Beastly Beauty by Wen Wen Yang

My name isn’t Beauty; it isn’t Bella. It’s Xylia. After all, no parent could know their child was going to be beautiful when they grew up. All babies look the same, drooling with a head heavier than their body, with tiny eyes, flat noses and an insistent mouth. The development is the important part. By the marrying age of sixteen (I was a late-bloomer, the usual age is fourteen), people had begun to take notice of my face. I don’t really see what they found so intriguing. Pale skin, certainly, but it blisters in the sun and it’s only pale because my parents did not permit me to leave the house without an army of servants and umbrellas. (Oh, how I loathe umbrellas.) Red lips are due to the crates of berries I devour. My hair is brown, common enough. My eyes are green, like poison ivy, not so common but not as rare as the intriguing grey eyes.

When I complained to my mother about my inability to see my own beauty, she laughed. “My dear girl,” she said while patting my cheek. “You must be blind or stupid.” That brought an end to the discussion.

There isn’t much amusement in being ‘beautiful.’ As I mentioned, there was the army of servants following me around. My family wasn’t rich, because I’m not exactly a princess. I’m the cousin of a royal family twice removed, or a cousin twice removed of a royal family. I can never get my lineage straight. I didn’t pay attention to bloodlines until my parents started pressuring me to attend balls, crowning me ‘Princess.’ The dances were actually exciting the first time, which turned out to be my ‘coming out.’ There was all the fuss of watching my mother decide which dress I should suffer in, and my father practicing his walk down the stairs with me. After the fuss, I come out, got presented, danced with many eligible suitors (not one of them I remember).

I was seventeen and I would have been considered forlorn as a bride had I not been ‘beautiful.’ My parents were waiting for the most prominent prince/ highest bidder. While they watched the numbers rise in trunks of gold and yards of silk, I had to dance.

After the first few dances, they become tiresome. It’s the same music, and the men don’t get any more fun to talk to. I used to be able to sneak off to the library—until my sisters betrayed me. After that, my mother made sure she could keep an eye on me by putting me in gold or blinding white gowns.

Thankfully, I was nearing the end of my seventeenth year when I had my final dance. I didn’t know it was my final dance at the time, or I might have enjoyed—no, never mind, I wouldn’t have.

For my last dance, a new knight guarded me. By guarding, I mean he was following me, everywhere. I decided to lose him, which wasn’t that difficult because he was inexperienced. I slipped off my shoes—they were horribly tight—and threw them off the balcony. Hiding behind the balcony door, I waited until the knight caught up and looked over the edge. He turned as pale as my dress. Then, as he ran to get my parents, I decided to explore the rest of the estate.

You see, dances are held at estates all over the countryside. This one was at a manor I had never been to before, and, considering all the dances I had been to, this was exciting.

First, I headed up the stairs because libraries in manors are usually on the top floor. Great wooden doors with the Latin word for ‘knowledge’ beckoned me.

Before I ‘blossomed’, I got the best education from my two older sisters and their tutors. Thankfully, I had finished my education by the time my parents decided that knowledge wouldn’t get me anywhere in life.

Returning to the subject of the library: unfortunately, it wasn’t empty. Three servants were inside. In the darkness, I assumed they were servants. When I stepped inside, I saw their emblems. More knights.

“Milady,” they all bowed. I made a face, consisting of a deep frown and two evil eyes.

“Are you the fair Lady Zay-Lia?” They asked.

I hate it when people pronounce my name wrong. “It’s Zil-ia.” I growled.

“Oh,” one said, before a pink tongue emerged to lick his lips. When men begin to act like wolves, that’s when one must learn to run. Unfortunately, I spun around in time to see one of them close the library door, surrounding me.

I cursed, unladylike but who would care of morals in such a situation? These situations were not old to me, being ‘beautiful.’ That’s why I had a bodyguard.

“If you lay a hand on me,” I started to threaten, but I had to stop because they were knights and I was a lady in a very constricting dress with no weapon.

“You’ll choke us with your fine pearl necklace?” One knight supplied with a mighty laugh.

“Excellent idea!” I proclaimed and pulled at the necklace. For you see, it wasn’t pearls. It was magically enchanted, so the vender said, and would protect me as needed. Hopefully, the vender wasn’t lying.

