He wrenched Tulip from the Prince’s clutches and helped Nanny to her feet.
“What are you playing at, sir? Are you deranged?” Then, turning his attention to the ladies, he said, “Go to your rooms, ladies, I will take care of this.”
The ladies waited in their rooms with their bags hastily packed. They had no idea what to think of the entire matter. Clearly the Prince was suffering from some sort of fever from his wounds and exhaustion. They sat in silence until Lumiere came into the room. His face looked grieved.
“Princess, I see you have packed your things. If you and Nanny could follow me, I will escort you to your carriage.” He could see the numerous questions written on Tulip’s face. “We think it’s best you go home to your mother and father. The Prince will write you when he is feeling, more…like himself again.”
Nanny spoke. “Yes, I think that is best. Come now, child, all will be well. I promise.”
And the ladies walked through the castle and into the courtyard to meet the carriage with as much dignity and composure as they could gather in light of their terrible ordeal.
The princess never heard from the Prince again. The Prince had stopped raging on about spells and evil curses; he saw how they looked at him when he did. They thought he was mad. He couldn’t blame them. He often thought himself mad. He almost wished he were. He had taken to keeping withindoors since he had chased Tulip out of the castle. He never left his room, didn’t allow the servants to open the drapes, and lit only one candle in the evenings, saying the doctor advised it for his recovery. The only visitor allowed was Gaston.
“You’re sure this is how you’d like to handle this, Prince?”
The Prince did his level best not to slip into one of the fits of rage that seemed to seize him so easily these days.
“I am quite sure, my friend. It’s the only way. You’re to ride out to Morningstar Castle to officially break off the engagement.”
“And what of the marriage settlement? The king will be destitute without your promised arrangement.”
The Prince smiled. “I’m sure he will. But that is what he deserves for flinging his stupid daughter at me! She never loved me, Gaston! Never! It was all lies! All a means to get to my money, for herself and her father’s kingdom!”
Gaston saw he was getting worked up. He didn’t bother arguing that he thought Tulip actually did love him. He had tried convincing him of that in the first few weeks of his breakdown. But nothing Gaston said convinced him. Something must have happened that day in the hedge maze to make the Prince believe Tulip didn’t love him, and there was nothing anyone could say to convince him of the contrary. Whatever it was, Gaston had to trust that his friend was right. Tulip might have been playing him a fool all along. Frankly, Gaston didn’t think she was smart enough to play such a clever trick; he hadn’t marked her as a mercenary. He had thought he’d ch
osen so wisely when he originally made the match, and now he felt sorry for the trouble it had caused.
“I will ride out this day, my good friend. You just rest.”
The Prince smiled a wicked smile that distorted his face in the vague candlelight, casting villainous shadows. It almost made Gaston frightened of his friend.
The Prince hadn’t left his rooms for months; he was held captive by his fear and anger, which were mounting by the day. The only servant he now saw was Lumiere, and he was rather oblique on matters of the household when the Prince inquired. He stood there holding a small gold candelabrum, making sure not to cast light on his master’s face, or his own, for fear of showing the pure terror he was trying to conceal while looking at the Prince’s form.
The Prince looked ghastly, pale and worn. His eyes were like black pits and his features were becoming more animal than human. Lumiere hadn’t the heart to tell the Prince that everyone else in the castle had become enchanted after he broke Tulip’s heart. It became clear to Lumiere that the Prince did not see the servants as they saw themselves. Whatever he saw was horrifying. He kept going on about statues moving about the castle, casting their eyes in his direction when he wasn’t looking.
Lumiere and the other servants saw nothing of the sort, and not a single person on staff wished the Prince harm. Lumiere knew it was only a matter of time before he, too, was transformed into some household object like the others, and then his master would be left alone with only the horrors that were conjured in his mind.
Lumiere wished there was another way; he wished the Prince hadn’t taken this path, dragging the entire household along with him into darkness. How he missed the young man the Prince had once been, before cruelty overtook him and besmirched his heart.
Mrs. Potts had reminded them with stories of what a promising young man he had once been, and Cogsworth still held faith the Prince would change his heart and break the curse; they all did. In the meantime, it was up to Lumiere to take care of him as long as he could.
“Won’t you please go outside, Prince? You are withering withindoors. You need to see the sun and breathe fresh air!”
The Prince dreaded the idea of anyone seeing him as he was. After the ruin of Tulip’s family, his malformation progressed beyond his wildest fears.
He looked like a monster.
Like a beast.
Clearly there was nothing he could do to break the curse; the sisters had lied. They had never intended for him to be able to break the curse; all his efforts with Tulip were in vain.
Lumiere was still standing there, waiting for his answer. The Prince was only reminded of that when he heard the man clear his throat.
“Yes, man, I heard you! I will go outside but not until nightfall! And I don’t want anyone lurking in the halls to catch sight of me, do you understand? I don’t want to see a single soul! If someone is afoot, they are to avert their gaze from me!”
Lumiere nodded in understanding.
“Shall I arrange dinner in the main dining hall, sir? It’s been some time since we’ve had the opportunity to serve you at tableside.”