Chapter 2c: The Morning After

No." He shook his head. "No, you don't. You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done. You don't know—" He stopped. His voice broke. "You don't know how much it hurts."

She stepped toward him. "Then tell me."

"Margot—"

"Tell me."

He looked at her for a long moment. And then he broke.

The story came out in pieces.

He had been a prince once. Beloved by his people, respected by his enemies. He had fallen in love with a sorceress from a rival kingdom—a woman named Elara, fierce and brilliant and kind.

They had planned to unite their kingdoms, to end the war that had raged for generations.

But his father had discovered their plans. He had executed Elara in front of Alistair, forcing him to watch as the woman he loved died.

Alistair had snapped. His grief had unleashed a power that he had never known existed, a power that had burned the kingdom to ash and killed thousands.

The survivors had wanted to kill him. But they had also been afraid.

So they had cursed him instead. They had trapped him in the tower, bound him to the beast's form, and waited for him to die.

He never died. He just kept living. Alone. Broken. Grieving.

For two hundred years, he had been alone.

And then she came.

"Your family sent you here," he said. "Your family. The people who were supposed to love you. They sent you here to die."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Because I never mattered."

"That's not true." He stepped toward her. "You matter. You matter to me."

She stared at him. "You've known me for a day."

"I've known you for two hundred years." His voice cracked. "I just didn't know your name."

She reached out and touched his face.

He flinched, expecting pain. But her touch was warm and soft, her fingers gentle against the stone-like roughness of his skin.

"Alistair," she said. "I'm not going to sacrifice myself for you."

"Good."

"I'm not going to leave you, either."

"Margot—"

"Let me finish." She stepped closer. "I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if I can break the curse.

I don't know if I can save you. But I'm not going to run. I'm not going to hide. I'm going to stay right here, in this tower, for as long as it takes."

"Why?"

"Because you asked me not to be invisible. And I'm tired of being invisible."

He closed his eyes. His claws trembled.

"I don't deserve this," he whispered.

"Deserve has nothing to do with it," she said. "Love has nothing to do with deserve. Love just is."

He opened his eyes. His gaze met hers.

"What if I'm not worthy of love?" he asked.

"Then I'll love you anyway."

She kissed him.

It was a terrible kiss. Awkward and hesitant, her lips pressed against his stone-like cheek. But she kissed him anyway.

He didn't move. Didn't breathe. He just stood there, frozen, as if she had turned him to stone all over again.

When she pulled away, his golden eyes were filled with tears.

"I've been alone for two hundred years," he said. "I forgot what it felt like. To be touched. To be wanted.

She reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Then I'll remind you," she said.

Her stomach dropped. Her hands started trembling. She didn't understand what she was feeling. She had only known him for a day. She had only seen his true face once.

But she had seen him. The real him. The man beneath the beast. The broken prince who had been alone for two hundred years.

And she didn't want to be alone anymore either.

Suddenly, she pulled away. Her eyes widened. Her face drained of color.

"Alistair," she said carefully, "you said the curse was placed on you by the sorceress you loved. As a mercy."

"Yes."

"She cursed you because she loved you. Because she couldn't bear to lose you to your own darkness."

"Yes."

"And the curse can be broken by someone who truly loves you."

"Yes." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Then how do I know I love you?"

He opened his mouth to speak. But the words didn't come.

"Alistair," she said, taking a step back, "I've known you for a day. I've only seen your true face once. I don't know if I love you. I don't know if I can love you. But I don't want to be trapped here forever."

He rose. His body shook. "Margot—"

"Just tell me," she said. "Tell me how I can know. Tell me how I can be certain."

He stared at her, his golden eyes filled with sadness.

"You can't be certain," he said. "That's the point of love. Love is faith."

"Faith?"

"Faith that someone will stay. Faith that someone will choose you. Faith that love is possible."

She didn't speak. She just looked at him.

"I can't force you to love me," he said. "I can't force you to stay. I can't force you to sacrifice yourself. The only thing I can do is hope."

"What if hope is enough?" she whispered.

"Then," he said, "I will hope forever."