For a few moments, Tom just stood there, too astonished to say a word. The man had lied; Beauty did not want to be with him.

He let out a long, slow sigh. He should have known that it was too good to be true. The only thing to do was let her go; he wasn't desperate enough to hold her against her will just to be human again.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward. "Um, I can see there's been a misunderstanding," he began as politely as he could. "I'm very sorry. I can see you don't want to stay here, and I honestly don't blame you. You're more than welcome to leave."

Beauty turned around, flinching at the sight of him. "And how am I supposed to do that?" she demanded. "Do you have a carriage or at least a horse?"

"No," Tom admitted. "I guess you'll have to walk?"

"Walk?" she shrieked indignantly. "Me, a lovely young lady, walk in the dirt, like a commoner?! For your information, all the men back home would gladly allow me to ride their horses instead of walking in the dirt! Just because you're an ugly beast doesn't mean you're going to make me degrade myself to walking!"

Tom bit his lip. He had been brought up to be courteous to everyone, especially ladies. Yet lady or not, she was really starting to get on his nerves. "Well, I don't see any other way you can go home," he said placidly. Then, although his instincts were screaming at him not to even offer, he added, "Unless, of course, you'd like to stay here."

Beauty's lovely face was scrunched up in a furious glare, but Tom could tell she was thinking about it. "Fine!" she growled. "I'll stay here. Just stay away from me!" And with that, she stormed off further into the castle.

Tom stood out in the rain. Okay, so she doesn't act as nice as she looks, he thought. But she is here. Maybe if I keep being nice to her, she'll be able to see that I'm not just a beast. And she might even try to be nice to me as well. This could still work out...

***

During the next two weeks, Tom tried to make the best impression on Beauty. He gave her one of the finest rooms in the castle, gave her his mother's beautiful old dresses to wear, and cooked all of her meals. He even tried to stay out of her way most of the time, so she wouldn't feel pressured to like him.

Yet there was just no pleasing Beauty. When she wasn't busy coming up with more cruel insults for him, she kept whining all of the time. She complained about not having servants to cater to her needs, like any other prince would have. She complained about wearing his mother's ball gowns, which, according to her, were out of style. She even complained about the stray hairs she found in her food. Although Tom apologized for that repeatedly, he couldn't help himself. Most of his shedding was caused by stress, and the source of his stress was Beauty.

And while Tom tried to be patient and treated her like an honored guest, he was at his wits end. She was snobby, rude, and selfish--all the qualities that were despised in a person, let alone a woman. It wasn't hard to see why her father didn't mind giving her up. He couldn't imagine why all the men in her village wanted to marry her, unless her looks were the only thing that they cared about.

By the end of the second week, Tom had made up his mind. Curse or no curse, there was no way he was going to marry Beauty. If that meant returning to a life of solitude as a beast, he would gladly accept it.

He paced around in the entrance room, trying to come up with a polite way to say that she had to leave. Even though he was fed up with her, he was still a prince, and being a prince meant that having to handle everything in a calm, diplomatic manner, especially when dealing with enemies.

All of a sudden, there was a loud knock at the doors. Tom's eyes widened. Maybe her father's come to take her back, he thought excitedly. This was, of course, unlikely, but he still eagerly bolted towards the door and threw it open with such force that it nearly tore off the hinges.

Beauty's father was not outside. Instead, there stood a short, gray-haired woman in a purple cloak. Her face was round and wrinkled, yet the sparkle in her brown eyes was like one of a young girl's. She reached into her cloak, pulling out a rolled-up scroll and a pair of glasses. She put on her glasses, unrolled the scroll, and stared at it. "Prince Thomas of Danin?" she inquired, looking up at him.

"Um...yes?" Tom replied, astonished she not only knew his name, but also wasn't the slightest bit thrown by his appearance.

"Ah, yes, you've been cursed all right, just like it says," she said, looking back and the scroll and placing it back in her cloak. "Well, Your Highness, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Agatha Winthrop, your fairy godmother."

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