Chapter 11
Naia climbed the red mountain every day for a month.
In the evenings, she stole through the valley to the village, where she left plump waterskins on the doorsteps of all the families in need. Even Elias’s. Each time she crept away from his door, fresh resentment twisted in her chest, but she refused to consign him to death.
She did, however, dream of pushing him down a hillside. Often.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she told the beast one day. “Sometimes I feel like I have enough sharp edges to cut someone apart.”
He chuckled. He’d given up trying to make her stay away, especially once she’d made it clear that her brother’s survival depended on her having access to the pool.
“Does that bother you?” he said.
“Well, I never used to be that way. And I don’t think women are meant to be so prickly, are they?” At least, they never were in the fairytales. Then again, she’d burned those for a reason.
“A rose can’t grow without a few thorns,” he said. “And I happen to like your thorns. Very much.”
She looked at him askance. “What, you like things that can hurt you?”
“You’ve never hurt me.” He smoothed a claw along the back of her hand. He’d done that more and more often lately, and with such profound gentleness that a lump rose in her throat.
“Moreover, I like things that are unafraid to be what they are,” he said. “There’s nothing more beautiful than that.”
Naia didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She felt as though she’d just fallen apart inside, and now the pieces were coming back together in a different order. Because maybe her bristly bits were like Kano’s butterflies—beautiful because they were part of her.
“Naia... There’s something you should know. I can’t say the exact words, but...” The beast made a few false starts. His curse seemed to buzz in the air, thick enough that she could feel it clogging her own throat.
“I don’t want you to sing,” he finally said. “I’d give anything for you not to.”
She clenched her jaw. “But...someone has to. This land is dying. We’ll all burn to a crisp soon. You can’t possibly wish that for us, can you?”
“No, of course not. What do I look like, some sort of monster?” He chased the question with a rueful smile.
Naia studied him. Strangely enough, he didn’t. Each time he spoke in kindness, he seemed less like a beast and more like a man—one who just happened to have horns coiling around his ears and tangled fur everywhere.
And what would that fur feel like if she raised a hand to his cheek? Would it bristle against her palm? Or glide against her skin like silk?
“You were supposed to laugh,” he said.
She blinked. “I was?”
He sighed. “What I’m saying is...curses come with a price. Always.”
“So...” She paused. “If I sing, something terrible will happen? To me?”
He didn’t respond, but his darkening eyes told her she’d hit the mark. Even then, Kano’s face swam in her mind.
The water she’d brought down from the mountain had strengthened her brother’s cries, but without true rain, their food would run out soon. Maybe she could coax a few seeds to life, but that would take time.
Time they no longer had.
“It’s all right,” she said softly. “Whatever happens, I’ll face it. Just teach me the song. Please.”
The beast winced, then turned and stared into the shadows. She waited.
Finally, he broke the ripening silence. “What’s your one wish, Naia? The thing you want most in the world?”
She fiddled with the fabric of her skirts. “For my family to be happy, I think. For my brother to be taken care of.”
“No, I mean for yourself.”
She considered. The answer spiraled up from some hidden depth. “To...have someone see me. To not be alone anymore.”
His hulking shoulders bunched, as if that answer pained him. “Then don’t sing. Don’t ask me for that accursed song.”
Her pulse quickened. The song was almost within reach now, she could feel it. Feel his will crumbling in her hands. If only she could draw him a little closer. “What’s your greatest wish?”
He let out a long exhale. “To see the sun again. Even just once.”
She blinked. She hadn’t realized the curse prevented him from leaving. Had he truly been shut up in this cave for eternity, with no one to talk to but the men who’d tried to kill him? She barely kept herself from reaching for him then.
“Do me a favor.” The beast moved off, into the chilly darkness. When he spoke again, the weight of years freighted his words. “Don’t come back here. Let someone else come for the song. Promise me.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Naia said.
But for the first time, his pleas struck fear into her soul.