Below is the first chapter of Charmed Beast. It has not been proofread yet, so bear with me if my comma placement isn't perfect yet. But I thought you'd want a sneak peek of this story.
Chapter One: A Gifted Mirror
Princess Adara de Trinata
The threads of music fade as I lower into a curtsy across from Prince Malkam, the layers of my pink dress billowing around me. He smiles, and the dimple in his cheek pops. His blue eyes flash as he steps forward and grabs my hand, placing a kiss on my knuckles. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I don’t think my cheeks can become any more heated.
“You are gorgeous, Adara,” he says.
“Thank you,” I murmur as my handsome prince loops my arm through his and walks us to the refreshments table. The cool fruit juice he hands me is a welcome reprieve, and I eagerly quench my thirst. My feet ache, and sweat beads at my temples. But I wouldn’t mind dancing several more times with my betrothed.
“Your family knows how to throw a party,” Malkam says, looking around at the sparkling candles and festive ribbons adorning the walls. The women around me are in bright and happy colors, reminding me of the array of blossoms blooming in my garden, while the men wear brightly colored neckerchiefs and pocket squares. It’s everything I’ve dreamed of for my betrothal celebration—a cause for rejoicing for our two kingdoms.
I take a sip of my juice before responding. “What can I say? My parents are excited about our official engagement.”
He smirks. “So are mine.”
The door to the ballroom opens, despite the party being in full swing for the past hour. Shouts sound from beyond the entrance, and several of us turn toward the commotion.
Malkam hums a note of displeasure, his brows lowering.
An elderly man makes his way through the crowd, stepping between dance partners and creating chaos in his wake. He heads straight for us, stopping a few feet before Malkam.
“Do you know him?” I whisper.
Malkam frowns. “No.”
The old man, dressed in a suit several decades out of fashion, has wispy white hair swirling around his head and a scraggly beard. He slowly lowers into a bow before Malkam. “My prince. I have a gift for you and your future bride.”
“Oh?" An arrogant tone I haven’t heard before lines Prince Malkam’s voice. "-And who might I thank for this gift?”
The man smiles, showing stained teeth, and doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulling forth a hand mirror. “This mirror has long been in my family. It shows the holder who they truly are. Those favored of Solwain are blessed exceedingly when they look in this mirror. You are such a man, Prince Malkam. Alas, I have none left to pass our prized possession to, thus my trip to you this day. A gift and a prayer of blessings upon your marriage.” He holds the mirror out, waiting for Malkam to take it.
Malkam’s grin is thin, his eyes narrowed. “Thank you. You may give it to one of my servants to inspect.”
My heart lurches at Malkam's reply. I study the old man with his kind expression. His grin reminds me of my deceased grandfather. My gaze falls to the small mirror in his hand. It's gold plated, and looks to be of excellent workmanship. I want to hold it, to admire the family heirloom that looks to be a work of art. It's something I'd treasure.
I step closer to my betrothed, lowering my voice. “Malkam, can’t you accept it?”
Malkam tilts his head toward me, a snarl on his lips, his whisper harsh. “No, I won’t receive a present from a half-dressed vagabond who has crashed our party. If you want to accept it for me, you may.”
My mouth dries, unease coursing through me at the callousness of my fiancé’s response. I step toward the older gentleman. “You are very kind. What a beautiful gift. May I accept it for my intended?”
The gentleman’s eyes widen a fraction. “Yes, princess, you are quite gracious.”
I smile and reach forward, gripping the ornate handle of the mirror. Golden roses line the edge, the petals almost lifelike in how well they’re shaped. “It’s quite beautiful. Roses are my favorite flower.”
The man nods. His smile weary. “Many happy wishes, Princess Adara. May someone be worthy of your gentle heart.”
I look up, a question on the tip of my tongue, only to find the gentleman walking away.
“What an odd man,” I murmur.
Malkam lets out a disgruntled humph.
I look down at the mirror and trace my finger across the thorny vine along the top edge. A sharp sting takes my breath away. When I pull my hand back, a droplet of blood swells on my fingertip. It falls, landing on the reflective surface.
Black smoke erupts from the glass in the mirror, billowing out like a volcano. It encompasses me until I can’t see anything. I open my mouth to scream, only to choke on the darkness. The mirror falls from my hand, but I don’t hear it hit the floor.