I tugged on the pearls, breaking the necklace. Two beads remained in my hand while the others dropped to the floor and rolled to the men. Then the ‘pearls’ on the ground exploded, filling the room with smoke. Thankfully, holding one of the silk layers of my dress up to my nose kept me from choking. I ran to the door, and threw the pearls against the keyhole. The knob exploded on contact, and dropped into many brass pieces on the floor. I kicked the door open and faced the lord of the manor.

“Oh, Lord um…” At least, I thought he was the lord of the manor. He was upstairs in the manor, and courteous guests always stay on the ground floor. He dressed in stately robes, but they were a deep purple. No lord I saw before wore purple. Jesters often sport the color, but—

“I’m Istar Neuoba.” He said in a deep, resounding voice.

“I’m Xylia. Is this your library I have just ruined?” I asked with a wince.

“It will be fine.” He held out his hand toward me. “I will forgive you, if you give me this dance.” Considering the price of the books, weighing it against his obvious maturity (mind you, I was seventeen at the time, so twenty-three would have been old to me), I decided I should suffer through a round of dancing.

“Your hands are moist.” He said softly as we went down the stairs.

“Fleeing from caddish knights tends to make one sweat.” I retorted as I watched him position himself for the dance. Hesitantly, I placed one hand on his shoulder and the other he held firmly outward.

“You were very quick to act then,” he commented in a whisper. I couldn’t help blushing at his compliment. “Ah, a rosy color too, you are very lovely.”

I stumbled past a ‘thank you’ before turning my eyes away from his angular face.

“You are quite young to be working magic.”

“Oh, magic is simple in desperate situations.” I said, rolling my eyes.

A commotion at the stairs drew my attention away from my partner. A fine layer of soot covered the three knights, causing them to hack uncontrollably. When they met my eyes, glanced at my dancing partner, they quickly decided that they were no longer welcome at this dance. I sighed deeply and unknowingly pressed my head against Istar Neuoba’s shoulder.

“Does that happen often?” He asked into my hair.

“Men acting like dogs in heat? Very often. My family has hired a knight for the sole purpose of protecting me.”

“Is that how you lost your shoes?”

“Oh,” I blushed, realizing why it felt so strange dancing beside him. My stocking-clad feet were nothing compared to his shiny black dance shoes. “No, I threw them off the balcony to distract my knight.” In hindsight, one would suppose I deserved to be ambushed after tricking my guard.

Istar Neuoba was silent for the rest of the dance. When it ended, he did not release my hand. Without a sound, we danced a second round.

“Clever and quick witted,” he mused as he looked over my face. “There is more to you than a simple prince’s trophy.”

“I am honored you grant me such high esteem.” I replied coolly.

“Perhaps you would like to be my assistant for life. You see, I am a wizard,” I nodded at this, realizing that deep purple was the color of the highest magical workers. “And I am in need of a—”

“Magical assistant?” I nearly shouted. “I would love to!”

“Not magical,” he said softly as he brought his face close to mine. “You see, I meant an assistant to help me through life, not a magical assistant for the rest of your life.”

“Oh?” I mumbled, not moving my lips more than necessary because his were agonizingly close. “Do you mean a wife?”

“Precisely.” He closed the distance between our lips. Taken back by his words and actions, I did nothing as his tongue slip into my mouth. There was a strange energy on it. Hot and cold at the same instant with a strange bitterness one would feel as one’s tongue touches the center of an apricot. A spell.

Without hesitation, I bit down. The tongue cleanly severed, as blood pooled in my mouth. By reflex, I swallowed his tongue and blood. I choke at the thought years later.

“Ah!” The wizard seemed to say as he broke away from me. Due to a healing spell, within moments, his bloodstained lips were normal again.

“It is your own doing for forcing me!” I growled back. By now, the band had stopped playing and everyone could hear us.

“You insolent creature!” He spoke with a healed whole tongue. “Do you not recognize someone who is trying to help you?” He raised his hand and threw something at me. I cowered away from the object, squeezing my eyes shut and cursing myself for upsetting the wizard. A slight pressure seemed to bounce off my fingertips as easily as if it were a child’s ball.

After a few moments, I realized I was not in pain. Opening my eyes, I saw a magical shield around me, with veins of deep purple and blue. At first, I thought someone else was protecting me. But I was wrong. The shield emerged from my upheld hands.

I had become a sorceress.

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