Page 1 of Beauty

Prologue

Bronwyn

The Seelie Plane

Thirteen years before

I look down at the hole in MY stomach and wonder howlong it will take to die. I stumble into my mother’s room, pushing back theornate double doors. I hold my hand to my gut, trying desperately to stem thetide. Smoke and tears seem to be all I can see now, obliterating thefamiliarity of my home. I grew up in the White Palace, the marbled floorsalways beneath my feet. My father’s room was off-limits to all but Beck, but mymother’s room was a sanctuary.

It is why I ran here when the world exploded around me.

But Mother is nowhere to be found.

My hands shake. I am losing control.

Of course you are, Bron. You took a knife to the gut.Not much coming back from that.

My uncle’s men. Torin turned on us all. I make it to mymother’s big bed, pushing past the filmy curtains and collapsing on themattress. As a child, I pulled them closed and pretended I was in a whole otherworld. A world where the friends from my dreams were real. Tears blur my eyes.My Dark Ones. They were with me for as long as I can remember, but I stoppedspeaking of them years ago. My father called me crazy when I told him of theirnightly visitations. My mother called in healers. Only Cian listened withoutprejudice. Beck couldn’t listen. He didn’t have time, and he was almost neverallowed out of our father’s sight. Still, he would catch my eyes and wink orruffle my hair as he walked past. He is going to be a king.

I cry out. Is Beckett even alive? Has Torin killed all of myfamily?

When I die, will I see them? My Dark Ones?

“You ain’t dead yet, girl.” A menacing voice pulls me frommy misery.

I look up and see the soldier who attacked me. He’s dressedin my uncle’s colors, black and gold, with the Finn family crest upon hisbreast. My crest. My kingdom. But it doesn’t matter. It’s Uncle Torin’s worldnow.

I try to move, to force myself to run. There’s a nasty gleamin the soldier’s eye telling me he’s happy I’m not dead yet. He wants to play.I shake my head, horror suffusing me. I’m dying and yet, in the moment, thethought of his bloodied hands on my body is more repugnant than death itself.

But I have no choice. None. So much of my life has beenthus. Do your hair just so, Bronwyn. Stand up straight. A princessshouldn’t be friends with her servants. Don’t speak so freely to the brownies.Put that book down. A princess doesn’t need to know such things.

A princess didn’t need to know how to protect herself. Aprincess didn’t need to understand politics.

A princess dies as easily as her sweet brownie friend did.

His hand snakes out, grabbing my ankle and pulling me downthe bed. I can see I soaked my mother’s pristine white sheets with bright redblood. My blood.

My mother gave birth to me in this bed. I will die here.

“Don’t,” I beg. I want to close my eyes. Goddess, I want tosee them one last time. I’m shocked to find that in my last moments, all I wantto do is sleep and be with them again. My Dark Ones. My friends. The shadow menwho hold my heart. I want their arms around me, their voices whispering. Thedreams changed recently, becoming more physical. I kissed them the nightbefore, a soft touch of the lips, moving from one to the other because I can’tfavor either. I love them both.

No more phantom kisses. Only pain and humiliation and death.

I try to kick out, but I’m weak, so weak. My legs won’tmove. It doesn’t matter. The soldier can move them. He spreads them wide,shoving my skirt up. Stupid skirt. I tripped over it. It’s how he caught me inthe first place, but a princess doesn’t wear anything practical.

“I never had me a lady before.” His hands work at the tiesof his pants.

I close my eyes, knowing I can do nothing to stop him. Idon’t want to see him. I try to bring my hands up but it hurts. And then itdoesn’t. Not quite as much. And the voice in my head becomes different. Not myown.

Get me close, love. Get me close. Can you feel me? I amwith you always. Always, love.

I know that voice. The softer of the two. Why didn’t I knowtheir names? In my dreams, they don’t need names. Now I want to call out forthem. I laugh a bit. I’m going insane.

“Ain’t nothing going to save you, girl.” The soldier putshis hands on my thighs, spreading me further.

My hands tingle, heat spreading where before there was onlycold. My whole body feels warm again as though a fire starts somewhere deepinside. A boost of energy charges through my veins, and I reach for him,ignoring the instinct to try to run. I know in my head I should be trying toget away, but I grab him and feel the heat flare. Smoke begins, and I swear Ifeel fire lick from my hands. It’s right there. All I have to do is focus it. Ihave the power.

“What?” The soldier looks down at the place where I griphim. He screams and tries to move.