Thank you. I love the comments
I had thought to kill him in that last week before I left home. I would accept my imprisonment so that I could end his wretched life. I wasn't sure how I would accomplish such a task. I lacked all knowledge of poisons and our small village had no apothecary capable of killing more than a fever.
A knife would have done it. A slim, sharp and lethal instrument that I could plunge into his wicked heart.
Unfortunately our only blades were strong and sturdy kitchen knives, good only for chopping potatoes. Besides, they could not be spared.
One day, early in my stay, I found my weapon buried under some papers in a bureau drawer.
The handle was decorated with carvings of leaves and vines and the blade flashed silver in the gloom. It was a pretty thing, easily concealed in my sleeve. It would do. I would bury it in his neck as he bent over his soup.
Somehow, he knew. I expected anger but instead he sighed and his voice was sad.
'For you or for me?' He asked, raising an eyebrow as he prised it from my trembling hand.
'If you, that I will not allow. If me, you are wasting your time. I cannot be killed.'
He took me then to his room and showed me a spider in a glass case. A strange and ugly decoration for a bedroom.
'She is harmless. She died long ago.' His voice was gentle.
'I honour her courage and her last fruitless mission by conserving her remains in this display.'
He propelled me towards the ugly thing.
'There are none like her in this land. You would have to travel long, wearisome roads to far-away places to find such as she.'
'Shy and docile mostly, but fearsome when cornered. She could kill a man with one bite.'
'But not, it seems, a Beast.'
