Kat had no choice but to spend her night in the dungeon. The moment the door had closed behind her with a bang and she'd heard the Beast heading up the stairs, she'd finally let the gravity of what had happened sink in.

She was a prisoner.

Her father was alive and on his way home via Sophie.

There really was a wolf-man living inside the duke's old castle.

Curses were real.

She'd seen more magic in the past half hour than she had ever seen in her life. The Beast, the portraits.

The iron. So much iron.

And yet, it offered no protection form the magic. She was a prisoner. The Beast's prisoner.

Sweetheart, I am a cage.

A closed cage she had no chance of figuring out. So she just dropped on the mattress placed in a corner of the tiny room, pulled the blanket over herself and buried her face in the pillow. It was strange, but the bedding was as comfortable as the one she had home. More comfortable, actually. The pillow was fluffier and the blanket warmer.

Even if she was a prisoner, it felt... better. There was a chill in the cell, but it didn't compare to the cold inside her room. With that confusing thought, she drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

She was awoken by a squeaking sound. Her eyes landed on the foreign door the moment they opened, and for a second she wondered when she'd painted her bedroom door dark brown. Then, the memory of the previous night shocked her into a sitting position.

The castle. The Beast. Her feverish father. Had he made it home? Was he still alive? Hear heart ached and it became hard to breathe.

She hugged her knees and put her head between, drawing deep breaths, fighting the panic overtaking her.

Whatever had happened was already over and panicking was not going to fix it. She should be focusing on her surroundings right now. On her own predicament. So she lifted her head and just breathed.

There was light in her prison. She glanced up and gasped at how tall the room was, a high ceiling lost among countless rafters. There were a few small windows high up, well beyond her reach, letting random rays of sunlight spill through and shine above her.

She returned her attention to the door in search of the source of the strange sound. The mystery was immediately elucidated. The door had a small flap on the bottom, rising maybe less than one foot off the ground. And through it, someone had pushed a tray which appeared to be filled with food.

Curious, Kat tossed the blanket to the side and crouched next to the tray. There was a boiled egg on it, two sausages, some bread, butter and cheese and a glass of milk. Real food.

Her stomach rumbled at the smell of the sausages so she dropped on the floor cross-legged and pulled the tray into her lap.

The egg was boiled too hard and the sausages were burned, but it was food -- more food than she'd seen for breakfast in a good, long while. More food than she usually had in one day.

Her stomach full, she pushed the tray through the flap, out into the hall. Seconds later, she could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. She stood and smoothed her dress, then chastised herself for trying to look presentable for the Beast.

He opened the door and stepped aside, behind it, keeping as much of himself from view as possible. "First door on your left," he growled.

Remembering the portraits' advice, she scurried out of her cell and inside the room he indicated. She sneaked a glance over her shoulder, but could hardly see more of him than she had last night. The wolf face looked even creepier in the light, and the way it was perched on what otherwise looked like a normal human body made her shudder.

"Yeah, that's right," he said in the same low, menacing voice. "I'm frightening and hideous. Now move!"

The room he ordered her into turned out to be a washroom. Warm water awaited her in a tub and fresh clothes were set on a nearby chair.

For a few seconds, Kat just started like an idiot. A bath. The Beast had drawn her a bath. She couldn't remember when she'd last had time to lavish in a tub, but now seemed to be her chance. She glanced over her shoulder for safety, but he'd closed the door behind her and there was no window to allow anyone to look inside.

Then again, who cared if he saw her naked. She was about to take a bath!

She didn't dare soak in for long, not knowing exactly how much time she had. When it became obvious that he would allow her enough time, she became a little salty because of her worry and how it wouldn't let her properly enjoy the comfort.

So she busied herself checking every last bit of furniture inside the room and every nook and cranny. It became clear quite soon that there was no way to escape except through the door. The windows were very high and she had no instrument she could use to either open the locked door or sink into the Beast's neck the moment he entered.

Of course it would be that way. If she had any means to cause trouble, he wouldn't have left her in there alone.

A knock on the door had her jumping, and what shocked her even more was that he opened up only after she answered. Still half hidden behind the door, he ordered her back inside the cell. She obeyed and sank back into the mattress, not sure what to do with herself without a million and one chores to go through. So she slept.

She woke up in the evening when another tray of food appeared inside her new abode. More cheese and butter, boiled potatoes and dried meat. Better than anything she could afford.

