As it turned out, Cage was right. Kat didn't get to speak with him freely again. The next morning, she found his bed empty and the wolf mask gone. With a heavy heart, she'd left the breakfast tray on a table and headed out to start on her chores.

Cleaning felt more and more like a nuisance, so she quickly wiped every surface she could reach, then retreated to her room and her books. Maybe it was better that housework became tedious. It fit with his plan to keep her unhappy.

But, reading wasn't doing it anymore either. After a few hours of perusing studies on the kingdom's policy towards pirates, she wanted to scream. Nothing could hold her attention when she knew there was something else entirely that she wanted to do.

Find Cage, talk to him, ask things. Drug him so she could spend quality time with him. The thought was so unnerving, it made her sick with herself.

This didn't make sense. Her draw to him, the feeling that something inside her needed him. She knew him. Knew that he was intelligent, well-read, brave and he liked her. But it wasn't enough. Not to form an obsession.

She left the room and started wandering around the castle in search of a distraction, her mind spinning. She shouldn't search for Cage, not when she'd actually seen the beast, felt its claws against her skin. She still had the puncture marks to show for it. There was no way she wanted to see him changing again, because this time it would most likely not be a muted version.

A part of her wanted to go back to the west tower and look at the curse again. The thought of the statues and the helplessness she felt inside that room stopped her. It was almost as bad as entering the dungeon.

She strode to the main hall, but the portraits were the crude ones which proved the inhabitants were off to their business. William and Dustin slept and Joey was gone, so she walked on down the hall and into the grounds. She'd never properly explored them and now seemed the perfect time to do something distracting.

The door was unlocked, but she didn't find it surprising. Cage insisted that she should escape, and this was maybe another attempt to save her life. If only she didn't feel this all-consuming need to break his curse, maybe she'd take advantage.

Why? Why am I doing this? Why do I care?

Sure, she cared about him. But to the extent that she forfeit her own life? There was more to it, and not being able to figure out what drove her mad.

Snow covered the cobbled path, but it was only a thin sheet, not even potent enough to seep through her thin shoes. The rose fountain was still empty and Kat wondered if it had been there before the curse.

Of course it was. It's not like Cage has been spending his time building a fountain alone. It felt strangely ironic, because he'd grown the roses.

Disappointingly enough, he didn't seem to be out tending to them so Kat made her way to the right, where she'd always assumed the stables were. If he had horses, she could spend time petting and feeding them. She missed Sophie almost as much as her father.

There was indeed a long, low building in the grounds, so she picked up the pace and hurried inside, pushing the heavy wooden door open.

It wasn't a stable. The building was one long room, empty at first glance. As she looked around, she took in the weapons on the walls: spears, axes, swords and bows. Low wooden benches rested against the walls and the middle of the room seemed to be covered in sand.

"Armory," she muttered to herself as she studied the variety of war instruments. She'd never seen so many, though she'd read about them before, so she could identify some of them by name solely based on descriptions she'd read in books.

Her breath hitched as she noticed a sheath hanging off a pin. It was her father's sword. With renewed excitement, she hurried to grab it and pulled it out, just to make sure.

It really was. She could recognize the vine design on the hilt, one she'd loved as a little girl. The weight of it felt familiar.

With careful moves, she twisted the sword around, practicing the moves her father had taught her when she was but a child. The slashes and jabs felt like second nature, as did the footwork accompanying them.

She began moving faster and faster, her mind going back to the memory of her sparring with her father. It was late spring and all the wild flowers were in bloom. She could smell their perfume, feel their gentle movements tickle her calves.

Her father stood before her, broader and so much younger, his hair thick and dark brown, and he waved his own weapon with so much precision, an amused grin on his face.

She wanted to impress him, little Katherine. So she lunged and hopped around like an overexcited bunny, trying to find an opening and stick her wooden sword into his side. He always blocked her, never made it easy.

In the distance, on the porch of their old house, her mother watched them from her rocking chair, a kind smile on her face, her light blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

Her beautiful mother. Her beautiful, kind, magical mother.

When had everything changed? Her life, her childhood had been amazing. Two dotting parents who were so in love with each other, a father who was not only a brave war hero, but also a brilliant inventor. A mother so beautiful and fragile...

Kat's sword swings became harsher as she focused on the memory of her mother's face. Because her grownup eyes could see what the little girl could not.

