Before Beauty by Brittany Fichter

born, and it had filled the servants with
hope. All of Ever’s forefathers had possessed the strength, but
according to Garin, none had ever possessed it the way Ever did.
The strength was a part of him, just as the Fortress had always
been. He didn’t know how to live without it.
    The first time Ever had begun to
understand what a power he possessed was when he was young, only
six. He had informed the master of swords that he wanted to learn
how to fight. Greatly amused, the master of swords had given him a
small wooden training sword, and taught him a few blocks and
thrusts. Ever had then proceeded to challenge the man to a duel. A
few of the courtiers and servants came to watch, smiling with
affection at their young, ambitious prince. The master had begun by
giving him a few gentle, obvious attacks, when blue fire suddenly
burst from Ever’s arm and down his sword. In the blink of an eye,
the master of swords was on the ground, the breath knocked out of
him as Ever stood over him with his little wooden
weapon.
    After that, Rodrigue had had to be
the one to train Ever, as no one else had the strength to withstand
him. As Ever had gotten older he had eventually learned better how
to restrain the natural fire that came from within him. The power
touched more than his body, however. He was also very sensitive to
other people. He could often tell when someone was lying, and his
parents found early on that they could not leave or enter the
Fortress without his knowledge.
    The strength that filled him had
always inspired confusion, even fear in many. His father had
approved of this and encouraged him to use it to his full
advantage. He’d ended many battles before they were begun, simply
by intimidating enemies in a face-to-face meeting.
    What kind of strength could exist
that compared to what Ever had been gifted with? What new strength
was there to appease this curse?
    It almost didn’t matter. Even
Ever’s strength had all but disappeared when the curse had taken
effect. The blazing blue flames in his eyes had dulled until they
were all but extinguished. Now he wasn’t just weak by his own
standards. But by any man’s. Besides, he didn’t want a new
strength. He wanted his old strength back.
    Still, he’d searched every piece
of writing in the Fortress’s Tower of Annals, and nothing had
suggested itself as a possible new strength. That was, until the
day the merchant had arrived.
    It was the way Ansel had worded
his description of his daughter that had suggested the idea to
Ever. She has a strong heart and a quick
mind like no other , Ansel had said. What
if she could bring a new kind of strength, Ever had suddenly
wondered. Perhaps the strength of her heart would be enough to
satisfy the Fortress’s demands. Then her strength could mend his
body, the thing that had been broken. And if his broken body was
whole again, he could prove that he was willing to die by facing
Nevina, whose men were now camped at the foot of his
mountain.
    As Ever continued to slowly climb
the tower steps, the memory of that night with the merchant filled
him with shame, as it always did. Ansel’s pleas for mercy had
nearly moved him. Aside from his one night of too much drink, Ever
had never considered threatening to kill a whole family simply to
get his way, particularly with a sickness. It was the coward’s way.
But, he told himself, this was the only hope he’d found in the
months of his searching. If it worked, it would be for the good of
the whole kingdom.
    Of course, there was the question
of whether the young woman would cooperate or not. It was obvious
that she hated him. He couldn’t exactly blame her for that. His
hasty, childish outburst had must have greatly altered her life.
The rebellious defiance had been there in her eyes the entire time
they had spoken.
    As much as he disliked her, Ever
had to admit after the encounter was over, that she was indeed not
weak of heart. And that observation watered the seed of hope