The Subtle Beauty by Ann Hunter

her.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I wish to see the prince.”
    The gryphon placed his claw on her shoulder and pushed her down. “You shouldn’t have come.”
    Glory’s heartbeat burst into a sprint. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
    The gryphon lowered his beak to her neck, crouching over her. “Get out.”
    He lifted his claw, and Glory scuttled from under him as fast as she could, backing away on her hands and heels like a crab. The gryphon turned, holding his head high and panting. “Do not ever return to this door.”
    Glory spun onto her feet and bolted to her room.
     
    Dear Colin, I’ve been kidnapped.
    Glory ground the black words into the soft parchment, nearly tearing it.
    I am being held against my will in a black castle near Seahorse Reed, by a vicious monster. Blackthorn Keep sits high on the moors of the East, near Sigil’s Gate. Come at once, or I will be utterly destroyed by the beast.
    --Glory
     
    Glory rolled the note and bound it with a string she had found. Now came the trick of sending it out. Who would take care of it without allowing it to be intercepted?
    A knock fell on the door. Glory traipsed over and opened it.
    “Dinner is served, Your Grace,” said a servant, “will you come?”
    Glory did not want to endure the sight of the gryphon again today, if such an animal was allowed at the dinner table, and declined. “I am not hungry.” It was a lie.
    “I will send your apologies.”
    “That will not be necessary.” Glory had no regrets to send. Instead, she placed the letter to Colin in the servant’s hands. “Could you see to it that this letter discreetly finds its way to the page-boy?”
    The servant accepted with a bow. “I will handle the matter with the utmost of care, My Lady.”
     
    After her nightly ritual, Glory slipped into bed. Outside, she heard the same tune as the evening before. Her chest tightened with yearning again, but she stifled it all with a growl and pulled her pillow over her head. She no longer heard the song, but the steady drumming of her heart to the beat she would not answer. Eventually her eyes grew heavy and sleep found her.
     
    Houses burned, children cried for their mothers, bodies piled in the street. A man in a black cloak threw a torch into a church and swung his bloody sword at innocent souls. The orange, smoky haze turned black, billowing into the air, taking the shape of an ominous black castle. A woman inside screamed in agony, gripping her wide belly.
    “A curse on this house, Aowyn, and all you bear in it,” said a voice.
    “No!” pled the woman, “Spare my child. Take me instead.”
    “A cursed life will he lead, Aowyn, until the day he dies, but we will take you for the sins of his father.”
     
    Glory bolted upright, gripping her stomach. It growled loudly. Blast! She cursed. And what an awful dream . She tried to settle back into bed, assuring herself it was only a dream. She tossed restlessly. Why on Earth would she dream something like that?
    She lay on her side, facing the mirror. She closed her eyes and invited sleep to return, but it would not come willingly. A soft light filtered through her eyelids. She opened her eyes. At first she thought the moonlight reflected off of the mirror, but when she squinted at it she saw something else. She looked over her shoulder. A translucent figure hovered near the door. Glory’s breath caught. A woman with wavy hair and serene features smiled at her. She wore a flowing gown in Glory’s favorite shade of blue. The light around the woman was bright white at the center and forest green at the edges. Glory pushed back the covers.
    “Who are you?”
    The woman only continued smiling. Her nose wrinkled. Glory saw faint freckles across the bridge of the woman’s nose.
    “What do you want?” Glory’s voice trembled.
    The woman turned toward the closed bedroom door and passed ethereally through the heavy wood.
    Glory stepped on to the cold floor. She winced, but padded on,