The pattern continued. She ate, pushed the tray out, he came down, led her to the bathroom and then back inside the cage without a word. She thought about her father, agonized over his fate, wished she knew he was safe. Then, in a puddle of tears, she slept.

The next morning, it was the same. She was awoken by the sound of food entering her cage. Then her fear and frustration returned, but she chose to beat it down and eat. Then bathe, then sleep some more until it was time for dinner. Even with all her sleeping, she felt more drained and exhausted than ever, as if the weariness she'd always carried had finally found her and sank in full force.

So she slept some more, praying that her father was okay, that he was doing the same. If he'd reached the village, she was sure someone would help him. Keleigh would.

On the third day, her body wasn't better off energy-wise, but for the first time, the small space inside the cage frustrated her. The frustration had nothing on the guilt, as much as she tried to justify the easy feeling inside her.

This wasn't her fault. She couldn't be blamed for obeying the Beast and letting him feed her. There were no means of escape that didn't imply going through him, she had checked. But it still weighed on her, because a very lazy and disgusting part of her enjoyed the captivity, being taken care of, the lack of responsibility.

It threatened to drive her insane, and there was only one way she could see to avoid that.

"Can I have something to write?" she asked as the Beast led her back to the cell after her morning bath.

He only growled as an answer, much like he always did whenever she spoke or tried to look at him, but that evening, a pen, a bottle of ink and some paper joined her dinner. Even if she didn't need the paper, she took it together with the writing instruments and tucked them safely inside her secret pocket.

The very next morning, once the light was powerful enough to allow her to see properly, she wrote to K. His answer was quick and amazing. He wanted to put their fight behind as well. He wrote lengthy letters which showed more of him than before and she enjoyed rereading them and answering them in detail.

Their conversations made her feel like herself again, put out the flames of her guilt, of her worries.

Her heart fluttered whenever she opened the booklet and his loopy writing filled the page. It took great self control not to answer immediately, show how impatient she was to receive more news from him. She wondered if he would write back immediately or make her wait.

The waiting game was all she had, and it made it easier to face the monotony and lack of real interaction with another person.

And then, naturally and unprovoked, one letter came with a different signature. She'd stared at the one little word for hours, her mind spinning, her heart dancing. Love. He'd written down love. The way the loops in those four little letters danced and connected to each other fascinated her.

Deep inside, she knew it wasn't anything of major importance. It was, after all, a common farewell in written conversation. It was by no means a declaration. He didn't say he loved her. How could he when he'd never seen her? She could believe it was the affection one had for a great book or maybe a childhood friend one hadn't seen in years.

And yet, it was there, engraved on the page for her to read over and over until she had her fill.

So her answer had come with such ease. Because she was sure she loved him, too. As a companion, as a shoulder to cry on, as the closest friend she'd ever had.

But she wasn't in love with him. How could she be? She refused to even imagine what he looked like and that intimate feeling required a lot of other imagining. And yet, and yet... It only made her wish to see him even more powerful.

After she sent her answer, she couldn't sit still so she paced the length of the cage for the reminder of the day. He'd noticed when she'd added the forever. He would surely notice this. What would he say? Would he be happy? What if he openly professed his love? Could she convince him to come for her? Did she want him to?

The thought froze her in her tracks because for the first time in a long time, it made her think of life outside her cage, outside the Beast's castle. She had been in that cell for a week. It was the day she was supposed to give Donnie a date for their wedding.

And even if she'd already come to terms with the fact that she no longer wished to marry him, the deadline of her ultimatum raised a different question.

Where was he?

Her throat constricted again as the thoughts she'd fought so hard to bury returned. Had her papa never reached safety? And if he had, did the villagers not know she was held captive by a monster? Did they not care?

She trembled at the thought as the last rays of sun chased each other down the wall and left her in darkness.

What was happening outside the walls? She was somewhat rested, even if an annoying weakness still hung to her bones, bored and more than ready to go home and resume her responsibilities.

Unfortunately, she could no longer just eat and sleep and live through her letters. She needed to know what was happening. She needed to get out.

A crash from above startled her from her desperate thoughts. Another followed, accompanied by a scream of pure rage. She scrambled to the door and wrapped her fingers around the bars, trying to see something out in the hall, up the stairs.

"You have to stop!" Even if still weak, the voice carried down to her and it sounded like the portrait of Joseph.

"Stop?" the Beast roared. "Do you have any idea what this means?" Another crash followed his words.

More voices followed, urgent and undiscernible, crashes, roars, sobs, the sounds of objects breaking against walls.

