In the comforting warmth offered by the castle, Chrysanthyllis had forgotten that it was still winter in Huvestria. With the beast by her side, she took her first steps out of the manor.

He led her to the snow-pelted back gardens, the place she had seen from the windows of his study the night before. In the day time, the sun shone softly on them. It was cold enough that they could see their breaths in front of them, but Chrysanthyllis was in good spirits. Her first wintry night in Huvestria felt like a faraway memory from the pages of someone else’s diary. She was grateful for the monster’s generosity in allowing her this indulgence.

In her head, Chrysanthyllis had begun to call the monster Zion, meaning sanctuary. Despite his fearsome appearance, his attitude towards her had been anything but. He had not reacted badly even when she behaved insolently; he simply accepted that she did not want to engage with him past the boundaries of a transactional relationship. He granted her wish to explore the natural outdoors, providing her with warm clothing and protection to brave the cold temperatures. In his manor, she had everything that the Keashire palace denied her.

Zion stopped at the stone wall, gesturing for her to come nearer. The stones looked ordinary, until he pushed out an entire slab of it out, revealing a hole in the wall that was large enough for either of them to crawl through. It being a matter of castle security, Chrysanthyllis was taken aback that he was openly showing this secret passage to her. She turned to Elliot, but he was smiling at her, shaking his head, advising her without words that she was worrying needlessly.

Through the hole in the wall, Chrysanthyllis followed Zion out, and he was ready to help her up when she emerged from the other side. She hesitated at first to place her hand in his, but he was warm and firm, a gentleness she was unused to. He seemed just as tentative as she was, as if he too was worried about touching her. Perhaps, what had happened between them in her bedroom was weighing down on him. For a man to be in the presence of a woman in a state of undress, especially if he thought her a noble, could spell disaster for him if he did not want to be married. He was probably worried that that incident could come back and bite him in the future when his curse was broken.

Life at the palace had taught Chrysanthyllis everything that a perfect gentleman should be: regal, powerful and level-headed, a noble who would elevate her standing and never let her name get dragged in the mud. But Zion was far better than all of those qualities combined. He was kind and thoughtful. As soon as she was steady on her feet, he loosened his fingers around her hand, letting her be the one to decide if she wanted to continue holding on to him, or cease contact. It was her first, small taste of freedom, so she chose the latter, thanking him for his help. As usual, he grunted in response. 

In companiable silence, with Elliot following after them at a distance, Chrysanthyllis and Zion trudged through the thick snow that blanketed the lands. It was truly a sight to behold. The trees, some full-bodied and some barren of leaves, held strong, enduring the harsh temperatures, shading them and sheltering them from any falling snow. Chrysanthyllis loved it out here, and she was sure she would love it just as much during any other season. She touched the snow, the trees, the plants, and it was all just amazing. She wanted to stay here forever.

When Elliot laid out a mat in the middle of a small clearing, near a frozen pond, Chrysanthyllis was thrilled. She wanted to spend the entire day out in the forest, and their preparations were telling her she could do exactly that. A part of her wondered when all of these allowances they granted her would cease, because nothing good ever came without a price, but the part of her that was starved of these experiences did not and could not care. Life and its blessings were transient, and she would live in the moment for the things that brought her soul peace and joy.

Zion settled on the mat, and after dropping off a large picnic basket, Elliot excused himself and returned to the castle. It was just the two of them now. Chrysanthyllis sat down too, leaning backwards so that she could bury her hands in the snow. She had felt it from the start, but she could feel it even more now: the air of the forest was rich with magic. Energy flowed between her fingers, through her wisps of hair, across her flushed skin. It was electrifying. The seal on her body was pulsating, almost as if it was reacting to the air, but for once, it was not causing her pain. There was something or someone very special living in this place that could quite possibly weaken her seal.

Grunt, grunt.

A ham sandwich sat on the mat in front of her. Chrysanthyllis murmured a thank you and accepted the offering of food. They ate in silence, and when she finished her bread, Zion was quick to hand her a bowl of fruit. There were red strawberries and green grapes, meant for sharing, so she scooted closer to him and picked one out to pop into her mouth. He started at first, and she started too, but it was not like she could ask him what was wrong and expect an answer back. Instead, she nudged the bowl in his hand closer to his own body. His shoulders loosened an ounce, and he quietly helped himself to a strawberry. 

Sated, Chrysanthyllis helped Zion pack all of their dishes into the basket and rolled the mat up, leaving the items near the stone wall. Then, he led her deeper into the woods. Around half an hour in, they arrived at a cliff. As they neared its edge, Zion gingerly wrapped his fingers around her arm, keeping her by his side. His grip was firm, but not painful, so unlike the way the empress and her loyal followers treated her. To her, the people at the palace were far bigger monsters than Zion could ever be.

From birth, Chrysanthyllis’s life at the palace had not been easy. Neither the emperor nor the empress looked kindly upon her; their eyes were always full of disdain. While the emperor ignored her more than he harmed her, the empress actively and frequently caused her distress. She did not remember much of her childhood, but with the maids always chattering about her outside her room, it was hard not to know her own life’s story from an outsider’s perspective like the back of her hand.

Chrysanthyllis’s birth had been planned, but unwelcome. It was as if the moment she was born into the world, the empress was overcome with revulsion and rage. Within the palace walls, an open secret that travelled via mouths of all classes in hushed tones, was that Sadie Corpseul, mother of the Keashire empire, hated her own child from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toenails.

From baby to toddler, Chrysanthyllis was cared for by a wet nurse. But as soon as she held her first spoon and took her first steps, the lady she considered mother and guardian was torn from her. Casted to the countryside on direct orders from the empress that she be bequeathed an early retirement for toiling so hard to raise a defective infant, but tragically killed when her carriage was hit by another in the opposite direction around a sharp bend in the road on her way to exile. No one believed that her death was an accident, but to accuse the empress when she had no reason to harm the nurse was to ask for execution. Chrysanthyllis was then engulfed in darkness, cut off from the world. 

No one was allowed to see her or talk to her. The maids would come and go, placing her meals outside the room and collecting the used ware all while treating her like a nameless ghost. The food was also always lacking for a growing toddler, so she passed every day with a growling stomach. If she called out to them, they were killed on the spot, right before her very eyes, drenching the carpets outside her room a deep red that never left her mind even when the stains were washed away.

As an unavoidable result of her upbringing, with a gaunt, wilted appearance completely unbefitting her age, Chrysanthyllis only learnt to speak at six years old. Shortly after she turned seven, the empress called upon her for the first time, and it was then she was placed under the seal that covered her body and consumed her if she were ever to attempt to cast the magic she had discovered in her lonesome days imprisoned in her room. Even her magic, the one thing she could call her own, her only source of solace, she could not have.