A Dark and Deadly Beauty

Prologue- The Beltane Children’s fête was beautiful and bustling. Children’s laughter echoed from every corner of the palace grounds and the sounds of troubadours filled the air. While the night-time bonfires of Beltane were only for adults, with their copious drinking, naked dancing, and s*x, the day was for children and their families. The sky overhead was cornflower blue and fat clouds of pure white floated lazily by. The warm air carried refreshing breezes and tantalizing scents across the fairground. Spring had bloomed fully, and today it showered the folk of the palace with its loveliness. The Children’s fête at the palace had always been Beck’s favorite annual event, ever since he was a child himself, toddling behind Faren in the sunshine. Every year, the King and Queen invited folk from the palace and guilds to bring their children and celebrate the bountiful earth. Maid or master…all were welcome. Though he was grown now, he still loved the color, the vibrancy, and the sheer life that pulsed around him as he stood in the heart of the fête. There were stalls selling cordials and ale, pasties and meat pies. Vendors offered skewers of grilled meats and hot candied nuts. Children ran around with berry-stained mouths and sugary hands. Dance troupes clad in gauzy linens entertained on a stage in the center of the fair. Games of ring toss and darts were chanced at stalls up and down the aisles, the players all hoping to win bragging rites and boiled sweets. A group of puppeteers put on a show for a clapping children, most no older than four- their ruddy faces glowing with joy at the gimmicks of the foolish rabbit-puppets playing out before them. As for Beck, Faren had dismissed him to enjoy the fair by himself while the Prince swilled wine with the pretty, purple-haired woman from the Flight Guild. Now, he stood in line waiting to buy a hot sausage fresh off the spit. He was thankful the stall was near the children’s puppet show, settled in the shade of the nearby woods. As a water-fay, Beck wilted easily in the heat. Despite the cool shade, he knew his cheeks were bright red and he could feel a bead of sweat slide down the crack of his buttocks. After he bought his sausage, he planned to find a glass of chilled mead and a nice tree to sit against. What type of sausage…that was the question of the moment. Pork, with a dollop of black pepper sauce, or chicken and parsley cream…Beck’s stomach grumbled just trying to decide. “Pork,” the thought firmly. You can’t go wrong with a classic. He handed over his coin and took his paper wrapped parcel of greasy meat to a sun-dappled spot of grass beneath a narrow birch tree. He bit into his sausage, the crisp skin popping between his teeth and releasing a flood of fat and spice onto his tongue. While he chewed, he watched. Women fluttered in light cotton skirts from stall to stall, buying ribbons and flowers to braid in their hair. Men stood in clusters and smoked pipe leaf or drank from frothy mugs, blustering and joking with one another. A few paces away from him, Beck saw the group of children sitting happily in the grass, their belly laughs and squeals of delight making their little shoulders wiggle. One young lad, who looked about three and had a halo of orange ringlets hanging over his pointed, bat-like ears, had even stood to mimic the comedic actions of the puppets. The boy had a knack for it, Beck mused, as the child raised his hand and brought it down in a mock slap with believable flair. Another bite of sausage, and Beck was contemplating laying in the dirt and dozing beneath this very hospitable tree. Then, something struck his senses like a wave. Not a noise, but a crushing silence. He turned his head toward the children, and nearly choked in horror. The children were still, frozen in shock and fear.The puppeteers had abandoned their props and stood, panic painted on their faces. The little red-haired boy trembled on his feet, a sob threatening to burst from his throat. And there was a cougar, thin and starving, with his eyes trained on the little lad, ready to pounce. Around them, the fête played on in a chorus of movement and sounds. Beck didn’t move. He dared not breathe. He cast his eyes around to see if there was a nearby source of water. Even a bucket or a glass he could use to try and douse the cat and send him away. One of the puppeteers spoke, his voice low and fraught. “Slowly, lad. Walk backwards towards my voice.” But the boy was just a babe, and he did what any babe would do…he opened his quivering lips and wailed. “Momma… ” the pitiful call filled the air. It cracked Beck’s