Sounds disappear as shadows close in on me, clinging to my skin.
The pain hits in waves, and I fold in on myself, clutching my stomach as I fall to the floor. Not one sip of air enters my lungs. A fresh onslaught of agony courses through my body and I succumb to the darkness.
“Adara, wake up.” My brother’s commanding voice shocks me to consciousness.
I force my heavy eyelids to open, only to find several people standing over me. My parents are on one side, my cousin and her husband on the other. My mouth opens, but unfamiliar teeth greet my tongue, and I stop, unable to speak.
My brother gently holds my head and neck, his fingers pressed into my skin. I can barely make out the glow emanating from them. That would be Caladen's healing magic activating.
“What?” The word comes out a garbled mess, and I lick my lips, swallowing against the dryness before trying again.
Caladen’s chuckle comes from above me, and my brother lifts my head enough to pour a few drops of water through my lips. I squint, seeing his face with a disconcerting clarity and vividness. “What happened?”
Mother leans over, her eyes lined with worry. “That’s what we’re wondering, dearest. Um... you look...”
Rowena, my cousin and newest queen of our neighboring country Lyriva, leans forward, her long brown curls draping over my arm. With her movements comes the smell of… apples and cinnamon. “You were cursed by a mirror.”
I blink my dry eyes a few times. “A mirror?”
Caladen strokes my hair, brushing a strand that must have fallen from my braid out of my face. “Do you remember what happened?”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, but immediately start coughing.
Why can I smell everything?
“I… I was with Prince Malkam when a gentleman gave me a mirror.”
I take another overwhelming breath filled with a myriad of smells. I lift my hand to cover my nose, then freeze, my fingers in view.
My skin is no longer golden brown. My arm is now covered in hair. Not just normal arm hair, though. I now have what I can only describe as fur, the color of my skin, coating my arms from the end of my cap-sleeve to the tips of my fingers.
But that’s not the most shocking part.
Where once I had nice fingernails, buffed and polished in preparation for this party, I now have inches-long ivory-colored claws. Their shape and coloring don’t match any of the animals in our mountains. I've never seen claws like these before—not even in textbooks. They're completely unique and utterly terrifying.
My chest heaves as I try to draw air. “Caladen—” I hiss out between hurried breaths.
“I’ll carry her out of here,” he murmurs. “Rowena, Alvor, meet us in the library with my parents.”
Caladen scoops his arms under my legs and back, lifting me and my voluminous skirts with ease. Guards fall into place around us, and I’m hurried from the room.
My claws flash in the torchlight lining the hallways of our castle. I don't even notice the rooms we pass until we get to the library.
Caladen sets me down in a big armchair next to a fire. I can scarcely take my eyes off my intimidating claws.
“Stop looking at them,” he says as he pulls up a chair next to me.
“I can’t,” I whisper, and that’s when I realize what feels so wrong in my mouth. “Caladen look at me.”
His eyes meet mine.
“Do I have fangs?”
I bare my teeth, and he flinches.
“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”
My body quakes as it fully hits me just how wrong I feel right now.
Mother and Father seat themselves across from me as Caladen reaches out, light flowing to the tips of his hands as he grips my arm. His magic resumes flowing through me like a cool river, relieving the last of the pain from my fall and the lingering discomfort caused by… whatever happened.
But my arms, hands, and teeth stay the same.
Rowena steps up to my brother’s shoulder, her hand resting on his arm. “Stop wasting your magic, cousin. That’s not how curses are broken.”
Despite the low light in the room, I can see Rowena’s face clearly, and her husband standing in her shadow. “Is that what this is? Am I cursed?”
Her lips thin. “The minute I saw that man holding a mirror, I started across the ballroom, but I was too far away. Did you bleed on it? Where is it anyway?”
Father pulls a package from his pocket, unfolding the fabric and revealing the mirror.
Rowena steps forward, leaning over the surface. “This is much smaller than the mirror King Ferdinand used to curse Alvor and our people. But it could have been made by the same person. The darkness that surrounded Adara looked similar to what we experienced.”
My fingers flex and I'm shocked when my claws extend. My gaze moves from my fingertips back to my cousin. “How do we break it? How can I break my curse?”
Rowena lifts her eyebrows. “You went to the Academy of Radiance to train your magic and they didn’t teach you how to break curses?”