The sadness in her eyes.

Swish, swish, lunge.

How hollow her cheeks were, how ashen her skin.

Swish, swish, swish, jab.

How she withered away, thinner and more dead-looking every day.

Swish, swish, jab, retreat, jab again.

How the light in her eyes dimmed every day until there was nothing left. Her mother had become a corpse while still alive and the naïve little girl didn't think anything of it. Because the change wasn't sudden. Not as sudden as her death.

No wonder her father had moved them away and eventually succumbed to madness.

Sweat dripped down Kat's face and her muscles burned, but she continued to practice her moves, the images of her mother burned in her vision. She'd never known why her mother had suffered such a fate, but now, seeing Cage, the answer was clear.

Magic.

Her mother had been cursed and she'd never known. Her father had never told her. And that memory, without the proper trigger, had waited buried in her subconscious. Now it rose like a tidal wave, reawakened from its deep slumber.

Cursed. His father was touched by magic. She was touched by magic. Even if it wasn't visible, magic was palpable.

She'd felt it in the notebook she used to communicate with K, which was why she'd never tossed it away even before she realized what it did, in the portraits and this entire castle. It was subtle, but it was there. She'd been so deeply indoctrinated that magic was bad, gone, dangerous, that she overlooked the signs.

It was there and people knew, even if they couldn't tell they did. Maybe that was why her father could never find a job fitting his status, why she was shunned out as well, treated like a weirdo.

She bit back a scream of anger at herself, at her father, at the world, and shoved her sword down with every ounce of strength she had left.

Metal hit metal.

She raised her eyes to see Cage, the wolf mask on, a sword in hand, blocking her exercise. For once, his presence brought no solace. She wanted to be alone and focus on her own issues.

He was magic. She hated magic, didn't want it. And yet, even if she wasn't the cursed one, it seemed to bubble in her veins, her misfortune reaching out for his to create some sick, twisted bond between them.

"You're doing it wrong," he growled.

"I didn't ask for your opinion." She pushed her blade against his and shoved him away.

He swiped at her, forcing her to parry. "It's obvious that you've had some training, but not exactly the most precise."

"Did you not hear me just now?" She shoved his sword away again. "Go away and leave me alone."

"Make me."

His tone was teasing, with a hint of foreplay, but it was poorly timed. Even if in normal circumstances she would have worried about a fluttering heart and the beast, anger flared inside her again. At this man who had no idea what was wrong with her, that she wanted to spare him the drama of her own life when he had so much in his own. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

He charged at her again. This time, she dodged and swiped in return, but he easily avoided her clumsy counterattack. She wouldn't give up. It it was a fight he wanted, he'd get one.

She attacked again and again, ignoring how he avoided her strikes, certain that if she tried again, she'd land a hit. Visions of her dying mother took over, like a catalyst for her anger, and a silky voice filled with poison brushed her ears.

That's right, my dear, channel your heritage. Let it burn down the world.

She was a simple peasant girl. She was burning down nothing. But the words dug into her like claws, increased her anger until she was sure she would combust from the rage, until she could no longer think straight.

Her sword bit down into something soft and the anger washed away in an instant. Cage stepped back, out of her reach. There was a deep cut on the muzzle of his mask. He took the mask off and stared at it in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe she'd cut him. His face blissfully remained untouched.

Kat dropped the sword and covered her mouth with both hands. She'd sliced at his head! When her hand had moved, she'd wanted to hit him. Never had she rationalized that it wouldn't hurt him because of the mask. What if he hadn't worn it? Would she have cut his face?

"What happened?" he asked, his voice low and gravely.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

"Don't be sorry. That was the best attack you've executed. But what triggered it?"

That voice inside her head, her hatred for it and all it stood for. But she wasn't about to admit to him that her father's insanity might be more than eccentricity, that it could be hereditary. It made her head spin and breathing hard.

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe her mother had done something wrong, or was cursed while with child.

She looked away from him, rubbing her arm. He squinted at her, as if he could read her mind. A moment of awkward silence followed.

"You need a lot of improvement," he finally said. "You're pretty terrible."

His words felt like a smack in the face and all she wanted was to attack him again. She pushed the murderous desire back, her entire body shaking with annoyance and fear.

"Terrible? I cut your mask!"

"Yeah, try not to do that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to cut a Cusith's head off and make another?"