heart in two. And it triggered something violent in the cougar. The cat leapt, and caught the crying child’s arm in it’s razor-sharp teeth. In a flash, Beck was on his feet. The puppeteers had run, placing themselves between the cougar and the rest of the children. But the beast wasn’t interested. It was dragging it’s little fairy prize back into the dark,dark forest. A red-haired girl, older and brave, started screaming and trying to break away from the puppeteers holding her back. The boy’s sister, and the anguish in her voice was like a knife. “Bailey!” she cried. “Please….Bailey!” Beck’s body moved with no plan or foresight. He simply had to act. He had no water to bend, no blade on his hip. He had only his fists and the bull horns on his head to fight the cat off of the child. In a moment of courage and stupidity, he jumped on the beast, clinging to it’s emaciated side, and started punching it in the head. A million thoughts raced through his head as he beat at the trashing animal. Where were the guards? Why had no one else heard the screams? Where the f**k was the Dragon Prince when his valet was going to be eaten and shat out by a crazed cat in the middle of the stars-forsaken forest? They were dragged well and truly into the thicket now, the hunger and desperation of the cougar boundless.Hope of help was fading from Beck’s mind. No blow of his fist or prick of his horns was slowing it down. The child in it’s mouth had stopped shrieking,and instead only made soft baby-ish whimpers as the blood stained the earthen floor beneath them. “He could still probably run,” Beck thought. “ If I can get the cat to let him go, the boy could probably run to his sister. “ A selfish voice inside of his head snarled. “Yes, you i***t. But then you will be left with the starving cat to die alone in the forest.” “It will be fine,” he told the fear in his mind. “As long as the wain makes it, it will be fine.” Quickly, he planned his move. If he could spear the cat in the throat with his horn, it may drop the boy. His horns were not long enough or sharp enough to kill, but he could hurt it and give the child a fighting chance. He clasped the beast's neck with both hands.He closed his eyes and prepared himself. He prayed to the stars for valor. Then, the sickening squelch of ripping flesh filled his ears. The creature stilled and dropped. He thought for a moment that the child’s arm had been ripped off. Wrath and rage burned inside of him. But when he opened his eyes, he saw a bronze goddess of flesh and blood. Obsidian hair and inky tiger’s stripes printed onto her flesh. Her face was freckled with blood and gore, the front of her linen dress stained with sticky crimson. And, in her grisly hand, was the long,muscle-bound spine of the cougar. Dumb-struck, Beck could only state the obvious. “You ripped out it’s spine.” “Yes,” she said coolly, draping the bones gracefully over her shoulder, like a fine shawl instead of viscera.. “I thought you may have wanted some help rescuing this little moppet. Although you certainly were making a valiant effort, despite having no weapon or any apparent Warfare skills.” “Well, no one else was jumping to help the wain.” The raven-haired woman stopped down toward the still crying child and freed his arm from the dead cat’s mouth. “I can see that,” her voice took on a dagger edge. “I’ll need to speak to my men, and the Captain of the Guard, about that very pathetic fact. A fête is no excuse for folk to abandon their duties. Here, hold this.” She slung the spine, meat and all, into Beck’s arms. “Aye, little one,” she scooped the hiccuping child into her arms. “Let’s find your mam and get you to the Healers.” “I’m sorry, but who are your men?” Beck puzzled “I’m the new head of the Warfare Guild, Electra Durand. Er… Lady Electra, now…I suppose.” “Well, Lady-Electra-Now-I-Suppose. Thank you for…” “No thanks necessary, Mr…” “Reed. Beckett Reed, valet to the Dark Prince. But in all sincerity, thank you. I was near shitting myself trying to figure out how to take that thing down. Though, I’d appreciate it if you kept the self-shitting a secret. I’ll never hear the end of it from the guards if they heard about it.” She let out a soft laugh and adjusted the toddler nestled in her arms. “Your secret is safe, sir. Though… you were the only man brave enough to defend this helpless babe. You owe no one- no one at all- an explanation for your actions.” Beck walked behind her, the small warrior woman caked in blood and sweat, as she rubbed the ringlets on the little boy's head. Together they strode toward the sunshine, into the bright world outside of the woods.