The best thing--really, the only thing--that could be said about a curse-gone-wrong at one of her sisters' last elaborate parties was that it really did accustom one to accept anything; why, Beauty had even been able to see the ruination of her father's fleet as a reason to seek out the calm of the countryside, and the thick bristly hair covered her hair to toe as a method of disposing of her most persistent suitors.
Which was why this latest disaster--Father, apparently having gone and found himself lost in a notorious prince's dungeons--did not make her so much as blink an eye; Beauty had found that a roar and an upturned table on her part did much to make any frivolous royal perfectly helpful and eager to please.
And if he should be willing to bargain a stay in his castle for a chance to break her spell at least--well then, so much the better.