Kieran

Every step I take is stolen time. Every breath is shared with the ragged exhales of the man just beyond the door while I pace outside, unharmed and healed from all of last night’s injuries.

This should not have happened. I felt the pain intensify hours before it should have been felt. Then the blinding white light came, and I could think no more. I can hear them speak inside the room. Every drop of a pin in this entire castle pricks at my ears. The effects of the transformation – the aches, the heightened senses – still linger well into the afternoon.

Finally, I cannot take the indistinct murmurings anymore. I turn the knob and swing the door open.

Imogen sits defeated in a chair while Astrid applies an ointment to a cut across her cheek, stretching all the way to her ear. Eli snores soundly in Isabelle’s lap.

An old, feeble man bends over Bayorn’s unconscious form.

There are a thousand questions waiting on the tip of my tongue, but somehow it feels wrong to make a sound. Especially for me. So I wordlessly stand behind Isabelle’s chair.

She lifts her chin to me and sort of just stares for a solid minute, as if she finally sees me in a new light. I pretend to ignore her and instead try to place the memory of the man’s face.

The outsider snips the thread connected to Bayorn’s side with a pair of scissors. When he tries to stand, he does so weakly. Astrid jumps to her feet to help him steady himself.

“Is he going to be alright, Papa?”

Papa. She brought her father here. I distinctly remember her speaking of how he used to practice as a physician once upon a time.

He starts to mumble further instructions, but I stop listening. My feet automatically move to exit the room. The room is filled with people I have wronged, people who have suffered as a consequence of my sheer existence.

I should flee. I should just keep running even after the curse drags me back here within the hour.

The door opens and closes again behind me. I stop and turn.

Surprisingly, Astrid is not by her father’s side. Only he stands there leaning against the wall for support. His round glasses are perched so distractingly low on his nose bridge, they look like they are about to slide off the bony structure of his face.

I expect him to curse at me, to blame, to threaten to have me hunted. When we first met, he was at my mercy. Now I am at his.

“How is she?” he asks instead.

“Fighting.”

He nods with exceptional calmness. “As her mother always did.”

I try to imagine his wife: the older version of Astrid who left her fiery hair to be inherited. The intelligent eyes must come from the man before me.

“You will take care of her, yes?”

I blink in shock. There is no waver in the steady gaze with which he matches me; there is only firm expectation, a demand for a promise I am not sure I can fulfill.

“Yes,” I swallow and nod. Then, clearer: “I will defend her with my life.”

Finally, he pushes the spectacles up his nose. “Then I shall hold you to your word.”

Astrid

It seems as if an entire army has volunteered to stand guard by Bayorn’s bed. We take turns, of course. Even Eli has an hour allotted for himself. Sometimes we all sit around his bed and include him in the conversation, as if he hears us from his slumber.

Only Kieran avoids this room altogether. He barely speaks to any of us; I have not crossed paths with him since he last asked me to thank my father for him days ago. He spends his waking hours repairing the broken fetters in the dungeons.

Every night, he escapes deep into the forest.

I take the twilights off to visit my father, just before the sun sets. Today, I decide to use my final fifteen minutes to see Lady Tremaine.

She is not surprised to see my face under the hood when she invites me into her home. Papa must have told her.

“Oh, child.” Her normally delicate hands now crush me into an embrace. She clicks the door shut behind me and ushers me into the drawing-room, shooing away curious housekeepers. I duck my head against their prying eyes.

“Sit. Have some tea.” She orders me. Obediently, I take the cup of tea she pours for me and blow the steam away.

“Did my father tell you everything?”

“From the very moment he returned home without you, dear. I have not been so anxious in my entire life than in the past few months.”

A guilty pang hits me like a wave of realization. I glance down at my lap and chew on my lip. “I never meant to -”

“I know, Astrid. I know.”

She does not truly know. None of them know how much danger they are in, now that the beast is set loose every night. Whether or not it will make its way to them is a mere game of chance.

“Will you leave town?” I say. “Take my father with you. Take anybody you can.”

Concern brings a crease over her brow. “You know I cannot move your father; he grows weaker by the day. And Sir Rotwell has not yet returned from his voyage. Should we expect him to return to an empty household?”

I bite my lower lip harder to keep it from trembling. She notices this and reaches out to touch my hand.

“What are you not telling me, child?”

“Nothing,” I say abruptly. “Just remain indoors every night. Please. What...what does Doctor Erving say about Papa’s condition?”

Whenever I ask my father, it is clear that he uses the same lie on me repeatedly. Lady Tremaine is sensible and honest. She will not hesitate to rip the bandage if need be.

She shakes her head, and rips the bandage.

“The physician gives him another year at most. If exacerbated, the illness may take over more rapidly – his time maybe shortened to half of that given.”

Six months to one year. Five months left for the enchantment to be broken. Even if time is unkind to me, I may yet be able to care for him for at least a month.

“Thank you,” I nod.

My fingers grip hers. When I look up, moisture has pooled over her sharp eyes.

I set the cup down on the table and rush into her embrace once more.

Nine more minutes. My boots crunch against the gravel road as I slip between shadows. I wrap my fleece coat tighter around me when a breeze caresses the back of my exposed neck.

Before I can slip through the back door of my father’s house, a voice calls out: “Astrid?”

Nobody should have been able to recognize the back of my head with my hood pulled up, but this person does. Out of curiosity, I stop to peek instead of slipping into the shadows again.

Damian’s lamp illuminates his sharpened cheekbones. A deep red cut lines his forehead.

I gasp. “What has happened to your face?”