Yes, of course she did. One had nearly killed them both. "I'm not terrible. I'm probably the most skilled woman you've ever fought."

He narrowed his eyes at her again, making her feel like an idiot. "Woman? Skill only matters as fact. You're only good if you're the most skilled everything. Not man, not woman, not owlbear. Everything."

Could owlbears even hold swords? She shuddered at the thought of more legendary beasts tainted by magic. In another life, she would've argued that owlbears no longer existed. After seeing the Cusith, she knew better.

"So, as I've said, you need a lot more training. Every day at noon."

"Wait, you're training me to swordfight?"

His hand twitched and she was sure he was one second away from slapping his own face in exasperation.

"I'm training you in combat which will imply a lot more than mere sword play. There are a lot of weapons on this wall."

The idea excited her, even if it was joined by the fear that she would lose herself to bad memories and crazy voices again.

"First you will clean the castle--"

"I'm done cleaning your castle."

He truly faltered, the signs of his forced aggression fading. "Excuse me?"

"I will learn whatever you chose to teach me, but I am no longer cleaning unless you do your share. We both live in that castle."

"Oh, excuse me. I thought this was imprisonment, not a marriage."

Kat was a little shocked by how progressive he was because marriage didn't imply equality at all as far as she knew. Then there was the part where he even said the word and, for once, it made her warm up instead of want to run.

"I'm not your servant."

"I beg to differ."

Though his words said otherwise, without the mask, she could see the admiration in his eyes. So she felt brave enough to turn his back on him and walk away.

"I'm no one's slave," she threw over her shoulder.

It took him precisely five seconds to catch up, grab her elbow, and take the lead. The heat of his hand made the stupid fluttering return and she suddenly wished she was in berserker mode again.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He didn't answer and at that moment she expected him to take her to the dungeon again. Instead, he headed up the stairs and to the right, towards the west wing, sailed past his room and to a door that was hidden in the shadow of the staircase. A new dungeon maybe?

Instead, they wound up inside a massive library. Kat's jaw dropped as she took in the rows of books stretching to the high bolted ceiling. There were large windows that made this room as bright as the dining room.

"Wow," she whispered.

"I will return shortly with a schedule. You have much to learn."

And he turned on his heals and left her surrounded by what she loved most.

Unlike most rooms in the castle, the library was clean. After a once-over, Kat concluded the shelves contained everything she'd ever want to read. History, politics, science, maps and novels of every type, gathered over years.

It didn't take Cage very long to return with a list of activities for her, from studying and combat training, to horse riding and etiquette lessons. He left her alone after passing her the list, but it was obvious that most of these new endeavors were to be conducted together.

The thought of spending so much time with him delighted and scared her at the same time. But she trusted him to reign in the curse and not hurt her. All she had to do was be constantly dissatisfied with everything and hide how much she enjoyed his company.

But as they started, it became increasingly harder to pretend to be annoyed by his demands.

Because she liked what she was learning, loved his company, even if he was mostly negative and sarcastic. And the horses...

He truly had a stable, right behind the armory, and it held some fabulous animals. Riding was a welcome escape from everything else.

It took mere days for them to sink into comfortable routine. From time to time, Cage would bring sudden news of her father which kept her happy.

As an added bonus, K had answered her fears with a simple and definite You're nobody's slave or servant.

She still cooked and cleaned occasionally, but it was so little compared to everything else she was doing. And the more they spent time together, the less guarded Cage became. So much so that he started resembling the one high on opiates.

"Are you taking something?" she asked suspiciously as they sat through and excessively formal dinner.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, taking a sip of wine and making a face. "Note how I expressed my displeasure at this wine in the most unsubtle way. Which was very rude of me."

"How did you ever sit through these things?"

"I practiced the art of losing myself inside my own head. Which in turn made me rude again. And drinking helps." He downed the rest of the glass.

Kat fought a laugh. "I'm not sure why you're teaching me this. It's not like I will be attending state dinners any time soon."

He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you'll find a prince one day and this would just make fitting in easier."

She huffed. As if she'd find a prince. She'd probably end up married to Donnie in the end. The thought made her shudder and left a taste in her mouth more bitter than the wine. Truth be told, she was past marring Donnie. Now, or ever.

Maybe it was because he hadn't even tried to rescue her, or maybe because she was now even better educated and realized she could never spend the rest of her life with an ignorant simpleton who didn't even care to batter himself.

