Adorable is the only word that springs to mind.

Unfortunately.

“So... you are telling me you do not remember anything while you are a beast?”

“No. I only recall the final moments before I change.”

Something shifts in her expression but I cannot read it.

“Lady Astrid,” I sigh and take a bite of my food. “What you are asking of me...even if she could love someone like me -” even if I could love anything at all, “- it would put Isabelle in harm’s way. My changes have been irregular at most.”

“But not unpredictable. You know when it is coming, do you not?” So she has been speaking to Bayorn. “You can feel it.”

“Within a mere fifteen minutes or less, yes.”

“Fifteen minutes are enough to dash into the dungeons. We will take precautions, as we always have.”

She must see that I do not look convinced, because she leans forward and wraps her fingers around my sleeve.

“Kieran, please. Please try.”

I do not want to. No longer because it would hurt me to try and fail, but because it will hurt her to see me fail. It would hurt all of them. But nobody can afford to wait for my mortality to come by springtime. Besides, if I manage to succeed in breaking the curse anyway, I can finally throw myself off the highest tower in the castle and actually succeed this time.

Astrid’s eyes are imploring. It is all it takes for the words to tumble out of my mouth. Anything she asks, I must strive to grant her.

“As you wish, your ladyship.”

Someone interrupts my reading in the library. When I look up from the pages of my book, Isabelle lingers by the door.

“Oh. Sorry.” She makes as if to exit.

“No, stay,” I say evenly, resting the open pages on my chest as I incline with my feet up on the study table. “Even if you were to trespass upon me, I can hardly send you away. It seems I owe you that much.”

Her boots click against the floor when she approaches. She eases into the semi-circular seat and peers at me over the back of the couch. She has unsettling manner of watching me, as if she knows something I do not.

“So what’s up, fam?” her tone takes a light note instead.

“I apologize for endangering your life the other night.”

One corner of her lips lilts up to reveal her dimpled cheek. “Still harping on that incident, are we?”

I blink twice. “Beg your pardon?”

“You’re a real shifty character sometimes, you know that?” she says. “Sometimes you’re all benevolent and crack weird jokes, but other times you just brood in a dark corner and act as if you’ve committed a thousand murders.”

“I have committed a thousand murders. Do you think the beast survived on a strict tofu diet all these years?”

She gives me a pointed look that clearly insinuates: weird jokes.

“Kieran – do I call you Kieran or ‘the Master’ or ‘sire’? Nobody seems to be able to stick to just one – I have binge-watched enough episodes of Law and Order to be able to tell you the requirements of murder. Do you know what they are?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Commission and intention. Mens rea. So unless you have any control over what you do while you’re in full-on Boogeyman mode, that’s not considered murder.”

Odd, that determined glint in her eyes. Something about the authority in her voice nearly sways me.

“Although,” she muses thoughtfully. “It was an unexpected miracle when you let Astrid live.”

I go still.

“What?”

Her casual oblivion doesn’t change, but it gives way to a shadow in her eyes. “Yeah. The beast tore through her door but then just...let her go. I could hear her screaming at the top of her lungs.”

She shudders. “Tried to help her, but the door to my room wouldn’t budge.”

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I almost killed her. Yet nobody made any mention of it until now.

“Do you think the beast can be restrained?” Isabelle’s voice tears me out of my reverie. “You let Astrid go. Bayorn survived even when he was within the closest proximity to danger.”

She jumps to her feet. For some reason, I do, too. Invisible gears shift in the distance between us.

“What if a part of your consciousness still lives when you’ve turned?”

“You’re implying there might be a way to tame the monster?”

“Yes. Maybe. Oh!” she throws her hands in the air and starts to pace. “I don’t know. Think about it: the people closest to you were spared. Maybe it’s because there was some sort of -”

“Emotional connection,” I finish for her. Only when the words leave my mouth do they sound ridiculous. What, I didn’t have enough of an emotional connection with my own family members?

Maybe I did. But the beast didn’t.

“Restraint or not, Bayorn still suffered from near fatality.”

“We can make preparations,” she insists, sounding very much like Astrid from this morning. “Learn to defend ourselves. Maybe even try to subdue the beast when you transform -”

“No,” I snap. “That will never be an option.”

She falters. Her mouth opens to argue, but one look at my clenched jaw makes her close it again.

Yet even as I walk her up to her room, my thoughts drift towards the idea. I mull over it in silence, and I’m certain she does the same.

Bayorn greets me to prepare for my transformation early. This time, I do not banish him from the West Wing. I allow him to take me to the repaired cell in the dungeon and sit alone in the darkness, considering the possibility of subduing the beast.