She approached on her hands and knees. But she had only come a few paces into the room when she stopped.

"Go on!" Lord Gregory hissed at her angrily; the Prince had not yet noticed.

But when he turned and looked at her crossly, still she did not move, her head bowed, her eyes fixed on him. And when she saw the anger and outrage in his face, she turned suddenly and ran on her hands and knees past Lord Gregory and into the passage.

"Stop her, stop her!" the Prince cried out before he could prevent himself. And when Beauty saw Lord Gregory's boots beside her, she rose to her full height and ran faster. He caught her by the hair and she screamed as she felt herself pulled back and thrown over his shoulder.

She beat on his back with her fists, kicking, as he held her knees tight, and she wept hysterically.

She could not hear the Prince's angry voice, but she could not make out the words, and when let down again at his feet, she ran again so that two Pages came pounding after her.

She struggled as she was gagged and bound, and she did not know where she was being taken. It was dark and they were descending stairs, and she knew an appalling moment of regret and panic.

They would hand her in the Hall of Punishments and if she could not endure even that, how would she endure the village?

But a strange calm came over her even before her captors had reached the Slaves' Hall, and when she was thrust in a dark cell to lie on the cold stone floor with her bonds cutting into her flesh, she knew a quiet exhilaration.

Yet she continued to weep, her sex pulsing it seemed with her sobs and there was only silence around her.

It was almost morning when she was roused. Lord Gregory snapped his fingers as the Pages undid her fetters and lifted her to her feet on legs that were weak and unsteady. She felt the wallop of Lord Gregory's belt.

"Spoilt, disgraceful Princess!" he hissed between his teeth, but she was drowsy, softened with desire and dreaming of the village. She gave a little cry as she felt his angry blows, but she realized with wonder that the Pages were gagging her again and binding her hands to the back of her neck roughly. She was going to the village!

"O Beauty, Beauty," came Lady Juliana's voice crying beside her. "Why did you become afraid, why did you try to run, you had been so good and strong, my darling."

"Spoilt, arrogant one," Lord Gregory cursed her again as she was driven towards the open doorway. She could see the morning sky over the treetops. "You did it deliberately!" Lord Gregory whispered in her ear as he whipped her onto the garden path. "Well, you shall rue the day, and how bitterly you will weep and there will be no one there to hear you."

Beauty struggled to keep from smiling. But could they have seen a smile behind the cruel leather bit in her teeth? It did not matter. She was running fast, with her knees lifted, around the side of the castle as Lord Gregory pointed the way, his blows quick and smarting, and Lady Juliana wept as she ran along, too. "O, Beauty, I can't bear it."

The stars were not yet faded away, yet the air was already warm and caressing. They crossed the empty prison yard, entering the courtyard between the great doors, and lowered drawbridge of the castle.

And there stood the huge cart of slaves, already tethered to the heavy white mares who would pull it down to the village.

For one moment Beauty knew terror. But a delicious abandon took hold of her.

The slaves wailed as they huddled together behind the low railing, and the driver had already taken his place while the cart was surrounded by mounted soldiers.

"One more," Lord Gregory called to the Captain of the Guard, and Beauty heard the cries of the slaves grow louder.

She was lifted by heavy hands, her legs dangling in the air.

"All right, little Princess," the Captain laughed as he set her down in the cart, and Beauty felt its rough wood beneath her feet as she struggled to keep her balance. For one instant, she glanced back and saw the tear-stained face of Lady Juliana. "Why, she is actually suffering," Beauty thought in amazement.

And high above she suddenly saw the Prince and Lord Stefan in the only torchlit window of the dark castle. It seemed the Prince saw her look up; and the slaves about her, seeing the window as well, set up a chorus of vain pleading. The Prince turned away miserably just as Lord Stefan had turned his back on the captives earlier.

Beauty felt the cart move. The great wheels creaked and the horses' hooves rang on the cobblestones. All about her the frantic slaves tumbled against one another. She looked before her and almost at once saw the calm blue eyes of Prince Tristan.

He struggled towards her as she moved towards him, though around them the slaves flinched and squirmed to avoid the spirited thrashing from the guards who rode along beside them. Beauty felt the deep cut of a strap on her calf, but Prince Tristan was no pressed against her.

Her br**sts were sealed to his warm chest and her cheek rested against his shoulder. His thick rigid organ passed between her wet thighs and stroked her sex roughly. Struggling not to fall, she mounted the organ and felt it slip inside her. She thought of the village, the auction soon to begin, all the terrors that awaited her. And when she thought of her dear defeated Prince and her poor, grieving Lady Juliana she was again smiling.

But Prince Tristan filled her mind as he struggled, it seemed, with his whole body to pierce her and enfold her.

Even among the cries of the others, she heard his whisper behind his gag: "Beauty, are you frightened?"

"No!" she shook her head. She pressed her tortured mouth to his, and as he lifted her with his thrusts, she felt his heart pounding against her.