"Is there a prince already?" Cage suddenly asked, his tone shrewd.

"No prince. Just a..." The words thankfully stopped before she vomited them out. Because she was about to continue with imaginary friend and a beast.

She dared look him in the eyes and was enthralled by what she found there. Warmth and amusement, familiarity and friendship. He truly cared about her, it was not just a shallow attraction brought on by her beauty. He knew the real her and he accepted and helped her grow. Become even more unusual and rebellious than she already was.

And it shocked her to realize that the thought of spending forever with him was not frightening. Especially if she could...

She reached out her hand to touch him and for once, he didn't pull back, just studied her with an air of innocent curiosity. When her palm touched his cheek, he didn't flinch, just continued watching.

The warmth of his skin was so comforting. To feel another human being next to her. The thing was, she craved a lot more. For the first time in her life, she wanted to kiss a man. And out of all the men in the world, it had to be this one.

Why? Because he was gorgeous and because she was sure kissing him would feel incredible. After all the pretense, the pressure on her shoulders, she needed this. To taste him, to feel amazing.

If only it wouldn't lead to her death. Where was the beast?

"I'm sorry." She lowered her hand and moved away. This wasn't right. It had gone well beyond simple heart fluttering, beyond any form of fear for her life. "Excuse me." She left the table and walked to her room as fast as she could without actually running.

He didn't follow her and she didn't blame him. He was probably trying to compute everything, just like her, maybe force himself not to hurt her.

This couldn't be happening. Sure, she had always considered Cage gorgeous, but it had all been objective so far.

Liar. It had started long ago. It had escalated as soon as they'd begun combat training and dancing. Anything that required touching him had become her favorite activity, even if he constantly complained that she had two left feet and was doing everything wrong.

The complaining, the excessive anger and the insults were part of their game. The pleasure she felt while they touched was not.

Kat slammed the door of her chamber and sat at her vanity table, sinking her head in her hands. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be falling in love with Cage. He gave her no reason to.

He gave her every reason to.

It was so easy to forget the beast just waiting to come out. And it wasn't the only reason. What if he didn't return her feelings? She had been so sure she had the upper hand in their power play because he had long admitted he like her. But was that enough?

Did he love her? And what would it mean for them if he did?

What hurt most was that she desperately wanted him to. Even if it activated the curse, even if it meant the end of them both.

The thoughts were driving her crazy. She needed to vent, needed a second, better opinion. Unclouded and objective. Her eyes fell on her notebook and she picked up her pen.

I don't know what to do K. Everything you've warned me against, I've fallen for. I can't see him as an enemy, as someone I have to outsmart. And not just because there is no outsmarting him, but because I no longer want to.

I shouldn't feel the way I do. I know it's dangerous. But I can't help it. I fell like I've never met anyone who understands and accepts me like he does. Except for you.

The pretend anger, the snark, the sarcasm... It's hurting me when all I want it to tell him. I know he needs it, but I'm not sure I'm strong enough to provide.

I don't want to hurt him. I just want him to be happy.

Help me! Tell me I'm crazy.

When she placed the pen on the table, her hand was shaking. She kept watching the letters, wondering if she should cross them out and make sure K wouldn't see them in all their pathetic glory.

But he was her shield against Cage, the only man she'd ever needed, ever wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. The only man she thought she could love for who he was, regardless of where he was and what he looked like.

And on some level, she did love him. But now with Cage in between, it was so much more complicated.

Her fingers twitched and she finally picked up the pen again. The tip was an inch from the paper when she flinched. His answer appeared on the page, faster, shorter and more heartbreaking than ever.

I can't write to you anymore.

Why not? She wrote down immediately.

There was a knock on the door. She threw the notebook one last look, hoping for an answer, then went to open up.

Cage stood in the doorway, leaning his hands against the frame as if he was about to topple over inside her chamber. His face was filled with grief and mild disgust.

He nodded towards the small book with golden covers in his hand. "This is why."

Kat took in his disheveled appearance, the haze in his eyes, and the notebook he was showing her. A notebook identical to the one on the table behind her.

Having fun yet? So the truth is finally out. Not that it was surprising for anyone at this point.

I cut it here because I have decided it's the most frustrating possible point. 😁

Hit the star and leave me your thoughts.