Fresh out of a bath, Chrys’s vulnerable mien was amplified. Her wet hair clung to her rosy skin, her bare feet tentative on the cold floor. She was surprised to see him still in the room, but her expression was not tinged with disgust or annoyance. He had only just covered this ground with her, so for now, was this the furthest he should push? Was it time for him to retreat? Kyzar was adept at war tactics, and while he was indeed in a seven year-long battle to regain his true form, all of his experiences with women were negative, whether he was a man or a monster. Landing him in an even more unfamiliar battlefield, Chrys was not like the pesky ladies of high society he was accustomed to, so he did not know how to appeal to her. It was ironic, how he always thought such women a spitting image of mosquitoes, but now he wanted Chrys to be just that so she would latch on to him.

Grunt.

They could not communicate at all, and she was not attempting to do so. It was downright discouraging, because he could not start any conversation no matter how much he wanted to. He could not do anything in this monstrous body of his.

Grunt, rumble, grunt.

Chrys, towel in hand as she dried her hair, turned to face him. Her posture was guarded, but finally, she was looking at him, and she was going to engage with him. He waited expectantly.

“I can’t read you,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re here for.”

His shoulders dropped, but he did not want to lose hope. With an ugly, stubby finger, he pointed at her.

“You’re here for me?”

Nod.

“To kill me?”

No! He bellowed his rebuff fiercely.

“Do you need my blood?”

No.

“My hair?”

No.

The more suggestions she made, the more confused Kyzar became. He wondered where and what sort of background she came from, because all of her guesses could not possibly come from a normal person with a normal upbringing. Was she from a special tribe, or a community that used human materials to wield magic? Did people commodify her? Was she a wanted criminal? He had many questions, none of which would be answered for as long as he remained a monster.

“I can’t think of anything else.”

Kyzar hesitated, afraid he might frighten her if he was too forward, but he ended up holding his hand out to her. His three-fingered hand with rough purple skin, what a dreadful sight. She stared at it, and she stared at him.

“My…heart?”

He lit up. If she was willing to see past his exterior and open her heart to him, perhaps he had a chance at courting this woman. Shyly, he nodded.

Her expression darkened, but it was not with anger or disgust. She looked glum. He flustered around her, worried that he might have been too presumptuous and offended her in some way. When she got up, he began to panic. She was going to walk out on him, and he would never see her again.

She stopped in front of him, her eyes closed with a sort of finality that he did not like.

“You have to take it yourself.”

Bewildered, he grunted loudly. They did not understand each other at all. Kyzar opened the door and let out a deafening bellow. Within seconds, he had Elliot running towards the room.

“Pray tell me what I can do for you.”

Kyzar pointed at Chrys.

“He asked for my heart. I can’t take it out myself.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped. “What?” He shook his head. “Forgive my lack of manners, my Lady. I meant to say…excuse me?”

It was now Chrys’s turn to be confused. “I misread?”

“Surely he meant it figuratively.”

“I don’t know any figurative use for a heart.”

Her cheeks were a little pink, as if she was embarrassed to be admitting she lacked education and culture. Kyzar found it oddly endearing, for this was a new side of Chrys that he was seeing. But he was also realising that Chrys probably did not grow up with a good support structure around her. After all, even if he had literally wanted her heart, no person with a decent amount of self-love and self-respect would have accepted that fate without a fight like she had. 

“Affection, Lady Chrys, amity, hope, perhaps even love.”

Chrys’s eyes widened. Perhaps, like him, matters of the heart were new to her too. If she was willing, they could grow and learn together. He was probably jumping the gun, but he did not care. He wanted her, and even though he had only known her for too brief a period to be sure, he could see a future with her.

“I refuse.”

Kyzar’s heart sunk. Her voice was hard, and she had her guard up. He had pushed too far, too fast, and he had scared her off. He should have known better than this, but she was his ray of hope in an abyss that isolated him in darkness, and he thought that if he did not hold on to her, she would disappear before anything could happen. Now, he had nothing but regret and self-loathing. After all, he could not say for certain that his feelings towards her were genuine, not when the curse was a huge factor in everything he did and perceived.

“I’ll help you,” Chrys continued, “to the extent I can. But that’s all. No… hearts involved.”

Disappointed, truly, but Kyzar was still hopeful. She wanted to help him, but she wanted no part of his feelings. He would respect that, but perhaps, with time spent and shared between them, her stance could change, and she could let him in.

Nod, nod.

“Would you like to have dessert in the study? I’ll have a maid come up and change your sheets in the meantime.”

Elliot was a godsend and his wingman. Chrys warily accepted, and Kyzar led the way.

Since he became the ruler of Huvestria, the study was where Kyzar spent half of his waking hours. It was where his presence was most felt. After he turned into a monster that could neither speak nor write, a significant part of his duties had to be passed to Elliot, the man he trusted most. He was only thankful that he was still able to read. He would read every paper that found its home on his desk, and while Elliot was a good manager, he could not read Kyzar’s mind and he also did not have the perspicacity or avantgarde boldness to make game-changing decisions. The territory still subsisted reasonably well, but with Kyzar taking a backseat in its administration, thriving had not been on the table for a long time.

With Chrys daintily helping herself to a rich bread and milk pudding, oblivious to his thoughts, Kyzar began to ruminate over the things he wanted to do but could not do. He missed working and trading, sparring and jousting, and he missed being able to talk to and banter with people, even those he was not fond of. It was all the little things that he took for granted in his youth. Now, at age twenty-six, he felt like a wise old man stuck in the body of a purple monster who had wasted seven years doing nothing.

Chrys finished her dessert and stood up. She no longer had a reason to keep him company. Contrary to his expectations that she would simply excuse herself, she rounded the corner of his work table, breezing past stacks of documents to stop at the large windows. Her icy blue eyes softened. It was night time, so he doubted she could see much outside. Curiously, he joined her where she stood.

Grunt. What are you looking at? Grunt.

She was silent for a while. Of course, she did not understand what his grunts meant; no one did and no one could. And, even if she could read his thoughts, who in their right mind would want to hold a conversation with a monster?

“It’s beautiful outside,” she whispered.

Grunt. What’s beautiful? My balding shrubs with icicles for flowers? Or, is it the winter in general? Talk to me more.

He followed her eyes; she was either gazing at the gardens, or past the stone walls into the dense forests behind his castle. He harrumphed questioningly.

“Would I be allowed beyond the walls?”

Chrys never had any requests for him, so how could he dare to say no to her very first one? He nodded. Elliot could handle the finer details and tell her that she had to be escorted at all times. Home to wild animals and the bulk of his hidden army, the forest was a dangerous place for the unfamiliar, the uninitiated and the unwelcome. The best he could do in his state was to somehow get Elliot to assign a dedicated knight to her, or he could bring her out himself. At least for her first trip outside, he would insist on being her escort. His presence would let his army know that she was not an enemy.

Was a picnic out in the woods going to be Kyzar’s first date?