I shake my head. “I never heard about dark magic. I might have also skipped that class to go play in the gardens.”
Rowena smiles. “I’m glad you enjoy your magic, Adara. We were taught by a friend that a sacrifice must be made to break a curse. A droplet of blood may suffice, but this curse may be different.”
Father pricks his finger with his dagger, and I reach forward with inhuman speed, snatching the mirror from his hands before the droplet falls. “Don’t do that. It was a drop of blood that got me cursed in the first place.”
“I will do anything to break this curse, Adara. The Princess of Rovia can’t look like—”
Mother’s elbow meets his ribs.
She turns to me. “Dearest, your appearance is quite altered. If we cannot find a way to break this curse, and soon, then your wedding to Prince Malkam may need to be postponed.”
I stare at the mirror, the reflection of the ceiling tempting me to lift it just enough to see myself.
My hand tightens on the ornate metal as my claws grow longer as my anger intensifies. The edges of my vision turn red. The smells surrounding my family—a mix of noxious fumes and cinnamon sugar sweetness that make me want to gag—become overwhelming.
I grip the handle of the mirror and swing with all my might. It smashes against the carving of a bear in the mantle, the bear’s sharp snout cracking the glass into pieces that fall to the stone floor. My chest heaves as I stare into the oval, now empty of anything except the metal backing, and shard fragments stuck to the edges.
Caladen slaps his thigh. “Well, that didn’t work.”
“What do we do?” The question rips from my throat, accompanied by an animal like snarl. The sound is deep and rough enough to startle myself. My hand comes up to my throat, the tips of my claws landing against fur-covered skin. “I can’t live like this.”
The door to the library flies open, and Prince Malkam enters the room. “Where is she? I must see her,” he shouts as he stomps in our direction. His progress halts when his eyes meet mine. “You… Adara?” The pungent aroma of rot travels through the air—a truer gauge of my betrothed’s reaction to seeing me in this form—than the blank face he's working to maintain.
“It seems, Prince Malkam, that the mirror intended for you cursed me.” I growl.
He takes a step back, his hands shooting out as if to brace himself as his cheeks redden. His scent turns hot and spicy and rage overtakes his features. “No. I will not be betrothed to a monster.”
Father growls and stands as my vision focuses in on the prince. I can see every detail of disgust on his face.
Father steps in front of him, blocking my view. “You promised to marry her. Our kingdoms need this and our trade agreement. We can postpone the wedding until the curse is broken.”
Prince Malkam scoffs. “As if I can get the image of her looking like that out of my mind. No. The betrothal is broken.”
Father's back stiffens. “And our trade agreement?”
Malkam hesitates. “I will discuss it with my father.” Then he spins, almost sprinting from the room.
Caladen folds his arms. “Good. I didn’t like him, anyway.”
I spin on him, my hands going to my hips and clawing some of the fabric there. “You said you liked him when you got back from your hunting trip.”
He shrugs. “I lied. I avoided him the entire time.”
Father turns around, his face having aged ten years in the past ten minutes. My heart sinks as the depressing smells of ashes wafting my direction betrays his real feelings than any twitch of his eye might.
“I’ve ruined everything.” I sink into the couch as tears sting my eyes. My nose twitches and I hold back the need to sniff.
Mother leans forward. “No. It is not your fault.”
My hands fist at my side. “But it is. Malkam told me not to take the gift. I didn’t listen to him.”
Caladen scoffs. “You were being kind. It’s what you do, Adara.”
I grip the armrests, my claws digging into the wood. “I know. It’s what I’ve done. But now… now…” I shove up out of the chair and turn away, staring into the orange flames in the fireplace.
Rowena’s voice draws close. “Now, you draw together and figure this out. Curses won’t stop our family from doing good. Solwain has a reason for this, it’s our job to figure it out.”
I close my eyes, focusing inward as I try to find the constant hum of my magic, desperate to feel the light and peace it brings.
Except there’s nothing inside me but darkness. The spot in the middle of my chest where my magic normally can be found is empty. Well, not exactly empty. It's been filled with a swirling dark fog.
I reach out, gripping the edge of the mantel as my knees falter. Caladen’s arms wrap around me, pulling me into him as I crumple.
“I can’t feel it.” I sob. “My magic is gone.”
***
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