Chapter 3

Brendon's point of View,

The girl standing in front of him is not what Brendan had expected at all. 

He had known, from the day negotiations commenced, that his intended must be of the absolute dregs of humanity, for her own family to have been able to throw her to the monstrous creature that everyone says Brendan is. 

To have willingly, and so easily, offered up their own to the vile, wretched thing that Brendan is.

Of course, that they’d traded anyone, castaway or not, to be wedded to the shadowed beast, speaks equal magnitudes about the people doing the giving, as it does the poor and unwanted soul who’s been given away. 

For a long time, Brendan had speculated about what kind of an undesirable and distasteful person it must be, for them to have been willing to sacrifice her to the beast that they think he is. 

And then, he’d heard that his intended was born without a gift of her own, that she is just like a normal human, just with a powerful background and had thought: ah. That makes sense.

Less than one percent of the population is born with such special gifts; but of those who are, more than half belong to one of the five (formerly six) Great Houses.

House Walton, who’d infamously tried desperately to preserve their gifts, had maintained such strict notions on supposed blood purity that inbreeding had cultivated a particular brand of madness in its members.

Tsk, tsk. 

None, however, had such a gifted bloodline as House Clair, who, even without the dubious practices as those employed by the eradicated House Walton, have managed to almost invariably produce gifted children as a matter of course.

Well, until his Intended Alcina was born, Brendan has never heard of a Clair who was born with no gift at all.

The Clair's, are arrogant and insufferably proud of their bloodline, are likely to shun a child of even mediocre gifts, let alone none at all.

But Still.

Brendan had still believed there must be something more, something unsightly still about his intended, in addition to the lack of gifts, for House Clair to have been so willing to give her up to the horrifying Lord Brendan. 

A deformity, perhaps, that would preclude his finding any prospects for a normal marriage. Something like a hunchback, or mental incapacity, or dark color, or ugly face that they were hoping to foist off. 

But exiting the carriage is a perfectly normal girl, in what looks to be perfect health. A bit pale and definitely tired, but otherwise is in working order, as far as Brendan can see. 

She’s pretty, is the ridiculous thought that had flitted through his head, unbidden, when the girl first exited the carriage.

Porcelain skin that belies a privileged upbringing, wide eyes that are reminiscent of a fawn’s, and curvy proportions for a woman. Draped, ridiculously, somehow oddly charming in its silliness, in a silken blouse and fitted satin pants, little diamonds glittering on her ears.

And then, his intended gasps upon seeing his face, and Brendan is abruptly reminded that in this scenario, he is the fearsome and terrible thing to which Alcina has been offered up as the sacrificial lamb. 

This is not a love story, nor a fairy tale.

It is a nightmare song. 

He wonders, sardonically, what it is his betrothed saw, that made her gasp like so. 

Where Brendan’s eyes are, did his intended see instead of the gleaming blade of a guillotine, dangling dangerously over her lifeline? In Brendan’s hands, did his intended see the terrible, gaping claws of a beast, ready to snap around her neck?

So.

Nothing new, then.

How boring.

* * * * * * * * * *

Inconceivably, Alcina is not even given the relief of a moment to gather herself, but rather, pushed immediately to the gardens, to be alone with Lord Brendan.

The Alpha, with lone enthusiasm, suggests that Brendan show Alcina the gardens, while the attendants move her belongings into her quarters.

At Alpha Warner's suggestion, Alcina is helpless but to go along, following the young lord into the royal gardens despite the fact that her feet feel as though cinder blocks have been tied to them. 

Brendan is wordless the entire way, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his eyes conveying not a hint of interest in neither the surroundings nor his new intended, whom he has seen for the first time just a few minutes prior.

Instead, he walks through the marble halls with an expression so apathetic that Alcina cannot help but wonder if all the stories were true if Lord Brendan truly could not feel human emotions. 

She would feel more uncomfortable in the silent, stormy walk through the castle, where she is not exhausted and altogether relieved that she does not have to make conversation with this man. 

Alcina also cannot help but to notice the way whispers trail the two of them like a plague, just loud enough for her to know that they are being uttered, but too quiet for her to actually discern the words.

Somehow, she gets the sense that it is not necessarily about her they are speaking of, but rather, their own lord.

The way not a single person raises their head when Brendan passes is not lost on her.

She wonders if it is because they fear him inherently, that they do not look up; or whether because Brendan gave them a reason to fear looking up. 

In her sheer exhaustion, there is a moment, when Alcina almost mistakes these unfamiliar halls as those she’d just left, the trail of whispers among the servants, certainly, reminds her of it.

Of the odd, peripheral knowledge, that all the inhabitants of the castle had always known, that she is unfavored by her parents and merely a useless spare. Of the feeling of being looked upon with scorn, or worse, pity. 

It’s this thought that jars her back into alertness, that she could have found something reminiscent of her home, here, in the home of the shadowed beast.

And yet, looking up at the broad, sloped shoulders, and the way Brendan carries himself as if all the individuals around him in the world do not exist, there is something strangely familiar in it.

Alcina had learned, early on, how to walk through a painfully long hall of whispering servants, gossiping about the growing likelihood that she has no gifts to call her own given the passing years; how to appear, and for a short while, truly convince herself, that these people and their opinions do not matter.

When they reach the outdoor gardens, Alcina looks up-

-and sees spread before her, a ginormous labyrinth of greens. 

Lord Brendan does not pause for a single breath, before walking straight through the arched entrance into the maze.

and Alcina hesitates.

Lord Brendan, who had been cast out by his own House and kingdom as an abomination, who they say is the most terrifying existence in all the land.

Existence - not man - because no one has ever referred to him as a man; rather, he is that which surely was birthed from the gruesome and vile things of the world, for how else could he wield the macabre as his birthright?

The labyrinth looms over her like a warning. She thinks that the garden is voicing for her to go back, Not to enter, Don't follow the shadowed beast.

Surely, when her brothers told her to stay safe, they meant precisely such things as do not follow the gruesome terror into a maze where no one can hear you scream.

But Lord Brendan does not look like a gruesome terror, at least.

And The main point is her brothers are not here, anymore.

It is just her, now, completely and utterly alone in this damnable bitch of a world. There is a small, tiny part of her, that wonders if befriending a monster, is still better than being alone. 

Alcina has never been much of a strategist; at reading ahead, to surmise what the best course of action is.

That had always been her brother’s strength - her brother, who would one day lead the kingdom. Never a task that Alcina had ever had to worry about. 

She’s too impulsive. Too eager, too trusting, too naive, as her brother Nordin had always said.

There’s another part of her, that thinks-- if her intended husband did indeed kill her in that maze- would her parents, who’d handed her off to the beast, to begin with, will they regret it? Will they grieve for her?

Alcina walks into the maze.