“The serial attacks have resurfaced,” he says. “There’s news of a rabid animal killing livestock spreads like wildfire among the neighbouring towns; people are fearful. They have reinstated the curfew. Some fellow military comrades and I are forming a hunt with the men of the towns.”

Scratching his chin, he adds, “We came across the thing once. Nearly gouged my eye out before it took off running after my men opened fire.”

Suddenly I am aware of the sound of my own heart beating. I do not know whom I am more terrified for: the townsfolk or Kieran.

“Are you certain it is the same animal from all those years ago?”

“Eyewitnesses who have encountered it in the past are positive. I have my doubts. If this the same creature, then the attacks would not occur so sporadically. Unless, of course, someone has been keeping it at bay.”

Bayorn. Bayorn has been keeping it at bay.

Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

The sound of my watch cutting through the tension startles us both. I look to my wrist. Five more minutes.

Damian’s eyes zero on my wrist suspiciously. “What is that?”

“Just...an invention. I must go.”

Before I can take another step, a hand lashes out to grab my elbow.

“Astrid, I must speak with you,” he says, eyes imploring.

“Very well. We shall speak tomorrow. My…my employer awaits.”

“You are going to leave now?” he spits in disbelief. “At nightfall? It is dangerous, Astrid.”

I try to tug my arm free, but his grip has turned into iron. “Damian, please. There is no time to -”

Suddenly his hands are seizing both my arms. I stumble back until my shoulder blades thump against a wall.

“What is it, Astrid? Why do you refuse me?” he starts to beg. I peer over his shoulder. To my dismay, there is not a soul out here. “Is it your father? Does...does he disapprove? I can go speak with him.”

“You will do no such thing,” I snap, losing my patience. “Release me at once.”

At first his grip slackens and the desperation in his features falter. I step to the side, ready to yank my arms free of his touch.

Then something shifts in the shadows on his face and gives way to a new emotion: firm resolve.

A new strength finds his grip. I am slammed against the wall once more, and suddenly I am made aware that this man bears the skill of a militia. My heart jostles up my throat.

“Let me go,” I say, my throat tightening.

His face comes uncomfortably close to mine. There is a wildness in his eyes, one that has never presented itself before. When he speaks, his breath is hot against my skin.

“Just stay for the night, Astrid, hmm? Listen to what I have to say. Don’t leave. There is a curfew.”

The oxygen around me starts to thin. My breaths come out in gasps. Time is running out. “Release me now, Damian.”

“Not until you- ow!”

I knee him in the groin again.

He releases me at once. I do not have time to watch him bend over in agony. The world is starting to spin. A door. I must find a door, or a window. Or any glass surface.

There is a back door to one of the houses. I do not know if it will open. Racing over to it, my hand twists the handle.

“Astrid!” Damian cries out in a volume I have never heard from him before. His hand catches the edge of my cloak.

“Take me back,” I say in a rush, yanking the door open. My arms slip out of the cloak – out of his grip – and I disappear into the door before he can pull me back.

My lungs still burn from the lack of oxygen as I stumble out of the mirror. I take a moment to bend over and gulp as much air as I can while my heart pounds in my ears.

As soon as I regain my breath, I sprint down the stairs.

Imogen, Eli and Isabelle are found walking down the corridor towards Bayorn’s temporary chambers. My breaths come out in pants when I reach them.

“Lady Astrid?” Imogen frowns. “Where were you? Bayorn woke up hours ago.”

“Oh, fantastic,” I say before breaking my own piece of news: “People are trying to kill Kieran.”

They all halt in their steps.

“Who is ‘people’?” Eli asks, more curiosity than inquisition in his tone. “Do they know the Master?”

“They do not know him at all,” I tell him firmly. “If they did, they would not even think of pulling a single strand of hair off his head.”

Imogen muses. “The beast is invincible, my lady. There is no way they could possibly hurt him.”

“The same cannot be said vice versa.”

Silence. Isabelle looks from me to Imogen but does not say anything. She has not spoken much in the past few days; the poor girl must be rattled. I would be, too, if it were not required of me that I specifically refrain from falling apart.

“Has anybody seen the Master?” Imogen decides. We start to walk again. “We must warn him to take better precautions.”

As if on cue, the door to Bayorn’s room gives way.

Kieran is inside. Only his tousled hair can be seen, however, because he buries his face in the sheets beside Bayorn’s arm. Bayorn murmurs in low tones, but it is obvious he is too weak to move much.

When Kieran lifts his head, he tries to erase the traces of sorrow from his expression with a swipe of a hand.

He ends up losing all control altogether.

His hands fly to his face only a mere fraction of a second before his face crumples. I stand frozen. The echoes of his sobs fill the room.

Just before I can rush towards him, Imogen moves first.

She takes him into her arms. He clings onto her the way Eli would, and she strokes his hair the way she would a little child.

I close the door. Eli stands close to me, and I put a hand over his head for comfort in the darkening hallway.

“Do you remember the promise I made to you the first day you arrived?” I say to Isabelle.

She nods mutely.

“I will take you home now, if you would like. You will be safer there.”

Consideration lingers in those almond-shaped eyes. She opens her mouth, as if to accept my offer – and then she closes it again.

Suddenly it crosses my mind that perhaps I will be very sorry to see her go. Her presence opposite my chambers each night and the coming morning has provided more assurance to me than mine probably has to her. Perhaps the thing I will miss most of all is her untainted wonder at everything in this cursed place.

“No, that’s okay.”

My head snaps up in surprise. There is a familiar look of resolve on her face: much like Damian’s from before. Only now I am not afraid at all.

I am grateful.

“Okay,” I breathe.

Without really thinking about it, I step forward and throw my arms around her. To my surprise, she returns the embrace with equal strength.