Her grip on the bars tightened. Was this it? Had the villagers stormed the castle? Would they even know where to find her?

"I'm down here," she yelled. "Help!"

No one came. Of course they didn't. It wasn't like they could hear her through the ruckus upstairs.

Much faster than she thought possible, the noise stopped.

"Hello?" she called. "Anyone out there?"

The door to the dungeon opened and light steps could be heard coming down. But for some reason, they felt wrong. She stepped away from the door, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.

Something brushed against the door, the sound accompanied by a low growl. This one no longer sounded human, so she bit the insides of her cheeks not to whimper.

The creature, whatever it was, seemed to be pacing outside her cell, letting out more growls from time to time. Then, there was a swipe at the door.

Kat let out a strangled scream and covered her mouth with both hands, her wide eyes fixed on the door.

The thing behind it yelped and it turned into a groan of pain. Then, it shuffled away and back up the stairs, the steps uneven, as if it were limping.

After a minute of complete silence, she dared move away from the wall and look between the iron bars. There was nothing but darkness on the other side, and yet, in the dying light, she thought she spotted something small on the floor.

She crouched and raised the flap used to bring her food and reached out her hand. It wrapped around something soft and she found herself holding one lone black leather glove.

As she examined the impeccable craftsmanship, her breath caught in her throat. The tips of the glove were shredded and she had no idea what that meant.

The next morning, Kat's breakfast tray included a book. She picked it up gingerly and glanced at the acid green cover with the picture of a very complicated looking clock. The cover read Trigger Theory in golden letters.

She had no idea what it meant, and after the glove, touching anything felt dangerous. But after a few moments passed and nothing happened, she picked the book up to study it. There were no slashed or torn pages, even if she had expected it for some reason. Her heart was still filled with terror, but she needed to distract herself.

So she ate absently and started reading the story. Despite what she'd first thought, it wasn't an overcomplicated philosophy book, but a story about a girl who, after losing her best friend, had to learn how to find herself.

She read the entire day, occasionally checking for an answer from K, and by the time the light died inside her cell, the book was done. With shaking hands, she placed it on the dinner tray, still stunned by it being there.

The pattern had been broken, and it caused her bouts of anxiety.

The Beast hadn't showed itself that morning, just left doors open for her to navigate alone. She knew he was there, could sense him in the shadows, but after the previous night, she didn't dare approach him. A part of her wanted to ask what had happened, if he had a murderous pet, but she was afraid of an answer.

Things didn't change for the evening routine. She went to the bathroom and back without catching glimpse of him. Yet, before she went to sleep, the flap creaked again and low light flooded the room. It was a tiny lantern and another book.

Kat glanced from the gifts to the door, but she couldn't hear footsteps. She hadn't heard him coming and now he'd disappeared like a shadow. How could a creature of that size move so quietly?

She picked up the new book, this time with a blue cover and shiny silver writing. Siren Song. Cecile, the siren.

The rumors in town started spinning inside her head as she tried to make sense of her predicament. Who was she dealing with? The duke, the duke's son or a random wolf-man taking residence in the castle?

And if the town gossips were right and this was the duke, cursed by Cecile, was it the father, or the son?

Why had she cursed him anyway? What could he have done to deserve being trapped alone in a castle with a monster staring back at him every time he looked in a mirror?

Because she was well aware that, even if he held her captive, he made her life so much easier and more comfortable than it was on the outside. He took care of her. He nurtured her reading hobby as if he cared whether she became bored.

What was a siren anyway? Unfortunately, as she read on and reached the middle of the story, it became obvious that the book held no answer. It was a good story, but just that.

A story. Not history, not an explanation of his actions, of the curse. Of who he was and what he wanted.

He owed her nothing, and yet he gave her so much. In exchange for her freedom.

The thought made her flare with anger. This wasn't fair. Taking her freedom made every small, nice gesture insignificant. She should be raging at him.

Instead, the next morning, she used some of the paper to include a thank you note in the finished book. She found another book in her cell when she returned from her bath.

That evening, she returned it with another thank you note and an expression of how much she'd enjoyed the three reads. That they had been perfectly picked for her.

That evening she also received an answer from K.

The next morning, she found the door to her cell wide open.

I'm very curious what you think about this chapter. I'm not a great fan of transition chapters, but you can guess this one was necessary.

What do you think about Kat and how easily she accepts her imprisonment? What about the Beast? I know he's not talking much yet, but that will change soon enough.

More exciting stuff to come!

Hit the star for luck!